Wulfgar paused and there was a rush of speculations on his words. Then he continued.
“I have need of a money changer or sheriff of sorts that will be honest to Saxon and Norman alike. He will act in my stead on minor matters and keep records of all that transpires. No act of barter, sale, marriage, birth or ownership will be complete until he has entered it in the books. My marriage to the Lady Aislinn will be his first entry.”
Again Wulfgar halted, looking at the faces around him then pressed on.
“ ’Tis to this end I bring you. My attention is drawn to the fact that among the Saxons there is one who speaks both tongues well, a man of much learning whose skill with figures is unequaled and who can be depended upon for his honesty. ’Tis to Kerwick of Cregan I entrust these duties and I name him Sheriff of Darkenwald.”
Gasps of surprise filled the hall, but from Aislinn there was only stunned silence. An astonished Kerwick was pushed forward as cheers roared forth and the hall was shaken again with merriment. As he came to stand before them, Kerwick glanced from Aislinn, whose elation now shone brightly in her eyes, to Wulfgar, who returned the stare with an earnest frown.
“Kerwick, do you think yourself capable of this task?”
The young Saxon raised his head proudly and replied, “Yea, my lord.”
“So be it. Henceforth you are no slave but the Sheriff of Darkenwald. You have authority to speak in my name on those matters I leave to you. You will be my hand as much as Sweyn is my arm, and I shall put my faith in you to be just and fair to all.”
“My lord,” Kerwick said humbly, “I am honored.”
A smile curved Wulfgar’s lips as he added softly for Kerwick’s ears alone.
“Let us be at peace, Kerwick, for my lady’s sake.” He extended his hand and Kerwick took it with a nod of agreement.
“For the sake of your lady and England.”
They clasped hands as brothers and Kerwick turned away to receive the congratulations of both Norman and Saxon. Wulfgar resumed his seat and feeling Aislinn’s gaze, he turned his eyes upon her.
“Husband!” she breathed as if marveling at the word, and her eyes gleamed.
Wulfgar chuckled softly and brought her fingers to his lips. “Wife!” he murmured in return.
Leaning toward him she drew a line upon his chest with a finger and smiled invitingly. “My lord, do you not think the hour is getting late?”
His hand gripped hers tightly and his grin deepened. “Indeed, my lady, the hour is growing very late.”
“What must we do to cease its rapid fleeing?” she asked, her voice low and rich with warmth. Her free hand dropped against his knee and rested there. To the casual eye it was a small gesture yet between them flowed a surging excitement that could not long be denied. A devilish twinkle sparkled in Wulfgar’s eyes.
“My lady, I would not know of your need for rest, but I am wont to find our bed soon.”
Aislinn concurred with a smile. “Aaah, my lord, you read my mind. I was also thinking of the comfort to be had there after so long a day.”
Their eyes met warmly and held promises each was anxious to collect, but suddenly they were startled apart as Wulfgar’s men swarmed upon them, snatching their lord up and lifting him high over their heads, passing him on to the uplifted hands that waited. Aislinn looked on in amusement, dissolving into a fit of laughter. But she soon gasped in surprise as Kerwick lifted her in his arms and passed her to Melbourne and thereon to Sweyn and Gowain. In the middle of the hall they set the newly wedded on their feet and Aislinn collapsed into Wulfgar’s arms, thankful for her safe arrival yet unable to cease her laughter. Wulfgar chuckled and held her close, but he was torn from her again. A cloth was tied over his eyes and Sweyn whirled him about, then they bade him find his bride if he had any intention of bedding her that night.
Wulfgar threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Oh wench, where are you? Come, let yourself be caught.”
Aislinn found herself surrounded by Hlynn and Miderd and a host of women who motioned her to silence. Aislinn smothered her giggles and watched fondly with eyes aglow as her husband spread his hands toward the maze of women and began his search.
