The queen knew all was lost. At least for now. Perhaps forever, but no! Not while there was breath in their bodies and their son remained healthy and strong.

They would not steal Edward Plantagenet's inheritance from him. Not while she lived. No! It was unthinkable that Edward of York would supplant them.

"Madame, we must go now," Sir Udolf Watteson said to the queen.

Margaret of Anjou nodded. "Oui" was all she said. She did not look about her. The others would be ready because it was their duty to anticipate what was to come. It would not do to be caught now, and besides, if they were, what was to become of their few remaining retainers? Their loyalty to her deserved better than to be caught and murdered by a pack of Yorkist traitors. The queen drew her heavy fur-lined cloak about her and pulled up its hood. "Allez!" she said as she stepped through the farmhouse door.

It was still snowing steadily. Fifteen-year-old Alix Givet followed her mistress, her arm about her physician father. "Are you certain you are warm enough, Papa?" she asked him softly, her hazel eyes concerned.

"I am fine, mignon," he told her. "You worry too much."

"You are all I have left, Papa," Alix said as a man-at-arms helped first her father to mount his horse and then boosted her into her saddle. The girl rode astride, for it was easier for her in their flight.

"We will have at least several days of rest before we must move on again," Alexander Givet replied. "I just need a little time to be dry and warm to recover, ma petite. This ride will be the worst of it, I promise."

"Where will we go then, Papa?" Alix asked him as she gathered her reins into her gloved hands. "We are being driven from England."

"The queen will ask sanctuary from her distant relation Marie of Gueldres, who is Scotland's queen. It will be granted, and then we shall probably take flight for France. You will finally see Anjou, ma petite" he told her. "We still have family there, and I shall make a good match for you, Alix, so you will be safe after I am gone."