Immortal Champion (41 page)
Slowly, so slowly, Gunnar pried his eyes open. He lay there staring up at the moon, bright overhead. “It is gone.”
“Are you certain?” asked Torvald.
Gunnar reached deep within, trying to find some trace of the bull’s spirit, but there was nothing but a strange and wonderful emptiness where the beast had passed. Stunned, he whispered again, “Gone. I am free.”
Rain, warm as summer, dropped onto his chest. He turned his head toward a faint sound and discovered it was not rain, but tears.
“Don’t cry, sweet lady. You have saved me.” He held out his arms and Eleanor came to him, curling down onto his chest, weeping. “Don’t cry, love.”
“I will cry if I want to,” she whispered as Torvald silently drew her gown over their naked bodies. “They are tears of joy.”
They were still clinging to each other, Torvald standing over them like a guardian angel, when Brand came back. He took one look at them and started gathering the rest of their clothes.
“I wish I could leave you to each other, but I cannot.” He dropped the clothes by their heads. “Dress yourselves. I could not find Cwen. We must leave this place.”
BY FIRST LIGHT,
they were packed and ready, waiting on the edge of the dene for dawn to shift the others so they could set out. As on the journey to Burwash, only Ari and Torvald would go with them because they could best hide amongst men and their beasts.
they were packed and ready, waiting on the edge of the dene for dawn to shift the others so they could set out. As on the journey to Burwash, only Ari and Torvald would go with them because they could best hide amongst men and their beasts.
But there would be one difference this time. At least, Gunnar hoped there would. As sunrise approached, his trepidation grew, until it felt like an entire hive of bees had taken up residence in his belly. If he changed here, now . . .
“I should move away from her, just to be certain,” he muttered in Norse.
“And miss watching the sun rise in your woman’s eyes for the first time in nearly six hundreds of years? If you can do it, you are a stronger man than I, Gunnar
inn rauði
. I could not.” Brand checked the lashings on the packhorse for the dozenth time and thumped the animal on the rump. He switched to English. “I am the one who must go just now. Fare you well, Gunnar. Lady Eleanor.”
inn rauði
. I could not.” Brand checked the lashings on the packhorse for the dozenth time and thumped the animal on the rump. He switched to English. “I am the one who must go just now. Fare you well, Gunnar. Lady Eleanor.”
“Fare you well, my captain. There will always be a place for you, for all of you, wherever we land,” Gunnar vowed.
“Always,
monsire
,” echoed Eleanor.
monsire
,” echoed Eleanor.
“Your first duty is to each other.” Brand started down into the dene, toward where the bear wagon stood. “See to that and the rest will sort itself out.”
As Brand disappeared, Eleanor slipped her arm around Gunnar’s waist. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Are you ready?”
“Are you?”
“Only for the last six hundred years.”
A little later, with the sun just below the horizon, he took Eleanor’s hands in his.
“If I start to change, run.”
She nodded. “I will. But you won’t.”
He looked over his shoulder to Torvald, who stood several yards away, still guarding against Cwen, and to the raven who sat on the ground nearby, ready to take Torvald’s place. “She is stubborn.”
Torvald nodded. “Ari will see her safely away. But he won’t need to.” He glanced to the east. “Your pardon, my lady.” He stripped off his braies, the last item he wore, and stuffed them in the saddlebag with his other clothes. “Here it comes.”
Light burst over the distant sea. The sounds of his friends struggling with their changing faded to nothing as Gunnar stared into the sun until he could no longer bear it. Even then he could barely tear his eyes away to turn to Eleanor.
But thank the gods he did. Brand was right. There was nothing as sweet as the sun in Eleanor’s eyes. It set them flashing and gilded her cheeks, even the spot where Cwen’s magic had left its mark. He touched her hair and felt the early warmth. She was beautiful. She was his.
With a shout of victory, he picked her up and spun her, shouting to the sky, “I take this woman as my wife, Freya, to hold as my own from this
day
forward. Let all men witness it and know that I will give her my sword when we are safe.”
day
forward. Let all men witness it and know that I will give her my sword when we are safe.”
