Twin Passions (32 page)

Chapter 29

Gwendolyn awoke with a start to find she was alone in
the wide bed. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and looked about the
room. It was clear that many of Hakon's things were gone—his silver coat of
mail, the conical helmet, several weapons—and the lids to the heavy, carved
chests were open, as if he had not wanted to disturb her slumber by closing
them shut.

Sweet Jesu! What
if they have already left!
Gwendolyn bounded out of the bed and ran to the
nearest window. She tore aside the leather shade and peered outside. The sky
was overcast, laden with gray clouds that foretold a coming snowstorm. It was
so dark that she could not tell what time of morning it
was,
though she had an awful feeling it was late. She could see many Viking guards
walking about the nearby longhouses, but this side of Hakon's hall faced away
from the fjord. She would have no way of knowing if his longship was still
moored at the docks until she walked from the main entrance.

Turning back into the room, she hurried over to the
ornately carved chest that held her clothing and threw back the lid. Hastily
she donned a plain linen chemise of pale yellow and a mantle made of gray
fustian, a strong cotton cloth. Her fingers shook as she quickly fastened two
silver filigree brooches to the shoulder straps of the mantle. Her eyes darted
about the room in search of her leather, fur-lined slippers.

"God's blood! Where are they?" she cursed
impatiently, her heart pounding against her chest. Finally she spied them near
the bed. She ran and picked them up, hurriedly slipping them on. Grabbing her
fur cloak from the hook, she wrapped it about her shoulders and ran from the
room.

The main hall was dark and cold. Even the glowing
embers in the central fireplace lent little warmth to the large room. Gwendolyn
hurried across the hall, gathering her cloak about her, and pushed open the
massive wooden door. She could scarcely breathe, dreading what she might find.
If Hakon's longship was gone, all was lost.

Relief flooded her body as she caught sight of the
long-ship, still moored at the dock. Already some of the crewmen were taking
their seats at the oars, and she could see Hakon on the deck, directing what
appeared to be the last load of supplies into the cargo well. His voice, deep
and resonant, carried out over the din of commotion that surged around him.

"
Yea,
put that over
there, man! Olav, if all is ready we will sail shortly. The wind is picking up,
and from the looks of the sky it does not bode well for good weather. We must
sail soon if there is any hope of reaching the mouth of the Sogn by nightfall."

"Yea, my lord!" Olav replied heartily from
his place at the helm of the longship.

Gwendolyn felt a tingling sensation at the sound of
Hakon's voice, remembering the words he had said to her the night before. But
she shook her head. Nay, there would be plenty of time to think of that later,
she chided herself. Now, she had to find Anora.

Anxiously she hurried along the path toward the stable.
What if Anora was no longer there? She had not seen her aboard the ship, but
perhaps Hakon had sent her on some errand elsewhere in the settlement. She
shivered, her cold lips mumbling a quick prayer that she would find her sister yet
in the stable. Her eyes darted about, noting the swelling numbers of Viking
guards now manning various posts at each of the longhouses. No doubt many of
them had arrived during the night, while others even now were riding in from
various settlements across the valley.

She was not surprised that none of the Vikings harassed
her or even tried to speak to her as she made her way to the stable. She could
see several of them watching her closely, their heated glances frank and
appraising. Yet she suspected that they had already been warned to stay away
from her. Berta had told her that Hakon made it known he would kill any man who
touched her.

The door of the stable was ajar. With her heart in her
throat, Gwendolyn stepped into the dark, musty building, her eyes peering all
about. She saw no one. The only sound was the baaing of the sheep and the
cackling of chickens. She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as
she turned and walked back to the door. God's blood! She was too late! A sudden
wind blew in through the open door, swirling the dust from the hay into the
air. It tickled her nose, and she sneezed violently, startling Anora, who was
just returning from the storerooms with a small bag of dried corn for the
chickens.

"Gwen—Anora!" she exclaimed, dropping the bag
of corn, her eyes wide. She picked it up quickly, looking furtively about her,
then pushed Gwendolyn back inside the stable and pulled the wooden door shut
firmly behind them. Her voice was almost frantic.

