by Phoebe Conn
Touched by the obvious depth of his emotion, she tried once again to make him understand her true feelings, "I am flattered that you have grown fond of me."
"Flattered?" Hagen threw up his hands in disgust; exasperated by her lack of response. "I want you to stay here. Are you saying you will not?"
She rose slowly to face him, her expression as serious as her tone as she replied softly, "I am saying that I cannot stay."
Swearing loudly with the vilest oath he knew, Hagen left the garden without looking back. Pits had been dug to roast sides of beef over coals, and if not properly supervised the servants might uncover the meat before it was fully cooked and spoil its flavor. He doubted he would taste a bite, but he went to take charge of the final supper preparations himself rather than argue another minute with Celiese when she was so determined to go her own way.
In an instant his mind was made up. With one excuse or another, he would delay the voyage to France until it would have to wait until spring. He was determined to have the delectable beauty, for he had spent the entire day comparing all their attractive female guests to the enchanting Celiese and had found each of them wanting.
* * *
For a long while after Hagen left her Celiese wandered the garden alone. It depressed her greatly to realize she had hurt him, but clearly she had, although it had most certainly not been her fault. Why had he been the one to want her to remain in his home when it was Mylan she longed to hear speak those same sweet words? She was so terribly confused, but she had been right to tell Hagen the truth.
She had not thought him capable of love; indeed he had not even mentioned the word in their many conversations, but still, regardless of his motives, she had not responded as he had hoped she would, and he had been deeply hurt and angered. She could think of no way to make amends without compromising her own ideals. She walked toward the house, intent upon returning to the party, for she did not want Hagen to think he had upset her so badly she could not bear the company of his many friends.
After stopping by her room to brush her hair and wash the dust kicked up by the day's sports from her face and hands, she rejoined the gathering of guests where she found to her relief that the stallions who had been battling so fiercely were being led away. Neither appeared to be any the worse for the fight, but she was happy to see the party turning toward more lighthearted pursuits. Musicians had begun to play lilting melodies to lure the guests inside, and Thulyn invited everyone to begin dinner while the food was at its best. There would be plenty of ale, so she had little difficulty enticing the hungry crowd to enter the hall where the tables were fully laden with the most delicious of repasts.
The harvest had been as splendid as predicted. The oats and barley were stored for the winter, while the apples, nuts, and honey were being sampled liberally that day. As always there was fish, but there were game birds too, in addition to the beef, which, thanks to Hagen's watchful eye, was done to perfection. Over the summer the goats had produced a generous supply of milk, which had been made into delectable cheeses, so there was something to please each and every guest as they took their places to dine.
Celiese joined Olgrethe and Andrick but had little appetite, although the sumptuous food was well prepared and attractively served. She found it difficult to eat when people were staring at her still, as they had been all day. They were so curious they made not the slightest effort to be discreet, but simply gawked openly as if she were one of Aldred's and Thulyn's many entertainments. And as if that rudeness were not enough to make her uneasy, she could hear Mylan's deep voice as he stood nearby. He was laughing with keen enjoyment, while Estrid's sparkling giggle floated across the crowded room. Had he intentionally wished to hurt her, he could have found no better method than courting another woman in front of her, but Celiese had too much pride to allow her pain show.
Pretending an interest in Erik, who sat opposite her, Celiese found that he and two friends were attempting to compose a poem to commemorate the day, but could not agree upon the first line and therefore found their task impossible, much to their amusement. Their high spirits only made her isolation all the more acute, for she was but a year older than the smiling trio of handsome young men, but a barrier far more insurmountable than age separated them. When Olgrethe and Andrick became involved in a friendly conversation with one of their guests, Celiese found the cheerful part she had attempted to play all day impossible to continue, and, hoping to avoid further anguish, she slipped away unnoticed.
