Twin Passions (18 page)

Bodvild's reply startled him, for it was as if she had
read his mind. "If I were not Christian, Hakon, I would say your arrival
tonight is a good omen. Eirik's power and influence were great, and the
territories he ruled stretch far beyond the Sogn region. Not only
the clan are
gathered here tonight for his burial, but other
chieftains and freemen as well. Yea, 'tis true that those who know and remember
you have no doubts as to your strength and ability to rule. But there are those
who must see and hear for themselves."

She gazed once more on her husband's beloved face,
strikingly handsome even in death. She sighed raggedly.
Yea, there will be plenty of time to grieve later, my only love,
she thought mournfully. But for now, there were other matters at hand. She tore
her eyes away at last. Her voice was calm, disguising the aching torment in her
heart. "Come, my brother. Now is the time for you to prove to the clan
that Eirik's choice for his successor was a good one . . . the only one."

They walked back to the entrance together in silence.
When they were almost at the door, she stopped suddenly and looked up at him.

"From the moment you walk through these doors your
life will be changed, Hakon," she said, her eyes bright. "You are a
chieftain now. Go forward, Hakon Jarl, and greet your people!"

With that, she knocked twice on the massive doors. As
they slowly swung open, she and Hakon stepped out into the blazing light of
hundreds of torches. A great clamor went up from the warriors gathered in front
of the hall, their voices merging into one thunderous voice, all shouting the
same name, "Hakon Jarl! Hakon Jarl!" The great horn that had welcomed
them earlier was sounded again, over and over, while the men beat vigorously on
their wooden shields with spears and axes.

Gwendolyn watched from the ship. She had never heard
such a din before in all her life. Even the throngs who had rushed to greet
King Edgar during his coronation visit to Chester only months ago had not
yelled as loud. Anora stood by her side, her small hands clapped over her ears.
They had remained on the ship while all the others had disembarked, for it
seemed that Lord Hakon had forgotten them . . . at least for now. Yet Gwendolyn
knew Egil still watched them closely from where he stood on the dock lending
his own voice to the melee. He was obviously not about to let her escape again
while in his care.

So, this was the matter of grave importance that the
Viking had mentioned on the day of their capture when he told them they would
not be returned to their homeland and that she and Anora would be his slaves.
Gwendolyn frowned, shaking her head. It was still so confusing. He had told
them little else during the journey.

Gwendolyn could see him standing beside the same woman
who had met him when the ship docked. She was very beautiful. A wife, perhaps?
And why was everyone shouting the Viking's name? Could it be that he was indeed
a king, returning in triumph from faraway lands? Frustrated by her questions,
she shrugged her delicate shoulders, giving up. No doubt the Viking would tell
them in his own good time!

Hakon raised his hand for silence, but it was several
moments before the enthusiastic shouting died away. "I stand before you this
night in answer to the summons of Eirik, Jarl of Sogn, my true brother, not as
your overlord, but as your equal!" he stated for all to hear. This
declaration brought a great roar of approval from the gathered Vikings, for
though they honored their leaders, and would fight to the death for them, they
considered themselves to be equals first, followers second. If a man rose to
authority among them, it was only by their choice and consent.

Hakon drew his broadsword from its scabbard and held it
high above his head. "I swear to you that my rule will be fair and just,
as was Eirik's and my father's, Magnus Haardrad, before me! If any man doubts
my word, let him come forward and try his sword against mine!"

A great rumbling raced through the gathered warriors.
Yea, here was a man who was fit to rule the Sogn! Greatly impressed by Hakon's
fierce presence and courage, one by one the assembled Vikings kneeled in homage
and offered him their sworn allegiance. Bodvild looked on in silence, her gray
eyes shining as Eirik's dying wish was at last fulfilled.

Hakon sheathed his mighty sword, his bronzed face
flushed with exhilaration. "We will not allow the bastard Rhoar's threat
to deny Eirik Jarl the homage that is his right. Come! Let us share a feast in
honor of a fallen warrior!" he shouted. Amid the thunderous pounding of
weapons against wooden shields, he strode back into the hall with Bodvild at
his side.

