Twin Passions (36 page)

Watching her beautiful face for the moment of her
release, Hakon smiled as she writhed beneath him. He could hold back no longer.
He groaned as he shuddered deep within her, overwhelmed by the tumultuous
sensations that seared through his loins.

They lay together so, merged as one and entwined in
each other's arms, long after the logs blazing brightly in the fireplace had
been reduced to glowing embers.

Chapter 33

A fierce pounding on the heavy door to his hall roused
Hakon enough to raise his head. He opened his eyes and looked about him. Only a
dull glow remained in the central fireplace, telling him that the fire must
have died out hours ago. Most likely it was near dawn, he thought, shaking his
head. The pounding at the door grew louder.

"Lord Hakon, I must speak with you at once!"

The warrior in Hakon became instantly alert as he
recognized Olav's voice. His men knew well enough not to disturb him at night
unless it was a matter of the greatest urgency. Pulling gently away from Gwendolyn's
arms, he swiftly covered her with one end of the fur rug and hurriedly slipped
on his silken trousers.

"What is it, my lord?" Gwendolyn asked
drowsily, opening her eyes. She, too, had been awakened by the pounding. She
brought herself up on one elbow.

"Stay there, little one," Hakon admonished
softly. He grabbed his broadsword from beneath some nearby pillows and held it
at his side as he strode to the door.

At that moment Olav burst into the hall and rushed into
the main room, almost running into Hakon. Several Viking guards were also with
him, but they stayed just outside the door, their great torches shedding light
into the darkened hall.

"Forgive me, Lord Hakon," he said hastily,
averting his eyes from the fetching sight of Gwendolyn lying barely covered
beneath the fur rug. "'Tis Rhoar Bloodaxe! He and his forces, numbering
several hundred strong, have been sighted just over the valley. I fear this is
the day he shall seek his vengeance, my lord!"

"Thor's blood!" Hakon cursed loudly, his
voice echoing about the hall. "Who has brought this news?"

"A messenger from your uncle's settlement was on
his way here when he almost rode into the very midst of Rhoar's camp. He
arrived only a few moments ago. Shall I send for him, my lord?"

"Nay, Olav. I will speak with him shortly."
Hakon's face was grim in the bright light of the torches, his mind working
fast. "See that the men are alerted and ready for battle," he
ordered. "Post a third of the guards around the perimeter of the
settlement, and see that several men are stationed at each longhouse . . .
though I want at least ten to guard my hall." Olav nodded as Hakon
continued. "We are fortunate that most of the reinforcements I summoned to
guard the settlement while I was in Trondheim still remain," he said
tersely.

"Yea, my lord, 'tis fortunate indeed." Olav
shook his head in assent, though he felt a slight sense of unease. Hakon had
the advantage of at least two men to every one of Rhoar's, but some of them
would have to remain behind to protect the settlement. No doubt Hakon's forces
would meet the enemy in battle near their camp in the valley, for he was sure
Hakon would do everything in his power to keep Rhoar and his men away from the
settlement.

"Go, Olav, and see to it that all is in readiness,"
Hakon commanded, interrupting his thoughts. "I will join you in a few
moments."

"Yea, my lord." Turning on his heel, Olav
strode quickly from the hall.

Hakon stood for a moment, lost in thought. So, the day
of Rhoar's blood vengeance had finally come! Today his hated bastard brother
would make a violent play to wrest from him the right of his inheritance, or
meet his death trying.

Yea, for Hakon knew it would be a fight to the death.
There could be no other way. He shook his head grimly. He would meet Rhoar in battle,
but now there was more to fight for than just his inheritance. He looked over
to where Gwendolyn
lay
, her emerald eyes searching his
face. Her tousled beauty took his breath away. His fist clenched tightly around
the hilt of his broadsword. Nay, he would not have such happiness taken from
him! By the blood of Odin, he vowed angrily, he could not,
would not
, be defeated!

He walked back to her side and held out his hand to
her. She grasped his hand, the fur rug falling away from her slender body as he
gently pulled her to her feet. Holding her close against his bare chest, he
caressed her silken curls.

"You heard Olav's words?" he asked softly.

