Twin Passions (22 page)

Hakon shook his head. "The council meeting at my
uncle's settlement will help to solidify my control in that region. It cannot
be delayed," he said tersely. He took a long draft of ale from his goblet.
"There will be more than enough guards left here to protect the
settlement.
'
Twould be different if we were to be more
than a few hours' ride away, but Rhoar would be a fool to attack while we were
only in the next valley . . . and with plenty of reinforcements close at hand."

Hakon's eyes scanned the great hall, unable to keep his
mind on the conversation. By the blood of Odin, where was she? He pushed his
plate away, his food barely touched. Settling back in his chair, he toyed
absently with the ale in his goblet, swirling the amber liquid around and
around. The black scowl deepened on his face, warning those who sat near him
that their chieftain was indeed in a foul mood.

"More ale, my lord?" a buxom serving woman
ventured, rubbing her thigh seductively against his knee as she leaned over to
refill his goblet.

"Be gone, wench!" he roared, shattering the
brooding silence in the hall. The woman backed away in fear, then hurried away.
Hakon caught the furtive glances of his men, who then quickly looked back to
their plates of food, and he cursed again. What spell had Anora cast over him?
he
wondered, his ire rising with each moment she did not
enter the hall.

"Was the food not to your liking, my lord?"
Berta asked quietly, removing his plate from the table.

"Nay, 'twas fine, Berta," Hakon replied, his
tone softening as he looked at the rotund woman who had served his family for
so many years. "Where is Anora?" he asked, trying to appear
nonchalant, though hardly succeeding. "Why is she not here serving with
the others?"

Berta was not fooled by his seeming indifference.
He is indeed a proud one,
she thought
sagely, stifling a smile that would force itself to her lips. His face was inscrutable,
yet his eyes bespoke the hold the wench had over him.

"Anora is resting, my lord," she replied. "She
seemed well enough earlier this morning when she took some food to her brother
in the stable, but upon her return she was quite overwrought." Her eyes
watched the play of emotions across Hakon's face. "From the looks of her,
I'd say she had quite a shock."

Hakon slammed his goblet down upon the table, his blue
eyes flaring dangerously. The set of his jaw was grim, determined. "We
ride within the half hour," he stated evenly to his men, hiding the anger
that raged within him. So, his kiss disturbed her so greatly that she had
sought the comfort of her bed! Thor's teeth, but he was a fool! He almost felt
like overturning the table, but thought better of it. It would not do for his
men to see him behave like a besotted youth whose love had been spurned by the
object of his affection. Rising from the high seat, he strode angrily out of
the great hall.

The men at the surrounding tables sat in stunned silence
for a moment. Then suddenly the hall was filled with the scraping of benches as
they jumped to their feet. Tossing down the ale in their goblets, they hurried
out after their chieftain.

Olav was the only one to rise slowly from his chair. He
turned to Berta, who stood by the table. "I have known Hakon for many
years, but I have never seen him so taken by any one wench." He sighed. "'Twas
your words, woman, that brought on this rage. I know naught of what took place
that could explain their meaning, but my warning to you is this: See that the
wench is well protected while we are gone. Hakon has laid claim to her, and
there would be hell to pay if aught is amiss when we return." With that,
he turned and walked out of the hall.

Berta shook her head slowly. Yea, she would see that
Anora moved only from the cooking house to her
chamber,
and back again. She did not want it upon her head if aught happened to the girl
while Lord Hakon was away. She snapped at the servingwomen standing near the
door, "Why do you stand there gaping while there is work to be done?"

The women quickly moved about the hall, picking up the debris
from the meal. Berta ambled over to a chair and sat down heavily.
So much trouble over one wench,
she
thought, draining the ale from a half-empty goblet.

Hakon looked over his shoulder to see his men rushing
out of the great hall. Then he turned back around, his voice roaring out loudly
as he strode toward the stables. "Garric! Saddle my horse!"

Gwendolyn jumped up from her pallet, where she had been
resting just as he pushed open the door. She backed away slightly, for she
could see he was in a black mood.