She threw her head back and laughed, a joyous sound that went straight to his heart. He spun her again, more slowly, as she spoke her vows back to him, “And I take you, Gunnar, as my wedded husband, to have and hold in sickness and health, for fairer or fouler, for richer or poorer, for all the days and nights of my life. We are wed.”
“We are wed. I would bed you this instant,” he growled, “but we must ride.” Instead, he kissed her, a quick, thorough buss that promised more.
“I am witness that you are man and wife,” said Ari as he picked himself up off the ground. “By the gods, it is good to see you, Gunnar. We have much to talk about, but right now I would much like to congratulate your bride.”
“Later, and with clothes on,” said Gunnar. “We must be away from here. You dress, I’ll saddle the horse.”
They threw things together quickly, and Gunnar handed Eleanor up onto Rosabelle. As he checked the girth one last time, he looked up at his wife. His
wife
. “You are certain of this?”
wife
. “You are certain of this?”
She nodded. “Trust me.”
“I have little choice, my lady. You own my heart.” He swung up on his horse and they set out for Durham.
Only when they were away from the dene and in open country where they could be certain no one was around did they begin to relax a little, although they kept up a fast pace, pushing the horses hard. At some point, Ari started asking questions about what had passed with Cwen. Eleanor offered ready answers, but Gunnar was confused.
“Don’t you remember everything that happens when you’re the bird? That’s what Brand told me.”
“I usually do,” said Ari. “But last night is a fog. That is what bothers me, that something so important would vanish from my mind, bird or not. Tell me exactly what happened.”
Between them, Gunnar and Eleanor put together a complete accounting of the night’s events from the moment Eleanor waded into the pool to when she used the true amulet to free Gunnar. Ari listened intently, scratching at his gloved hand, the creases on his forehead growing deeper with every word. “You say the amulet was bloody.”
“Aye, Torvald said you—the raven,” she corrected herself, “probably snatched it off Cwen’s neck.” Eleanor flicked her hand at a fly that buzzed around her face. “He told me it would be tainted and that I should wash it off in the pool before I let it touch Gunnar.”
“And you did?”
She nodded.
“And that is all of it? You’re certain?”
“Yes,” said Gunnar.
“No,” said Eleanor suddenly. Her eyes widened. “She thanked you for your visions. When she was talking about having the amulet remade, she saw the raven fly overhead and thanked you for your visions. She said you made it simple.”
“Visions. Blood.” Ari turned the words over and over. He was still worrying at them when the walls of Durham came into view at midday. “My visions. Her blood. Shite.”
“What?” asked Gunnar.
“I think I . . . I have to go back. Can you—?”
“We are fine. Durham is in sight. We will soon have Percy’s men all around us. She will not dare come near again. Go.”
Ari tipped his head to Eleanor. “Your pardon, my lady. But there is something I must learn.”
“Then learn it, but be ware, sir. You still owe me my bride’s kiss.”
“And you will have it, my lady. My vow.”
“Go on,” urged Gunnar. “Go!”
They watched Ari gallop off, and then turned to each other. A long, silent moment hung between them, and they turned toward Durham.
Now came the troublesome part.
CHAPTER 22
TEN DAYS LATER
, Ralph de Neville, Earl of Westmorland, stood in the meadow outside Raby Castle and stared at the two-dozen tents pitched on his land. It looked like a bloody siege camp, what with flags flying and shields arrayed to show their owners’ arms.
, Ralph de Neville, Earl of Westmorland, stood in the meadow outside Raby Castle and stared at the two-dozen tents pitched on his land. It looked like a bloody siege camp, what with flags flying and shields arrayed to show their owners’ arms.
He’d come home from court to find them there, and only the fact that the biggest tent belonged to Henry Percy, plus a rumor that Eleanor was present, had kept him from torching the whole mess the first night. He’d ignored them for a full day, and then Percy had sent an invitation so oddly worded, he couldn’t resist.
So he was here, as was his wife, who had been part of Percy’s strange invitation. “Have you figured out what the puppy wants yet?”
“No. But if you call him puppy to his face, you may find yourself bitten.”
“He has no teeth.”
“Likely he has simply not shown them to you yet. Shall we see what he wants?”