"I hoped you would come, Gwendolyn, but when it
grew so late I was beginning to think I would not see you before I left with
Lord Hakon!" She gripped her sister's arm. "What am I to do? I know
naught of serving as a page . . . I shall be found out! I do not want to sail
with him, Gwendolyn!"

"And so you shall not," Gwendolyn replied
hastily. "Quick, hand me your clothes, Anora. We shall exchange places
once again!"

Anora quickly obeyed, her hands shaking as she pulled
at the leather belt at her waist, while she kicked off the boots on her feet.
Shrugging off the fur-lined jerkin that had so successfully camouflaged her
small breasts, she stripped the woolen shirt and breeches from her slender body
and threw them toward Gwendolyn, who was pulling the pale yellow chemise over
her head. It was just a few more moments before they were once again dressed in
each other's clothes.

A faint smile curved Gwendolyn's lips as she adjusted
the leather belt about her waist. It felt so good to be dressed in breeches
again! Though the silken garments had been a delight to her skin, she had
missed the freedom of movement only a man's clothes could afford.

"These are so much finer than the plain shifts I
wore in the cooking house," Anora murmured, rubbing the soft linen sleeve
of the chemise against her cheek.

"Aye, so they are," Gwendolyn agreed, "as
befits the favored concubine of Hakon Jarl."

Anora gasped. She had been so caught up in admiring the
garments that she had forgotten how they had come about. She blushed, her eyes
downcast.

"Listen to me, Anora," Gwendolyn whispered,
ignoring her sister's discomfort. Her eyes were intent, searching. "You
must remember to act the part of mistress of Lord Hakon's household while I am
gone. I have told you of many of the duties Berta has taught me. You must do
them just as I would, and give her no cause to think that aught is amiss."
She smiled reassuringly. "I am sure you will have no trouble with the
loom. Just mind that you do not appear too proficient. You know how I am when
it comes to such tasks!"

"Aye, Gwendolyn, I will not forget." Anora
nodded.

"And one other thing," Gwendolyn murmured,
then
hesitated. She had to tell her about the night before
with Hakon, so she would know how to respond to him this morning. If she were
too cold, too aloof, surely he would think something was strangely different
about her. But how could she tell her of the passion they had shared, and his
words of love, without giving her own feelings away?

Gwendolyn shook her head. Nay, she would not think of
her own feelings now. If their guise was to succeed, Anora had to know that
Hakon planned to take her as his wife. She took her sister's hand in her own.

"Anora, I do not know if you have heard any talk
of this yet, but last night Hakon's brother, Rhoar Bloodaxe, stole into the
settlement during the Yuletide feast. There is not time to tell you all of what
happened, but I was nearly abducted by him when I left the hall for a short
while to get some fresh air."

Anora
gasped,
her eyes wide
with concern. "Did he hurt you?"

"Nay, but he could have. Rhoar is a fearsome man,"
Gwendolyn replied. She shuddered, remembering the cold look of hate in his
eyes. "Fortunately, Hakon heard me scream, and Rhoar released me, but not
before he swore that one day I would be his. I tell you this only because you
must know, Anora. Last night, after Hakon and I . . ." She paused,
blushing under her sister's gaze. Then she continued: "When we lay in each
other's arms, he told me that he—"

"Garric!" Hakon pushed open the door of the
stable. "Come on, lad, 'tis time to sail. Leave the rest of your chores
for—" He stopped in mid-sentence, gazing in surprise at Gwendolyn and
Anora.

Gwendolyn's heart leaped at the sight of him, standing
so tall and powerful just within the door. But she quickly looked at her feet,
shifting uncomfortably. It would not do for Garric to gaze so upon Hakon Jarl!
She cursed under her breath. Now, Anora would have no way of knowing the
intensity of Hakon's feelings for her. Well, there was aught she could do now,
only hope that Anora would not spurn him too harshly.

"I was about to return to my hall to bid you
farewell, Anora," Hakon said softly, walking to her side, "but I see
you had the same thought for your brother."

