Twin Passions

by Miriam Minger

  "The honor is indeed ours," returned Earl Godric diplomatically, grasping Wulfgar's wrist firmly in a gesture of goodwill. Having dispensed with the initial amenities, he nodded for the several hundred guests in the hall to be seated.

  Conversation and eager laughter resumed as the lords and ladies, seated at separate tables in the Anglo-Saxon style, made themselves comfortable. The evening promised to be quite a memorable one. The very fact that King Edgar had arranged the marriage of an English noblewoman to a prince of the Danelaw lent a heightened air of excitement to the evening.

  The magnitude of the wedding festivities was also a choice topic of furtive discussion. It was clear to the guests that no expense had been spared, fueling the rumors that Wulfgar Ragnarson was as wealthy as he was powerful. The night's feast would be followed on the morrow with a tournament of games and wrestling matches, and would culminate in the wedding ceremony and celebratory feast on the third day.

  The festive scene in the large hall was illuminated by great blazing torches and thick tallow candles set in candlesticks of beaten gold and silver. Magnificent tapestries graced the massive timbered walls, depicting fierce battles and deeds of bravery from days gone by. The earthen floor had been swept and then strewn with fresh rushes. Bunches of lavender and sage hung drying from the rafters, their sweet fragrance melding with the pungent smells of roasting venison and fowl that wafted from the kitchen.

  Servants rushed to and fro, endlessly filling and refilling goblets from the huge kegs of ale and mead set against the walls. Even a few of Earl Godric's favorite hunting dogs had been allowed to join in the celebration. They lay in wait under the linen-clothed tables, their tails wagging playfully, eager for any stray morsels that might be tossed their way.

  Earl Godric looked out over the teeming hall, his expression growing increasingly impatient. "It seems our daughters have seen fit to keep us waiting," he whispered gruffly in an aside to his wife. "By God, Bronwen, if Anora has changed her mind at this late hour . . . !" Unable even to consider the possibility, he quickly turned his attention to Wulfgar, who was inscrutably observing the crowd of guests.

  Aware of the flirtatious glances being cast his way by several bold ladies at a nearby table, Wulfgar averted his gaze to find the earl regarding him closely.

  "Humph! Lord Wulfgar, I take it your needs and those of your men have been seen to adequately?" Slightly embarrassed, Earl Godric wondered if he would ever become used to the fact that his daughter's soon-to-be husband was a Dane, and a powerful one at that.

  Surmising the earl's thoughts, Wulfgar smiled faintly. His features relaxed. "Aye, more than adequately, my lord," he replied, a twinkle in his eye. What an understatement! he thought fleetingly. Eager to please, the earl's lusty servant girls had amply seen to his men's needs all afternoon!

  Wulfgar looked at his men, who sat at their own table warily watching the festivities. He was glad there would be entertainment during the feast. Somewhat uncomfortable himself amid all these Anglo-Saxons, he could well imagine the thoughts of his battle-hardened warriors as they sat among the people who had been their enemies for the last hundred years. Yet his oath of allegiance to King Edgar was their oath as well, and they were foresworn to maintain the peace. Wulfgar smiled grimly. He hoped that tonight the musicians and jugglers would be enough for a diversion to prevent any provocations or insults between his men and Earl Godric's thanes.

  Earl Godric chuckled heartily at Wulfgar's answer, and slapped him approvingly on the shoulder. "More ale!" he shouted.

  Lady Bronwen glanced down the length of the hall, but there was still no sign of her daughters. Growing somewhat nervous herself at Anora's delay, she wondered if Gwendolyn might have something to do with it. As much as she loved her daughter, she was very aware of her willful and mischievous nature. She started to rise from her chair to go look for them, when a roar of approval went up from the guests. Spying her daughters at the foot of the stairs, she breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to Wulfgar. "My lord, your betrothed awaits her escort," she announced softly.

  Gwendolyn and Anora stood for a moment at the end of the vast hall, blushing at the obvious stir they were causing among the guests. Resplendent in their silken tunics, they were bathed in an ethereal glow from the myriad candles, their silver-blond hair shimmering and catching the light.

