The Wolf and the Dove

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  Gowain reddened with his discomfort and cleared his throat, glancing uncertainly at Aislinn. He had made the matter worse in his delay to speak. Aislinn’s gaze was fixed upon the seated one, and following her stare, Gowain suddenly recognized the gunna adorning Gwyneth as one Aislinn had worn several times prior to their leaving Darkenwald. He remembered well, because he had admired the maid’s graceful form in its soft cloth and then had been caught gaping by Milbourne, who had made some hearty jest of his rutting after Wulfgar’s woman. Gowain turned his regard to the gown Aislinn wore and was surprised at its poor condition. His chivalry was prompted to act in the lady’s defense, for he immediately came to the conclusion that her clothes had been taken from her. But he swallowed the words tempting his tongue. It would be best to stay out of Wulfgar’s affairs and let him handle them. Besides, it was never wise to enter into a fray between two women.

  The knight cleared his throat and ventured. “My Lady Gwyneth, I fear I have brought you to the wrong conclusion.”

  “Eh?” The woman looked at him sharply and saw his eyes go to Aislinn. Her own narrowed.

  Gowain flushed deeper and he spoke with great care. “Lord Wulfgar has sent me to fetch the Lady Aislinn. The girl, Hlynn, is to accompany her to see to her needs.”

  “What?” Gwyneth nearly shrieked, coming angrily to her feet, nearly oversetting her tapestry frame. “You cannot mean Wulfgar is so careless with his position as knight to William that he must take this tart to bed beneath the king’s nose.”

  She paced the floor before the hearth in a highly agitated state. Then her eyes fell on Haylan as she came into the room and approached them. She bestowed a calculating smile on the poor young man.

  “You undoubtedly misunderstood him, Sir Gowain. Was it not some other maid he sent for?”

  The Norman shook his head, most certain of his mission. “Nay, it was Aislinn of Darkenwald Wulfgar instructed me to bring to his side. He beckoned me to do so with all haste and we must ride on the morrow.” He dismissed the raging Gwyneth and did not even notice the gaping Haylan and turned to the happily smiling Aislinn.

  “Can you be ready, damoiselle?”

  “Of a certainty, Sir Gowain,” Aislinn returned, her eyes sparking with her delight. They dazzled him and he drew a quick breath as she pressed his hand warmly. “Indeed, there is little to prepare. ‘Twill be no trouble.”

  “Then, damoiselle, I await your pleasure.”

  He bowed low and quickly left to see to his men, needful of the cold air that would cool his blood. He’d have to stay well away from the maid on the journey to London, for fear he might forget himself with her and do both Wulfgar and her dishonor.

  The small group formed early and left Darkenwald with the first light of dawn. They wound their way first westward and then north to London passing the place where Atheling Edgar had made his abortive attack on William. Silence reigned as they rode through the ruined town of Southwark where tumbled houses still smoldered and homeless Saxons poked and dug in the rubble and snow for what lost treasures they might recover. They stared at the travelers in mute despair but as their eyes fell on the Norman knight the light of hatred glowed bright. They knew, however, the full weight of William’s wrath and stood glowering their rage until the band was gone from sight.

  Gowain led the small entourage across the Southwark Bridge into London proper early on Christmas Day and fought a path for hours through the milling throngs. There seemed to be a madness in the air as English men raised their cups on high to sneeringly toast William the Bastard and roamed about in confused frustration.

  The party approached Westminster and the crowds grew even thicker. Gowain and his men were forced to use their spear points to clear a way. They entered the square and even the huge steeds were buffeted from side to side with the surging of the masses. Curses and threats did little to clear a path and progress was measured in feet. Gowain glanced back over his shoulder at Aislinn who rode a smaller mare. Her bright head was covered by the hood of her mantle but her face showed no panic. Her hands gripped the reins firmly and with a sure hand.

  Then from ahead a roar of flames burst upon them, and as the people recoiled in fear, a force of Norman knights was thrust upon them. Aislinn fought to keep her seat as her mount stumbled and scrambled for footing beneath the onslaught of a huge steed that pressed upon them, crushing them against a wall. She felt the lesser beast going down under the greater weight and saw the threat of them both being trampled underfoot.