"Aye, my lord," Anora replied, her gaze
steady as she looked up at him. "I shall not see him for many days. I only
wanted to wish him
godspeed
."

"I, too, will be gone for many days," Hakon
murmured. "Come, I will walk with you back to the hall." He took her
arm and led her from the stable. "Garric, gather your things and see that
you are aboard the ship before me!" he called out over his broad shoulder,
with scarcely a backward glance.

Gwendolyn shook her head in disbelief. Hakon was
jealous of her . . . of
Garric, that
was! Aye, there
had been no mistaking the angry flash in his blue eyes when he saw her and
Anora together. For some reason the thought gave her a rush of pleasure, but
she quickly shrugged it off. If she was to be Garric again, she would have to
act the part. She only hoped her eyes would not betray her. She bent down and
picked up the roll of clothing Anora had prepared for the journey, then hurried
from the stable. With the wind at her heels, she ran down the hill toward the
longship.

Hakon did not say a word to Anora as they walked down
the path to his hall. He did not know why it angered him so to see the two of
them together . . . after all, Garric was her brother. He shrugged. Perhaps he
did not want to share her with anyone! Suddenly he noticed that she was
shivering despite her fur cloak. He drew her closer to his side, his arm about
her waist.

Anora stiffened,
then
forced
herself to relax. It would not do to anger him further before he left, she
thought, at least for Gwendolyn's sake. He might vent his feelings upon her
once he was aboard the ship. She ventured a look up at him, and found him
regarding her with heated intensity. She turned her head away, blushing, and
did not look at him again until they had reached the entrance to his hall.

Hakon paused at the door, then drew her into his arms
and crushed her to him. "I must leave you here, my love, though I would
like nothing more than to carry you into my
chamber
and repeat what we shared last night!" His lips brushed against her
forehead, then sought her mouth. He started. Her lips were so cold. He kissed
her deeply, warming her mouth with his own, but the passionate response he had
expected was not there. Drawing back from her for a moment, he gazed into her
eyes. He did not see desire reflected in those emerald depths, only a hint of
fearful resignation.

How strange, he thought. It was as if he held a
different woman in his arms. Olav's hurried approach suddenly interrupted his
dark thoughts.

"My lord Hakon, we must sail at once if we are to
escape the storm that is approaching from the north! If the snow begins to fly
too heavily, we will be forced to wait another day." Olav looked away,
embarrassed that he had disturbed his lord in the midst of such a private
moment. But there was no help for it. What was now a gentle snowfall could turn
into a blinding squall in only a moment's
time.

"Yea, Olav, you are right." Hakon sighed, his
eyes never leaving Anora's face. He bent and whispered in her ear, his breath
warm against her neck. "Remember my words from last night, Anora. As soon
as I return from Trondheim . . ." He kissed her again, but lightly this
time. Already his mind was on the voyage ahead. "If you would like to
begin preparations early, Berta will help you with anything you need. Farewell,
my love." With a last fervent embrace he was gone, striding quickly down
the path to the dock with Olav at his side.

Anora watched as they boarded the ship. She could see
Gwendolyn's small form sitting at one of the rowing benches and she waved her
hand, a smile lighting her face as her sister quickly did the same. But she
could also feel Hakon's eyes upon her. The smile faded from her lips, and she
looked away.

"Oars down!" Hakon's sharp command echoed
about the settlement. The oars on the starboard side of the ship hit the water
with a resounding smack, while the crewmen on the port side used their oars to
push away from the wooden dock. Soon the longship had cleared its moorings,
sliding like a serpent over the calm surface of the fjord.

Anora's eyes followed the longship until it disappeared
around the bend in the fjord. She shivered, gathering the luxurious fur cloak
closer about her body. What had the Viking meant,
preparations?
Shaking her head, she stepped into the hall.

Chapter 30

"Garric, you must wait out here. Only freemen may
enter the great hall of Haarek Sigurdson, the Jarl of Lade," Hakon said
firmly.