Twin Passions(28)

She could hardly believe how long it had been since they had arrived at Lord Hakon's settlement. The time had passed so quickly, hastened by the coming of winter. The days were much shorter now, while the nights were long and dark. Suddenly she cast down her eyes as she passed a Viking warrior on his way to the great hall.

The young man looked at her appraisingly, openly admiring her fragile beauty, but said nothing as she hurried by him. Hakon Jarl had made it very clear that this woman was not to be harassed by any of his men, and so far no one had dared. And the young warrior, for one, valued his position as one of the chieftain's resident guards too highly to lose it over a slave wench . . . even one as lovely as she. Without a backward glance, he continued on his way.

Anora breathed a sigh of relief and quickened her pace. The stable lay to the west of the settlement, a good walk from the cooking house. If she used up all her time walking, she thought worriedly, she would have little chance to sit and talk with her sister. And she did not want the stew to be cold by the time she reached the stable. She walked as fast as she could, her panting breaths hanging in fine clouds of white vapor before disappearing in the frigid air like smoke.

The door to the stable was slightly ajar, so she pushed it open with her shoulder and stepped inside. Leaning against the inside wall for a moment, she paused to catch her breath. The stable smelled of dung and straw, but to her it was a comforting smell. It was in the stable that she could always find her sister if she needed her. The dusty air was warm, heated by the many animals huddled together in their stalls. Lord Hakon had not only a thriving herd of sheep, but many cattle and horses as well.

A movement near the far wall of the stable caught her eye. She walked toward it tentatively, carefully avoiding the piles of dung. "Garric?" she called out. She knew she did not dare use her sister's name until she was certain they were alone. But she was answered instead by the lowing of several cattle and the nervous rustling of the sheep. "Garric?" she tried again, louder this time.

A tousled head looked out over the rim of a stall. "Over here!" Gwendolyn replied, throwing one last handful of hay into the great stallion's feed bin. She gently rubbed its black velvet-soft nose. "That's my boy," she murmured. She had just finished rubbing him down after Hakon's morning ride. The stallion was indeed a beauty. She had not seen a finer one even in her father's stables. Too bad she would not get the chance to ride him, she thought, then shrugged. Nay, she and Anora would not be here long enough for that! She stepped out of the stall just as Anora reached her side.

"I brought you some stew and fresh-baked bread." Anora said, smiling. Gwendolyn took it from her hands gratefully. Her morning meal had been interrupted by Hakon's men, who brought the last herd of sheep down from the mountains where they had been grazing through the summer and fall. She had helped them chase the skittish sheep into the stable, and by the time she had returned to her meal it had congealed into a cold, unappetizing lump at the bottom of the bowl.

"Come, let us sit over there." Gwendolyn nodded to a bench set against the wall near the door. They sat down, and Anora watched with approval as Gwendolyn hungrily devoured the still steaming stew and crusty bread. In only a few moments she was done.

Anora laughed, something she did only too rarely. She brushed some crumbs from the side of her sister's mouth. "Your manners have gotten no better since we left . . ." Sobering, she could not finish her sentence. The smile faded from her lips.

"Aye, say it, Anora—since we left our home," Gwendolyn finished for her. "It has been more than a month since we were abducted. Ansgar has told me they will celebrate Yuletide here within the fortnight. He says the Vikings feast for twelve days and nights to welcome the winter solstice." She paused and leaned closer to Anora, her voice a whisper. "But perhaps we will be on a ship before then, and on our way back to our homeland!"

Anora's eyes grew wide. "Were you able to speak with that merchant again yesterday, the one you told me about?" she asked breathlessly, her heart pounding.

"Aye, I spoke with him, and 'tis all arranged!" Gwendolyn replied excitedly.

"Oh, Gwendolyn! I can hardly believe it!" Anora exclaimed. She leaned her head back against the timbered wall, her hands clasped to her breast.

No doubt she is thinking of Wulfgar's embrace, Gwendolyn thought happily. Truly, their escape had been easier to arrange than she had thought it would be!

