How long had she been asleep? she wondered dazedly, sitting up in her bed. Faint memories of her nightmare, its twisted images blurred and foggy, still tortured her thoughts. Rubbing her aching temples, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose shakily to her feet. Swaying unsteadily, she felt her legs suddenly buckle beneath her and she crumpled to the floor.
"Lady Gwendolyn!" Just returning from the kitchen, Leah rushed over to her young mistress's side. She gently lifted her from the wooden floor and helped her back into bed. "'Tis the sleeping herbs, my lady. They make a body feel all wobbly for a while," she murmured. Turning to the small table at the side of the bed, she poured cool water into a goblet, then handed it to Gwendolyn. "It will soon pass," she added. "Just give it a moment."
Leah's startled cry had pierced the gray mist in Gwendolyn's mind, painfully reviving her dulled senses. Sipping the water, she could feel a tingling in her limbs as the numbness gradually disappeared. She handed the goblet back to Leah, then stretched her slender arms above her head, yawning.
"There, now, that's better," said Leah. The color was slowly returning to Gwendolyn's cheeks, and her eyes had regained a hint of their sparkle. Satisfied that her charge was feeling more like herself, Leah patted her mistress's hand. "The hour is growing late, my lady. You slept way past the midday meal, and now you must bathe and dress for the feast. If you are feeling better we should begin, for there is little time."
Gwendolyn groaned inwardly. So, the day she had dreaded had come at last. Tonight Wulfgar would present his marriage gift to Anora. If her sister accepted, as Gwendolyn had no doubts she would, the wedding ceremony could proceed as planned. She threw back the fur coverlet. "Very well, Leah, I suppose we had better hurry."
Leah frowned at Gwendolyn's obvious lack of enthusiasm. Surely the lass could show some joy on such a day, she thought irritably, but for once she held her tongue. Nay, there simply was not enough time to lecture her today!
Soon the room was a flurry of activity. Servants quickly filled the large brass tub in the corner of the room with buckets of warm water, while Leah began to pull silken garments from the large chest at the foot of the bed.
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes at the sight of the various tunics from which she must choose. She knew this was one occasion when a shirt and breeches would not be allowed. Stepping gingerly into the tub, she bathed herself quickly, ignoring the disapproving glance from Leah as she dunked her head under the water to wet her hair. Her method made much more sense than standing over a small basin while someone poured water over her head. It was far quicker, and required a lot less fuss! Shaking her wet curls, she stepped out of the tub and toweled herself dry.
"Where can I find Anora?" she asked impatiently, squirming as Leah slipped a cream silk tunic over her head.
"She has been in the solar this afternoon, no doubt working on that fine tapestry with your mother's ladies-in-waiting," Leah replied gruffly. "Please stand still, my lady!" Her attempts to smooth the many folds and pleats in the tunic were being frustrated by Gwendolyn's constant wriggling. Next came a mauve mantle of fine linen embroidered with golden threads, which she managed to get over her young mistress's tousled head with slightly less trouble.
Lastly, Leah handed Gwendolyn an ivory comb to smooth her unruly curls. But she threw up her hands in despair when Gwendolyn chose instead simply to run her fingers through her damp hair. Sliding her feet into a pair of gray kidskin slippers, the girl was out the door and hurrying down the stairs before Leah had even set the comb back on the table.
"My lady, you forgot the circlet for your hair!" Leah called out after her, running to the door. Receiving no response, she turned back into the room, grimacing at the mess. Towels were flung every which way, water sat in puddles on the floor, and clothes lay in scattered disarray upon the bed. "'Twill be a fine day when that lass is finally wed," she muttered, picking up a sodden towel. "And I hope her man, God help him, can tame her manners!"
***
Reaching the door of the solar, Gwendolyn paused a moment to catch her breath. She felt guilty at leaving such a mess in her chamber, but she did not turn back. It was far more important to speak with Anora before they went to the great hall for the betrothal feast, she thought wildly. There just had to be something she could do to convince her sister to change her mind!
Gwendolyn gently pushed open the door to the solar. The room was empty but for her sister, who was bent over the tapestry, absorbed in her fine needlework. "Anora?" she said softly.
