The Wolf and the Dove

by Kathleen E. Woodiwiss

  “Why, my lord, it takes all my perseverance to accept your casual rape of me with meekness. ’Tis not farfetched that you may know the full flood of my wrath at being so misused by your hand.”

  His hand squeezed hers again. “You are not so misused,” he replied and his eyes laughed at her. “What English maid has been so cosseted by her Norman lord? You must admit this is better than being chained to the foot of my bed.”

  Aislinn shrugged and her fingers straightened his short velvet mantle. “At least you did not dishonor me then.”

  Wulfgar smiled, undismayed. “I do not dishonor you now. In truth, I honor you above all other women. Do you see any other upon my arm or wearing clothes my money has purchased? For those coins I sweated and could have given my life if the foe had been the better one. I treat you kindly. You do not toil nor break the sod. You occupy a place beside me as if you were my lady. There is only a small difference in that I have no vows to forever confine me.”

  Aislinn opened her mouth to reply but the call to present for another knight she knew made her start and glance about. She saw him immediately and as her gaze fell on him, Ragnor de Marte smiled and saluted her and she knew he had been watching them all along. He seemed confident of himself as his eyes roamed her form, and Aislinn’s cheeks reddened as she felt stripped of her clothing. Abruptly she turned back to Wulfgar who regarded the other calmly.

  “You did not tell me Ragnor would be here,” she said.

  Wulfgar glanced down at her flushed face. “You must learn, cherie, it is better to face Ragnor whatever he’s about than let him come upon you unawares. That small precaution eliminates a dagger piercing the back.”

  “And leaves my breast bare for his blade,” Aislinn returned with sarcasm.

  Wulfgar smiled. “Never fear, my lovely. I doubt if you’ll ever feel that sharp instrument against your fair bosom. He is not a complete fool.”

  “ ’Twould be a lesser evil than anything he could deal me,” she said snidely.

  Wulfgar peered at her dubiously but she turned to watch the brief ceremony which seemed stiff and formal and without warmth. William was of a commanding frame, as tall as Wulfgar yet a great deal broader through his body. The robes of state gave him a massive appearance and as Ragnor knelt before him the King seemed to dwarf the younger man. William’s eagle eyes watched him solemnly until the knight rose; then he nodded to Ragnor’s salute, calmly accepting his due. As with many of the nobles before Ragnor, William sat sternfaced, giving little hint of comraderie or friendship. Yet Aislinn noticed something subtly different when Wulfgar approached several moments later. William seemed to relax in his chair and his austere countenance softened a bit. If William felt some slight favor for this knight he was to let it go undiscerned, for his sake as well as Wulfgar’s. A warm glow filled Aislinn as she watched Wulfgar bow before his king and her eyes were no longer for William.

  Aislinn noticed the interest stirred among the Saxon women over his tall Norman knight and the heads coming together and the whispers that followed. When he returned to her side Wulfgar appeared unaware of the attention he aroused and took her hand once more, unconcerned with the stares directed toward them, now from the women as well as the men.

  “Ah, my lord, you seem to have captured a few more roving hearts,” Aislinn commented. “Is that how you’ve collected so many mistresses?”

  Wulfgar laughed lightly as if at some jest she had made. “You are the first I’ve had, my love. A night or two passed with the others, no more.” He kissed her hand and for the benefit of the onlookers kept a tender smile on his face. “But I’ve grown so enchanted with the custom that I wonder why I didn’t try it before.”

  Aislinn smiled sweetly but gritted out her words. “No doubt in the Norman court there were so many you had difficulty choosing.” Well aware of the many eyes that watched them, she fluttered her lashes downward like a coy maid. “You would have been so busy there my plain face would not have attracted your slightest attention. Oh, that such would have been the case at Darkenwald.”

  Wulfgar lifted her hand to his lips but whispered above it. “Have care, cherie, the chain is still at the foot of the bed.”

  Aislinn laughed lightly then murmured softly, “I have no fear, Wulfgar. You could not bear that cold iron bruising your shins at night.”

  “ ’Tis truth of course,” he chuckled and yielded the exchange to her. “I would much prefer you willing than a beaten slave.”