  Wulfgar had risen early in the morn and donned his finest raiment for the coronation of William. With some reluctance he laid aside his great sword and hung a shorter, lighter blade at his side. He was garbed in black and red trimmed with gold and his tall broad-shouldered frame and weather-bronzed features were impressive indeed. His gray eyes and sunstreaked hair seemed pale against his dark skin.

  On leaving the manor, he left orders with Milbourne and Beaufonte to hold the men in readiness and have the Hun saddled with his helm and long sword hung on the pommel. If the day turned amiss they would seek him out near the steps of Westminster, for as the moment neared William feared there might be a thrust of revolt and wished some of his force held ready.

  Wulfgar placed himself just within the main portal of the cathedral and watched as William’s tall and powerful frame bent before the Norman bishop. With slow ponderous pomp the English ceremony followed. The crown was lowered to his brow and shouts of “Hail William” from the English reverberated throughout the abbey. Wulfgar looked on with a feeling of relief in his chest. This is what they had sought to have. William, Duke of Normandy, had been proclaimed King of England.

  Suddenly from without angry shouts rose up and Wulfgar stepped to the door to investigate this disturbance. Smoke curled from a rooftop and crowds of Saxons grappled with Norman men-at-arms as the latter carried torches to other structures. Wulfgar rushed from the church and fought his way to the nearest knight who struggled against the fray.

  “What goes on here?” he demanded.

  The man turned in amazement. “We heard the English shouting from the cathedral. They have attacked William.”

  Wulfgar groaned. “ ’Twas not that, you fools! They only gave him a salute.” He flung his arm toward the torch bearing soldiers. “Stop those men before they would fire all London.”

  Milbourne pressed the mounts forward through the crush to his lord’s side, and Wulfgar snatched himself to saddle to lead his men crashing forward to halt the Normans in their mistaken purpose. He struck brands from their hands and shouting there was no threat, halted them. Yet others raced on unchecked. He urged the Hun on, then suddenly flames roared from a storefront and the people surged away from the heat in fear to crush him and his men against a wall, pinning them upon another mounted group. The Hun crashed against a smaller horse and Wulfgar fought to control him. The other steed’s forelegs buckled beneath the crush and a feminine cry alerted Wulfgar. Leaning forward in his saddle he flung an arm out, wrapping it about the small mantle-enveloped form and snatching it from the saddle as the horse stumbled and went down. The cloth fell away from coppery hair as Wulfgar set the maid before him and the soft scent of lavender filled his nostrils.

  “Aislinn,” he breathed, thinking himself in the midst of another fantasy.

  The face lifted to his with violet eyes wide in surprise.

  “Wulfgar?”

  He felt the full impact of surprise as he stared down at her, realizing it was no illusion this time. He was tempted to kiss her, to crush her against him in an agony of longing but instead demanded:

  “Are you all right?”

  Aislinn nodded and was reassured as she felt his arm tighten about her, pulling her against his chest. Sweeping his gaze about, Wulfgar found Gowain struggling forward to reach her mount before it was trampled beneath the larger hooves. Doing so, the young man turned his eyes on Wulfgar and despite the dilemma of the moment the young knight grinned.

  “My lord, you said deliv
er her swiftly and I did so, straight away to your lap.”

  A smile broke Wulfgar’s stern face. “So you have, Gowain. Now let us see the lady safely away.”

  Before they could urge their horses forward a burly man, bearded and roughly dressed, shook his fist at them.

  “Norman pigs!” came his cry and a cabbage barely missed Wulfgar’s brow.

  Wulfgar raised an arm to shield Aislinn as his men formed around them. She clung to his waist, glancing around at the angry English.

  “Never fear, cherie,” Wulfgar chuckled. “They will have to kill all of us before they can do you harm.”

  “I do not fear,” Aislinn insisted. “Why should they do me hurt? I am English, too.”

  Wulfgar laughed softly. “Do you think they care as long as you’re with us?”

  Aislinn’s assurance dissolved into uncertainty when a peasant chanted: “Norman slut, bed the swine! May your ears grow long like an ass’s and your nose become as warty as a toad’s!”

