Twin Passions

by Miriam Minger

  "What is your name, lad?" Hakon spoke first, catching Gwendolyn off guard.

  "Uh . . . Ga-Garric, my lord," she stammered. God's blood, she winced, how could she be convincing as a boy if she did not even know her own name? Hoping Hakon had not seen her confusion in the gathering dusk, she ran her hand through her short curls and rushed on boldly. "It is good of you to return us to our homeland, my lord. Our father will reward you greatly."

  Hakon sighed. If he had hoped earlier he might win their trust, he knew now that in the next few minutes he would earn only their hatred. "We sail for Norge, lad. There will be no turning back."

  Stunned, Gwendolyn could not speak. No turning back. The finality of those words echoed in her mind, and she shook her head in disbelief. Anora had also heard them. Whirling around, she stood numbly beside Gwendolyn.

  "But you said earlier . . . you said when we reach shore—"

  "Yea, that I did, lad. But I did not mean your homeland."

  Wrenching pain lit Anora's eyes, causing Hakon to swear softly. You are growing soft, man, he chided himself. Hardening his heart, he continued. "I am not usually in the habit of making excuses for myself, but in this situation I feel I must. I had no hand in your capture. My ship needed repairs, and we took refuge along the river these past three days."

  Nodding toward Svein and Torvald lying on the deck, he added, "Those men acted against my orders, and for this they have been punished. But I cannot return you to your homeland. We have almost a full day of sailing behind us already, and we must make haste to Norge on a matter of grave importance to me." Feeling he had offered enough explanation, Hakon heard his voice grow hard. "The gods have brought you to me, and you must accept your fate. I offer you my protection, and when we reach Norge you will remain with me as slaves in my household."

  Gwendolyn's head snapped back, hatred and defiance burning in her eyes. Any hopes she had of fair treatment by this man had been cruelly dashed. "I know naught of your gods," she said disdainfully. "But if it is slaves we shall be, then know this, Viking. You are no different from the two you punished earlier. Aye, even worse, if you hold us against our will!"

  "Think what you must, lad, it makes no difference. Slaves you will be—you have no choice." Sighing wearily, Hakon turned from them. "I will bring you furs to sleep on tonight, and some food." He walked away slowly, feeling their eyes upon him. Yea, life could be cruel, he thought, understanding their feelings. Yet he also understood his own.

  Anora. Whispering her name, Hakon stood alone at the prow of the ship, gazing into the darkened sky. He was drawn to her as he had never felt drawn to any woman. It was as if her emerald eyes had cast a spell upon him, and he could do nothing to dispel his attraction for her. Yea, even if he had wanted to, he knew now he could not let her go.

  Gwendolyn allowed herself only a moment of self-pity before she turned to Anora. Her sister's face was deadly pale in the moonlight, her eyes fixed and devoid of emotion.

  "Anora, listen to met" she whispered, suddenly afraid. She had never seen her sister like this before and it frightened her. Shaking her roughly by the shoulders, Gwendolyn forced her to meet her eyes. "Anora, I vow we will return to our homeland, and you to Wulfgar. You must trust me in this. I will find a way for us to escape!"

  A flicker of response lighted Anora's eyes. "Promise me, Gwendolyn?" she murmured plaintively, clutching her sister's hand.

  "Aye, on my life . . . I promise."

  Chapter 12

  Gwendolyn rested her head against the side of the ship. If only her stomach would stop its churning, she thought miserably, staring out onto the rolling waves. Nausea swept over her again, and she quickly leaned over the side, retching. A sharp slap on her backside did not ease her condition.

  "A fine sailor you would make, Garric!" Hakon shouted at her over the roar of the waves. Gwendolyn felt too ill to retort, her hate tempered by her seasickness. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve, she stumbled back to the tent that Hakon had erected for Anora near the prow of the ship, trying her best to ignore the grinning, bearded faces of his crew.

  Lying on her side and covered by a thick fur to keep out the chill of the wind, Anora had moved little these past two days. Mercifully spared the seasickness, she still had been unable to eat despite Gwendolyn's coaxing and pleading. She had spoken very little, her eyes fixed out on the sea as if searching for something.

