The thundering shout had men jumping in fright, walls trembling, and immediate silence reigning.
Tarr stepped forward, his stern glance shifting from twin to twin, then to Leith. “You told me all was settled.”
“Along with Fiona’s strength comes a mind of her own.”
“What of obedience to her chieftain and duty to her clan?” Tarr focused on the sisters, his dark eyes intimidating in their scrutiny. “I will wed Fiona. She will step forward.”
Aliss and Fiona glared at him, neither making a move.
Tarr folded his arms over his chest and circled the twins slowly. “They appear no different, and if the weaker can appear stronger then she has the courage I seek. I will wed either one.”
“But does she have the strength you seek?” Aliss asked.
Fiona grinned, her sister’s remark so caustic that she thought she herself had spoken.
Tarr lowered his arms and walked up to stand only inches from Fiona. He remained silent, as did she. She noticed that the warm color of his sun-drenched skin made a short, narrow scar that cut through one eyebrow, and another on his jawbone below his right cheek, more prominent. Except for these two scars, his face bore no other marks or blemishes. His dark eyebrows were not thick, though they were full and arched over his eyes as if applied with perfect strokes. His eyes, she had first thought black, were a deep brown with faint gold specks that were visible only when the fire’s light caught them and turned them brilliant.
He was, Fiona decided, a handsomely compelling man.
“Now that you have assessed me what say we wed, Fiona?”
She laughed so that her shock at him guessing her identity would not show. “I cannot assess you in one glance. It takes time to know the manner of a man, and you cannot be sure who I am or what manner of woman I am.”
“Strength, honor, courage, I would say you possess all three.”
Aliss stepped forward, her eyes roaming over him slowly. “Arrogant, demanding, impatient, I think you possess all three.”
Gasps could be heard but were interrupted by Tarr’s thunderous laugh.
“Your tongue is quick and sharp,” Tarr said, his laughter subsided.
“She must be Fiona,” Leith insisted, walking to stand beside Tarr.
“Are you sure about that?” Fiona asked. As the two men stared at Aliss, she moved next to her sister so that they appeared mirror images of each other. “Tell me you are certain I am not Fiona.”
Leith moved his mouth, yet no words emerged.
Tarr did not react; he simply glanced from one twin to the other.
“I demand Fiona step forward,” Leith said sharply.
The women looked at each other, then to Leith and laughed.
Fiona caught the corner of Tarr’s mouth twitch as if to laugh before his expression turned stern and uncompromising. He finding them humorous made him less intimidating to her.
“I have a few days before I must return home. I can be patient,” he said, looking to Aliss.
“Time will not help you,” she said. “We do not wish to wed.”
“It matters not what either of you wish. A marriage contract has been arranged and will be honored.”
“We will see,” Fiona said with a challenge.
Tarr walked up to her until their faces almost touched. “It is done. There will be a wedding before I leave here.”
“But who will be your bride?”
“Fiona will be, I am certain of it.” Tarr stepped back and, without looking at Leith, he ordered, “Food and drink, it is time to celebrate.”
Fiona and Aliss moved quickly aside, out of the path of rushing women who hurried in with overflowing platters and bowls of food. It did not take long before the tables were crowded with feasting men and women and the celebration began.
Fiona was starving and about to dig into the richly scented lamb on the platter when she realized that her appetite far surpassed her sister’s. If she ate as she usually did there would be no doubt to her identity. The problem was that she doubted Aliss could eat the amount of food that was her custom. She would have no choice but to eat as sparingly as her sister, then fill herself later when they returned to their cottage.
Fiona caught Aliss’s glance. She had realized the situation and waited. Fiona reached for a small piece of lamb and nibbled at it.
Aliss reached for a similar piece and did the same, her relief obvious only to her sister.
Seated on Tarr’s right, Fiona envied the hardy way he ate and silently cursed him. She had to admit, though, he was not disgusting in his manners as most warriors were. And he was cleaner than most. When he had stood next to her he had smelled of fresh earth and pine, and his long hair shined as though it had recently been washed. But then he had thought it to be his wedding day. At least he had been considerate enough to bathe for his bride.
Annoyed that her thoughts centered on Tarr of Hellewyk, she grabbed for another piece of lamb and ripped off a piece she could certainly eat without a problem, though Aliss could never finish such a thick slab.
She smiled, then reluctantly handed it to Tarr.
“Aliss,” Leith accused wagging an accusing and greasy finger at Fiona as he leaned past the real Aliss. “Only Aliss would be so thoughtful. Fiona would never share her food.”
Tarr took the meat from her slowly, his finger lingering on hers before he slipped it out of her hand. “But would Fiona be unselfish and eat less so that her sister would not have to eat more and their ruse could continue?”
Fiona admired Tarr’s intelligence. It was no wonder he was a victorious chieftain, feared and awed by friends and enemies alike. He would be a worthy opponent in this battle of wills.
He tilted his head toward her. “I will have my way.”
“So will I,” she whispered.
Tarr nodded slowly as he turned away from Fiona and turned his attention to Aliss, seated on his left. “I admire you and your sister’s actions.”
“I thought you would. You are after all a warrior and a true warrior respects his opponents.”