Gwendolyn nodded her head, though for some strange
reason she could not speak. She listened to the strong, steady beating of his
heart, a cold lump of apprehension in her throat. She turned suddenly and
looked up at him, their eyes meeting in a gaze of longing so intense she could
have cried out. But still she was silent. What would be her and Anora's fate if
aught happened to him? What would her life be without him? She shook her head
fiercely. Nay, she would not think of it! A solitary tear ran down the side of
her face. Seeing it, Hakon gently brushed it away.

"Nay, my love, there is no time for tears,"
he murmured. "You must have courage . . . it will help me to do what I must.
Now, come, I must prepare for battle." He led her into his chamber and sat
her down on the wide bed, leaning his broadsword against one of the carved
corner posts. Thankfully the room was warm from the glowing heat of the bronze
brazier, but he still wrapped her within the thick coverlet.

Gwendolyn watched as he strode over to one of his
massive chests and lifted the heavy lid. He stripped off his silken trousers
and hastily donned a black woolen tunic that reached to mid-thigh. Then he bent
and pulled on woolen trousers and protective leggings fastened at the back of
his calves. Next came high leather boots that rose to just below his knees, and
then he wrapped his wide leather belt with the long scabbard finely ornamented
with metal mounts about his waist. A mail shirt made of linked iron rings that
reached just to his belt went on over the tunic. He drew a thick black mantle
trimmed in fur from the chest and wrapped it about his shoulders, attaching it
to the mail shirt with two large silver brooches.

Gwendolyn was astonished at how quickly he dressed, and
with such practiced efficiency. Lastly he pulled a massive wooden shield from
the timbered wall where it had been hanging. It was brightly painted in black
and yellow, and an iron boss glinted from the center that would serve to
protect his hand.

Hakon ran his free hand through his white-blond hair
and approached the bed. He bent and picked up his heavy broadsword and slid it
easily into the scabbard at his belt. "You must stay here, Anora, in this
room, until I return," he commanded softly. "There will be guards
posted outside the hall to protect you, so you need not fear.
'
Tis my hope that the battle will be fought and won before
night falls once again." His voice grew hard as he thought of what lay
ahead. He could tarry no longer. "I must go, my love," he said, the
bronzed planes of his face determined, grim.

Gwendolyn suddenly rose from the bed, the fur coverlet
falling to the floor. She flung her arms about his neck, standing on tiptoes,
and kissed him with such passionate fervor that it nearly took his breath away.
The iron links of his mail shirt bit cruelly into her skin, but she did not
care. Nothing mattered for that one moment but the kiss they shared.

At last Hakon tore his lips from hers, chuckling
deeply. "I shall look forward to many more of those, my love." He
strode over to the table near the window and picked up his silver helmet.
Holding it in the crook of his arm, he glanced one last time at Gwendolyn.

She stood beside the bed, her beautiful body bared to
his heated gaze. Thor, he had never before seen her look so vulnerable and
alone! "Do not fear, little one, Odin shall protect me," he murmured
reassuringly. And with that, he was gone from the room, his footsteps echoing
down the length of the hall until the heavy door slammed shut behind him.

Gwendolyn waited a moment, still and silent, until she
was sure he was gone. Then, without wasting any more time, she raced over to
her chest of clothing and threw back the lid.
Nay, my love, I shall be with you,
she thought resolutely,
not as Anora, but as Garric
. . . She
knew Hakon would probably need the services of his stable hand to see to his
stallion, and perhaps he would even need a weapons bearer. Their guise would
fail for sure if Anora went with him into battle. Her sister knew nothing of
weapons and warfare. Aye, if she hurried, she would probably make it to the
stable before he got there!

Gwendolyn pulled her jerkin, woolen shirt, leather
belt, and breeches out from beneath the pile of silken garments, and dressed
quickly. She then ran to the wide bed and peered underneath it. Her leather
boots were out of reach, but after a few lunges she was able to grab them and
put them on her feet. Now, all that was needed was a weapon, she thought,
glancing about the room. She was not about to go onto a battlefield
empty-handed!

