Twin Passions

by Miriam Minger

  Anora shuddered as she vividly recalled the loud voices she had heard resounding from the great hall. Never before had her parents raised their voices to each other! Feeling fresh tears burning her cheeks, she had rushed dazedly back to the hall to tell her father she would accept the proposal — anything to restore harmony. To her amazement she found her parents no longer embroiled in a heated argument, but wrapped in a tender embrace.

  Her father had asked her to be seated, then explained the king's reasoning behind the marriage and his hopes for a continued peace in England. Glancing briefly at Lady Bronwen, he continued in a low, solemn voice. She remembered his words as if they had been spoken only yesterday: "Anora, 'tis my hope that you will honor the agreement between myself and King Edgar, and accept Wulfgar Ragnarson as your husband. But as your mother and I do not wish for you to be unhappy, we have agreed to allow you to decide for yourself if such a marriage would please you."

  Aye, it pleases me, Anora thought happily. It pleases me very much. The sudden creaking of the door startled her, and she whirled around.

  "You have not touched your breakfast, my lady," admonished the maid as she bustled in the door. "It is almost midday, and your lady mother wishes to see you in the solar."

  "I will try to eat something later," Anora replied, eyeing the buttered bread and honeyed wine with little appetite. Truly, she did not feel hungry at all, what with butterflies of excitement fluttering in her stomach!

  Hurrying down the steps and into the corridor, Anora wondered how she would fill the long hours before the feast that evening. As she reached the solar, she heard laughter filtering through the heavy wooden door, and the voice of Edythe, her mother's lady-in-waiting, rising above the din.

  "Aye, if I had a man such as Wulfgar to warm my bed, I might even marry again!"

  "But he is a Dane!" a dissenting voice replied indignantly. "It matters naught to me. He fits his trousers better than many a man, be he Dane or Anglo-Saxon!"

  Blushing heatedly, Anora pushed open the door, interrupting the merry conversation as the ladies-in-waiting sought to suppress their giggles. Lady Bronwen rose gracefully from her chair and quickly crossed the room to her daughter.

  "You look lovely, Anora," she said approvingly, kissing her daughter's burning cheek. Taking Anora's hand, Lady Bronwen led her to an empty chair beside Edythe, who was suddenly very intent on the needlework before her.

  A short, stout woman with a kindly face, Edythe had been married as a girl to an elderly, wealthy landowner who died shortly after the wedding. Vowing never to marry again, the rich young widow retired to her new estates, where it was rumored she amused herself over the years with many lovers. Now well past middle age, the thought of her dallying with a handsome warrior seemed unlikely, but one could never be sure. The twinkle in her eye and her flirtatious manner belied her advancing years.

  Peering out of the corner of her eye, Edythe caught a ghost of a smile curving Anora's lips and seized the opportunity to make amends. "Pay no mind to an old widow, my lady, I meant you no harm. We are glad of your marriage to such a fine, handsome man!"

  The other ladies nodded in agreement, including the one sour-faced dissenter, after receiving a sharp elbow in the ribs. Soon the room was once again filled with lighthearted talk of the wedding festivities as the women stitched at a magnificent tapestry that would one day grace the timbered walls of the great hall. Depicting a lively hunting scene, the tapestry told the tale of the giant boar that had been killed the past year by Earl Godric and his thanes. And, at her father's side, the small figure of Gwendolyn seated bravely on her dappled mare was immortalized in threads of every hue.

  Lady Bronwen left the room quietly, assured that Anora would be kept busy the rest of the afternoon. Tradition demanded that she not see Wulfgar until the betrothal feast. Closing the door firmly, she turned her thoughts to the frenzied preparations taking place throughout the stronghold. "There is so much yet to do," she murmured to herself, as she walked down the wooden stairs that led to the kitchen.