  Many of the guests, first-time visitors to the earl's stronghold and having only heard of his daughters' legendary beauty, stared awestruck as the sisters began to walk toward the dais. Truly, they made a dazzling pair!

  Anora could not tear her eyes away from Wulfgar's tall figure as he made his way toward them. His steel blue eyes, boldly taking in every aspect of her appearance, seemed to devour her. Feeling suddenly as if her heart would stop, she forced herself to breathe steadily. Her memories of him had not done him justice. Sweet Jesu! she whispered to herself. She had never seen him look more strikingly handsome!

  His tall, lean body was clothed in a forest green tunic richly embroidered with gold threads. Stretched tautly across his broad shoulders and muscular chest, the tunic fell to his knees, meeting the tops of fine leather boots. Wide gold bands glinted brightly at his wrists, and a heavy gold chain and medallion hung around his neck. At the center of the medallion was a blood-red ruby that sparkled in the candlelight. A wide, metal-studded belt encircled his waist, from which hung the scabbard of his dress sword. Resting one hand on the silver-engraved pommel, Wulfgar looked every inch the virile warrior as he walked toward his betrothed with agile grace.

  "Lady Anora . . . Lady Gwendolyn," he stated formally in a low, resonant voice, bowing slightly as he stood in front of them. Gwendolyn acknowledged him with a nod and a faint smile, then passed by him to take her seat beside Lady Bronwen.

  "Welcome, my lord," Anora murmured, overtaken by a sudden shyness. Trembling, she felt rooted to the ground. Wulfgar was standing so close to her that she could feel the warmth emanating from his strong body. His clean, male scent enveloped her senses.

  Wulfgar took her small hand and lifted it to his lips, gently kissing the delicate fingers. Anora's breath caught in her throat. She looked up at him, her emerald eyes locking with his steely gaze in an unspoken embrace.

  "Come, Anora," he whispered huskily, offering her his arm.

  The assembled guests had been silent while they watched this interchange with great interest, but they quickly resumed their hearty shouts of good wishes as the handsome couple walked to the dais and took their places side by side at the main table.

  With a subtle wave of her hand, Lady Bronwen signaled to the servants to bring in the food. Soon the long tables were groaning under the weight of huge, steaming platters of roasted meat and smoked salmon. The ravenous guests, amazed at the endless parade of dishes from the kitchen, soon had their trenchers of thick, crusty bread piled high with succulent slices of beef and fowl. All this and much more was to be washed down with ample quantities of ale and honeyed mead. Savory side dishes of eggs with herbs and roasted potatoes also accompanied the meal, as well as bowls of autumn vegetables. And for dessert there were steaming puddings studded with choice bits of dried fruits and nuts.

  As the guests settled down in earnest to enjoy the fine repast, their contented sounds of eating mingled with the merry conversation, occasional belches, and boisterous laughter. Once in a while a loud yelp was heard from under a table, where a well-placed kick to a growling hound would settle a dispute over discarded food.

  Musicians strolled among the tables strumming stringed instruments, often stopping here and there to play a favored tune. Acrobats and jugglers performed their daring feats for the astonished guests, while lively jesters, clothed in multicolored costumes, teased and entertained with their lusty tales and ribald jokes. Countless toasts were offered for the happiness of the betrothed couple, and more than one red-faced guest collapsed into his trencher in a drunken stupor.

  Gazing at Anora, still blushing prettily from the last bawdy toast, Wulfgar had
all he could do not to draw her into his arms and taste the sweetness of her lush lips. He regretted that such little conversation had passed between them during the meal, but Earl Godric had kept him occupied with a long discourse on the year's political events. He had listened with half an ear, unable to concentrate fully on the heated talk of strategy. Anora's slender beauty and the occasional innocent touch of her leg against his sinewy thigh had been wrecking havoc on his senses all night.

  Wulfgar took a long draft of ale from his silver goblet, steeling himself to be patient. He had eaten well of the hearty fare placed before him, but had drunk very little thus far. The warrior in him was always on guard; and he preferred to keep his wits about him while in the household of the earl. He leaned over toward Anora. "You have not eaten very much tonight," he commented gently, looking at her untouched trencher.