"Did you not hear me, lad? Saddle my horse, and be
quick about it. The sky is already growing dark," Hakon stated sternly. "I
wish for you to accompany me on this journey as well, to care for my stallion,
so you had best hurry. I am sure my uncle does not have a groom at his
settlement
who
comes close to your skill with horses."

Gwendolyn felt a sudden sense of panic at his words,
but quickly regained her composure, her mind working fast. She suddenly
clutched her stomach, a look of intense pain on her face. "Oh, b-but, my
lord," she stammered, "I have b-been lying here on my pallet since
this morning. I fear I have t-taken sick . . . probably from that stew Anora
brought me this morning." She moaned convincingly, doubling over as if in
intense misery.

Hakon looked at her doubtfully. He could not very well
take the lad if he was sick, he decided. Garric would then be more of a
hindrance than a help. "Very well, lad. Lie back down on your pallet. I
will send the healer to you with some herbs for your stomach." Pulling the
saddle from the wall, he strode over to his stallion and hoisted it onto its
back. He then tightened the girths beneath the horse's belly, and drew the
harness over its proud head.

Gwendolyn watched from the corner of her eye as Hakon
led the high-spirited animal by the reins from its stall. She clutched her
stomach again and groaned several times for good measure. Hakon paused for a
moment by her pallet, and she looked up at him as he towered above her. "My
lord?" she asked weakly.

Hakon studied her face, a niggling sense of doubt
pricking at his mind. The lad was somewhat pale, he admitted, though his groans
seemed a bit too convincing. "Egil will remain here to keep an eye on
things while I am gone," he warned. "In other words, Garric, do not
try anything foolish. I have given him permission to mete out punishment if any
is necessary." He was answered with a small nod as Gwendolyn rolled over
onto her side.

Aye, that Viking dog Egil would no doubt relish every
minute of it if given half the chance, she thought fiercely, watching through
half-closed eyes as Hakon led the stallion through the door of the stable. Too
bad he would never get the opportunity!

She lay on the pallet listening to the commotion as the
Vikings prepared to ride out of the settlement. She could hear the clanking of
swords against wooden shields slung from saddles, and knew that they were well
armed. This came as no surprise to her. She had heard all about Rhoar Bloodaxe,
Hakon's bastard brother, and his threat of blood vengeance from Ansgar.

At last
came
the command she
had been waiting for, as Hakon shouted to his men to prepare to ride. Jumping
up from her pallet, she flew to the door of the stable and peeked outside.
Hakon made a commanding figure astride his mighty stallion, dressed all in
black except for the white-blond of his hair.
That's how I will remember him,
Gwendolyn thought, fully
appreciating for the first time his handsome looks. After all, she allowed
herself,
she was a woman, too!

The ground thundered from the many flashing hooves as
the Vikings rode out of the settlement. Indeed, the hour was growing late. The
moon had already risen in the darkening sky to just above the jagged slopes of
the mountains towering above the fjord. Gwendolyn could not believe how quickly
it grew dark in this northern land. Why, it could not be more than four hours
past the noon hour!

She turned back into the stable. There were just a few
things to be done, but she wanted to be ready when Anora came to meet her. She
hurried over to a far comer of the stable, shooing away the frightened sheep
that got in her way. Kneeling near the wall, she felt around with her hands until
she found what she was looking for. A smile lighted her face as she pulled out
a narrow-bladed knife from beneath the straw. Anora had stolen it for her one
day from the cooking house. It was not nearly as fine as the hunting knife she
had lost to Svein, but it was a sorely needed weapon nonetheless.

Fitting the knife into her belt, she ran over to her
pallet and pulled together what little clothing she possessed that was not
already on her back. Hakon had given her several woolen tunics in the style of the
Vikings, and another pair of loose-fitting breeches. But she still preferred
the clothing she had worn on the day of their capture. Pulling her fur-lined
jerkin about her, she was ready at last. She sat down on her pallet while she
waited for Anora.

It could not have been more than an hour when she
finally heard a small rap at the door of the stable. Gwendolyn hopped up, her
heart in her throat. "Anora?"

