Dream of Me/Believe in Me

by Josie Litton

  Concealed from the guards and with no one else to be seen, Hawk tossed back the hood covering his head. His gaze swept over Cymbra, finding her pale, wide-eyed, and trembling. Instinctively, he reached out, taking her into his arms and reassuring her gently.

  “It's all right, there's nothing to fear. I'll get you out of here, I promise.”

  “No!” She pushed free of his arms and stared at him in horror. “Oh, Hawk, what have you done? I thought this was all settled, that you had accepted my marriage. Why come you now like this when you must know how it will anger Wolf?”

  His face darkened. “Aye, that damn Viking mustn't be angered, must he? You'll say anything, do anything, to prevent that.”

  “Yes … No! That isn't what I meant. He is my husband, I love him, of course I don't want him to be angry. But I have told you the truth, Hawk, I swear it!”

  He stared down into her pleading eyes for a long moment. Slowly, he said, “Speak those same words to me on the deck of my ship, where you are no longer in the Wolf's power, and I will believe you. Until then, I will not.”

  “I cannot go with you! I cannot!”

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. “Then must I remain here, for I will not leave you.”

  What a fool she had been to think he had done exactly that. What a ridiculous, absurd fool! This was the man who had held the child Cymbra in his arms through solid days and nights when she screamed with the pain of others. The man who had wielded his power and authority to create her sanctuary from the world and, by so doing, given her the time and place to grow into the woman she had become. The brother who had also been both parents … and friend … and guardian … and lord—

  And she had believed he would simply sail off and leave her? Fool! Stupid, idiotic fool!

  “You cannot stay here,” she said, her voice thick with tears she dared not shed. “You know what will happen if you are found.”

  He sensed his advantage, her deep and abiding love for him, and pressed it home. “Then come with me, Cymbra. Come right now. This can all be settled before the next hour is done.”

  The enormity of what he demanded did not escape her. She would have to leave the hill fort without Wolf's permission and with no escort save the brother who had violated the rules of hospitality to come by subterfuge into his erstwhile host's domain. If her husband found out—

  She pushed that thought aside. Hawk was right, it would take only a short time. She could yet convince him that all was well and see him depart without anyone else knowing what had happened.

  “Where is your ship?” she asked, anxious not to waste a moment.

  “In a cove not far from here.” He smiled mirthlessly. “All that sailing had its use. I now know this coast as well as I do that of Essex. It was an easy matter to double back and find a concealed anchorage.”

  So he had been planning this all along, probably from the first day he came and heard her claims of marital happiness. Again she silently berated herself for thinking the matter so easily settled.

  Desperation edged her voice. “All right but we must go swiftly. I would prefer Wolf does not know of this.” At the look he gave her, she amended, “Not for the reason you think. Only that no damage be done to the friendship that should exist between you.”

  Her brother had no comment on that beyond an eloquent raising of his brow. He pulled the concealing cloak over his head once again and handed her a second, equally voluminous cape that he drew from beneath his own. “Put this on then and let us make haste.”

  They joined the stream of traders heading through the gates. Hawk drew her between two heavily laden wagons that offered them further concealment. Almost before Cymbra knew it, they were beyond the berm but she could not relax until they reached the bottom of the hill and veered away from the main road that led into town. Instead, they followed a narrow path of trodden-down grass and dirt that wound around the hill and vanished out of sight of the watchtowers.

  Only then did she catch her breath and feel her heart slow a little. A swift and largely silent walk brought them several miles north of the town to an area where Cymbra had not been. There, in a secluded cove, she saw her brother's ship riding at anchor.

  With a worried glance at the sky where the sun was arching earthward, she hung back a little. “Surely this is far enough? You can see I am under no duress. Won't you believe me now when I say I never have been?”

  “I will believe you when you stand on the deck of my ship,” he said stubbornly.

  A sudden, terrible thought occurred to her. She dug her heels into the soft ground and stared at him, refusing to move. “Hawk … you meant what you said, didn't you? That when I have convinced you, you will let me go? You would not just … sail off even knowing that I want to stay?”