  The man ended his curse by hurling a potato at her head but Wulfgar’s arm deflected the missile.

  “Are you satisfied now, my brave vixen?” Wulfgar inquired, raising a mocking brow.

  Aislinn swallowed and nodded. Wulfgar spurred the Hun forward with Gowain, Hlynn and the returning party following. They worked along behind a wall of towering destriers until they reached the mouth of the narrow street leading to the merchant’s manor and Wulfgar drew up, turning to Gowain.

  “Take the lady to our quarters,” he roared in command. “See her safe and guard that others do not kindle the place.”

  Before he passed her to the young knight, Wulfgar pulled Aislinn’s face up to meet his and his hungering lips crushed upon hers in a fierce, passionate kiss that ended almost as quickly as it began, leaving Aislinn breathless and giddy. He lifted her across to the other knight and with a last look at her shining locks and soft smile, wheeled his horse about and returned from where they had come. Gowain led Aislinn into the manor, throwing the bar behind him and setting guards at it to halt the torch bearers from their zealous firing, while Wulfgar sought to restore some order and calm both Saxons and Normans. The noise finally receded to a low roar as the city relented to an endless bout of merrymaking and revelry for the Christmas Day, if not the coronation of a new king. Wulfgar’s anxiety to return to Aislinn was unbounded, yet he found his duties drew him farther and farther afield. When late in the evening all rounds were complete and he, Beaufonte and Milbourne turned homeward, he drew a sigh of relief, but even then he found his time was not his own, for he and the knights were almost forcibly drawn into a celebration of a goodly party of noblemen. The men would endure none of his excuses but nodded in agreement as one of their group remarked:

  “Indeed, my good knight, you must be honored as William’s soldier.”

  Wulfgar looked painfully at Milbourne, who returned his gaze sympathetically and shrugged.

  “ ’Twould seem, my lord, you are caught,” he murmured, drawing close. “They might take it amiss you do not celebrate the Duke’s coronation.”

  Wulfgar groaned in despair. “You are right of course, Milbourne, but it does not make it less painful.”

  Beaufonte grinned. “My lord, why do you not tell them that the fairest damoiselle in all of Christendom awaits your return? They might relent.”

  “Aye,” Wulfgar grunted. “And they may follow me to the manor to see her for themselves.” He laughed ruefully.

  So, the three knights were feted, dined and wined, and while their hosts lavishly decorated and enlarged upon tales of their exploits, they squirmed uncomfortably. A troupe of entertainers was engaged and the festivities increased. Wulfgar’s agitation heightened when a well-endowed Saxon wench leaped upon his lap and pulled his head to her breasts, holding it there until he almost choked on the sweet musky smell of her. His hosts guffawed as he tried to disengage himself and uproariously bade him take his chance with her.

  “You’ll not find another more worthy on this night,” chortled a count. “And I vow your ride will be soft.”

  Milbourne and Beaufonte hid smiles as Wulfgar scowled and declined. When they finally freed themselves of the unwelcomed hosts and left, Wulfgar moaned to see the first red blush of dawn above the rooftops. But his spirit lightened and grew more gay as they neared the merchant’s manor. There they stabled their mounts and climbed to the hall. While Beaufonte and Milbourne stumbled to their pallets, Wulfgar continued up the stairs. He took the steps three at a time, his finely made shoes ringing his eagerness on the treads. His heart pounded in his ears and he knew his breath came more quickly than could be accounted for by his rapid ascent. He expected to find Aislinn asleep or just stirring in the bed. It would not take him long to shed his clothes and join her there. But when he eased the oaken door open, he was both disappointed and surprised to find her already about and seated on a bench with a silken cloth draped about her. Hlynn arranged the coppery hair high atop her head with ribbons in preparation for a bath. A large wooden tub steamed in readiness near the hearth. Wulfgar entered and as he leaned his weight against the door, closing it, Aislinn turned to him while Hlynn backed away timidly.

  “Good morningtide, monseigneur,” Aislinn smiled. Her violet eyes measured him, glowing brightly. “I had begun to fear somewhat for your welfare.”

  In all of his imaginings Wulfgar realized he had not visualized Aislinn as beautiful as she truly was. He straightened and removed his mantle.