  "Anora, why do you stare out at the sea?" Gwendolyn asked gently, noting once again that Anora had not touched the food Hakon had brought for her. Feeling her stomach growing queasy at the sight of the salted fish and sour milk, she pushed the wooden platter out of the tent. With only food like that to eat, no wonder she has no appetite, Gwendolyn thought in disgust.

  A heavy sigh broke from Anora's throat. That's enough, Gwendolyn decided firmly, concern etched on her face. If Anora did not face up to their situation, she would no more make it to Norge than back to their homeland again! Suddenly she slapped Anora's face.

  "Oh!" Anora's hand flew up to her cheek, a startled look lighting her wan features.

  "Aye, there, now!" Gwendolyn cried, feeling somewhat guilty for hurting her sister, but glad that she had received some response from her. "Forgive me, Anora, but if I am to make good on my vow, then you must be with me when we reach our home again. I do not wish to face Wulfgar without you!"

  "Wulfgar . . ." Anora murmured, tears welling up in her eyes.

  "Aye, Wulfgar, the man you will wed one day." Taking Anora's hands, Gwendolyn met her eyes. "Anora, you must be strong, not only for yourself, but for him as well." Gwendolyn had already imagined many times what the scene must have been back at the stronghold when they had not returned. She did not doubt for a moment that Wulfgar and her father would set out to find them, yet how long it would take she could not be sure. Perhaps the Viking ship had been sighted, at least giving them a clue as to their fate.

  "You must eat, Anora. You must keep up your strength for whatever lies ahead." Gwendolyn paused, hoping the fear she felt at that moment did not show in her eyes. What would lie ahead for them? she wondered anxiously. She had seen the desire written in the Viking's eyes when he looked upon Anora. Aye, she will have to be strong, Gwendolyn thought grimly, for if Anora could not deny him her body, then she would have to defy him with her spirit. "Do you understand?" she pleaded.

  As if reading her mind, Anora nodded her head slowly. "Aye, Gwendolyn, I will try to be strong, no matter what lies ahead." Suddenly a shout went out from high up on the mast, startling them. Whatever the oarsman had said, it increased the commotion aboard the ship tenfold, for there were shouts of excitement and the clatter of feet on the deck as men rushed to and fro.

  Stepping out of the tent, Gwendolyn was nearly knocked over by Hakon as he rushed by, yelling orders to his crew. The great sail was being lowered and furled, and the men were readying their oars.

  "Stay out of the way, lad, if you do not wish to be knocked overboard!" he said irritably. Suddenly his tone softened as Anora stepped out from behind the leather flap of the tent and stood beside Gwendolyn. "We have reached Sumburgh Voe, in the Shetland Islands. We will stay here for the night, and sail again at dawn."

  Thor! She is truly a temptation, Hakon thought appreciatively, the very sight of her stirring his blood. He was glad that she had confined herself to the tent these past days. His men had been without women since they left Dublin, and they were growing increasingly restless. He only hoped there would be enough willing women on the island to satisfy his men's needs before they sailed again on the morrow!

  Not missing the heated desire in Hakon's startling blue eyes, Anora glanced sideways at Gwendolyn, meeting her sister's gaze. Aye, she could be strong, if it would bring her back to Wulfgar, she told herself grimly. Nodding, Gwendolyn gave her a faint smile.

  With the oarsmen all rowing in unison, it was not long before the longship moved into the well-protected harbor. From this distance it appeared to Gwendolyn that the settlement was quite a large
one. She could count at least eight longhouses, and numerous outbuildings scattered about the larger buildings. Leaning along the railing with Anora, she was amazed at the hoards of people lining the shore to greet the Viking ship. Men, women, and children all crowded to get a better view, their faces lighted with excitement and welcome.

  Climbing onto the dragon-headed prow, Hakon waved his arm and hailed an exuberant greeting.

  Obviously the Viking has been here before, Gwendolyn decided, as she watched him jump from the ship into knee-deep water and wade ashore. A huge, black-bearded man stepped out from the crowd and enveloped him in a massive embrace.

  "Hakon, my boy, so you visit us again at last!" the man shouted warmly, giving Hakon a hearty slap on the back.

  "You look well, Cousin Einar!" Hakon laughed. "Have you room for some weary travelers?"