  Growing more serious, Aislinn gazed into his eyes as she gave him answer. “Willing? You have not yet named the price. But yet neither a beaten slave, I think.”

  Wulfgar met her gaze and knew a strong desire to take her in his arms and kiss her despite the looks directed toward them, but a loud voice gave him pause as the feast was announced.

  As Wulfgar seated her in the hall, Aislinn glanced up and across the way saw Ragnor standing beside his own chair. He smiled leisurely and when she had taken her place, seated himself as if he only waited for her. The food was placed before them and as the odor of the rich roast meat struck her nostrils, Aislinn knew the full length of a ravening hunger and realized it had been many hours since she had eaten. She gave the meal all of her attention for some moments then her eyes rose and with a start met Ragnor’s. He nodded and smiled and in haste she turned away. She was careful not to look at him again, for almost in fear she knew he watched her closely. She replied lightly to the inquiries made by the other knights at the table while Wulfgar seemed undisturbed and spoke with her quietly, pointing out to her the more important nobility and those that had accomplished some heroic act. At the conclusion of the meal Wulfgar was approached on an important matter by an earl and drawn away from her side to discuss the affair openly and at length. Aislinn sat alone, amazed by the press of royalty which seemed to fill every corner of the elaborate room. Then she realized someone was taking Wulfgar’s chair and glancing up, found Ragnor smiling down at her.

  “Your pardon, my dove. May I sit for a moment?”

  Aislinn frowned at him but could think of no good reason to deny his request.

  “Wulfgar—,” she began but was quickly interrupted.

  “Is well occupied and I would have words with you.” He took the seat and pulled the chair close beside hers. “Can you not see that Wulfgar is only using you for a time?” He saw her anger begin to rise and sought to allay it. “Has he asked you to wed him? Has he spoken any word of it? Has he given you any title or place other than as his slave? I have even heard that he has sent another damsel to abide at Darkenwald. You play him fair but should you ever lose his favor it will be the other who warms his bed and fills his night.”

  Aislinn glanced about seeking some escape from his heated yet tormenting words. With a start she felt Ragnor’s hand upon her thigh beneath the table.

  “I would make you lady of Darkenwald and Cregan, too,” he murmured, leaning toward her.

  “How can you?” she snapped, pushing his hand away. “The towns belong to Wulfgar.”

  She would have pulled back but his arm around the back of her chair held it still and little abashed he again laid his hand upon her thigh. She struck it away and again it returned more bold than before.

  “Ragnor!” she gasped and rose, moving away from him. He stood with her and taking her arm drew her close. As eyes turned to them he whispered feverishly in her ear, but she did not hear his words as she sought to pull away from him.

  “Take your hands from her.” Wulfgar’s voice sounded low but startingly near. His open hand clamped down on Ragnor’s shoulder and spun him about. “Did you forget my warning of long ago? What is mine I hold.”

  Ragnor sneered. “I have some claim to Darkenwald. You denied me the merest share of its worth yet ‘twas I who fought the battle.”

  Wulfgar met his glaring stare with cool dignity. “You earned nothing there, for it was you who caused the battle.”

  Ragnor’s dark eyes narrowed and grew dark. “You are a knave, Wulfgar,�
�� he snarled. “I have even saved your life yet you give me no quarter.”

  “You saved my life?” Wulfgar raised a questioning brow and did not pause for answer. “ ’Twas learned by some of my men that two Norman knights rode close to Kevonshire and drew the townsmen out, leading them to a bend where they could sit in ambush for me. The arms of one knight plainly seen were Vachel’s and I can well guess who the other was. Saved my life? Nay, you nearly cost it.”

  Aislinn’s eyes widened and she gasped at Wulfgar’s words. Ragnor could say nothing, but snarled in his fury. Without thought he snatched his heavy gauntlets and threw them in Wulfgar’s face. They struck and fell to the floor. Wulfgar slowly drew his sword and pierced the gloves where they lay, picking them up on its point. With a sweep of his blade he returned them full force to Ragnor’s face.

  “What ho! Have I a battle between my own knights?” A voice demanded behind them and William joined them.

  Wulfgar held his peace and returned his sword to its sheath, bowing before the King.

  William turned to consider Aislinn who met his stare unshrinkingly. His eyes passed from her to Ragnor and then back to Wulfgar.