  “My pardon, cherie,” he grinned. “I would have been at your side earlier but the difficulties of the day occupied me until the evening had passed. I beg you not to think too harshly of me.”

  “No thoughts amiss,” she replied, bending her head as Hlynn returned to tuck a last few curls into place. “I know you are bound by duties and would not think of amusing yourself otherwise when I am come.” She cast him a glance awry. “ ’Tis only widows you send to share my stoop.”

  Her voice was sweet but she watched him carefully as he bent at the tub to splash water over his face and hair then shook the tawny mane sending droplets flying . He drew a chair close beside her, sitting in it and propping his feet on the end of her bench while his eyes sought the curves where the cloth displayed them. His heated gaze seemed to devour her and Aislinn felt his nearness in every fiber of her body. His close scrutiny of her body set her own blood afire and drew her imaginings onward. The memory of his caresses and play of love served her well bringing a light blush to her cheeks. Without further hesitation she sought to turn their thoughts away from the matter which seemed uppermost in the minds of each, knowing she was most susceptible to him.

  “I vow your Duke’s coronation was met with some dissatisfaction from the melee we entered into yesterday passed.”

  “ ’Twas only a matter of misunderstanding.”

  “Then it seems the countryside is well at peace, for we had no trouble on the way here,” she returned then added a bit more sharply, “The English have been duly quelled.”

  Wulfgar grunted a wordless reply and let the sight of her red hair coiled neatly above that flawless neck soothe his tired thoughts. He leaned forward intending to rise and place a kiss upon that tempting nape and take her in his arms, but Aislinn hastily drew herself up and went to the steaming tub, calling back over her shoulder.

  “The weather was most pleasant also. We fared the way in good time. Gowain seemed most anxious to arrive.”

  Wulfgar settled back in his chair and smiled, anticipating the sight of her glowing body as she dropped the cloth to step into the bath. He frowned darkly, however, as Hlynn took the makeshift robe and held it high, shielding Aislinn from his gaze. When the cloth was at last lowered, Aislinn sat deep in the tub, her head the only part above its edge. Those fine features were most pleasant to look upon but Wulfgar was not satisfied at the simple viewing of her brows.

  Aislinn turned to the choosing of soap and scents as Hlynn held the jars for her perusal, testing each until her favorite, a lave
nder was selected, a soft, beguiling scent that instilled itself with the gentle freshness of a spring-born breeze. It was well timed for here Wulfgar’s feet struck the floor, heavy with his ire at this endless dallying over perfumes.

  Both women started and stared at him as he rose, glowering at poor Hlynn. With a half smile leering from beneath his frowning brow, he caught the younger girl’s eyes and held them in the steel of his own. Unclasping his belt he set it with his sword on the bench. He lifted the short gown from his shoulders and swept it over his head, laying it carefully upon the belt. His eyes never broke their hold and now he began to undo the fastenings of his chainse and as he folded that garment away, Hlynn’s eyes widened at the sight of him in naught but chausses. When his hands went to his cross garters and began unwrapping them, Hlynn found his intent and fled the room.

  Aislinn could not suppress a laugh as he came to sit upon the stool beside the tub. “Oh, you rogue, Wulfgar. You frighten the lass.”

  He smiled leisurely. “ ’Twas my intention, cherie.”

  She widened her eyes in feigned horror. “In my youth my mother warned me that crude and loathsome knaves might take advantage of my tender person, but I scarce believed they existed.”

  “And now?” Wulfgar grinned.

  Aislinn flashed him an impishly wicked look. “Why, my lord, now I have no doubts.”

  Wulfgar chuckled and his eyes shone as he viewed her. She lathered her shoulders and arms lavishly with the scented soap, an item he had purchased especially for her though the rare bar had cost him a goodly sum. But watching her, he decided the coins were well spent. His gaze turned to where the water gently swirled about her rosy breasts, hiding them, yet ever promising to part and bring their ripeness to full view.

  Reaching out, he drew a finger along the delicate line of her collarbone, setting her nerves atingle with the pleasure of his touch. He bent forward to press a kiss upon her lips, but Aislinn, feeling nervous and unduly excited at his attention, began to scrub her face.