by Phoebe Conn
Impressed by his serious tone, Celiese responded in kind, “I understand it is important to impress the man favorably. André‘s horses are well into their prime if not past it, but still…”
“But nothing!” he interjected harshly. “You must let me decide how best to deal with Hrolf, and we’ll not argue the matter in front of him either.” He had no intention of riding overland to Rouen when he knew Celiese would attract a large following of devoted peasants. That would impress Hrolf most definitely, but certainly not favorably, as he hoped to do.
“This is my fight, and while I am grateful for your help, I cannot allow you to pursue the cause of the d’Loganvilles alone.”
Looking down at the determined tilt of her chin, Mylan thought only how dangerous a mission they had undertaken and the scant likelihood for success. He was tempted to tie her up and leave her on board the Falcon under heavy guard when they reached Rouen. Should she prove unreasonable when they arrived, he might just do it. “I am not alone, I have the most devoted of wives to assist me.”
Frowning petulantly, Celiese turned away. “Do not tease me with that fantasy yet again.”
Seeing a way to avoid an argument that might have unfortunate ramifications when they reached Rouen, he reached out to turn her back toward him. “What Hrolf understands is strength. A penniless French noblewoman will never impress him, whereas the wife of a wealthy Dane will have considerable bargaining power. If you are truly as devoted to the cause of restoring to the d’Loganvilles what is rightfully theirs, then you will follow my lead.”
She stared into his fierce amber gaze and knew while his plan might succeed she was extremely uneasy with it. Were they truly husband and wife, equals who shared in all things, she would trust his word without question, but that was not the truth of their situation, and it pained her to pretend that it was. It was to her advantage to be reasonable however. “It will do no harm to observe the situation for a day or two, that I will admit. But if Hrolf is anything like Raktor, then I will never be able to trust him, let alone be civil.”
“You need do neither. I will tell him you are an intensely shy and virtuous young woman who prefers privacy to the company of others. The less he sees of you, the better I will like it.”
“Why, Mylan, are you jealous?” She laughed at the absurdity of the prospect and her eyes sparkled with a merry twinkle as she teased him. “Hrolf is the last man in France I would find attractive, don’t you know that?”
Appalled by the mischievous gleam in her eye, he took hold of her shoulders and gave her a firm shake. There were undoubtedly many French noblemen still dwelling in the country whom she would find acceptable as mates, but he had no intention of giving her her freedom. “Jealousy is an emotion we can do without. See you give me no cause for it.”
When he released her, Celiese backed away slowly, sorry he could believe her capable of deliberately provoking his anger with such frivolous behavior. “I don’t even know how to flirt; Mylan. I never had an occasion to practice the feminine wiles young ladies are supposed to affect to impress men.”
She looked so crushed by his warning that he regretted it immediately. “Oh, Celiese, you are so very lovely, you need do no more than smile at a man to capture his heart.”
Preferring the view of the river to his taunting grin, she turned away. She had often smiled at him, but if he had a heart, it most definitely did not belong to her. Believing he had won her silence at last, Mylan left her to see to his other duties, wishing she were as easy to command as the Falcon.
*
High fortress walls surround the city of Rouen, and lookout towers commanded an unobstructed view of the surrounding countryside as well as a considerable distance of the river Seine. The approach of the Surf Falcon was noted when first the red and white sail could be seen, and a runner sent to inquire as to what sort of reception should be extended. Hrolf had no such knarr himself, nor did he expect one to arrive. Exceedingly curious, he told the captain of his guard to ascertain who owned the ship and what his purpose might be, but to do no more than allow the ship to dock. Its passengers were not to be welcomed to the city until he was positive no mischief was afoot. Being the fiercest of raiders himself, he trusted no one, and he suspected everyone of attempting to take from him the prize he had been awarded. He guarded Rouen and all his lands well, and he planned to keep every bit of his territory by whatever ruthless tactics were necessary to hold them.
