And what will you do in Scotland? the voice in her head asked her. That was a fair question, but also a conundrum. Perhaps she might seek out the widowed Scots queen, Marie of Gueldres, and ask for a place in her household. She would tell that queen her history, and say Margaret of Anjou no longer had a place for her now that she was widowed. Certainly the Scots queen would take pity on her. She had skills to offer. She was good with children. She had certain medical knowledge learned from her father that could make her useful. Aye! That is what she would do. She would make her way to wherever the Scots court was currently residing.
Alix prepared the soft leather pouch her mother had always carried when the court traveled. At its bottom she lay her father's few surgical instruments and several small containers of medicinals that she had made along with some bags of herbs. Sadly, she could not take her violet damask silk gown with her. She would wear one of her jersey gowns. The other she folded and put into the bottom of the pouch along with her camises, and two night garments. A smaller chamois pouch held her few bits of jewelry. She stuffed it at the bottom of the larger bag amid the folds of her gown. She would leave the sollerets, she decided, as she laid her leather house slippers atop her camises. They would only add weight to the pouch, and as long as she had her boots on her feet and her slippers, she could manage. She took two pairs of knitted stockings and stuffed them into the sack. Then, bathing her face and hands and brushing her long hair, Alix went to her bed. Who knew how long it would be before she slept in a clean soft bed again? Whispering her prayers, she asked God to protect her.
It was her habit to always wake early. Arising, she dressed quickly in two camises, one of lawn and the other of flannel. She pulled a pair of woolen stockings onto her feet along with her worn leather boots and drew her brown jersey dress over her slender form. Sitting upon the edge of her bed in the half-dark, half-gray light before the dawn, Alix braided her long hair into a thick plait. Then, lifting the strap of her pouch, she put it over her head to rest against one side of her body. Picking up her heavy wool cloak with its fur-edged hood and her gloves, Alix slipped from her chamber.
The house was completely silent. She knew that very shortly one of the servants would come to start the fires for the day. The cook would arrive in the kitchen to begin his preparations for the day. Alix hurried downstairs, and slipping into the pantry near the kitchen, took a loaf of day-old bread and a wedge of cheese. She tucked them into the top of her pouch and then filled the small stone flask she carried with watered wine. She listened, but the quiet was still deep as she crept quietly towards the kitchen door, which was rarely barred, even at night. It opened as her hand touched the latch. She quickly hurried outside and looked about her, but there was no one in her view.
If she took her horse from the stables they would know that she was gone. Reluctantly, Alix set off walking, hurrying away from the house as fast as she could. The sky was getting a little lighter with each passing minute. She didn't look back for fear she would see someone. Alix followed the track that led north. The very same one the queen had taken. She prayed that Sir Udolf would not come this way with his hunting party, but if she heard horses she would hide herself in a ditch. Then she laughed softly to herself. The lord of Wulfborn would go across the fields. He would not come upon the road that wound its way north. To her surprise, a weak sun rose as she walked. It was cold, but not unbearably so for November. There was little wind at all and it was at her back, coming from the southwest.
Alix walked for several hours and then suddenly realized that she was hungry and thirsty. Stopping, she sat herself in the grass on the side of the road. Reaching into the pouch beneath her cloak, she pulled a piece of bread from her loaf and bit off a large chunk of cheese from the wedge. She ate slowly, and when she had finished she opened the flask and drank several swallows. She would remember to add water to the flask when she came to a stream. She had already crossed one narrow little brook this morning, stepping from stone to stone to keep her feet dry.
Arising, she started on her way again. The track she was traversing was getting narrower and narrower, becoming more difficult to follow, but she trudged on, watching the feeble sun as she moved to keep her direction correct. The sun was already beginning to lower itself towards the horizon by early afternoon. It was almost winter, and the days were shorter now than at any other time of the year.
As she traveled Alix began to look about for a spot in which she might shelter for the night. She hadn't seen a living soul the day long, although once she had seen an antlered stag on a nearby hill. And then, as the sun was almost ready to set, she spied what appeared to be the remnants of a stone wall. Or perhaps, she considered, it was a cairn raised in memory of some long-dead warrior. She stopped and, looking about, decided it would be as good a place as any to spend the night, especially as the sun now sank behind the horizon. Clearing some stones to make a place for herself, Alix sat down.
About her the silence hung heavily. What had she done? she asked herself. She was in the middle of nowhere, and night was upon her. She had no means to start a fire, and there obviously wasn't a living soul, man or beast, for miles. Reaching into her bag, she tore off a chunk of her bread and bit off another bit of cheese. She ate slowly as the sunset faded and the night closed in about her. She didn't even know where she was. Had she already crossed the border into Scotland? The light breeze of the day had gone, and above her the skies were cloudy. Not a star shown in the dull firmament.
It was cold, but not unbearably so. Alix pulled her cloak close about her, drawing the hood tightly about her face. She began to pray. She would either survive the night or she wouldn't, but anything was better than being forced into marriage again. And with a man old enough to be her father. A man with a bald pate. Sir Udolf's son had been a lustful man, although his lust was not directed towards his wife. Last night she had seen where that lust had come from, for the father was equally, if not more, lustful. Alix had not a doubt he would have been in her bed before the week was out. And he would justify it because he was meant to marry her. She would have had a big belly at her wedding, and she was certain Sir Udolf would have been delighted.
Drawing her legs up, she tucked her skirts about her and put her gloved hands under her armpits for more warmth. Her back against the stones, Alix fell asleep, and she slept for several hours before awakening briefly only to sleep again. When she opened her eyes again the gray half-light was lightening the skies. Arising, she moved stiffly away from her sleeping spot to pee, lifting her skirts high so as not to splash them. The morning air was cold on her buttocks. Then, sitting back down again, she ate more bread and cheese and drank a few more swallows of the watered wine, now more water than grape.
Finally she arose, and she began to walk again. She passed several more piles of stones and decided that she surely must be in Scotland by now. As the morning wore on, the skies above her grew gray, and the wind began to rise, coming from the north. By late morning a light snow had begun to fall, and Alix knew if she did not find serious shelter and some warmth she could be in trouble. But the countryside about her seemed as deserted as it had been yesterday. Alix didn't dare stop to eat. She simply kept walking. The path was virtually obscured now. She couldn't be certain which way she was going. The wind began to rise and the snow grew heavier.