  "Ha! What a question!" Einar roared. "Call your men ashore, and we'll break out the ale!" Winking lewdly, he lowered his voice. "I'm sure there are several lasses here who will fight like she-cats for the chance to warm such a noble Viking's bed as yours! Hal Now, that will be a sight to see! Come on, my boy, the air out here is cold, while a warm hall awaits us yonder!"

  Hakon smiled broadly at his huge cousin, then turned back to the ship. "Egil, take several of the men and see that Svein and Torvald are chained securely to their benches for the night."

  "Yea, my lord," Egil called out. He disappeared beyond the railing.

  "As for the rest," Hakon shouted, waving his arm, "over the side with you! Your welcome awaits with open arms!"

  Jumping into the water with excited whoops, the men quickly waded to shore and lost themselves in the crowds.

  "What is this, then, Hakon? Prisoners aboard your ship?" Einar asked, curiosity lighting his eyes.

  "More than prisoners, cousin," he replied, gesturing toward Gwendolyn and Anora, who stood along the railing near the prow. "I will need lodging for two others this night." Wading back out to the ship, Hakon reached out his arms to Anora. "Come, little one, do not be afraid. I will catch you." She looked at him incredulously, and stepped away from the railing.

  "Go on, Anora. Best not to make him look the fool in front of his friends," Gwendolyn whispered reassuringly. "I will be right behind you." Still somewhat dubious, Anora stepped up on a rowing bench and sat down on the narrow railing. Holding her tunic and mantle demurely in one hand, she swung her legs over the side of the ship. Then, closing her eyes tight, she pushed herself off the ledge.

  Hakon caught her securely in his outstretched arms. "There, now, Anora." He smiled gently. "We Vikings can be trusted." Ignoring his soft-spoken words, she tensed in his arms. That day will never come, she vowed silently.

  A sudden splash beside them caused Hakon to laugh wryly. The lad follows her like a shadow, he thought, then shrugged. More than likely he would, too, if he had a sister as beautiful as Anora.

  "There will be many jealous women crying in their beds this night," Einar muttered, shaking his head. He watched with great interest as Hakon carried ashore what looked to him to be a foreign wench.

  "It has been a hard journey, Einar," Hakon stated, amused by the unspoken questions in his cousin's eyes. "This woman needs a warm bath and a place to rest."

  "She will be well tended to, my boy," Einar replied. Over his shoulder, he called out to a stout, red-haired woman standing nearby. "Greta, see that this wench gets a bath and a good meal." Turning back to Hakon, he threw his head back and laughed uproariously. His young cousin had never failed to surprise him, but this time he had outdone himself. "I see there are many things for us to talk of this night!" he said, grinning broadly.

  Hakon set Anora down on the sandy beach. "Go with her. She will see to your needs." Anora hesitated for a moment, then resignedly allowed the woman to lead her away. Seeing Gwendolyn start to follow them, he called out sharply, "Nay, Garric, you will stay with me."

  Gwendolyn stopped abruptly in her tracks, then reluctantly turned back toward Hakon. A protest was on her lips, but Hakon's expression boded no resistance. "Do not worry, lad, your sister will be well cared for."

  That's just what I am afraid of, Viking, Gwendolyn thought warily, trudging behind him along the sandy beach toward the well-lighted hall.

  Chapter 13

  "So, what has it been, Hakon— two years since you passed this way?" Einar asked between long drafts of ale from his drinking horn. Some of the frothy liquid spilled out over his thick beard and down the front of his leather tunic, but he did not seem to mind. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes widening lustily at the sight of a serving girl's ample breasts as she leaned over to refill his drinking horn.

  Suddenly he pulled her onto his lap, his large hands roaming freely over her well-rounded body. The girl's startled squeal brought a roar of delight from the grizzled Viking. She struggled in mock resistance, giggling all the while. "Go on with you, wench, but mind you do not stray too far," Einar chortled, releasing her reluctantly. Planting a rough kiss on her smiling red lips, he followed her with his eyes as she sauntered away.

  Hakon laughed heartily. "Yea, cousin, at least two. And I can see that you have not changed in the least during that time!" And he hoped Einar would never change, for he was truly fond of his unruly cousin.

  Einar had sailed with him when he left Norway ten years ago, only to decide to homestead on the Shetlands after they had stopped there for several days on their journey south. At that time there had been plenty of land for the taking: lush, green, and well suited for raising sheep. And since Einar had never really been a sailor at heart, he had opted to stay.