  Chapter 4

  Locked in the throes of a vivid nightmare, Gwendolyn shook her head wildly from side to side. Dark, menacing trees were reaching out to snatch her from her mare, and their trunks were etched with leering faces that grinned demoniacally. She tried to fend off the grasping branches that scratched and tore at her, but she lost her balance and slipped off her mare's back. Rolling over and over down a steep embankment, she tumbled into icy, swirling water. The dark waves closed over her head for a moment. Then she surfaced, struggling and gasping for breath. Suddenly, rising up from the center of a giant whirlpool, a dragon creature loomed above her. She screamed as the apparition coiled its scaly tail about her body, but her voice made no sound. Once again she was dragged beneath the murky water. She felt herself sinking, sinking . . . surrounded by raucous laughter that rang in her ears.

  "Nay!" Gwendolyn awoke with a start, her defiant cry echoing about the small room. Wide-eyed with terror, she felt her heart beating wildly in her breast. For a moment she could not remember where she was. Then a long, shuddering sigh escaped her throat as she recognized her surroundings. She shaded her eyes from the bright sunlight streaming into her room from the high, narrow windows.

  How long had she been asleep? she wondered dazedly, sitting up in her bed. Faint memories of her nightmare, its twisted images blurred and foggy, still tortured her thoughts. Rubbing her aching temples, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and rose shakily to her feet. Swaying unsteadily, she felt her legs suddenly buckle beneath her and she crumpled to the floor.

  "Lady Gwendolyn!" Just returning from the kitchen, Leah rushed over to her young mistress's side. She gently lifted her from the wooden floor and helped her back into bed. "'Tis the sleeping herbs, my lady. They make a body feel all wobbly for a while," she murmured. Turning to the small table at the side of the bed, she poured cool water into a goblet, then handed it to Gwendolyn. "It will soon pass," she added. "Just give it a moment."

  Leah's startled cry had pierced the gray mist in Gwendolyn's mind, painfully reviving her dulled senses. Sipping the water, she could feel a tingling in her limbs as the numbness gradually disappeared. She handed the goblet back to Leah, then stretched her slender arms above her head, yawning.

  "There, now, that's better," said Leah. The color was slowly returning to Gwendolyn's cheeks, and her eyes had regained a hint of their sparkle. Satisfied that her charge was feeling more like herself, Leah patted her mistress's hand. "The hour is growing late, my lady. You slept way past the midday meal, and now you must bathe and dress for the feast. If you are feeling better we should begin, for there is little time."

  Gwendolyn groaned inwardly. So, the day she had dreaded had come at last. Tonight Wulfgar would present his marriage gift to Anora. If her sister accepted, as Gwendolyn had no doubts she would, the wedding ceremony could proceed as planned. She threw back the fur coverlet. "Very well, Leah, I suppose we had better hurry."

  Leah frowned at Gwendolyn's obvious lack of enthusiasm. Surely the lass could show some joy on such a day, she thought irritably, but for once she held her tongue. Nay, there simply was not enough time to lecture her today!

  Soon the room was a flurry of activity. Servants quickly filled the large brass tub in the corner of the room with buckets of warm water, while Leah began to pull silken garments from the large chest at the foot of the bed.

  Gwendolyn rolled her eyes at the sight of the various tunics from which she must choose. She knew this was one occasion when a shirt and breeches would not be allowed. Stepping gingerly into the tub, she bathed herself quickly, ignoring the disapproving glance from Leah as she dunked her head under the water to wet her hair. Her method made much more sense than standing over a small basin while someone poured water over her head. It was far quicker, and required a lot less fuss! Shaking her wet curls, she stepped out of the tub and toweled herself dry.

  "Where can I find Anora?" she asked impatiently, squirming as Leah sl
ipped a cream silk tunic over her head.

  "She has been in the solar this afternoon, no doubt working on that fine tapestry with your mother's ladies-in-waiting," Leah replied gruffly. "Please stand still, my lady!" Her attempts to smooth the many folds and pleats in the tunic were being frustrated by Gwendolyn's constant wriggling. Next came a mauve mantle of fine linen embroidered with golden threads, which she managed to get over her young mistress's tousled head with slightly less trouble.

  Lastly, Leah handed Gwendolyn an ivory comb to smooth her unruly curls. But she threw up her hands in despair when Gwendolyn chose instead simply to run her fingers through her damp hair. Sliding her feet into a pair of gray kidskin slippers, the girl was out the door and hurrying down the stairs before Leah had even set the comb back on the table.