The docks were filled with dreki, the Danish warships, their graceful lines masking their deadly purpose, and Celiese turned away, sickened by the sight of what the once pretty city had become. A center of commerce in her father’s time, it was now an armed citadel, ringed by ships of the Danes who had decimated the countryside with raids that had, over the years, become repeatedly more barbaric, until nothing remained to be seized but the land itself. Growing pale, she gripped the rail, uncertain that she could meet Hrolf without becoming physically ill. Disgusted by such weakness, she looked up at Mylan, but his expression was both proud and determined, without a trace of the fear that nearly paralyzed her.
“Do you expect to be welcomed here without challenge?” she asked.
“No, not immediately I don’t.” He had also noted the guards upon the battlements and was certain their presence had been noted and reported to Hrolf. “Whenever I have sailed into a new port, whether it was to trade goods or merely to explore, I found patience the best approach. If we were to leap off the Falcon with swords in our hands, our purpose would immediately be misunderstood. However, if we wait for Hrolf to send an emissary, the advantage will already be ours.”
“I have always thought you clever, but if, like Raktor, Hrolf says one thing while plotting another, none of us will be safe.”
Mylan chuckled at her keen observation. “Are we not planning the very same sort of deception, Celiese? I will introduce myself to the duke as merely a prosperous merchant searching for new markets, when, in fact, it is your land we are really after.”
“That the king has made him a duke is ludicrous!” she exploded angrily, livid at the very thought of such a travesty.
“Did I ever mention he also gave him his daughter, Gisela, as a bride? Does that not anger you more?” Since they had met as the result of such an arranged marriage, he expected her to see his point readily.
Celiese’s thick lashes swept her delicate brows as she recalled the princess. “Mylan, I met Gisela, more than once, I think. I was no more than six or seven years old, but it is possible she may recognize me.”
Mylan swore angrily at such an unwanted complication. “I had not even considered that might be a problem. Let us hope the woman has so much on her mind she will not recall a pretty child she met ten years ago. Dressed as you are and by my side, she will think you a Danish princess, not a French one.”
“I am not a princess, Mylan.” She blushed at the word, but she was pleased by his compliment all the same, for there was a great difference between a princess and the lowly slave he had once sworn her to be.
“If you speak French to no one, not even to the servants, the truth of your nationality will not be guessed. You must give Hrolf no cause to be suspicious of us, or we will never succeed in wrenching your estate from his grasp.”
“I have agreed to try your way first,” she reassured him with far more confidence than she felt.
“Do not doubt that it will work, for it will.” Mylan gave the order to drop anchor in the center of the river and leaned back against the rail to wait for whatever welcome they might receive. Celiese wore his silver charm still, and the hope Thor might be willing to assist him in so dangerous a cause amused him greatly. “Hrolf has taken your religion, Celiese. Perhaps you should give that necklace back to me now.”
“You cannot be serious!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, but I am. It was part of his bargain with your king that he accept the religion of the French people.”
“How could the man embrace Christianity with the sins
he must have upon his soul? Surely his conversion was no more than an expedient one.”
“You are supposed to know nothing of Christ’s teachings, so perhaps you would like to invite him to instruct you. Then you could judge for yourself whether or not his beliefs are sincere,” he suggested slyly.
“That is not a subject I’d care to discuss with that rogue.” It would be difficult not to blurt out the purpose of her visit when first she saw the man; she would never be able to calmly discuss religious doctrine as if she were no more than curious.
“If luck is with us, you will have no need to discuss any topic with him.” Sighting a small boat headed their way, Mylan nodded confidently. “You see, curiosity is a powerful weapon, and someone has been sent to investigate the nature of our visit, just as I knew they would. You must rely upon me to make the first contact with Hrolf, for as captain of this vessel that is my duty.”
