"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.