  The sound of Wulfgar's voice, deep and resonant, sent a thrill racing through Anora. "I am not very hungry, my lord," she murmured. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap, unable to think of anything further to say. She must appear a tongue-tied simpleton to him, she thought, chiding herself. Hearing her father launch into another political tale, she glanced up just as Wulfgar reluctantly turned his attention once again toward his host.

  She studied him unabashedly, drinking in the sight of his ruggedly handsome features. His dark hair, almost black, fell in soft waves to the collar of his tunic, while his steel blue eyes were framed by arching black brows and a strong forehead. His commanding profile, strong jawline, and the high-boned cheeks of his tanned face were a testimony to his Danish heritage.

  Resting her gaze on his chiseled lips, Anora wondered vaguely what it would be like to feel them possess hers in a lingering kiss. Wulfgar had kissed her lightly several times during their brief courtship, but always in the presence of her maid-in-waiting. She recalled the sense of restraint she had felt in his arms, as if he were holding something back. Gazing at him now, imagining his hands caressing her skin, she was shocked at the boldness of her thoughts. Never before had she felt this way about any man. He alone had awakened in her a mysterious longing that she knew only he could fulfill. Mesmerized by her thoughts, Anora was startled out of her reverie by Wulfgar's sudden flashing grin.

  "I trust my appearance meets with your approval," Wulfgar laughed rakishly. He had finished his conversation with Earl Godric, and had turned to find Anora studying him with desirous intensity, much to his delight.

  "Do not mock me, my lord!" Anora blurted, sudden tears glistening in her eyes. Flustered and embarrassed that she had been caught staring at him in such a wanton fashion, she rose suddenly from her chair, upsetting it.

  Catching her quickly about the waist, Wulfgar gently sat her on his lap, much to the amusement of several guests who had overheard their exchange. He locked her within his strong embrace. "Do not try to run from me, Anora," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. His voice was soothing as he stroked her long, silken hair. "It was not my intent to mock . . . I simply spoke in jest. Your beautiful eyes have betrayed you, Anora. They reflect a desire as strong as my own." He nuzzled her neck for a moment, breathing in the lavender-scented fragrance of her hair. "Soon, my love . . ."

  By the blood of Odin, Wulfgar thought fiercely, would that this were our wedding night! He had wanted Anora for his own since the first day he had seen her . . . more than he had ever desired any woman. Her innocence had beguiled him, her beauty had bewitched him, yet it was the smoldering passion, reflected in the emerald depths of her eyes, that had captured his soul. He could feel her trembling within his arms, and the nearness of her threatened to overwhelm him. Willing himself to release her, he leaned over and righted her chair, and lifted her to her seat.

  "Well, Lord Wulfgar, you have certainly given them something to talk about!" Earl Godric laughed, gesturing toward the many guests now watching the couple with great interest. He turned to Lady Bronwen, his voice low. "I believe 'tis a good time to sign those documents. We should summon the priest." She nodded in agreement.

  "Grimbald, fetch Father Leofwine. I believe he is sitting at the far end of that table over there," Lady Bronwen murmured to the steward standing close by.

  "Aye, my lady," Grimbald replied, hurrying off to do her bidding.

  Anora blushed heatedly. She felt as if all eyes in the hall were upon her. She looked over at Gwendolyn. Her sister flashed her a warm smile of encouragement, but she could only nod numbly in reply. Dazed by the tumultuous whirl of emotions raging within her, she raised her goblet to her lips and took a sip of the honeyed mead. The spicy liquid spread a warm fire through her body as she drank, and she quickly drained the goblet. Feeling suddenly light-headed, she realized too late the effects of the potent drink on her empty stomach. Her vision grew fuzzy, and she could barely make out the stooped figure of the priest as he made his way toward the dais.

  "My lord, may I present the betrothal agreements," Father Leofwine stated loudly. He handed the two rolled parchment documents to Earl Godric. He had spent many long hours hunched over his writing desk, meticulously inscribing the elaborate text with inks of different hues, and he was exceedingly proud of his contribution to this joyous occasion.

  "My thanks, Holy Father," Earl Godric said warmly. The old priest nodded, then took his place behind Anora, where he would witness the signing. Earl Godric pulled the silken cord tied around each document. Unrolling them carefully, he placed one in front of his daughter and the other before Wulfgar.