The twilight softened the coastal scene, which made the outdoors enormously inviting, compared to the raucous gathering in the crowded hall. After wandering aimlessly for a while, Celiese followed the trail she had once taken with Hagen up to the top of the hill, but rather than stopping at the bench to rest she continued along the path hoping to discover where it came to an end. When she reached an impressive stone, a monument covered with runes, she ran her fingertips over the deeply incised carvings and wondered what event the stone had been raised to commemorate. She could not read the Viking symbols with any fluency, and these were old, worn away by the sea breeze and salt air, which made her task doubly difficult. So intent was she upon making out the faint inscription, she did not hear the footsteps upon the path until the large man stepped upon a dry twig, snapping it with a crisp retort that warned her of his presence.
Oluf Torgvald gave an evil chuckle as Celiese spun around to face him. He leered at her as he said, "It has been far too long since we were alone together. I have been waiting all day for just such an opportunity, and I do not plan to waste it."
With her back to the massive boulder the agile young woman found her choices for escape few, so she attempted a show of bravado. "We are not alone—all I need do is call for help and dozens of people will come running. I warn you, do not make such a summons for assistance necessary, for you will suffer far more than embarrassment if you do."
"Your tongue is as sharp as your wits, girl, but you'll call no one." Oluf took a step closer, reeling slightly on unsteady legs, for the day had been a hot one and he had had more than his share of ale to quench his thirst. While his clothing was well tailored from fine fabrics, it did not disguise his ample girth, and the aroma of stale sweat made him even less appealing. He had been well built in his teens, but now, nearing thirty, his features, as well as his physique, had grown coarse. The ends of his moustache shone with the grease from the beef he had consumed.
He taunted her cruelly again, "Mylan has cast you aside. What other Vandahl would want a woman he's discarded?"
Not about to reply to that insult, Celiese glanced over her shoulder. A sharp ravine veered off to her left, and the brush at her right was too thick to traverse. She could not leap over the stone behind her, and Oluf stood squarely in the narrow path. As her panic continued to mount, she again attempted to reason with the rude brute.
"The Vandahls are generous people who invited you here today as a courtesy to Olgrethe. If you have no respect for me, then have some for your sister."
Oluf was drunk, and he was not a clear thinker even when sober. He failed to respond to her logic. He saw only a young woman of astonishing beauty and moved closer still, hoping to catch her off guard. "You will dishonor only yourself if you reveal what we've done here. There will be no scandal to touch Olgrethe."
"We will do nothing more than speak, Oluf, and I have said all that I wish to. Please stand aside, for I wanted no more than a few moments of fresh air, and I've enjoyed them." She stood with a confident pose, as if unconcerned by the threat the bully presented to her safety.
Oluf shook his head slowly. "We are staying right here, and if you do not return to the house for hours none will notice or care."
Celiese dug her fingernails into her palms, forcing herself not to shriek uncontrollably. Andrick had told her not to leave his side and she had been a fool to disregard his warning. It could have been Oluf who had shoved her that morning. If any man were capable of murder, surely it was he. She saw h
im shift his weight and knew he would spring at her in the next second if she did not take some quick action to stop him. The prospect of death was preferable to being raped by such an unspeakable fiend.
He was the worst of the Torgvald brothers, and her decision to attack was made swiftly. In the next instant the knife that had been tucked under his belt was in her hand, gleaming wickedly as she lunged forward. Seeking only to flee, not to kill, she slashed through the fabric of his shirt sleeve, and when the startled man bellowed with pain she dropped the knife and darted past him, running down the path toward the safety of the brightly illuminated home.
* * *
Mylan glanced over Estrid's head, scanning the party crowd for the only face he thought worth viewing, but Celiese had disappeared again. He cursed to himself, wondering where she might have gone and with whom. During the day he had seen her far too frequently at Hagen's side, but his brother sat at their mother's table, surrounded by attractive young women who appeared to hang on his every word. He could not recall Hagen's ever enjoying feminine company so greatly, and wondered what had gotten into him of late.
