Twin Passions(61)

Gwendolyn could not help but smile at her success. Clutching the loaf of bread and the round of cheese in the crook of her arm, she hurried alongside the timbered wall of the cooking house until she got to the far end. It was some distance to the thick line of trees that surrounded the settlement, but if she ran, it would take her only a few moments to reach them. She looked furtively about her. She could see a few guards here and there, but none was close enough to see her from this angle of the building. She took a deep breath, then raced swiftly across the grassy slope to the nearest trees.

She dodged behind a massive tree trunk, panting, and listened for any calls of alarm. There were none. Gwendolyn breathed a sigh of relief, exulting in her newfound freedom. Now, if she remembered correctly, she could follow the tree line down to the fjord. By then she would be way past the settlement, and she could enjoy her walk out in the open without fear of being seen.

She set out happily. Occasionally she gazed up into the trees as she walked, admiring the shimmering green leaves that seemed to dance and sway in the cool morning breeze. She loved the rustling sound they made. There was a freshness in the air that invigorated her, renewing her senses. Her step was light, buoyant. It did not take her long to reach the bank of the fjord.

Gwendolyn walked for quite a while, paying no heed to the distance she was covering, until she came to a narrow peninsula that jutted out a short way into the fjord. The grassy knoll overlooking the peninsula looked soft and inviting, and she was feeling a little tired and quite hungry. She took off her cloak and spread it out upon the ground, then sat down. From here she could just barely make out the settlement, set in among the steep, rolling hillsides at the end of the fjord.

After tearing a generous hunk from the loaf of crusty bread, Gwendolyn crumbled some of the pungent goat cheese on top of it. She took a bite, savoring the simple flavors. The bright sunlight warmed her skin through her clothes, and she kicked off her leather slippers, stretching her toes. She looked out across the glistening expanse of water, marveling at the reflection of the snow-capped mountains on its tranquil surface. The stunning beauty of the land made it so easy to forget the numbing pain that had plagued her heart these last two weeks. Yet try as she would, she could not forget it completely.

She had seen little of Hakon since that awful day he had returned from Trondheim, and that was how she wanted it. After she told Anora what had happened, she had insisted that they never speak of it again. She and Anora had taken all of their meals in their chamber, preferring each other's company over that of a teeming hall full of Viking warriors and their wives. Only Berta had been welcome to visit them. The kindly woman had seen to it that they ate well, and they had never wanted for anything.

Gwendolyn sighed unhappily. It was those few times when she had seen Hakon that haunted her, tormenting her mind. One morning only a few days past, she had been returning from the bathing house when he suddenly rounded the corner in front of her. She had been looking down, and had run right into him. His strong arms had encircled her, instinctively drawing her close. She looked up in startled surprise, her eyes locking with his for one breathless moment. His handsome face was strangely gaunt, almost pale, despite the bronzed tint of his skin, the blue depths of his eyes full of turmoil. She felt him shudder. Then he had suddenly released her and had hurried away.

And then only the night before she had ventured from the hall for a breath of fresh air. It was almost dusk. She had stretched her arms high above her head for a moment, then had leaned against the timbered wall, looking up at the stars just beginning to appear in the night sky. She had suddenly sensed that someone was watching her. Turning her head, she spied Hakon only a few feet away. He had started to walk toward her, then wheeled around and strode almost angrily down the hill toward the great hall.

Gwendolyn shook her head fiercely. If she thought of this any longer, it would surely spoil the day for her. Whatever had been between them was over, finished. Hakon no longer loved her, if he ever had at all. Yet even as she tried to wrest him from her mind, she could not forget.

She quickly ate the rest of her simple meal, then rose to her feet. It was probably time she headed back to the settlement. The sun had already crept up high in the sky, telling her it was almost midday. She must have missed the morning meal entirely. No doubt Anora would worry if she did not return soon. She stepped into her leather slippers, then shook out her cloak and whisked it about her delicate shoulders. A slight twinge of pain shot through her. Aye, she grimaced, even her healed wound would not let her forget him.