  “A quarrel over a woman, Wulfgar? ’Tis not like you.”

  Wulfgar’s face darkened. “Sire, I beg to present Aislinn of Darkenwald.”

  Aislinn sank into a low curtsy before the King as he further studied her. When she rose she stood before him proudly, her chin lifted and her gaze meeting his.

  “You are not afraid of me, damoiselle?” William asked.

  Aislinn’s glance went quickly to Wulfgar then returned. “Your grace, I once answered that same question to your knight and if I am permitted to reply in kind. ’Tis God I fear.”

  William nodded, impressed by her frankness. “And these knights of mine fight over you. I can well see their cause.” He turned to Ragnor. “What do you have to say on this matter?”

  Ragnor stood stiff in his ire. “Your pardon, sire. This bastard has no right to Darkenwald nor to the Lady Aislinn, for she is part and parcel of it all, the daughter of the lord whom I did slay with my own good sword.”

  “Do you, Sir Ragnor de Marte, then claim these lands by right of arms?” William inquired.

  “Yea, sire,” Ragnor affirmed and for the first time bowed to his king.

  William faced Wulfgar. “And these lands are the same you claim, Sir Wulfgar?”

  “Yea, my liege. As you bid me secure them against your crown.”

  William considered the men then turned to Aislinn. “Have you ought to say of this, demoiselle?” he asked gently.

  “Aye, your grace,” she answered him proudly. “My father died as a warrior should and he is buried with his shield and sword, but he went out to meet a flag of truce. ‘Twas in his mind to yield if we could but stay in peace, but he was needlessly insulted until he was forced to wield his arms to his honor. There were naught but serfs to aid him and they were slain with him.” She gave a rueful smile. “He had sent all to Harold. He kept not even a horse to die upon.”

  William again faced the two knights. “The gauntlet has been cast I see and well returned. Sir Ragnor, will you agree to a contest of arms and abide by its end?”

  Ragnor bowed his assent.

  “And you, Sir Wulfgar, will you agree?”

  “Yea, sire,” Wulfgar replied.

  “And Lady Aislinn?” William turned to her. “Will you bend yourself to the victor?”

  Aislinn met Wulfgar’s gray, brooding eyes for the briefest moment but knew she could give no other answer.

  “Yea, sire,” she murmured and dipped low before William.

  The king then addressed them all. “The turn of the year approaches and on the first day of the new, we will have a joust, a contest of arms to the fall but not to death, for I have need of my knights. In this manner we will determine the lord of Darkenwald. The field and weapons will be set under my eye and let no one say after that it was less than true and just.” He turned again to Aislinn and presented his arm. “Until that day is out, my lady, you will be my guest. I shall send for your possessions and attendant, and we shall see a room prepared here for you. You are under my protection from both these knaves till then and I hereby declare you a member of the royal court.”

  Aislinn glanced hesitantly toward Wulfgar and saw his scowl. She wanted to protest at being taken away but knew she could not. Before he led her away William smiled.

  “Have patience, Wulfgar. If the day is well met we will yet see this turn to the best.”

  Ragnor grinned his momentary triumph but Wulfgar frowned after them feeling a loss he could not put to words.

  It was late that night when Wulfgar returned to the huge bedchamber. The fire was low on the hearth and all signs of Aislinn’s presence were removed. What had been a place for him to seek after a wearisome day was now a torture chamber. He saw Aislinn everywhere, standing before the window, kneeling beside the hearth, sitting on the bench, laying on the bed. He idly smoothed the cover with his hand then turned and stared about the empty room, and it was barren, an empty husk of anything it had ever been, its luxury faded, its comfort rough and cruel. Then his eyes held. Folded neatly beside the tub was a small scrap of yellow velvet. He picked it up and the scent of lavender clung to it. Closing his eyes, he passed it beneath his nose and almost could feet her beside him. He sighed in mute frustration, wanting to call the day back, wanting her here with him, her softness filling his arms. He tucked the piece carefully within his chainse and smoothed the bulge until no one would guess its presence. Taking his heavy mantle, he went below to make his bed on an empty pallet in the hall. Here the loneliness was less apparent and he again felt the soldier. Still he lay for a long time, yearning for her warmth beside him.