Her eyes scanned the array of weapons hanging on the
timbered walls of the chamber. Spying a long-bladed knife with an ornately
carved hilt, she lifted it from the two wooden pegs it was resting on and slid
it into her belt. She then ran back over to the bed and mounded several
eiderdown pillows up beneath the fur coverlet. At least that way if anyone came
into the room, they would think she was fast asleep and not disturb her!

Gwendolyn hurried to the nearest window and lifted the
leather shade. She peered outside furtively. The early morning sky was just
beginning to lighten with the first golden rays of sunlight. Several inches of
new snow had fallen during the night, adding to the icy covering already on the
frozen ground. Relieved at seeing no one near Hakon's hall, she hoisted herself
up and over the window ledge and jumped easily to the ground below.

She hugged the outside wall for a moment, getting her
bearings. Suddenly two Viking guards rounded the corner of Hakon's hall, so she
started walking nonchalantly in the direction of the stable. Her heart was
pounding wildly against her chest. Sweet Jesu! If they had come a moment sooner
. . .! She did not want to think about it. It certainly would have looked
suspicious for a stable hand to be sneaking out of the window of Hakon Jarl's
private chamber! She had almost reached the path to the stable not far from the
hall when she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

"Garric!" She froze in her steps, looking
over her shoulder. Hakon was standing near the front of his hall surrounded by
Olav and about twenty Viking warriors. "Fetch my stallion, lad, and be
quick about it!" he commanded in a tone that bespoke no resistance.
Gwendolyn broke out in a run, her panting breath billowing out in clouds of
vapor from the cold morning air.

God's blood, that was twice she had been lucky! Hakon
had obviously not yet been to the stable. She only hoped now that he would not
return to his chamber and find her gone! Reaching the stable door, she pushed
it open and leaned against it for a moment, trying to catch her breath.

"Garric, are you here?" she called out, not
daring to use Anora's name until she knew for sure her sister was alone. Her
eyes searched the dim interior. There was no answer. At least it was warm,
Gwendolyn thought, rubbing her cold hands together as she closed the door
behind her and stepped farther into the stable. "Garric?" There was a
sudden rustling from the direction of one of the stalls.

"Aye, 'tis I," Anora whispered faintly,
stepping out from behind the nearest stall. There was hay stuck in her short
curls, and from the rumpled appearance of the clothing Gwendolyn had given her
the night before, she must have been sleeping. She rubbed her eyes,
then
stared in startled surprise at her sister.

"Gwendolyn, what are you doing?" she blurted,
though not too loudly. "We cannot both be dressed as Garric!"
Gwendolyn shook her head and quickly explained. "Lord Hakon has received
news that Rhoar Bloodaxe is planning to attack this very day!" She ignored
Anora's gasp and rushed on. "I changed into these clothes and hurried
here." She smiled fleetingly. "The same way you escaped last night. I
have no doubts that Lord Hakon will wish for Garric to accompany him to the
battlefield. As I did not think you would enjoy the task, I came as quickly as
I could!"

Anora nodded fiercely in agreement, her eyes wide and
frightened. "But how shall I get back to his hall? It was hard enough last
night, though thankfully I had cover of darkness."

"Nay, you will have to stay here, in the stable,"
Gwendolyn replied. "But you must keep yourself hidden. Hakon bade me not
to leave the chamber before he left this morning. If he saw you walk now from
the stable . . ." She shrugged. Anora nodded in understanding.

"Aye, but what of when you return, after the
battle?" she asked,
then
shuddered. Nay, she
would not think that Gwendolyn might not return.

Gwendolyn seemed to have read her thoughts. "Do
not fear, Anora, I will stay far back and well out of danger," she said
reassuringly. "I am sure the Vikings do not employ mere youths to fight
their battles!" She grimaced. At least, she hoped not! "And when I
return to the settlement, I will simply sneak back through the window of Lord
Hakon's hall and resume my guise. No one will be the wiser!"

Suddenly she heard the tramp of many feet and loud
voices echoing from the stable yard. They must be getting ready to march from
the settlement, she thought wildly. "Anora, hide
yourself
,
and well!" she hissed. "I will somehow let you know when all is safe
for you to come out of hiding."