She left the grassy knoll overlooking the peninsula and walked back down to the bank of the fjord. The sound of a rushing waterfall was suddenly carried to her on the breeze. A cool drink of fresh water would taste so wonderful, she thought, realizing how thirsty she was. Surely it could not be very far from where she was.

Instead of walking back toward the settlement, she hurried farther along the fjord. With each step the sound of the waterfall grew more thunderous, more powerful, until at last, after rounding a steep hillside, she was greeted by a sight that took her breath away. A sheer wall of rock towered high above her, and spilling over its glistening crags and hollows was the most majestic waterfall she had ever seen. Swollen by the melting mountain snows, the waterfall plummeted with deafening fury into the fjord below, sending up a dense white spray of cold mist into the air.

Gwendolyn gathered her cloak more tightly about her, for it was much cooler near the waterfall. She could see several small pools of water worn into the rocks not far from the surging cascade. She walked over to the nearest one and knelt down. Cupping her hand, she dipped it into the icy water, then brought it to her lips. She felt instantly refreshed as she drank thirstily. Some of the water spilled from her hand onto the front of her tunic, but she did not mind. She filled her cupped hand, again and again, until she was sated.

The sun-warmed rock she was kneeling on reminded Gwendolyn of her favorite grotto back in her homeland, and that fateful day that now seemed so long ago. She leaned over the side, gazing at her reflection on the placid surface of the pool. She did not look any different, yet she knew she had changed. Aye, how she had changed . . .

She touched her wet fingers to her lips, as she had done those many months past. A wave of incredible sadness washed over her, and she felt hot tears streak her face. One by one they tumbled into the clear water, distorting her reflection as tiny ripples radiated out to the edges of the pool.

Suddenly Gwendolyn's eyes widened in horror as she noticed another broken reflection staring up at her from the surface of the pool. She gasped in disbelief as she recognized the leering, evil grin. Nay, it cannot be! her mind screamed, as she plunged her hand into the icy water to dispel the horrible image. But she heard cruel laughter behind her, and she knew it was real. She wheeled around just as two clawlike hands bit into her shoulders. She winced in pain as the gnarled fingers dug into the skin just above her scar. She tried to scream, but fear had constricted her throat. Like a hideous apparition back from the grave, Svein's scarred face loomed above hers.

"At last I have my revenge," he snarled, his fetid breath assailing, her, causing her to gag. He shoved her to the ground with unbelievable force, then kneeled astride her, grinning madly as he pulled a long knife from his belt. His pale eyes were red-rimmed and bulging. "I'll wager you did na' think you'd be seeing the likes o' me again, eh, lad?" he rasped hoarsely. He brought the knife down to within inches of her face. "I could na' believe my good fortune when I saw 'twas you, Garric."

"But how . . . I st-stabbed you Hakon's men threw you into the fjord . . ." Gwendolyn gasped, her frantic thoughts rushing back to the night she and Anora had tried to escape. Aye, it was her knife that had felled him, she thought wildly.

Svein threw back his head and laughed, a high-pitched, wheezing sound. Then he stopped just as suddenly and looked down at her with boiling hatred in his eyes. "Aye, your knife almost finished me, lad. And if I hadn't lain so still, not even breathin' while Hakon's men stood over me they would have run me through with their swords as well. But when they threw me into the fjord, I just drifted a ways along the shore 'til I could see 'twas safe to crawl out again. Fools!" he spat vehemently.

He shifted his weight above her, his tongue licking his cracked lips. "'If na' for the old woman who found me, I would have died for sure. But I did na' die. I have been waitin' these many months, waitin' for the right moment to have my revenge!" He laid the cold steel of his blade across her throat. "When you taste the kiss of my knife, when I twist it into your heart, only then will you know half the torment I've suffered because o' you, Garric."

Gwendolyn felt a cold chill course through her at his words, but she did not allow herself to panic. God's blood! If she could only get the knife away from him, she thought, her mind working fast, at least then she might have a chance. She could see he was mad beyond all reason. Perhaps if she could confuse him, even for a moment . . .

She found her voice once again. "B-but, Svein, you are mistaken. My name is not Garric—'tis Anora!"

"Anora?" he repeated, his pale eyes widening. "Nay, you lie!" he hissed. "She has long, beautiful hair, like spun silver — "