  He looked surprised at the very thought, as though her fear that she would be forced to leave made him realize for the first time that she might well and truly wish to remain.

  “I will respect your decision,” he said with gruff reassurance, “once I am certain of it.”

  Convinced that she had no choice but to do whatever was necessary to satisfy his concern, Cymbra followed her brother down the verdant hillside fragrant with late-blooming wildflowers and into the secluded cove.

  His men greeted them with eager relief. No doubt they had not been pleased by their lord's insistence on going alone into what they regarded as an enemy stronghold.

  The sail was unfurled for a quick sprint to open water and the anchor was being raised as Hawk and Cymbra reached the shingle beach. He was just about to lift her onto the deck when the thunder of pounding hooves froze them both.

  Chapter TWENTY-THREE

  THE NORSE WOLF CAME OFF HIS HORSE LIKE a vast, turbulent storm rolling down a mountain. Before his feet touched the ground, his sword sang from its sheath. He advanced on Cymbra and Hawk, his features set in a rigid mask of rage from which all reason and control were banished. His eyes glittered like the cold, hard steel he wielded. His mouth was drawn in a hard, taut line. Corded tendons pulsed in his neck and rippled down his mighty arms.

  Cymbra gasped at the sight of him. In that moment, she truly understood how terrifying he could be and why men quaked at the mere thought of challenging him. His transformation into a being of raw emotion and instinct stunned her, and filled her with primitive fear. Yet nothing could change her deep and abiding love for him. Though her throat closed so tightly she could scarcely breathe, she still tried to reach out a hand, driven by the desperate need to comfort and reassure him. “Wolf…don't—!” Hawk, too, was driven by his instincts, and they screamed to protect at all cost. Ignoring Cymbra's protest, he pushed her behind him and drew his weapon. He spared a glance for the men pouring down the hillside behind their leader, then concentrated all his attention on the deadly foe who continued to come straight at him without pause.

  “Hold, Viking! Or the peace you claim to seek ends now!”

  Wolf's mouth twisted in a sneer that revealed the depth of betrayal tearing at him. “Peace is for deluded fools! There is only war … only this—”

  He attacked without hesitation and so swiftly that Hawk's superb reflexes alone saved him from instant death. Silence descended over the beach, broken only by the savage clash of steel as two mighty warriors battled without quarter.

  On both sides, Norse and Saxon looked on. No one moved to intervene or to join the fray. Locked in single combat, Wolf and Hawk went at each other with such savage fury that Cymbra could only stand frozen in horror. The scream trapped in her throat reached to her very soul. Shock roared through her like fingers of icy fire. This was her worst nightmare come true, the two men she most loved intent on killing each other.

  A black pit of despair opened up inside her. One of them would die and how then would she live, knowing it was because of her? How would she get through the long years ahead, every moment made agony by pain she knew would never end?

  She had to stop them … had to … but her strength was as nothing
against theirs. They were both blood-maddened, enraged, consumed by the lust of battle.

  She gasped as Wolf raised his sword and brought it down within inches of Hawk's head. Her brother only just managed to escape what would surely have been a death blow. He attacked in turn, slashing and stabbing, only just missing severing Wolf's sword arm—

  Around them, the men pressed in, pulled back, moving to the rhythm of the battle, as absorbed in it as the contenders themselves … oblivious to all else … including the woman who stood at the heart of the conflict itself

  At the heart … in her heart, loving them both … desperate …

  “Stop!” Steel gleamed in the light of the setting sun, not the steel of warriors' swords but of Cymbra's own dagger, drawn from the sheath at her waist.

  The dagger clasped firmly in both her hands.

  Aimed directly at her own heart.

  A mortal sin … eternal damnation … She gasped back tears, swallowed terror, and prayed as she had never prayed in her life.

  “Stop!” she screamed again, her voice echoing against the verdant hills. “I love you both! If one of you dies because of me, I cannot live. Rather I would end my own life right now!”