  Hakon reluctantly bade his cousin farewell, but had promised to return whenever his trading voyages brought him near the islands. He had since made many visits to Sum-burgh Voe, for the Viking settlement was always in need of provisions, trade goods, and news from other lands. Yet his most recent trading voyages had all been to the south, and Hakon had been unable to sail to the Shetlands for these past two years.

  "This journey is different from the others, is it not?" Einar shouted, leaning forward to hear Hakon's answer. The carousing in the hall had reached a near fever pitch, and it was proving difficult to converse over the drunken rabble and coarse laughter. He had perceived there was a great weight upon Hakon's mind, for his young cousin had been slightly subdued all evening. And for him to be immune to the provocative glances thrown his way by several comely wenches was more than Einar could comprehend.

  "It seems my trading days are past, cousin. I have received word that my brother Eirik lies on his deathbed, gravely ill. And as he has no heirs, he wishes to leave his lands and wealth to me —that is, if I get to Norge before Rhoar makes his play for the inheritance."

  Suddenly Einar jumped from his chair and brought his huge fist down upon the wooden table. "Rhoar lives?" he roared, his swarthy face livid with anger. The hall suddenly grew still at the chieftain's outburst, all eyes upon him.

  "Yea, he lives, cousin. I am afraid your sword, though mighty, did not end his life." It had been Einar, fighting at Hakon and Eirik's side those ten years past, who had plunged his sword into Rhoar Bloodaxe. Believing the chest wound would provide a slow and painful death to the traitor, as Einar believed Rhoar to be, he had not dealt him a final deathblow. Instead, he watched as Rhoar's men dragged their leader from the battlefield, confident that he would breathe his last before the night had fallen.

  "Would that I had run that spawn of Midgard, serpent of the underworld, clean through his black heart with my sword, rather than let him wreak further havoc upon your house!" Einar blustered fiercely. Drawing his broadsword from its scabbard, he thrust it with great vengeance at an imaginary opponent, just barely missing several of Hakon's men, who dove beneath the table to escape the flashing blade.

  "Yea, cousin, I would that he had died that day, also. But the gods have let him live for some purpose, if not just to try me," Hakon replied grimly. "Come, Einar, sheathe your sword, and let us walk outside
for a moment. My men have a hard sail before them, and they are in dire need of merriment tonight."

  Catching Hakon's meaning, Einar returned his sword to the scabbard at his wide belt. "Very well, my boy," he agreed. The cold night air would no doubt help to quench his ire, and he had no wish to spoil the evening's promise for Hakon's crew. Turning to the still-silent revelers, he shouted, "There is more ale to be had, men, so drink up, and remember the wenches are willing!"

  At his words the walls once again resounded with laughter and merriment. Grinning, Einar glanced at Hakon. "But what of that scrawny lad, cousin? Will you have him accompany us, or may we walk alone? He has not left your side since you entered the hall an hour ago, but remains near you like some pup who has lost its mother!"

  Hakon's gaze fell on Gwendolyn, sitting huddled on the floor near his chair. The lad had been so quiet Hakon had almost forgotten he was there. "Garric, stay here with Egil. He will show you where to sleep tonight if I do not return." With that curt command, he strode out of the hall after Einar.

  Gwendolyn stood up suddenly from the ground as if to follow after him, but Egil grabbed her by the shoulder, thwarting her escape. He gestured for her to sit back down, his stern expression threatening certain punishment if she disobeyed. Sliding back down to the floor, she slumped in utter frustration.

  Sweet Jesu! Gwendolyn agonized. What if he seeks out Anora? Once again her feeling of helplessness was almost more than she could bear. She muttered every curse she could think of upon Hakon and his kind.

  Outside the hall, Hakon took a bracing breath of the sea air. The sound of the waves crashing against the shoreline enlivened his senses, and his step was light. For several moments he and Einar walked in silence, each occupied by his own thoughts. The sounds of revelry from the hall gradually receded into the distance, drowned out by the wind and the sea.

  "So Hakon, tell me of these prisoners . . . and the wench," Einar said, his voice low. "From what little I have seen of her, her eyes alone could cast a spell over many a lesser man. Have you been bewitched by this silver-haired beauty?"