Chapter 18

Gwendolyn and Anora watched wide-eyed from the prow of
the ship as the Vikings warriors surged into the hall after Hakon. That so many
could all fit into one building was amazing, Gwendolyn thought, though even
from this distance the hall appeared quite large. Suddenly Egil rushed along
the dock to where they stood and gestured sharply for them to climb out beside
him. Anora backed away in fear.

"Where do you think he means to take us,
Gwendolyn?" she asked nervously.

"Perhaps to where we shall sleep for the night,"
Gwendolyn replied reassuringly, though she felt a twinge of unease. She trusted
Egil no more than she believed a wild boar could be tamed for a pet! She looked
around the darkened ship,
then
shrugged. "Anything
would be better than spending another night aboard this wretched ship. Come on,
I will help you." She held Anora's hand as she stepped up on a rowing
bench and then sat down on the railing. Grinning broadly, Egil grabbed her
sister by the waist and swung her over to the dock. Gwendolyn did the same, but
before he could catch her she jumped to the dock by herself. "Keep your
filthy hands to yourself, Viking!" she muttered, her eyes flashing
defiantly.

Gesturing for them to walk in front of him, Egil nudged
them along the dock and out onto the path that led to the great hall. So that
was it, Gwendolyn thought irritably, bridling at his rough pushing as they made
their way up the steep hill. He was taking them to the hall so as not to miss
out on whatever festivities were taking place there. She grimly recalled the
frenzied revelry she had seen in Einar's hall, and hoped for Anora's sake it
would not be the same in this one.

Suddenly Anora tripped on the edge of her torn skirt
and fell to her knees. Her startled cry caught the attention of three bearded
Vikings standing near the entrance to the hall. They blocked the path, their
leering faces illuminated by the light of the torch one of them held aloft.

"Thor! Will you look at that beauty!" the
tallest one exclaimed. "How about sharing some of that with us, man,"
he said menacingly to Egil. He walked toward them with his companions not far
behind. "Surely you don't mean to have her all to yourself?"

Egil quickly drew his sword from his belt and pushed
Gwendolyn and Anora behind him. "Stay back, man, else I will be forced to
blacken this night with the spilling of your blood!" he stated grimly. "The
wench belongs to Hakon Jarl." At those words the three men instantly fell
back, their mouths gaping in surprise. Egil helped Anora to her feet, his eyes
not straying once from the men as they stepped away from the path to let them
pass. On such a night as this, when emotions were running high, he knew that
anything could happen, kinsmen or not. Keeping his two charges close at his
side, Egil walked cautiously by the men, his sword poised and at the ready.

Gwendolyn cursed under her breath. Were all Vikings
barbarians such as these? She could see the unshed tears in Anora's eyes, and
her heart went out to her. This episode had only served to frighten her sister
further. Damn them all to hell's fire!
she
thought
fiercely.

Finally reaching the entrance to the hall, Gwendolyn
looked up at the massive log structure. She had seen a building as large as
this only once before, when she had traveled to London with her father. The
blazing glow of the torchlight eerily illuminated the gable above the entrance,
and she gasped at the intricately carved dragon heads that seemed to leer down
at her. The massive wooden doors were also richly carved, the stylized animal
designs strangely twisted and contorted.

Egil sheathed his sword and pushed his two charges
through the open doors. All three blinked, their eyes slowly growing accustomed
to the bright light thrown off by the many torches set in sconces upon the
roughhewn log walls.

Gwendolyn peered about her. She was astounded by the
length and breadth of the hall. A row of stout, elaborately carved pillars
supported the roof on both sides, while down the middle ran several fireplaces,
a warming blaze burning in each one. The timbered walls were hung with painted
shields, brightly polished weapons, and fine woven tapestries, while the dirt
floor was strewn with fresh rushes and dried herbs that lent a pungent scent to
the air.

But what really drew her attention was the raised bier
set in the very center of the hall. The dead man looked strikingly similar to
Hakon, except for the copper color of his hair. "Look over there, Anora,"
Gwendolyn whispered to her sister.