Estrid saw the intense gaze in Mylan's amber eyes and reached out to touch his sleeve with a possessive caress. "You are not even listening to me; shall I begin all over again at the beginning?"
"Of course I am listening," Mylan replied curtly. He had not thought any woman could bore him as completely as Estrid did, but he had not meant to be rude. "Please continue, your plans for the autumn are fascinating." He forced himself to look at her for a moment. He had once thought her sweet as well as pretty, but she was no more than a selfish child, and he longed for the company of a real woman.
When he saw Oluf leave the crowded hall he waited a moment, thinking the man might swiftly return, but when he did not he excused himself quickly. "Forgive me, Estrid, I fear there is a situation that needs my immediate attention." Leaving the astonished redhead staring after him, he sprinted through the open door and out into the night, but there was no sign of either Oluf or Celiese, and his throat tightened into a painful knot as he forced back the scream that filled his whole body with a lust for blood. If that brute had so much as touched her he would see him dead, but as he stood in the yard, trying to decide in which direction to search, he heard the unmistakable sound of a woman's light step flying across the dirt toward him.
Celiese ran straight into Mylan's arms. Gasping for breath she looked back over her shoulder, certain Oluf was no more than two paces behind, but when she saw they were alone she stepped back quickly. "I am sorry, I did not see you standing there."
"Sorry? You are running as though you fear for your life, and you apologize as if we'd simply bumped elbows in a crowd?" He kept a firm grip upon her slender arm and waited for a more sensible comment than she'd made.
Swallowing nervously, Celiese tried to pull free rather than involve him in her plight. "I am no longer your responsibility. Please let me go, I said I was sorry!"
Mylan looked toward the path from which she had just appeared as he released her. "I saw Oluf follow you out of the house, and if he bothered you in any way he will suffer for it now. If you didn't kill the bastard, then I will."
"No, wait!" Celiese grabbed his arm and held on tightly. "Oluf will never change, and you needn't fight him!" That he would notice her presence in a room filled with people having such wonderful fun surprised her. Considering the way they had parted, that he wanted to avenge her honor was truly amazing.
He brushed her aside as he drew his knife from his belt. He knew Oluf to be a despicable sort who deserved exactly what he intended to give him. He ran up the path but stopped as he heard the overweight man breathing heavily as he approached. Oluf was muttering obscenities as he stumbled along. He clutched his arm to stem the flow of blood soaking his sleeve.
Mylan stood on the path, his feet braced, his whole body tensed for action, but had he not been looking for a fight Oluf's crudely worded insults would have swiftly inspired one. "Are you lost? We expect our guests to enjoy our hospitality indoors, not to wander the fields unattended."
Oluf sneered. "Get out of my way, it's the woman I'm after. That slut might once have been your wife, but she'll be my whore before the night's over!"
Celiese knew better than to fling herself between the two men, for Oluf would surely use her as a shield and most probably slit her throat while Mylan watched in horror. She dared not run to summon help either, for she did not want to leave Mylan alone to face a man who not only fought with every dirty trick imaginable but who also outweighed him by at least forty pounds.
They were equals in height, their reach the same, but should Mylan slip on the rocky path she knew Oluf would fall upon him, using his considerable bulk as well as his knife to every advantage. Stepping back, she searched the ground for something to use as a weapon to help Mylan should he need it. Picking up a jagged stone, she gripped it tightly in her hands and waited for the first opportunity to use it.
Mylan knew Oluf's skill with a knife from bitter experience and moved out of his reach as he slowly circled to the left. "That you are drunk is no surprise, but you are also stupid or you would know better than to insult Celiese in front of me, for neither she nor I will accept an apology!"