“This battle will end in your opponent becoming your husband.”
Aliss laughed beneath her breath and shook her head, sending a bit of hay raining down on her shoulders. “Only if I so choose.”
Tarr plucked a piece from her blouse. “The choice will be mine.”
“We shall see,” she said, and yanked the hay from his fingers.
Fiona had been watching Leith while Tarr conversed with Aliss. He huddled at the end of the table with a group of men. She suspected they planned something, but what? How would he think to uncover their charade?
It did not take long for Leith to hatch his plan. Soon one of the men at the end of the table got up and joined a group of clansmen at another table near the door. It took only minutes for the man to suddenly begin moaning and complaining about his stomach until he soon collapsed to the ground, rolling and yelling in pain.
Fiona hurried to his side and with a far gentler manner than she cared to use, she proceeded to tend the supposedly ailing man. He complained viciously about awful pains in his gut. He was certain he was dying, and Fiona was all too ready and willing to send him to hell where he would know real pain.
She glanced to Aliss who attempted to conceal her concern for the ill man. Fiona’s healing skills were limited, but they were sufficient enough to handle the writhing man at her feet. Her sister would just have to trust her on this one.
Fiona noticed the way Leith had made his way to Tarr’s side and was whispering in his ear. She knew his words, though could not hear them. Leith filled his head with Aliss’s healing skills and how she would certainly know if the man was truly sick; Fiona however, would not and therefore this little farce would uncover the true twin.
The man did an excellent job at suffering and Fiona intended to do an excellent job in seeing that he healed himself.
She told him that she would cure him in no time. She grabbed a tankard of ale off the table,
plucked leaves off a platter, tearing them into pieces and added them to the ale. She kneeled beside the man and helped ease him up to sit.
He moaned and groaned and held his gut.
Fiona leaned down, her lips near his ear. “I have a brew here for you. Now the problem is that if I am Aliss the brew will certainly heal you. If I am Fiona, then the brew will surely kill you. So I leave the choice to you. Drink or not to drink.”
She held the tankard to his lips.
His decision was quick. He pushed the tankard away and stood of his own volition. “I feel fine,” he said and hurried out the door.
Fiona was pleased to see Leith’s face turn red with fury, and she would not have been surprised if smoke spewed from his nostrils. Tarr on the other hand appeared impressed.
He looked ready to approach Fiona when the door opened suddenly. A stranger entered, looked over the room and, when his eyes connected with Tarr, he hurried toward him.
Tarr met him halfway, a concerned look on the warrior’s face.
“Raynor has attacked the keep.”
Tarr’s men were on their feet reaching for their weapons.
Tarr turned to Leith. “I leave shortly. Have the twins ready for the journey. They go with me. When I find out which sister is Fiona, I will wed her and return Aliss to your clan.”
Chapter 3
Fiona and Aliss were on horseback before they were given a chance to refuse. Their meager belongings had been hurriedly packed with the help of a few clanswomen, and Fiona had grabbed Aliss’s healing basket as she was rushed out the door of their cottage.
They had been placed protectively in the middle of the Hellewyk procession of warriors, riding beside each other.
“Victory is ours in the first skirmish,” Fiona said, her words for her sister’s ears alone.
“True enough, but Tarr retaliated by spiriting us away. He is not giving up; he is waging war, and he intends to win.”
“As do we. If we keep him confused he will grow frustrated and finally surrender and send us home.”
Aliss disagreed. “I do not think so. He is a warrior intent on victory.”
“Then we must remain vigilant at all times.”
“And patient,” Aliss reminded. “It will take patience to outwit Tarr.”
“I have a lot of patience,” Fiona snapped. “It is an idiot I have no patience with.”
Aliss cringed. “I can see that lack of food has made you grumpy.”
Tarr’s sudden presence interrupted any further complaints from Fiona.
His gorgeous black stallion pranced and snorted on approach and nestled close to Fiona’s gray mare.
“I have been told that Fiona is an excellent hunter, skilled in various weaponry, and that Aliss is a superb healer.”
“You think to determine our identity that way?” Fiona asked, though she sounded more as if she accused.
Tarr was just as blunt. “Your identity will be made known sooner or later. Our clans will unite through marriage and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
“You think so?” Aliss snapped.
“I have no time to debate this matter.” He glanced from one to the other. “If your skills are needed use them.”
“Who is this Raynor?” Fiona asked, prepared to fight if necessary.
“Raynor of Blackshaw is a Viking Scottish chieftain who claims that a section of my land belongs to him. It has been an ongoing battle for years.”
“Obviously with you continuing to be the victor,” Fiona said.
“What is mine remains mine.” Tarr reined the horse away from Fiona. “Remember that and keep alert. Raynor is unpredictable.” He rode off with a shout to one of his men.
“He is a handsome and fit man,” Aliss said.
Fiona turned her head with a jerk. “If you think so favorably of him, you wed him.”
“I am not interested in marriage. I just took more notice of him while he spoke with us. His features are not hard to gaze upon and though the size of him can intimidate, it offers protection. His clansmen must certainly feel safe with him as their chieftain.”