“Of a certs.” Neville put out his arm and led his wife toward the puppy’s tent.
“HECOMES, MY
lord, and quickly.”
lord, and quickly.”
Henry Percy looked up from the chessboard. “Just Westmorland?”
“He and his countess, my lord, with only her groom as escort.”
“Keep the groom well away from my tent—along with everyone else. I want utter privacy.” Henry glanced around to all the people in the tent, his gaze landing at the end on Eleanor’s unsmiling face. “Are we ready, my lady?”
She took a deep breath and blew it out between pursed lips. “Yes, my lord.”
“Send them in.”
The varlet disappeared, and a moment later, the tent flaps opened wide and Henry’s steward intoned: “Ralph, Earl of Westmorland, and Joan, Countess of Westmorland.”
Westmorland blew into the tent like a whirlwind, half dragging his wife, who quickly shook him free and regained her composure. Henry grabbed Eleanor’s hand, and they met her parents mid-tent and did courtesy before Westmorland could take it all in.
“Eleanor.” The earl and his lady said it at the same time, each putting a different tenor on it, the lady’s pleased at seeing her and the lord’s less so. Then Westmorland saw Gunnar. “You.”
“Me.” Gunnar shoved his bishop forward to take Henry’s knight, and then rose and bowed slightly. “My lord. My lady.”
“I hope you’ve married her, Percy, or this knave will surely try to steal her away.”
“Oh, I’ve married and consummated, my lord. Most completely and thoroughly.” Henry shot his bride a glance that made her blush like a summer apple.
“And I have married and consummated as well,” said Eleanor.
“What?” Westmorland’s face flashed through a series of emotions that settled on something dark. “What goes on here? Explain yourselves.”
Eleanor’s courage wavered in the face of her father’s anger. Convincing Henry and Lucy to follow this mad plan of hers had been difficult enough—especially Lucy. Convincing her father . . . But she looked at Gunnar and remembered all she’d gone through to get to this point, and straightened her spine.
“It is simple enough, my lord. I married the man I love.”
“And I married the woman I love,” said Henry. “They simply were not each other.”
Lady Joan looked puzzled. “You have not married each other?”
“No,
madame
,” said Eleanor.
madame
,” said Eleanor.
The countess looked to Gunnar. “I take it she married you,
monsire
.”
monsire
.”
“That would be correct, my lady,” said Gunnar.
“You!” Westmorland’s eyes narrowed, and he whirled on Eleanor. “Was it not enough to spread your legs for him in the forest like some tinker’s whore?” He drew back his hand to strike. “I warned you—”
Before he could finish, Gunnar was between them, her father’s collar bunched in his fist. He jerked Westmorland close, lifting him onto his toes, and glared down at him. “Earl or not, you will not speak to my wife so. Nor will you ever again strike her.”
“Strike her?” Lady Joan rounded on her husband. “When did you strike her?”
“Never.”
“Liar! He beat her into marrying Richard le Despenser, my lady, when he knew she wished to marry me.” Gunnar released Westmorland with a shove that nearly put the older man off his feet. “That is how her nose was broken.”
“Eleanor! You told me you walked into a door.”
“Yes,
madame
. I did tell you that. And I told you I was pleased to marry Henry Percy, as well. They were both lies told to avoid my father’s ire.”
madame
. I did tell you that. And I told you I was pleased to marry Henry Percy, as well. They were both lies told to avoid my father’s ire.”
“Ralph!”
“She defied me and dishonored the Neville name.”
“You would not listen to me,” said Eleanor. “I never wanted Richard or Henry. Your pardon, Henry—”
Percy waved off the insult with a grin.
“But I did want Gunnar. I wanted him all along. So when I left to go to Durham to be wed, I instead set out to find Gunnar. To my good fortune, he found me.” She quickly told about Tunstall and the loss of her men and poor John Penson.
Paling, Lady Joan sagged down onto one of the stools at the chess table. Eleanor knelt beside her. “Sir Gunnar saved me, my lady. As always, he was my champion.”
“Tunstall would never have taken you prisoner had you done as you were told,” grumbled Westmorland. He glared at Gunnar. “You will never see a penny of Eleanor’s dowry.”
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