  Rising from his chair, Wulfgar motioned for one of his men to bring forth the carved-ivory chest he had brought from his homeland. The warrior set it up on the main table, then stood on guard before the dais. The air of speculation heightened in the hall, and many guests stood to get a better view.

  Wulfgar opened the intricately carved lid, his voice resounding throughout the hushed hall. "I, Wulfgar Ragnarson, prince of the Danelaw, having sworn fealty to King Edgar, my liege lord, do hereby present to Anora, daughter of Godric, Earl of Cheshire, a marriage gift, in hopes that she will accept it willingly and look upon me with favor." Reaching into the chest, he lifted out a small wrapped bundle and set it carefully before Anora. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the silken ribbon that securely tied the bundle. It seemed like an eternity passed before she was able to untie the knot, but at last the linen folds fell open to reveal the contents.

  "Oh!" Anora gasped. She stared in awe at the glittering brooch that sparkled at her in the bright candlelight. She had never seen anything like it before! Made of shimmering, beaten gold, the oval brooch was encrusted with emeralds and creamy-white pearls. She could feel Wulfgar's heated gaze upon her as she shakily held it up for all to see, and she started when he laid another bundle before her. Larger than the first, it contained a set of perfectly matched earrings and two gold filigree arm rings inlaid with ivory and precious stones.

  "The jewels are beautiful, my lord," Anora murmured, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked up at him.

  "No more beautiful than the woman who will wear them," Wulfgar replied softly, his voice a whispered caress. Smiling at her pleasure, he lifted a small, rolled parchment from the chest. Unrolling it gingerly, he read aloud: "I, Wulfgar Ragnarson, present to Anora, daughter of Godric, ten thousand acres of land adjacent to my own estate. Henceforth, this land is her own property, to do with as she sees fit." This announcement brought great shouts of approval from the stunned guests, with the realization that Anora was now one of the richest women of the Danelaw.

  Earl Godric, slightly overcome by his daughter's good fortune, addressed her gently. "Anora, do you accept the marriage gift of Wulfgar Ragnarson, and agree to go with him willingly as his wife?" The great hall suddenly grew hushed, all awaiting her answer.

  Anora rose gracefully from her chair and turned to face Wulfgar. His handsome features were inscrutable, yet the steely blue depths of his gaze were searching. His hand reached out to her, and she grasped it with trembling fingers. It was warm
and strong, and reassured her. "I do willingly accept, and look upon Wulfgar Ragnarson with great favor," she answered in a clear voice, loud enough for all to hear.

  The words had barely escaped her lips when a great roar went up from the guests. Servants rushed to fill empty goblets as the rounds of toasts began anew. The great beams of the hall echoed with the revelry that would no doubt continue far into the night. Oblivious to the merriment, Wulfgar bent his head and kissed Anora's lips, lingering for a moment as he savored their tender warmth.

  "Ahem!" Coughing sharply, Father Leofwine gestured toward the documents still lying unsigned on the table.

  A deep chuckle rumbled from Wulfgar, and, turning to Earl Godric, he laughed. "Your priest truly has your interests at heart, my lord." Dipping the pen into a small jar of ink, he made his mark on each document, then handed the pen to Anora, who did the same. Content that all formalities had been observed, the aged priest bowed before the couple and took his leave.

  "We are in agreement, then," Earl Godric said, offering his silver goblet to Wulfgar.

  "Aye, my lord." Wulfgar nodded, his eyes upon Anora. Taking the goblet, he drained it with one draft.

  Chapter 6

  Anora sipped slowly from her goblet as she watched the celebration around her. The revelry showed no signs of abating, even though the hour was growing late. She glanced at Gwendolyn, unable to suppress a smile at the sight of her tempestuous sister surrounded by anxious suitors. Gwendolyn was smiling prettily, but her eyes flashed dangerously — a strong indication of what she truly thought of their unwanted attentions. Anora sighed. She only hoped her sister would one day find the same happiness she felt this night. Wulfgar's kiss still burned upon her lips, and she closed her eyes for a moment, remembering his embrace. A wave of dizziness suddenly washed over her. Shaking her head, she opened her eyes to find him gazing at her with concern.