"Aye, 'tis me," Anora replied, slipping
furtively through the door, her fur cloak swirling about her. She grabbed
Gwendolyn's wrist. "I fear someone has followed me," she whispered
tremulously, her eyes wide. "Shh! I hear him coming now!"

"Stand over there, behind the stall!"
Gwendolyn hissed. Grabbing a wooden plank nearly as tall as she, she leaned up close
against the wall near the door.

It opened slowly, creaking eerily. A man, his face
hidden in the shadows, eased carefully inside. Gwendolyn did not wait to
discover who it was. She lifted the plank,
then
brought it down with all her strength upon the man's head. He fell heavily to
his knees, groaning and holding his head. She hit him again. This time he fell
forward with a heavy thud.

"Quick, Anora, you take one leg, I'll take the
other!" Gwendolyn whispered. Together they dragged him to the back wall of
the stable, though he was a big man and very heavy.

"'Tis Egil!" Anora cried out softly, as a
shaft of moonlight hit the man's face through an opening in the wall. Blood
trickled down his forehead, pooling on the ground behind his ear.

"So, he has finally gotten what he deserves!"
Gwendolyn muttered fiercely, covering him up with heaps of straw. She did not
feel even a twinge of remorse. "Come on!" Taking Anora by the hand,
she dragged her sister across the stable to the entrance, where she gathered up
her few belongings. Nudging the door open with her booted toe, she peered
outside.

There were several Viking guards posted down the hill
near the great hall, and some were walking about near the docks; otherwise, the
settlement appeared quiet. Gwendolyn eased open the door, then looked over her
shoulder at Anora. "We will have to run up into the woods behind the
stable,
then
follow along the crest of those hills for
a ways," she explained in a whisper. "Ready?"

Anora
nodded,
her eyes bright
in the moonlight. "I am ready
. "

"Aye, then, to freedom!" Gwendolyn dashed out
alongside the stable with Anora close on her heels. Pausing for a moment after
they rounded the corner, they broke out in a run up the hill until they reached
the cover of the thick trees surrounding the settlement. Anora was hindered
somewhat by the skirt of her shift, but she quickly hoisted it above her knees
and soon caught up with Gwendolyn. They slowed their pace a bit as they
disappeared into the trees, for they knew they could no longer be seen.

It seemed as if they had been walking for at least an
hour when Gwendolyn gestured to Anora to start down the side of the hill.
Leaving the cover of the trees, they began the steep descent to the fjord.
Gwendolyn could hear the loud roar of the waterfall not far in the distance,
and she knew they were almost there. With every step, her heart grew lighter.
She could have laughed out loud with joy.

"Is it much farther, Gwendolyn?" Anora asked,
leaning for a moment against a large rock outcropping to catch her breath.

"Nay," she replied. Then she whispered
excitedly "Look, Anora, I can see the boat!"

Anora's heart leaped in her breast at the sight of the
small boat bobbing along the shoreline of the fjord. They quickened their pace,
half sliding down the steep slope of the hill that was slippery from the wet
snow. Almost to the bottom, Gwendolyn suddenly lost her footing and rolled down
the rest of the way.

"Gwendolyn!" Anora called out sharply, her
hand to her throat. Relief surged through her body at the sound of her sister's
uproarious giggle.

"Go on! You should try it, Anora!" Gwendolyn
called out softly.

Though she smiled, Anora shook her head. "I think
I would prefer to walk the rest of the way down." When she reached her
sister at last, they embraced each other tightly.

"There it is!" Gwendolyn cried, turning
around. The boat was yet a few hundred feet away from them, anchored just off
the shoreline. They carefully picked their way in the dark along the rocky
beach, for the full moon was now hidden behind a dense bank of clouds.

Gwendolyn was the first to reach the boat. To her
surprise, it was empty. A strange feeling of foreboding settled over her, and
she turned and looked about them. It was so dark that she could barely make out
the details of the shoreline. Anora reached her side, and her hand clutched
Gwendolyn's arm.

"Where is the merchant?" she asked.

Gwendolyn could tell her sister was frightened by the
tone of her voice. She was, too, but she was loath to admit it.