Despite that warning Oluf continued to describe the young woman in the vilest of terms. Mylan ceased to listen. He heard only the roar of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears and planned his strategy swiftly. With a savage lunge he struck at Oluf's thigh, then yanked his blade free and jumped clear when the outraged man swung his knife at his throat. Escaping that slash, Mylan darted away from another, then moving in close, made a vicious jab at Oluf's sagging belly, again drawing blood if not injuring the man severely. The fight continued to grow in intensity as each man warily circled the other, but every time Mylan drew near he managed to inflict another deep gash in Oluf's flesh while cleanly escaping each of the brute's wild, swinging thrusts.
Against such a brutal opponent, Mylan depended upon his wits rather than on the endurance he had once had but still had not completely regained. His right leg was already growing weak, the pain shooting up the muscles causing him to stumble so he missed a clear strike at Oluf's throat. He recovered his balance in time to avoid falling in the dirt, but not before he had seen Celiese spring forward ready to assist him. He shouted at her to get away, for that was all he needed, a slender woman to fight his battles for him! Disgusted by that prospect, he fought on with renewed vigor, his desire for vengeance undiminished by his own lack of strength until he no longer felt the pain but only a deep rage that drove him past his own limits and beyond.
Oluf grinned when he saw Mylan slip, believing he would need no more than one well-placed kick to disable him. Waiting for the proper moment, he raised his knife high to draw Mylan's gaze away as he struck with his foot, hitting him sharply in the right knee. Knocked off balance, Mylan scrambled back to his feet, but Oluf was upon him instantly, rolling over the rock strewn path as he tried to bring his knife clear to plunge the blade deep into Mylan's heart.
Celiese screamed again and again while the dust flew all about her obscuring her vision as well as that of the two men as they wrestled at her feet. She lifted the rock but dared not strike a skull-crushing blow when it might be Mylan she killed rather than Oluf. The men were cursing each other loudly now, using their fists as well as their knives, and she feared Mylan would die while she watched helpless to save him. Suddenly a huge hand closed around her ankle, knocking her off her feet, and she went sprawling into the midst of the struggle. No longer able to tell friend from foe, she tried only to protect herself as she saw a blade flash in the moonlight as it tore through the air toward her heart. She heard a shriek and then a strangled cry as a warm rush of blood covered her hands, and then for one horrible moment all was still until one of the men got slowly to his feet while the other lay in a growing puddle of his own blood.
Celiese leapt to her feet, ready to run before she realized it was Mylan who stood
before her. Throwing her arms around his neck, she wept for joy, but he did no more than pat her back gently before he drew away. "I did not plan this tragedy, but I will take all the blame. Be silent while I explain, and do not try and help me again, for I shall not need it." Taking her firmly by the hand, he led her down the path toward a confrontation he knew would bring the worst of consequences. They stopped momentarily to rinse the grim evidence of his deed from their hands, but their clothing was still streaked with Oluf's blood, and as they entered the crowded hall a sudden hush fell upon the room bringing an unnatural quiet, until a hysterical Thulyn began to scream and could not stop.
Chapter 16
While Aldred attempted to calm Thulyn, Mylan walked swiftly to his father's side and whispered a terse explanation of what had transpired. Stunned by the announcement of Oluf's death, Aldred gave his wife a withering glance, which immediately hushed her tears. The day had been going well in his estimation—the Torgvald brothers were as crude a lot as he had expected them to be, but they had not caused any trouble and he had thought his efforts to include them in his family gathering a success. It had been one, he knew it had, until someone had lured Oluf to his death.
He stared straight at Celiese, his eyes widening as he realized she might well be the one who had killed Oluf, while Mylan might be lying to protect her. Furious that so innocent-appearing a young woman had again been the cause of tragedy in his home, he cleared his throat and announced loudly to his guests, "My friends, I beg you not to let the frightening nature of Mylan's appearance upset you as greatly as it did his mother. He has suffered only a small mishap, so there is no reason to interrupt our celebration," He lifted his ornately decorated drinking horn in a toast to the crowd, sat down and hugged Thulyn warmly as though nothing were amiss.
