Twin Passions(45)

"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.

"Very well, my lord," Gwendolyn murmured, her eyes following Hakon's tall form as he disappeared through the massive carved doors leading into the main room of the hall. A twinge of disappointment coursed through her. She had hoped to learn the reason for this sudden journey, but now it was clear she would have to wait.

She took a seat on one of the benches lining the timbered wall in the large anteroom, then drew her leg up and rested her head on her knee. She watched as other Viking chieftains—fierce-looking warriors every one—passed by her on their way to join the meeting. Soon the anteroom was crowded with the retainers and slaves of these men, the air abuzz with speculation as to the important discussions taking place within the hall. But Gwendolyn paid little attention to their talk. She closed her eyes in an effort to ease the clashing thoughts waging a battle in her mind.

The voyage north to Trondheim had taken two days once the longship had reached the mouth of the Sogn fjord and sailed into open waters. The seas were extremely rough, with dark, angry waves that buffeted the planked hull of the longship, so they had never strayed far from the rugged coastline. Gwendolyn had been plagued with seasickness once again, and spent much of her time with her head over the side, spilling the contents of her stomach into the sea. Hakon had berated her on the second day, though not too unkindly. She grimaced, recalling his words.

"If I had known you would be of such little use to me, Garric, I would have left you at the settlement!" he had shouted over the roar of the waves. Yet after each bout of seasickness he had helped her back to her pallet near the cargo well, and seen to it that she drank plenty of freshwater and was covered with a woolen blanket to keep out the cold north wind. She had not felt better until they sailed into the calmer waters of the Trondheims fjord late last night.

When they had at last reached the estate of Lade, near the city of Trondheim, the longship was met at the main docks by an emissary sent from Haarek Jarl. Hakon and his tired crew were escorted to a well-furnished longhouse where they first ate a sumptuous meal, then slept for the night.

Aye, if only he had left me behind, Gwendolyn thought grimly. As it was, his very presence served to remind her of the words he had spoken several nights past. I love you . . . you shall be my wife . . . They echoed like whispering phantoms over and over in her mind, haunting her. And even though she swore to herself time and time again that their love could never be, and that she would hold fast to her vow to Anora, she found her resolve constantly shaken every time she looked in his eyes.

She shook her head, then ran her fingers through her short curls. Why, even this morning she had almost given herself away! She had been in the main hall with the rest of the crew, eating her morning meal, when Hakon called out to her from his private chamber. He had just stepped from the bath that had been brought in for him, his powerful, muscled body wet and glistening from head to toe, when she hurriedly entered the room. She had stopped abruptly in her tracks, her heart pounding rapidly against her chest, not so much at the sight of him but at the young slave woman standing close by his side.

A comely wench with long, dark hair and hazel eyes, the slave woman was wearing an almost transparent shift that barely concealed the curved lines of her lush body. And her pleated bodice was cut low enough to reveal provocatively her generous breasts to Hakon's view. Gwendolyn's emerald eyes had narrowed dangerously at this woman, her small hands clenching into fists. It had taken a sharp reprimand from Hakon to bring her around finally. She had started visibly at the sound of his raised voice.

"What are you gawking at, lad? Have you not seen a naked man before?" he shouted, looking at her oddly. "Fetch me my tunic."

Blushing heatedly, she had rushed to do his bidding. Yet she was not able to tear her eyes away from the pretty slave. She had watched angrily, experiencing jealousy for the first time in her life, as the woman slowly dried Hakon's bronzed body with a thick towel. Aye, Gwendolyn had no doubts that the slave woman had been sent to him with special compliments from Haarek Jarl to see to his every need! Her only consolation was that Hakon paid little heed to the woman's lingering ministrations and desirous glances. He had even grown impatient with her at one point and grabbed the towel from her hand, sending her squealing from the room with a loud slap on her well-proportioned backside.

Barely able to conceal her pleased smile, Gwendolyn had kept her face low and her eyes downcast as she helped Hakon dress in his finest clothes. He had spoken little to her, his mind on the meeting that morning with his liege lord. It was only when she held his heavy broadsword out to him and he took it from her, sliding it into the fine leather scabbard at his belt, that he had broken the silence between them.

"Why do your hands shake so, Garric? Do you still suffer from the sickness that plagued you during the journey?" Hakon asked with some concern.

"Nay . . . nay, m-my lord," she stammered. She had hoped that he would not notice how her hands were trembling. She quickly clasped them behind her back.

"Well, what is it, then?" he queried impatiently. "You hardly seem like yourself this day." He shrugged when she did not answer him. Then a slow smile spread across his handsome face. "Perhaps it was the fetching sight of the wench, eh, lad?"

She had nearly choked at his words, but then decided it was best to go along with him. "Aye, 't-'twas the wench, my lord," she replied, biting her lower lip.

Chuckling, Hakon had slapped Gwendolyn on her shoulder, knocking her forward. With a hearty laugh he strode from the room, leaving her standing there alone. She would have been standing there still, trying to regain her composure, if Olav had not called out to her from the outer hall.

"Come on, lad! You are to accompany Lord Hakon to the Jarl's great hall!"





***





Aye, and so there she sat in Haarek Jarl's hall, for what had already seemed like hours. But what could they possibly be discussing for so long? she wondered irritably. Suddenly a tall man who looked to be a wealthy merchant entered the anteroom, escorted by an entourage of armed Viking guards. The slaves and retainers standing in the way were roughly brushed aside as the great doors were opened wide to admit these newcomers.

Gwendolyn darted from the bench in hopes of catching a glimpse of the main hall. Her eyes widened at the length and breadth of the well-lighted room. Why, it was at least twice the size of Hakon's hall! There were many Viking warriors sitting on benches lining the tapestry-covered walls, though others were standing in small groups here and there. All were facing a raised high seat at the center of the room, on which sat a rather small man with black hair, pale skin, and blazing dark eyes. She hopped up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of Hakon, but the massive doors were once again slammed shut.

"Begone, lad!" a burly guard near the door shouted, shoving her away. Rubbing her arm, she turned to walk back to the bench, but someone had already taken her seat. Grumbling and cursing under her breath, she slid her back down the side of the wall and sat down upon the wooden floor.

Hakon chuckled to himself, though he hid his smile with his hand. He had seen Gwendolyn's antics beyond the massive doors. Her awkward attempts to see into the hall had lent a bit of humor to the grave scene about him. Yet his thoughts focused once again on the proceedings as the merchant, surrounded by Viking guards, passed close by his chair.

Hakon leaned toward Olav, his voice almost a whisper. "I recognize that man, Olav. Did he not trade with us several years back in Dublin?"

"Yea, my lord, that he did," Olav replied, nodding his head. "He is a shrewd man, as I recall, but honest and fair in his dealings." But their conversation, as well as that of others buzzing in the hall, was silenced as Haarek Jarl raised his hand.