Those were the last words Celiese heard Mylan speak for many an hour. He went ashore accompanied by two of his crew, but she did not argue with his decision to leave her behind for the moment. As far as she knew, no Viking sailed with his wife at his side, so her presence was a distinct oddity. His arrival would be regarded as remarkable enough without her to cause a distraction.
She found the wait interminable. She shared the crew’s rations at suppertime, and then paced the deck until it had grown dark, but Mylan had still not returned.
Mylan found Hrolf to be exactly what he had expected, an arrogant brute who dominated every conversation no matter what the subject. Immense in size, he was never the less fit, his looks pleasant if not handsome, but his appetite for meat and drink was extraordinary, and by the time Mylan staggered aboard the Surf Falcon he was exhausted by the duke’s hospitality and more than a little drunk.
Celiese had been unable to close her eyes, fearing Mylan had come to some terrible harm and that she and his crew would all be taken prisoners at dawn and promptly slain. When he lurched across the deck and stumbled into her dimly lit tent she knew immediately what his activities had been. “When I have been so dreadfully worried I might never see you alive again, how could you have been drinking yourself into a stupor!” she demanded angrily.
“I am not in a stupor,” he replied with difficulty. “Hrolf is as generous a host as my father and insisted I did not suffer from thirst while I dined at his table.”
“How thoughtful of him,” she responded through clenched teeth, but when Mylan sprawled across their blanket she began to unlace his boots without being asked for assistance. “I have never seen you drunk, not ever. How the Danes can pass so many evenings swilling ale I will never know, and I have always been grateful you did not have such slothful habits, but perhaps you only lacked the opportunity.” She yanked off his suede boots and tossed them aside but remained seated at his feet, unwilling to do more to make him comfortable.
After rolling over upon his back, Mylan raised his right arm to cover his eyes as he yawned sleepily. “He believed all I told him about wishing to establish a profitable trade agreement, and if he wants a drinking companion I will be one. Now hush your complaints and come here to me. I told him I would bring my bride with me tomorrow when we take his falcons out to hunt.”
“You expect me to go hunting with that fiend?” she asked in hoarse disbelief.
“No, with me. Now come here as I asked you,” he called in a far softer tone.
She had been frightfully worried, terrified he had been met with the very worst of receptions, but the fact that he had been enjoying himself so fully at Hrolf’s table was more than she could tolerate or forgive. “No! I’ll not sleep with a drunk.”
Mylan opened his eyes long enough to fix Celiese with a sullen stare that would have turned a lesser woman to stone. Thoroughly disgusted she did not appreciate his efforts on her behalf, he answered sarcastically, “If what you see is a drunk, then sleep elsewhere.”
“I intend to.” Grabbing her cloak, she moved to the edge of the tent and sat huddled in the shadows, so furious with the handsome young man who was her husband only when it suited him that she did not close her eyes until more than one cock had crowed to welcome the new day.
When the small boat Hrolf had sent arrived alongside the Surf Falcon the next morning, Mylan helped Celiese into the vessel and held her hand tightly for the short trip to the docks. Thinking the best approach simply to ignore the argument that had spoiled his plans to enjoy her company the previous night, he explained, “The duke, Robert, as he now calls himselfâhe told me it is the custom of his adopted religion to choose a new name at the time of baptismâlives in a magnificent residence that faces the town square. It is difficult to go from one room to the next with the great number of treasures he has stored there.”
Whispering defiantly, Celiese contradicted him, “Booty!”
“Yes, of course, I know the goods are the spoils of his raids.” He tightened his grip upon the delicate bones of her hand; sorry now he had been so foolish as to bring her along when her temper was so quick. “Should you by some strange twist of fate chance to see something that belonged to your family or to their friends, please pretend you see nothing more than straw being stored to feed the livestock in the winter.”
“Don’t you understand what you are asking of me?” she asked indignantly.
“Yes,” he hissed crossly, “I am asking you to be as fine an actress today as you were the night we were wed!”