  He rose early the next day and found his knights unduly quiet, but their eyes followed his every movement. It was Milbourne who finally broke the silence as he sprang from his chair with an oath and proceeded to curse Ragnor for a wretched knave. Gowain only raised saddened eyes and appeared much like a love-sick swain. Beaufonte stared moodily into the fire as he quaffed a warming brew.

  “You are a sorry lot,” Wulfgar chided and sighed. “Ready the mounts. We might as well put this day to some use.”

  Wulfgar lost himself in hard, rigorous labor that gave him little time to dwell upon his own low thoughts. When he returned to the manor he found a note awaited him asking him to take his evening meal with the king. His spirits lightened considerably and he dressed carefully and was soon led into the hall where William and his retinue were wont to dine. It was with some anger that he found Ragnor was also present and his mood grew almost surly as he was the one seated next to Aislinn. His irritation did not ease when the page led him to a chair of equal rank but on the other wing of the table opposite them. Aislinn could only glance his way briefly before her attention was drawn by a count seated beside her. Wulfgar conceded her beauty gave a lift to the court and saw that more than William obviously enjoyed her presence. She seemed light of heart and answered gayly when spoken to, even quipped and told stories of ancient Saxon feuds, yet she kept well clear of Ragnor’s hands. That fellow, in the company of the king, donned his best manner and made light fun with his quick wit and ready tongue. His eyes remained on Aislinn, however, and if his hands were properly tame his eyes devoured her greedily beneath the guise of innocent glances. While forcing a smile Aislinn snapped at him beneath her breath:

  “Will you allow me to remain clothed in the presence of the King?”

  Ragnor’s laughter rang out and Wulfgar’s brow darkened. The evening dragged for him. He was continuously aware of Aislinn and chafed when her laughter tinkled brightly in the hall. He felt out of sorts. He could not chatter endlessly of nothing as seemed the wont of others. Yet often during the meal he felt William’s eyes upon him and knew that he was watched. He respected William’s wisdom in allowing the duel, for if he won the day there could never be any question of his title. Yet the absence of Aislinn mark
ed him. He hid himself in the guise of a soldier and responded to the wit of the lords with a forced grin, mumbles and a nod. He sipped a chalice of wine that grew warm in his hand and gave him no ease. He could find no moment alone with Aislinn and aware of William’s scrutiny he would not press the point.

  The whim of the king was difficult to plumb and Wulfgar knew he was fiercely loyal to his own Matilda. With so much at stake Wulfgar could not risk a scene that would leave it all amiss or give Ragnor cause to say he had acted less than fairly. Finally he gave up trying to speak with her and, making his adieus, left the hall and dismally made his way to his own lonely pallet.

  Aislinn found a moment of peace and glancing about the hall realized Wulfgar was gone. Her gay mood fled and left her with an ache that would not be eased. She made a poor excuse and sought her own chambers, finding Hlynn awaiting her there. She fought back tears until she could with cause dismiss the girl for the night. When she was safe abed and could smother them in a pillow the sobs came long and hard. The court was a fascinating place and the Normans treated her with a deference that was easy to accept. When she had learned Wulfgar was to be present, she had been elated and had waited eagerly for the first sight of him. None could have named her a bumbling country lass, not even Gwyneth if she had been present. Even Ragnor had been charming, when his eyes were not seeking out her pleasing assets. But whenever she looked to Wulfgar his eyes were elsewhere and from his frowns she knew his mood was far from good. He had worn a soft brown gown that on his tall, lean frame had rivaled William’s richer garb. In the whole of the evening no word had passed between them, no note of tenderness or care had come from him, and she sobbed anew at his neglect.

  I am shameless, she thought. A heated vixen, for even though I have no vows to bind us I lie here and crave his arms about me. Oh, Wulfgar, make me more than a harlot. I cannot abide these things I feel.

  She longed for his hard-muscled warmth beside her in the bed. The silken pillow had no firm ribs for her to caress nor gently rising chest for her to lay her head upon nor arms to even in sleep draw her near. She remembered each scar, each bulging of his arm and even the chafing of his beard along her neck. She tossed and turned, taking small peace from her enforced chastity and more than once shook her thoughts away from waking dreams of him gently caressing her in the night.