He stepped lightly at a rustle of a skirt and caught Hlynn. The young maid giggled in glee and Wulfgar, shaking his head, moved on without pausing. They thrust Miderd at him and one touch of her sturdy arms told him those were not the slender ones of his wife. He moved on, passing a lusty wench who smelled of hay and sweat. He walked easily through the women, lightly touching one then pausing beside another. Then suddenly he stopped, the slightest fragrance catching his nostrils and he whirled abruptly. His hand reached out, closing over a slender wrist. He was met with silence from his captive though as he pulled her close there was much snickering and smothered giggling from the onlookers. His fingers touched a woolen garment over her shoulders, much different from the softness of Aislinn’s velvet gunna, but his questing hand moved with deliberate slowness downward over a well-rounded breast to the mirth and merriment of all.
“Your lady is watching,” someone called.
Wulfgar was not daunted. His hands slipped around the slender waist, pulling the maid in his embrace and his head lowered to find the soft lips waiting his. His grin deepened before his mouth moved over hers hungrily and he felt the fiery response to his kiss. His limbs were pressed tightly to hers and he felt every soft curve against him stirring his blood.
“My lord, you have the wrong wench!” another cried.
Wulfgar reached up and snatched the cloth from his eyes without interrupting his kiss and opened his eyes to peer into the violet ones which stared back. Aislinn melted into laughter, giggling against his lips and as they broke apart, shrugged out of the woolen mantle someone had thrust upon her. Her hand slipped again into Wulfgar’s as Sir Gowain pressed a horn of ale onto him.
“What is your secret, my lord?” the young knight grinned. “That you knew her before you touched her was certain yet you were hampered by a blind. The truth now, pray, that we might play the game as well.”
Wulfgar smiled slowly. “ ’Tis the truth now I speak, sir knight. A wench has a fragrance of her own. There are scents to be purchased at fairs, but ‘neath it all is the sweetest smell of woman and in each it is different.”
Sir Gowain threw his head back and guffawed his delight. “You are a crafty one, milord.”
Wulfgar grinned. “Agreed, but you made a desperate man of me. I was not wont to spend this night warming the Hun’s straw.”
The knight raised a finely arched brow at Aislinn. “Indeed, my liege, I see your reasoning.”
Coloring lightly at the compliment, Aislinn slipped from Wulfgar’s side, breaking free from the merrymakers and made her way to the stairs. Halfway up she paused and sought out Wulfgar once more with her eyes. He watched her over Gowain’s shoulder and though he nodded at the man’s questions, his gaze was only for her and it was warm. Aislinn smiled softly in return and felt his gaze follow her until she closed the chamber door.
Miderd and Hlynn had arrived early and were there awaiting her. They embraced her fondly before drawing her to the warmth of the fire. There they helped her doff the yellow gunna and kirtle and wrapped her in a soft, sheer cloth of silk. Aislinn sat dreamily before the fire while Miderd combed out her hair. Hlynn tidied the room, carefully folding her clothes in the coffer, and laid the furs back invitingly on the bed.
The night was black outside and the shutters were set ajar to let a breath of cool air set the hangings of the room astir. With last good wishes, Miderd and Hlynn left her and Aislinn waited now alone yet with breathless anticipation. She could hear the laughter and gaiety in the hall, and she felt like dancing about the room. She laughed, remembering everyone’s bemusement when the little friar hurried in. It was Wulfgar’s way to keep her guessing till the last. Her heart now swelled with pride as she thought of his plans and his benevolence to Kerwick. A man for men was Wulfgar, no better lord.
Lost in
her happy musings she started when a small sound came from the door, and she glanced up to see it swing slowly open. Maida scurried into the room, carefully closing the door behind her.
“Those two have left,” she whined. “They turn the sweetest milk to curds with their simple chattering.”
“Mother, speak not so of Hlynn and Miderd. They are friends and have given me good solace in times of need.”
Aislinn’s eyes dropped to Maida’s ragged garments and she frowned.
“Mother, Wulfgar will not be pleased with your attire. Would you have others think he abuses you? ’Tis not so, for he has treated you kindly despite your pricks and jibes.”
Maida screwed up her face and spoke as if she had not heard her daughter. “Married! Married! Blackest day of days!” She threw her hands over her head. “ ’Twas the best of my revenge that you should bear the brat a bastard. To a bastard give a bastard,” she sneered then snickered at the thought.