Whirling around in her chair, Anora had a look of startled surprise on her face. "Gwendolyn, I've been so worried about you!" she exclaimed, rushing across the room. Embracing her sister warmly, she drew her into the room. She looks none for the worse for her misadventure, Anora thought with no small amount of relief, quickly noting the healthy glow of Gwendolyn's cheeks. "If I'd known you were awake, I would have come to your chamber," she said apologetically.
"'Tis no matter," Gwendolyn replied. "Leah told me I would find you here." She walked over to the tapestry, stretched across a large wooden frame, and inspected the fine embroidery. "It appears they have kept you busy this afternoon."
"Aye, and Edythe kept us well entertained!" Anora laughed. "I would have thought it impossible to keep my mind on other things besides Wulfgar, but Mother saw to it that I had plenty to do. The hours have flown."
At the mention of Wulfgar's name, Gwendolyn felt her body tense. She pulled absently at a stray thread on the tapestry, barely listening as Anora happily recounted one of Edythe's bawdy tales.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. With a start, Gwendolyn realized Anora had stopped talking and was gazing at her with questioning eyes.
"What is troubling you, Gwendolyn?" Anora asked gently, clasping her sister's arm. "You have not heard a single word I said." Concern touched her delicate features. "Does it have aught to do with what happened last night?"
Pulling away from her sister, Gwendolyn turned aside. "Aye," she muttered tersely.
"Then tell me, Gwendolyn. What happened?" Anora walked around to face her sister, her gaze searching.
"I went for a ride and . . . and lost my way in the dark," Gwendolyn stated defensively, staring down at the floor.
"But how could that be?" Anora asked, puzzled. "Surely Father's thanes knew the way . . ." She paused, her eyes widening in stunned surprise. "Unless you were no longer with them!" Receiving no response, Anora shook her head in bewilderment. "Gwendolyn, I cannot believe you would have ridden off without a guard. Why, anything could have happened! We were all so worried about you, and now to find out that it was just a willful prank—"
"'Twas not a prank!" Gwendolyn cut her off sharply, her voice strained. Tears glistened on her lashes as she fought to hold back the torrent of emotions that had raged within her for so long, but it was too late. "How can you marry an enemy of our people . . . and . . . and so willingly?" she blurted angrily, her flashing eyes mirroring her deep sense of betrayal.
Not surprised by Gwendolyn's sudden outburst, Anora sighed unhappily. So, it has finally been said, she thought, gazing at her proud sister. Gwendolyn had not been herself for many weeks, and Anora had long suspected it was due to her impending marriage. Yet she also sensed there was some deeper, greater hurt hanging like a palpable presence in the small room.
For a long moment Anora was at a loss for words. How could she make her sister understand what it was like to be truly in love? "You judge too harshly, Gwendolyn," she finally murmured, taking her sister's hand in her own. "I love him."
"Love is but a word, Anora!" Gwendolyn retorted vehemently. "He is a Dane. Does that not matter to you?" She spat out the words, her hands clenching into small fists.
"Aye, it mattered before I met him," Anora agreed. "Wulfgar Ragnarson is a Dane, that cannot be denied, but I see him first as a man, Gwendolyn —a courageous man who is seeking peace for his people and ours."
"Aye, that may be so," Gwendolyn said angrily. "But can you not see that you are being used as a king's pawn?"
Anora nodded. "Aye, but I now consider it an honor, Gwendolyn. It is through this match that I have found my greatest happiness." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I could have denied Wulfgar, Gwendolyn. I was given a choice. And as Father's favored daughter, I am sure you will one day be granted the same freedom."
Gwendolyn opened her mouth to protest, but she was silenced as Anora rushed on. "You know that to be true, but I do not begrudge that you have always held Father's heart. So you see, you have naught to fear that you will be forced into a miserable marriage."
Anora sighed heavily as the room fell silent once again. She could not tell if her words had served to convince her sister, or had made matters worse. Well, she could think of only one other thing that could possibly have upset her so. "Look at me, Gwendolyn . . . please," she murmured. "If you are angry that I have spent most of my time with Wulfgar these past months, then I am sorry for that."