Twin Passions (48 page)

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.

"What is the meaning of this, Earl Godric?"
he demanded. "I thought 'twas agreed between us that the Vikings were to
be put to death at once!"

Earl Godric waved his hand for silence. His expression
was hard as he studied his daughters. "Why do you ask me to spare the men
who abducted you?" he queried harshly. Truly, he had never been more
perplexed!

Anora squeezed Gwendolyn's arm reassuringly, then
walked over and stood beside Wulfgar. She looked up at him, a plaintive plea in
her eyes. "Please, my lord, if you will only listen." A surge of
relief coursed through her when he nodded, though his expression remained grim.

Gwendolyn stepped forward, her emerald eyes flashing
with impassioned defiance. She stood straight and proud before her father. Her
voice rang out boldly for all to hear. "If you have these men killed,
Father, then you will have the blood of the man I love on your hands!"

Earl Godric almost choked, his piercing eyes widening
in surprise. Angry mutterings of disbelief rippled through the assembled
warriors, threatening to erupt once again into shouts for violence. But Godric
raised his arm and they fell silent, albeit begrudgingly. Was this his
Gwendolyn?
he
wondered, bewildered. His rebellious
Gwendolyn, who had never granted a suitor a second glance?

"Show me this man," Earl Godric ordered
tersely. Gwendolyn turned and pointed at Hakon. "That is him, there!"

Earl Godric's eyes raked shrewdly over the tall, blond
Viking, noting well his proud bearing, even though he had been badly abused by
Wulfgar's men. "Bring him to me!" he commanded.

Wincing painfully, Hakon tried to shrug off the two
burly warriors and walk up the hill on his own, but he could not. He had to
limp between them, leaning on them for support. Gwendolyn met them near the
top, and insisted on taking the place of one of the warriors. The tallest one
grunted,
then
stepped aside as she gladly shouldered
Hakon's weight.

"You are a brave one," Hakon murmured, a
faint smile curving his lips. Then he groaned, a flicker of pain crossing his
handsome features.

Earl Godric watched all this without a word. It was
only when they were standing before him that he spoke again. "What is your
name, man?"

"Hakon Magnuson, my lord."

It was the very man who had abducted them, Earl Godric
thought in horror. He turned to Gwendolyn, his eyes registering his disbelief. "How
can you say you love this man, Gwendolyn? He has committed a grave crime, not
only against yourself, but against your sister as well." His expression
was as cold as the tone of his voice. "The punishment he deserves is
death."

Gwendolyn's eyes flared indignantly. "Then you
punish me as well, Father, for I cannot live without him. It is true that he
and his men abducted us, but they have also brought us back to our homeland.
Anora has been returned, safe and unharmed. 'Tis a long
story,
and one I would prefer to tell you at leisure. But I fear that now is neither
the time nor the place."

Wulfgar turned to Anora, his face inscrutable. Only his
eyes betrayed the depth of the gut-wrenching turmoil raging inside him. "This
Viking did not touch you?" he demanded tersely. "Any Viking?"
The arm holding his sword was tense, and sweat broke out upon his wide brow.
Surely if this man had touched her, he swore vehemently to himself, even
Gwendolyn's love would not save him.

"Nay, my lord," Anora replied simply, the
truth in her gaze adding credence to her words. She watched the incredible play
of emotions across his handsome face, as the vengeful facade of the
battle-hardened warrior relaxed into the face of the man she knew and loved.

Wulfgar let out his breath sharply, the white-knuckled
grip on his sword slowly relaxing. It was so hard to let go of the bitter rage
that had fueled him these long months, yet gradually he could feel the gripping
tension, the awful torment, subsiding within him. What he had feared most had
not taken place. Anora had not been harmed. He shook his head gravely. Nay, he
could no longer justify taking this Viking's life. Suddenly he sheathed his
sword,
then
looked at Earl Godric. "I would not
object to sparing this man and his crew, my lord," he said evenly. With
that, he gathered Anora into his arms, hugging her fiercely.

Gwendolyn sighed with relief. If Wulfgar was appeased,
surely her father would not deny her.

"But what of you, daughter?" Earl Godric
asked, his eyes studying her expression carefully. "Do you return the same
as you left us?"

Gwendolyn swallowed hard, but she met his gaze evenly. "Nay,
Father, I do not." Her eyes widened in alarm as his hand went to the hilt
of his sword. "Stay your hand . . . please, hear me out," she said
steadily. "'Tis true I am not the same. But that cannot be undone, nor
would I wish it to be so. I was taken from my homeland as a selfish, spoiled
child-woman whose most fervent regret was that I had been born a female. Though
I stand before you now as a woman who has known the love of a man, I could
never wish for it to be otherwise. I love Hakon, Father, more than life itself.
'Tis his child I carry proudly within me."