"Hakon!" she shouted, oblivious to the fact that her voice was probably carrying out to the warships not far behind them. "Hakon!" She raced to the prow of the ship, ignoring the stunned glances of his crewmen.
"Gwendolyn, have you forgotten what I said about staying away —
"Look there, my lord!" She cut him off breathlessly, pointing out across the water.
"Damn!" Hakon swore loudly, his eyes narrowing at the large fleet of ships, now fully discernible, approaching them from the south. Thor, he had not anticipated a welcoming party, and such a well-armed one. He knew very well that the bright glints were caused by sunlight reflecting off polished shields and weapons.
Hakon cursed himself for a fool. Why had he not considered that perhaps Wulfgar Ragnarson and his fleet might be waiting for them? Wouldn't he have done the same, had it been his betrothed? He shook his head grimly, his mind working fast. Maybe there was yet a chance they could leave Anora on the shore, then head back out to sea before the fleet caught up with them. There would still be Haarek Jarl's two warships to contend with, but he felt sure his longship could outsail them.
But Olav's shout crushed his last hope. "English warships, my lord, just off the port bow!"
Hakon wheeled around. There were at least twenty ships fast approaching them from the north. So, they were surrounded, he thought with despair, pounding his tightly clenched fist into his other hand. Truly, his gods had finally deserted him. "Head for the nearest shore, Olav!" he commanded tersely.
"Yea, my lord!" Holding fast to the helm, Olav brought it hard about and changed the course of the longship. It skimmed across the glistening waves, straight for a wide, sandy beach only a few hundred yards away.
Gwendolyn stood by Hakon's side, not uttering a word. Her face was pale, her emerald eyes filled with apprehension as she looked up at him.
"There is naught we can do, Gwendolyn," he murmured raggedly. "Soon the matter will be in Wulfgar's hands." He nodded toward Anora, who had stepped shakily from the tent. "Go to your sister."
She obeyed numbly, his sharp orders to his crew ringing in her ears. She hurried to Anora's side, watching silently as the men lowered and furled the sail and readied their oars.
"What is happening?" Anora asked weakly, holding on to the side of the tent. She had been sleeping, but the sudden commotion on board had awakened her with a start. She looked out over the waves, her eyes widening with surprise at the dozens of ships following close behind them in heated pursuit. Suddenly she gasped as she recognized the tall, dark-haired man standing at the prow of the lead ship. 'Tis Wulfgar, Gwendolyn, and look! Father is with him!"
But Gwendolyn's eyes were on the beach ahead. Several of the English warships had already landed, and a line of armed men was standing there in grim formation, their weapons poised, waiting. God's blood, everything was happening so fast!
Suddenly she and Anora were pitched forward onto the deck as the hull of the longship grated against the sandy beach. The sound of oars splintering in two from the force of their landing rent the air. Gwendolyn lifted her head dazedly. All was in confusion as Hakon's crew threw down the broken handles of their oars and grabbed their weapons lying beneath their rowing benches. Wincing from the pain of her scraped hands and knees, Gwendolyn quickly pulled herself to her feet, then bent down to help her sister.
"Are you all right?" she asked breathlessly, looking at Anora's pale face with concern.
"Aye," Anora murmured as she stood, leaning on Gwendolyn's shoulder for support. Her eyes widened in fear as Hakon's longship was immediately surrounded by dozens of well-armed thanes.
"Hold your weapons, men!" Hakon ordered tersely. He could see they were outnumbered by at least three to one, and still more warriors were hastily disembarking from the many ships along the beach. Thorolf's two warships had also landed not far from them, and were surrounded as well.
A wooden gangplank was brought to the side of the long-ship and set roughly against the railing. Hakon watched in silence as the line of men moved back, forming a path for a tall, broad-shouldered warrior striding purposefully toward the longship. So, this was Wulfgar Ragnarson, Hakon thought fleetingly, shrewdly appraising the other man as he walked swiftly up the gangplank and jumped to the wooden deck, followed by several of his warriors.
"Are you Hakon Magnuson?" Wulfgar demanded, his hand resting on the polished hilt of his sword. Hakon nodded grimly. For a long moment the two men eyed each other coldly. Though one was Norwegian and the other a Dane, the same fierce Viking blood ran in their veins. Yet on this day they could have been no further apart. The tension in the air was thick and palpable.