  For a seemingly endless moment, Hawk and Wolf stood unmoving, weapons locked. Only the dawning horror in both their faces told her they had heard—and seen.

  “I mean it! Put down your swords! Step away from each other! I will do this, I swear it!”

  A mere flicker of Wolf's eyes and Dragon moved. But she was prepared for that, knew the brothers were so close they could understand each other without words.

  “Get back!”

  Dragon stopped in midrush, staring at her with the same disbelieving shock that riveted every man on the beach.

  Heedless of the tears streaming down her ashen cheeks, she tightened her grip on the dagger and pressed the point of it just below her breast.

  “No more! This has to stop, right now, right here! Put down your swords!”

  Gasping for breath, having run all the way from the stronghold, Brother Joseph pushed his way through the mob. At the sight of Cymbra, all the color fled from his face. He fell to his knees in the sand and made the sign of the cross.

  “Child,” he pleaded, “don't do this! You know what it means. Your soul—”

  “I am damned either way,” she sobbed. “I can't let one of them die … not because of me—”

  Wolf stepped away from Hawk, breaking the death lock of their blades. She gazed into his anguished face, seeing it blurred by her own tears. She loved him so much that she would gladly trade her life for his, as she would for her brother's.

  Wolf took a step toward her, his back turned to Hawk, whom he suddenly ignored as though they had not been doing their damnedest to kill each other mere moments before. His eyes never left Cymbra as he began walking toward her. Quietly he said, “I'll put down my sword but you put down the dagger. We'll do it together, all right?”

  She forced her gaze past him to Hawk. To her brother she said, “You, too. Both swords … down.”

  Hawk nodded quickly. Slowly, his gaze on her, he bent to lay his sword on the sand.

  Wolf moved closer. Hawk still held his sword. Dragon closed in from the other side. Brother Joseph got to his feet and also moved forward.

  Cymbra's breath came in pants, her heart beating so rapidly she thought it would break through her ribs. Eyes on her husband, she slowly began to lower the dagger from her breast.

  Everything happened at once. Wolf dropped his sword and lunged for her. Hawk, startled by the sudden movement and uncertain what it meant, straightened with blade still in hand. Dragon drew his sword and moved to protect his brother's back. Cymbra looked from one to the other in confusion even as she continued to turn the dagger away from herself. Momentarily distracted, she did not realize how close her husband was until—

  “Noooo!”

  Gray eyes met hers in surprise. He made a faint sound and stared down at his hands closed over his chest. Blood flowed between his fingers, around the protruding handle of the dagger, dripping down his tunic and flowing away into the sand.

  “No!” Cymbra screamed again and tried to reach him, but Dragon was there first, thrusting her aside. Instantly, warriors surrounded Wolf, who staggered but fought to stay on his feet. Hawk made a grab for Cymbra but it was too late. He, too, was surrounded, disarmed and hurtled to the ground.

  “Take them!” Dragon roared. In moments, the shocked Saxons were stripped of their weapons, bound, and led back up the hill to the stronghold.

  CYMBRA WRAPPED HER ARMS EVEN MORE TIGHTLY around herself and stared at the far wall of the cell. She was shaking so hard she could scarcely stand. She needed all her self-control to keep from breaking down entirely.

  In the adjacent cell, separated from her by thick blocks of stone, she heard Hawk and his men. He had called out to her, to determine if she was all right and reassure her that he would not let her come to harm. The words, meant to comfort her, had only filled her with even greater dread.

  Hawk would die rather than see her hurt. She knew that beyond doubt. The moment the opportunity arose, he would do or say something to shift all the blame onto himself. She couldn't let that happen.

  Neither could she still her anguished thoughts of Wolf. Since being brought back to the stronghold, she'd had no word of him, no idea how he fared. Ulfrich must be with him but she was desperate to care for him herself, even as she knew she would not be allowed to do so.