But her words were rewarded by a sharp cuff on the ear
from Egil. He pushed Anora along in front of him,
then
grabbed Gwendolyn roughly by the shoulder, dragging her alongside him.

They walked hurriedly across the hall, their presence causing
quite a stir among the Vikings sitting at the long tables lining the walls.
Several of them reached out to touch Anora's silky hair as she passed by their
benches, their eyes hungrily following her lithe form. Fearful for her safety,
Egil did not stop until he had reached the middle of the hall, where Lord Hakon
sat upon the high seat. Engrossed in whispered conversation with Bodvild, who
was seated at his right, he had obviously not seen them enter the hall.

Bodvild laid her hand on Hakon's arm, interrupting his
words. "I believe this man has a matter of import to discuss with you,
brother," she murmured gently, nodding toward Egil, who stood nervously
before them.

Turning his head, Hakon looked startled for a moment.
He had forgotten all about Anora and Garric, still aboard the ship. "Thor's
hammer, Egil! Why have you brought them here?" he thundered, a scowl
darkening his features as he noticed the lust-filled glances of several of his
kinsmen raking Anora's slender figure.

Egil stepped closer to the high seat. "Forgive me,
Lord Hakon, but I fear that a safer place than the ship must be found for the
wench to sleep this night. She fires the blood of all who see her," he muttered
softly, loud enough for only Hakon to hear. "I have already drawn my sword
once to protect her."

"So you bring her here, man? Surely you can see
that this place is no better!" Hakon gritted angrily.

"Perhaps I can find a suitable place for her to
sleep," Bodvild interjected calmly, rising from her seat. She had already
noted the paleness of the young woman's delicate features and the dark smudges
under her eyes. "The
lass looks
ready to drop
from sheer exhaustion." Her gray eyes caught the expression of concern on
Hakon's face. "Do not fear, brother. I am sure a good night's rest will
bring the glow back to her fair cheeks."

Hakon flashed
her a
warm look
of gratitude. "Anora, go with Bodvild," he said, though not too
gently. It would not do for the clan to think him weak when it came to women,
no matter how beautiful. "She will show you to a place where you can
sleep." Too tired to protest, Anora merely nodded.

"But what of the lad, Hakon?" Bodvild asked. "If
you wish, I could find a place for him, also."

Hakon's eyes flitted over Gwendolyn, and he chuckled to
himself. It was obvious the lad was exhausted, though he was trying to mask it
with his defiant stance. "Egil, escort Garric to the slave house and see
that a guard is posted outside the door. Then you may return here for the
feast."

"Yea, my lord." Egil nodded, gripping
Gwendolyn's shoulder once again.

Taking Anora by the hand, Bodvild felt a rush of pity
for the girl as she led her from the hall. Was she a slave to Hakon . . . or
concubine? As a Christian, she abhorred the cruel treatment of slaves, and had
done everything in her power to improve their lot at the settlement. She had
also dope much over the years to influence her husband in his dealings with
them, despite the deep-seated belief held by the Vikings that slaves were
merely a commodity to be bought and sold.

Bodvild glanced over her shoulder to see if Egil and
the lad were following her. 'Tis strange how much the girl and her brother
resemble each other, she thought, marveling at the similarity of their
features. Why, if she had not known better, she would surely swear that the lad
was nearly as feminine in appearance as his sister, except for his short,
unruly hair and clothing. Nay, it couldn't be. She shrugged, dismissing the odd
thought. With Hakon's keen eye for beautiful women, surely he would be the last
person to be deceived by such trickery, even if it were possible.

The women's sleeping house was not far from the great
hall, and it wasn't long before Anora was settled into a narrow bed in a
private room. Her head had scarcely touched the eiderdown pillow when she was
fast asleep. Bodvild clucked her tongue sympathetically. Such a sea voyage was
hard enough on a man, let alone a delicate creature such as this girl. She
brought the soft fur coverlet up to Anora's chin,
then
quietly left the room.

"The slave house is just a ways up the hill,"
she said softly to Egil, who was waiting at the door with his charge. She
frowned, her forehead creasing in thought. "This lad hardly looks so dangerous
that he would need a guard."