Devastated by that insult, Celiese clamped her mouth shut and turned away. She had been a fool to come to Rouen with Mylan when clearly he found Hrolf, or Robert, whatever he wished to call himself, a most interesting and doubtless admirable man. She already knew he would own nothing from her home, for Raktor had burned whatever he had not stolen, but all his possessions would have belonged at one time to families as dear as hers, and the tragic thought pained her. At the dock they found horses waiting, beautifully groomed and spirited mounts. All were surely stolen, and, thoroughly sickened by the day that lay ahead, she ceased to think of anything other than how to regain possession of her land.
The character of Rouen had changed so greatly since her last visit, Celiese would not have recognized the city had Mylan not sworn that was where they were. There were Danes everywhere, robust men whose fair hair and blue eyes shone brightly above their wide smiles. These men had stopped their raiding to take up permanent residence in France, and yet she knew there was land for them only because her countrymen had not been able to defend their homes and so had lost them, as well as their lives. Being fair-haired and green-eyed, she could pass among them unrecognized for what she was by birth. If it was an actress Mylan wanted, then that was what she would be, but only while it served her purpose.
Bored as the summer drew to an end, Hrolf was pleased to have the benefit of the company of a young man as intelligent and charming as Mylan Vandahl. While he had spent his own years pillaging France, Mylan had sailed to the edges of the known world and far beyond, yet he related the most astounding of adventures with a disarming modesty. He was exactly the type of man Hrolf wished to befriend, and he looked forward to a day of hunting with eager anticipation.
The duke and his party had already reached the open fields outside the city walls and were ready to begin the hunt when Mylan and Celiese arrived to join them. Mylan had favorably impressed all those he had met the previous day, and they were greeted warmly. Celiese’s fair beauty brought her instant acceptance as well.
“Your husband is far too modest a man, Celiese, for you are a wife who should be cherished, and he told us little of your virtues. We were not prepared to meet a woman of such extraordinary loveliness.” Hrolf flashed his most charming smile, expecting to see a pretty blush rise in the young woman’s cheeks, but she regarded him with a cool gaze he found most disconcerting. The power of his position made women eager to please him, but his flattery had failed to win so much as a smile from this beauty.
Ignoring his compliment, Celiese inquired instead abo
ut the hunt. “How have you found the time to train falcons for sport, sir? I should think you would have been far too busy.” Busy with murder and thievery, she was tempted to say, but she was too discreet to insult him so openly.
Surprised that she should be interested in the sport, Hrolf explained proudly, “I have not raised these birds from the nest, but they are mine as is all you see in every direction: I have not known a woman to enjoy falconry, but perhaps you would care to join us rather than merely observe?” He extended his left arm, upon which sat a magnificent peregrine falcon whose sharp talons were firmly embedded in the padded gauntlet he wore. Thinking Celiese would be foolish enough to reach out and pet the bird, he waited patiently to see how badly she would be injured when it bit her.
“Had I a bird of my own I would be happy to participate, but alas, we own none.” Celiese remained upon her horse, her hands holding the reins lightly as she admired the falcon he was showing off so proudly. Clearly he thought her a fool where falcons were concerned, but she knew exactly what would happen were she to make a move toward this one. “This is a hawk of passage then, one captured from the wild and tamed, not an eyas, one taken from the nest and raised for sport?”
Impressed that she knew the difference, Hrolf realized Celiese did indeed know something of his favorite sport. “We have several birds; do you object to your wife joining in the hunt, Mylan?” Hrolf’s booming voice attracted the notice of all who were nearby. There were several other women, but they appeared to be content to be spectators.
“Celiese has many talents; if she wishes to hunt, I have no objection.” Yet Mylan gave her a warning glance. He knew she had nerve aplenty, but falconry involved skill, as well, and he doubted she had any experience with the powerful birds of prey. Moving close, he whispered so only she could hear, “Have you ever done this before?”