She had accompanied Hakon several weeks ago to a trading settlement only a short distance south along the fjord for winter supplies. While he had been busy with an oil merchant, she stopped to admire another merchant's wares at one of the large open-air stalls, and had unwittingly asked him the price for a small knife, not in Norse, but in her own tongue. Much to her surprise, the man answered her in English. Hakon had called her away before she could strike up a conversation, but during another trading visit the previous day she had been able to talk to the man for almost a quarter hour.

Hakon had been overseeing the loading of supplies onto his longship, so his attention had been diverted while she spoke to the merchant. At first the man had been a bit wary of her, wondering why a slave who obviously had no money would so strongly wish to talk with him. When she asked how he had come to know their language, he had muttered reluctantly that he was a Frankish merchant, but often traded in London, where it helped to speak the native tongue. He then tried to dismiss her with a curt nod, and turned to wait on two cloaked men standing at the far end of the stall. But she had pressed on. She had not known if she could trust him, but she decided it was worth a chance. Hurriedly she told him of how she and her sister had been abducted from their homeland.

"But what is this to me, lad?" the merchant asked impatiently. "So there are many slaves in this land who were taken from their homes in England."

"Our father is the Earl of Cheshire, kind sir," she had whispered, her tone almost pleading. "He would most certainly pay a king's ransom for our return to England, as would my sister's betrothed, Wulfgar Ragnarson, a prince of the Danelaw!" The merchant's shrewd eyes had suddenly glittered at this bit of news, knowing an opportunity when he heard one. He rubbed his hands together, thinking hard.

"Aye, so I see," he muttered, his raspy voice now no more than a whisper. "But what is it you want me to do, lad? I had planned to sail on the morn, before the heavy snows start to fly. Truly, I have no love for these Viking barbarians. I only journeyed this far inland along the Sogn because their love of trade in this region is unsurpassed." He pointed to the stacks of fine furs piled high along the back of his wooden stall, luxurious proof of his words. "It will be a rough sea crossing as it is, lad. I cannot afford to tarry here much longer."

At that moment Hakon suddenly called out to her from his longship, gesturing for her to climb aboard. Gwendolyn noted his stormy expression, and hoped fleetingly that she had not raised his suspicion.

"Please, sir, if you would only wait one more day," she had said hurriedly, her eyes desperate. "Lord Hakon and most of his men will be leaving the settlement on the morrow after the midday meal to journey inland. Your trading vessel is much too large to pass unnoticed along the fjord, but if you could bring a small boat to just south of the settlement after it grows dark, near the high waterfall, my sister and I could meet you there! Then we could row back here, board your ship, and be off!"

"Aye, 'tis a good plan. But how do I know you speak the truth, and that you are who you say?" he had asked, his narrowed eyes searching hers.

"All I have to give you is my word," she replied simply, "and my promise that your reward will be great. Are we agreed, then?"

The wily merchant had shaken his head in assent. After all, he had naught to lose from this venture. If indeed, it was a lie, he had no doubt he could find plenty of traders interested in buying so striking a lad. And if his sister was near as pretty, well . . . "Aye, I will be there," he had rasped, his eyes glinting with greed.

Gwendolyn had barely enough time to flash him a look of thanks. Then she had run swiftly back to the ship.

Hakon glared at her as she jumped onto the deck from the wooden dock. "What was so important that you held up our journey home, Garric?" he asked, his voice low.

"'Twas naught, my lord. That ridiculous merchant wanted me to buy a knife, of all things! I told him first I had no use for any weapons, and second, that I had no money with which to buy it." She shrugged, then quickly made her way to her bench, hoping he had believed her. He said nothing to her all the way back to the settlement, so she considered the matter dropped.





***





"So when do we leave? What should I do?" Anora asked, interrupting Gwendolyn's thoughts. Her eyes were ablaze with excitement.

"We shall leave tonight, though I think it best you do not know all the details," Gwendolyn whispered. "As soon as Hakon and his men finish their meal later today, they will be leaving for a council meeting across the valley. Ansgar has said they will be gone for several days, which will give the merchant's ship plenty of lead time, should Hakon try to follow us once he returns and finds us gone. If he does, by the time his longship reaches the mouth of the Sogn we will be sailing across the seas toward England!"