  She could only wait as the long, seemingly endless hours wore on. Outside, twilight turned the world to shades of gray. She could just make out a few stars shining through the iron bars cemented into the small window. From the window she could also see the great hall ablaze with light, so crowded that people spilled out onto the field beyond.

  Standing on tiptoe, she curled her hands around the bars and strained to see as much as possible. She heard angry voices but the words were indistinct and gave her no news.

  Finally, just when she thought she could bear it no longer, the crowd parted. Dragon emerged from the hall and strode toward the cells. Hawk saw him, too, and shouted, trying to draw his attention, but Dragon didn't so much as glance in his direction. Instead, he ordered the door to Cymbra's cell unlocked.

  He strode into the dank chamber, grasped her firmly by the arm, and pulled her outside. He said nothing, not even when she frantically pleaded. “Tell me how Wolf is! Has the bleeding stopped? Did Ulfrich stitch the wound? Did—?”

  She broke off when the single, contemptuous look he shot her made it clear he would not answer. Forced to run alongside him to keep from being dragged, she had only a fleeting glimpse of the crowd pressing in around them, faces distorted, jeering.

  Dragon pushed her into the hall. There were more people in it than she had ever seen before, filling the space with their turbulent, roiling emotions. They fell silent the moment she appeared. A path opened up from the door down the length of the hall to the high table.

  Cymbra gasped with relief when she saw Wolf sitting there. He looked somewhat pale and his face was clearly strained, but the bloody tunic had been replaced by a fresh one and he sat upright without obvious pain or difficulty Her instinct was to run to him but his cold, implacable gaze stopped her.

  Dragon let go of her arm and stepped away. She swayed slightly and for a moment feared her legs would not hold her. Pride drove her to draw deeply on reserves of strength she scarcely knew she possessed. Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, Cymbra walked the length of the hall to stand before her husband and her lord.

  And, too, her judge.

  Firelight glittered in the torches set in brackets along the walls, casting shadows onto the high, peaked roof like brooding spirits gazing down on the scene. Smoke curled ghostlike from the remnants of the fire dying in the hearth. A few dogs skulked around, heads low, seeking the way out. The crowd stirred uneasily but no one spoke. That was left to the Wolf.

  “Do you remember,” he
said without preamble, “that I told you there are circumstances in which a higher duty must come before any other consideration?” His voice was flat, lacking any expression, but Cymbra was not misled. The pain he fought to conceal washed through her, pain not merely of the body but of the spirit. Pain so great it struck her like a mighty wave, leaving her dazed and confused.

  Yet still did she understand what he had asked of her. Because of that higher duty, he had accepted her disobedience when she went to help Brita. Another man would not have. Another man would not have held her so tenderly in his arms, brought her to such pleasure, talked and laughed with her, given her so very much while asking … what? Only for her trust despite all that stood between them, Saxon and Norse, seemingly destined enemies seeking however fragile a path to peace.

  She straightened her shoulders and looked at him squarely. “I remember.”

  “When we married,” he went on, “I made promises before my gods and yours to protect you as my wife. But I am not just your husband. I am also jarl and I am responsible for the protection of all my people.”

  She knew too well that he had set aside those responsibilities on her behalf when he granted a swift death to the attackers of Vykoff, and that he was given ample reason to regret such leniency.

  In the hush of the vast hall, Cymbra said, “I would never wish you to forget your duty to your people.”

  “Then you will answer what I ask of you.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. For just a moment, his guard dropped enough to reveal the bleakness behind the mask of his imperturbable control. She had to press her lips firmly together to keep from crying out against it, knowing how very much he would want no one to know of his anguish. A moment later it was gone, concealed in an act of relentless will.

  “Did you want your brother to take you from here?”

  Cymbra hesitated. If she told him the truth—that Hawk had come back without her knowledge and had refused to leave until she accompanied him to his vessel— she had no doubt of the outcome. Her brother would be judged to have violated the alliance he had given every evidence of accepting. Wolf would have every right to claim his life for such an act of treachery and betrayal. His people would demand it.