“What say you?” Aislinn drew up in surprise. “This is the happiest of days for me. I would that you too rejoice that I am wed.”
“Nay! Nay!” the old woman cried. “You’ve stolen from me the last inch of vengeance. All I had was to see the slayer of my poor Erland twist in agony.”
“But Wulfgar did not the deed. ‘Twas Ragnor who swung the blade.”
“Bah!” Her mother dismissed the words with a fling of her hand. “They are Norman everyone and everyone the same. It makes no matter who swung the blade. They must all bear the guilt.”
Maida continued ranting and raving and screeching in rage. She wrung her hands and turned away from all of Aislinn’s efforts to calm her.
In frustration Aislinn cried, “But Ragnor is gone and ‘tis Wulfgar here and he is a fair lord and my husband!”
A change came over Maida at her words. Her lips twisted in a set sneer and her eyes flickered to every corner of the room. She crouched and stared into the fire for some time unspeaking, unmoving.
“Mother?” Aislinn asked after watching her for a while. “Are you all right?”
She saw Maida’s lips move and leaning close barely heard the words so softly whispered.
“Yea, this Norman lies at hand—even yonder in my bed.” The woman’s eyes gleamed and she turned suddenly as if Aislinn had surprised her. Her eyes flew wide and then narrowed and she chuckled to herself.
She stopped and stared at Aislinn with no recognition in her gaze, then gathering her ragged garments close to her, swept a vacant gaze about the chamber and hurried from it.
There was a scuffle of feet in the hallway and laughing voices and crude jests followed before the door burst open and Wulfgar was thrust inside, having been carried ceremoniously to its threshold. Where she sat before the fire, Aislinn saw Sweyn and Kerwick bar the way that others would not enter and Wulfgar hastened to close the door against the press. He turned, panting heavily, and his eyes went to her. The firelight etched her body through the veil of gossamer, stirring his blood, yet he paused, unsure of her reception, for her manner was quiet now and no words from her encouraged him to act the husband. The moment was at hand and he became no lord and master but a fumbling newly wedded groom. He gestured lamely toward the door.
“They seemed to think that we should meet and fill the night together.”
Still no answer came from her and he drew his mantle off his shoulders, folding it neatly, and removed his belt, setting both to place. Aislinn’s gaze followed him, but the firelight was behind her and Wulfgar could not see the tenderness that filled her eyes. He sat on the foot of the bed and rose again to hang his tunic from a peg. At her continued muteness he tried to peer into her face yet the shadows were deep and he could discern nothing.
“If you feel awry, Aislinn,” he murmured and disappointment drew each word. “I will not press you on this night.”
He fumbled inanely at the top tie of his chainse, for the first time in his life feeling completely at a loss with a woman. Did marriage lessen the pleasure, he wondered dismally.
Aislinn finally rose and went to stand before him and, taking the loops from his stumbling fingers, with a quick pull untied them. She lifted the shirt from his ribs and placed her hands upon them.
“My Lord Wulfgar,” she breathed in softest whisper. “You play the sotted groom so well, must I lead you where you have so often gamed?”
Her hands slid upward pushing the shirt over his shoulders and from his head then went further to clasp behind his head and pull him slowly down until he met her parted lips. She lay full against him and her hand caressed his back while her kisses gave him cause to sigh. Wulfgar’s mind spun like a boulder crashing down a hill and exploded into a flurry of emotions: confusion, surprise, and, not least of all, pleasure. He had thought it impossible for her to respond more fully than she had in the past yet now she aroused him purposefully, pressing feverish kisses against his throat, his mouth, his chest, and doing little tempting things with her fingers that made him catch his breath. He had thought foolishly at one time that he knew well a woman’s mind. Now this one was teaching him that women were different and should not be taken lightly.