  "My lady, you forgot the circlet for your hair!" Leah called out after her, running to the door. Receiving no response, she turned back into the room, grimacing at the mess. Towels were flung every which way, water sat in puddles on the floor, and clothes lay in scattered disarray upon the bed. "'Twill be a fine day when that lass is finally wed," she muttered, picking up a sodden towel. "And I hope her man, God help him, can tame her manners!"

  ***

  Reaching the door of the solar, Gwendolyn paused a moment to catch her breath. She felt guilty at leaving such a mess in her chamber, but she did not turn back. It was far more important to speak with Anora before they went to the great hall for the betrothal feast, she thought wildly. There just had to be something she could do to convince her sister to change her mind!

  Gwendolyn gently pushed open the door to the solar. The room was empty but for her sister, who was bent over the tapestry, absorbed in her fine needlework. "Anora?" she said softly.

  Whirling around in her chair, Anora had a look of startled surprise on her face. "Gwendolyn, I've been so worried about you!" she exclaimed, rushing across the room. Embracing her sister warmly, she drew her into the room. She looks none for the worse for her misadventure, Anora thought with no small amount of relief, quickly noting the healthy glow of Gwendolyn's cheeks. "If I'd known you were awake, I would have come to your chamber," she said apologetically.

  "'Tis no matter," Gwendolyn replied. "Leah told me I would find you here." She walked over to the tapestry, stretched across a large wooden frame, and inspected the fine embroidery. "It appears they have kept you busy this afternoon."

  "Aye, and Edythe kept us well entertained!" Anora laughed. "I would have thought it impossible to keep my mind on other things besides Wulfgar, but Mother saw to it that I had plenty to do. The hours have flown."

  At the mention of Wulfgar's name, Gwendolyn felt her body tense. She pulled absently at a stray thread on the tapestry, barely listening as Anora happily recounted one of Edythe's bawdy tales.

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the room. With a start, Gwendolyn realized Anora had stopped talking and was gazing at her with questioning eyes.

  "What is troubling you, Gwendolyn?" Anora asked gently, clasping her sister's arm. "You have not heard a single word I said." Concern touched her delicate features. "Does it have aught to do with what happened last night?"

  Pulling away from her sister, Gwendolyn turned aside. "Aye," she muttered tersely.

  "Then tell me, Gwendolyn. What happened?" Anora walked around to face her sister, her gaze searching.

  "I went for a ride and . . . and lost my way in the dark," Gwendolyn stated defensively, staring down at the floor.

  "But how could that be?" Anora asked, puzzled. "Surely Father's thanes knew the way . . ." She paused, her eyes widening in stunned surprise. "Unless you were no longer with them!" Receiving no response, Anora shook her head in bewilderment. "Gwendolyn, I cannot believe you would have ridden off without a guard. Why, anything could have happened! We were all so worried about you, and now to find out that it was just a willful prank—"

  "'Twas not a prank!" Gwendolyn cut her off sharply, her voice strained. Tears glistened on her lashes as she fought to hold back the torrent of emotions that had raged within her for so long, but it was too late. "How can you marry an enemy of our people . . . and . . . and so willingly?" she blurted angrily, her flashing eyes mirroring her deep sense of betrayal.

  Not surprised by Gwendolyn's sudden outburst, Anora sighed unhappily. So, it has finally been said, she thought, gazing at her proud sister. Gwendolyn had not been herself for many weeks, and Anora had long suspected it was due to her impending marriage. Yet she also sensed there was some deeper, greater hurt hanging like a palpable presence in the small room.

  For a long moment Anora was at a loss for words. How could she make her sister understand what it was like to be truly in love? "You judge too harshly, Gwendolyn," she finally murmured, taking her sister's hand in her own. "I love him."

  "Love is but a word, Anora!" Gwendolyn retorted vehemently. "He is a Dane. Does that not matter to you?" She spat out the words, her hands clenching into small fists.

  "Aye, it mattered before I met him," Anora agreed. "Wulfgar Ragnarson is a Dane, that cannot be denied, but I see him first as a man, Gwendolyn —a courageous man who is seeking peace for his people and ours."

  "Aye, that may be so," Gwendolyn said angrily. "But can you not see that you are being used as a king's pawn?"