“I can see how his people would feel safe,” Fiona grudgingly agreed. “But his features mean nothing if he is not a man a woman can trust and depend on. And as for you not being interested in marriage? Love can change all that.”
“I do not want it to,” Aliss said with a firmness that had her sister raising a brow. “I do not want my work replaced by love. I would like love to compliment my work and I do not believe there are many men who would find patience with my propensity for healing the ill.”
“Find an ailing man and you both will be happy.” Fiona laughed; Aliss did not.
They camped just before nightfall and the atmosphere was one of caution. Guards were posted around the camp, and several men disappeared into the shadows of the night presumably for added protection.
Fiona was disappointed when no food was offered, and she wondered if she would last until morning without a morsel to fill her protesting stomach. She almost hugged her sister when she passed her a hunk of bread and cheese as they lay huddled next to each other by the fire.
“I knew you would need nourishment,” Aliss whispered.
“Bless you,” Fiona murmured, and feasted with joy.
The morning brought a rush to break camp and be on the way. Aliss informed Fiona that she had heard the men talking and that they would reach Hellewyk land by midday, and that many of the men expected an attack before they reached the keep.
“This Raynor anticipated Tarr’s return, or forced it,” Fiona said as she and her sister mounted their horses. “Keep alert and your weapon close.”
“I am not as skilled with a weapon as you,” Aliss said nervously.
“You are skilled enough. Just find cover where you can. I will not let anything happen to you.”
Aliss nodded and soon they were once again on the trail.
The day was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky. The smell of heather was heavy in the air, summer having appeared to refuse autumn’s total reign. They traveled along a path made worn by many travelers, the earth packed hard and solid. A smatter of trees lined one side and a vast meadow could be seen beyond, framed by low-rising hills. The other side was dense with foliage with a few croppings of large rocks here and there.
“I wish there was time to search the woods for herbs,” Aliss said eagerly.
“A good place for Raynor’s men to be hiding,” Fiona reminded. “And Tarr knows that. I have watched the way he directs his men and how he himself is aware to all that goes on around him. He is a wise warrior.”
“You admire him.”
“His warrior skills impress and he strikes an imposing figure on his horse. He sits straight, his shoulders wide, his eyes intent, and his weapons close. He is prepared for anything. He will not be caught off guard.”
Aliss jerked her head from side to side. “You think we are watched now?”
Fiona shook her head. “You think it wise to make it appear as if you nervously look about for lurking warriors?”
Aliss dropped her head, gave it a shake, then stuck her chin up. “I am devoid of warrior abilities.”
Fiona laughed. “I do not know about that. You wield a mean bone needle.”
Aliss smiled. “I surely do.”
“We have discussed this before, Aliss,” Fiona said seriously. “Seek cover as quickly as possible and keep safe. Your skills and strength will be needed after the battle ends.”
“I worry about you.”
“And I worry that if you do not keep safe, who then will tend me if necessary? We each have our talents and it is best we use them wisely.”
“I am so glad we remain together—”
“So am I,” Fiona chimed in. “And we will stay together. No one, absolutely no one will separate us.”
A screech like that of a wounded animal pierced the air a mere moment before a horde of warriors descended on the Hellewyk troop.
“The ro
cks,” Fiona said to her sister as she reached for her sword in its scabbard on the side of her mare.
Aliss grabbed the knife from her boot, slipped off her horse knowing her mare was trained to seek safety during battle, and ran for the cropping of small boulders a few feet away.
Fiona entered the battle first making certain she cleared a path for her sister to get to safety. Once Aliss was behind the rocks she charged full hilt into the thick of clashing swords.
Fiona swung her sword with skill and strength, toppling warriors from their horses as if she swatted them off like pesky insects. She delivered several severe kicks, blooding faces when attempts were made to tear her off her horse, and she felled one man with the butt of her sword handle to his hard head.
She had trained her mare well for battle, and the horse remained calmly aware of her master’s every move and command. Fiona saved one or two of Tarr’s men from the point of a sword. Her strength grew with each kick, thrust and swing, the heat of battle racing her blood.
The skirmish over, Tarr sat looking over the battlefield. A few of his men were hurt while three of Raynor’s men lay bloody and moaning on the ground. He was relieved no graves would be dug this day for his men, and more relieved that one would not be for his future wife.
At first he thought to protect the twin he saw in the thick of battle, but it was soon obvious that she was an accomplished swordswoman. When she assisted him in dispelling his opponents, he knew she possessed the courage he was searching for in a wife. She fought like a true warrior. The other twin however hid behind a rock. Had he found Fiona?
He thought he had the answer when he saw the other twin emerge from her hiding spot supporting one of his warriors whose injured leg was carefully bandaged. She sat him gently on the ground and then rushed to help the wounded.
Bloody lacerations and agonizing moans did not deter her as she was soon stitching torn limbs, head gashes and bandaging less severe abrasions, the hem of her brown skirt being torn again and again for bandages.
“You will find us both courageous,” Fiona said, halting her mare beside him.
“You both fight but in different ways,” Tarr remarked with admiration. “Perhaps I was right about it not mattering which twin I wed.”
The Daring Twin Page 2