Aislinn dropped the silken garment from her shoulders, letting it fall to her feet and slid her arms around him once more, pressing warmly against him. For a moment Wulfgar’s own limbs seemed weighted down. Her soft breasts against his chest seemed to burn into his flesh, and he dismissed his earlier thoughts of marriage as he bent and swept her up into his arms and bore her to their bed. He laid her there and hastily discarded the rest of his garments, flinging them heedlessly aside. For the first time in Aislinn’s memory he made no effort to place them away. He lay beside her and she responded fully to his touch, improvising on her own as her hands boldly stroked his body. His eagerness overrode all else and he pressed her down into the bed. His lips trembled at her ear and caressed her neck then moved downward where he could feel the rapid thud of her heart. She arched in ecstasy, opening her eyes for a moment, and the breath suddenly locked in her throat.
A dark shadow stood over them and there was a glint of metal over his back. Aislinn screamed in terror and tried to thrust him away. Wulfgar half turned in surprise at her cry and the blade struck a glancing blow on his shoulder. Pure rage clouded Wulfgar’s mind. With an oath he swung a fist then clasped the throat of the unlucky assailant, wrenching a strangled cry from it. With a surging roar he bore the intruder from the bed to the hearth. There the fire lit the attacker’s face and Aislinn screamed again, seeing her mother’s face twisted in soundless agony. Flinging herself from the bed, she flew to pull at her husband’s arm.
“Nay! Nay! Do not slay her, Wulfgar!”
Frantically she tugged at the arm again, but it was like iron, and she was unable to break the hold. Maida’s eyes bulged and her face seemed blackened. With a sob, Aislinn reached up to turn Wulfgar’s face to hers.
“She is mad, Wulfgar. Let her be.”
Her words broke his fury and he released his hold, letting Maida slip to the door. The woman lay writhing and twisting upon the hearth, struggling for breath through her bruised throat. Wulfgar bent and picked up the seax from the floor beside her and turned it over in his hand examining it closely. Some memory pricked the depth of his conscious mind then surfaced with full realization. This weapon had been Kerwick’s, the one used once before in an effort to slay him. A slow dawning lit his face as he looked down at the crone. He whirled to stare at Aislinn and she read his thoughts and gasped.
“Nay! Not so, Wulfgar!” Her voice grew strident. “I had no part in this. She is my mother true, but I swear I was not forewarned of this.”
She caught his hand with the blade and turned the dagger against her own heart.
“If you would doubt me, Wulfgar, end your doubts here and now. ’Tis a simple matter to end a life.” She pulled his hand closer until the point pressed against her breast. Tears blurred her vision and trickled down her cheeks, falling softly on her trembling bosom as she gazed up at him. She whispe
red low, “So simple.”
Maida found her breath and her feet and fled unseen by the two who stared into each other’s eyes, trying to read what truth was to be found. The slamming of the door marked her going but still they did not move.
Seeing Wulfgar’s uncertainty, Aislinn urged his hand once more, but he resisted her and she could not bring the blade nearer. She leaned against it until it pricked her skin and a tiny drop of her blood mingled with his upon the point.
“My lord,” she murmured softly. “Today I spoke my vows before God and as He is my witness I hold them sacred. As our blood joins on this blade so are we one. A child grows in me and I pray earnestly that he is thine and we be one in him, for he will need a father such as you.”
Her lips trembled as he stared down into her eyes. Wulfgar felt the heavy weight of her words upon him and he could deny her no longer. With an oath he flung the seax at the offending portal where it clattered on the wood and then on the floor. He bent and, snatching Aislinn up in his arms, whirled her about in complete abandon until she begged him to cease. Impatient once more, he turned to the bed, but she touched the wound on his shoulder and silently shook her head. Expertly she applied salve and bindings as he sat on the edge of the bed. When at last she tied the knot and set her healing notions aside, she turned to him, leaning forward until her breasts lightly pressed against his chest and she met his mouth eagerly with her own. His arms went around her trying to urge her down beneath him, but she placed both hands against his chest and pushed him firmly back upon the pillows. He stared up into her eyes in the firelight, wondering at her game, then she gave an answering smile and laid full length upon him. The hot blood surged through Wulfgar’s body, and the wound hindered him not then—nor later—nor later.
The Wolf and the Dove Page 45