  Anora nodded. "Aye, but I now consider it an honor, Gwendolyn. It is through this match that I have found my greatest happiness." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "I could have denied Wulfgar, Gwendolyn. I was given a choice. And as Father's favored daughter, I am sure you will one day be granted the same freedom."

  Gwendolyn opened her mouth to protest, but she was silenced as Anora rushed on. "You know that to be true, but I do not begrudge that you have always held Father's heart. So you see, you have naught to fear that you will be forced into a miserable marriage."

  Anora sighed heavily as the room fell silent once again. She could not tell if her words had served to convince her sister, or had made matters worse. Well, she could think of only one other thing that could possibly have upset her so. "Look at me, Gwendolyn . . . please," she murmured. "If you are angry that I have spent most of my time with Wulfgar these past months, then I am sorry for that."

  Gwendolyn suddenly turned her head away. Her lower lip trembled with emotion, hot tears streaking unchecked down her face. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, but it did little good. Her fair cheeks simply grew wet again.

  So, it has been that all along, Anora thought, tears welling up in her own eyes. She knew her sister's pain must be great, for she had rarely seen Gwendolyn cry. She only hoped it was not too late to make amends.

  Anora again took her sister's hands in her own, her emerald eyes soft and pleading. "Gwendolyn, listen to me. 'Tis true that I love Wulfgar more than life itself, but that does not mean you hold any lesser place in my heart." Her voice caught with emotion. "Please . . . please share in my happiness, Gwendolyn."

  Gwendolyn swallowed hard, overwhelmed with remorse at her sister's words. She had been so selfishly concerned with her own feelings that she had never even spared a thought for Anora's. She could feel the sense of betrayal that had gripped her these past months melting away, replaced by an even deeper humility. Somewhat wistfully, she wondered if she would ever find a love as strong as that which shone from her sister's eyes. Aye, she could only hope . . . She met her sister's gaze unflinchingly. "Forgive me, Anora," she murmured. "Truly, I do wish you well."

  Smiling through her tears, Anora hugged her sister. They both began to giggle, out of relief at first, but then with a joyful hilarity that echoed about the small room. A soft rap on the door went unanswered, until finally it grew into a loud, insistent knock. "Come in!" Anora managed to choke out, wiping the tears from her eyes.

  Edythe's graying head peeked around the door. Her tone was gruff, but her eyes were twinkling. "If my ladies will only regain their composure, so I may speak," she said with feigned exasperation. When at last they had suppress
ed their laughter, she went on. "Lady Anora, your mother has requested your presence in the great hall. All is in readiness and your betrothed awaits!" With a wink and a merry smile, she closed the door behind her, then suddenly opened it again. "And that goes for you as well, Lady Gwendolyn!" Then she was gone, the sound of her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

  "Oh, Gwendolyn, I cannot believe this moment has finally arrived!" Anora exclaimed breathlessly, her eyes wide with excitement. "Do you think he will be pleased with how I look?" she asked nervously, smoothing the fine pleats of her sapphire tunic.

  "You are only the fairest maiden in the land!" Gwendolyn laughed and squeezed her sister's arm reassuringly. "Come, we must not keep the guests—or Wulfgar—waiting."

  Hesitating at the door, Anora turned suddenly to look at Gwendolyn. "Tomorrow morning, before the games begin, would you like to visit the grotto?" she asked excitedly. "It would be nice to see it together for one last time, and we would have another chance to talk." She knew how much their secret place meant to Gwendolyn, and she could not think of a more meaningful gift for her sister.

  Startled, Gwendolyn smiled in agreement, a warm glow of happiness spreading through her at Anora's thoughtfulness. "Aye, we could leave before sunrise, and be there and back before anyone even notices we have been gone!" she exclaimed.

  Giggling brightly at the thought of their adventure, they walked quickly down the corridor, arm in arm.

  Chapter 5

  "My Lord Godric and Lady Bronwen, you do me a great honor to prepare such a banquet," Wulfgar stated graciously, taking his seat to the right of the earl, at the main table. Situated at one end of the great hall and raised on a dais, the main table overlooked the vast expanse of the hall and the four long tables that stretched across its length.