"Wulfgar!" Anora's joyful cry broke the brooding silence. She rushed across the deck and threw herself in his arms. He embraced her tightly, though his steel blue eyes never left Hakon's face.
"You are well?" he asked her, his softly spoken words belying the near-blinding rage and hatred that were tearing at him, threatening to overwhelm him. He knew he was facing the man who had abducted her, the Viking dog who had wrenched her from him on the eve of their marriage. The emissaries sent from Haarek Jarl had told him as much before they had been put to death. Wulfgar wanted nothing more than to run his sword through this blond Viking's heart, but he stayed his hand . . . for the moment.
"Aye, my lord," Anora murmured, lifting her face to look at him. His grim expression frightened her. She had never seen him like this before. He was not the Wulfgar she remembered from their one night of passion, but a battle-hardened warrior, resolute, unflinching, determined to exact his measure of blood vengeance. "Wulfgar . . . please, there is something I must tell—"
"Karl will take you to your father, Anora," Wulfgar interrupted her abruptly. "I will be with you shortly." He led her to a huge warrior, who gently took her arm. Before she could utter another word, she was hustled down the gangplank.
Wulfgar turned back to face Hakon. His eyes flickered over to where Gwendolyn stood by the rear deck. Good, she was well out of the way, he thought fleetingly, as his voice rang out across the beach. "Seize them!"
At his command, dozens of screaming warriors suddenly rushed the longship, their battle cries shattering the eerie stillness that had settled over the beach. Some of them ran swiftly up the gangplank, their glinting swords poised in front of them, while others used crude wooden ladders propped against the hull to climb over the sides of the ship.
Stunned, Gwendolyn watched in horror as Hakon was overwhelmed by four of Wulfgar's men before he could draw his broadsword. He struggled mightily and managed to knock three of them aside, but others were quick to take the places of those who had fallen. Suddenly a cudgel flew through the air, hitting Hakon on the side of the head. He fell heavily to his knees, but still he fought on, his powerful fists hitting home time and time again. But another heavy blow sent him sprawling to the deck. Seizing their chance,
Wulfgar's men grabbed his arms and legs and began to drag him from the ship.
"Nay, please stop!" Gwendolyn cried out, tears streaking her face. But her anguished cries were drowned out as bloodthirsty shouts of "Death to the Vikings!" tore through the air.
Gwendolyn looked wildly about her, cold terror striking her heart at the vengeful bloodlust written on the faces of Wulfgar's warriors and her father's thanes. She knew there was not a moment to lose before they would wreak their own brand of justice upon the captured Vikings. She caught a fleeting glimpse of her father standing on a nearby hill. She knew he was her only hope.
Nay, they will not take Hakon from me! she thought defiantly, wiping her useless tears away with the back of her hand. Drawing courage from the power of her love, she ran to the side of the ship and climbed onto the railing. Without hesitation she jumped into the cold water below, sinking almost up to her waist. She hoisted her soaked chemise and tunic above her knees and waded quickly to shore. Dodging the arms of the warriors who sought only to protect her from the dangerous melee, she rushed along the beach and up the hill, straight into her father's arms.
"Gwendolyn!" Earl Godric cried out, a catch in his voice as he embraced her. But she pulled away from him.
"Please, Father, you must stop them!" Gwendolyn shouted breathlessly, struggling to be heard above the deafening din. "Stay their hands . . . you must . . . you must!"
At that moment Anora broke free of Karl's protective grasp and ran the rest of the way up the hill until she stood side by side with Gwendolyn. Her chest was heaving, and desperate tears streaked her face. "I—I tried to tell Wulfgar t-to stop . . . but he would not hear me!" She choked, trying to catch her breath. "Spare the Vikings, Father . . . please!"
Earl Godric stared in total confusion at his twin daughters. This indeed was not the welcome he had expected! Suddenly he raised his arm for silence. It took a few moments, but gradually the vengeful shouting died out across the beach as all eyes turned toward him.
Gwendolyn looked down the hill, frantically searching for a sign of Hakon. Then she saw him, dangling limply between two burly thanes. He had clearly been beaten, but he was alive. She felt a surge of overwhelming relief as he weakly raised his head, meeting her tear-dimmed gaze over the distance that separated them. She turned back to her father just as Wulfgar quickly strode over to them with his sword in his hand.