The Wolf and the Dove (13 page)

He bit his lips as Sweyn laughed.

“Ah, so you do speak our tongue. Wulfgar was right.”

“What do you want of me?!” Kerwick demanded, glancing toward Aislinn.

Wulfgar smiled slowly. “Thomas here does not know our language. You will give me assist.”

Aislinn almost breathed a sigh of relief, yet with Wulfgar there was nothing done without purpose. Why was she not asked to translate since they knew her learned in this way? Her brow grew troubled and she puzzled as she studied Wulfgar closely. He spoke easily, watching Kerwick rather than Thomas, not even glancing toward the disconcerted vassal.

“Speak with this man and tell him thusly: He may be a slave and chained with the thieves or he can retain much of his former place but for three things. He must lay down his arms and not raise them again unless so bid by me. He must crop his hair and shave his face as is our manner and he must swear fealty to the Duke William on this very day.”

While these things were repeated to Thomas, Wulfgar came to Aislinn’s side and placed his thigh upon the table leaning forward and half sitting. Aislinn gave him little notice, for her attention was centered upon Kerwick and Thomas and their discussion. Thomas’s main concern seemed to be the loss of the larger part of his glorious blond hair, but he acquiesced and nodded his agreement vigorously when Kerwick bared his own back and showed him the stripes thereon.

With a start Aislinn became aware that her mantle had fallen open and glancing downward, confirmed that her breasts lay open to Wulfgar’s chance gaze. Looking to him, she saw her fears realized, for his gaze was not chance but rested hungrily upon the display. She blushed profusely and clutched the front of the cloak to her as his hand moved to rest upon her bare shoulder. She felt warm and flushed as his long fingers slowly traced her collarbone, the line of her chin and down the curve of her neck, returning to lay upon the first gentle swell of her breast. Shaken and addled, Aislinn became conscious of the fact that the conversation had ceased and glanced up to find Kerwick glaring at them with reddened face and clenched fists, obviously fighting for what little self-control he could muster. Suddenly she knew Wulfgar’s game and started to speak, but the hand tightened upon her shoulder, and when she looked around those gray eyes caught hers and though his lips smiled and were silent she was warned
not to interfere.

“Methinks you dally, Kerwick.” He spoke without raising his attention from her. “Get the business done.”

Kerwick choked and struggled with words. His voice started haltingly then as he continued deminished in volume.

“Speak up, Saxon. Your speech grows slurred. I would hear the sound of my words in your English tongue.”

“I cannot,” Kerwick suddenly cried, shaking his head.

“And why not?” Wulfgar demanded almost pleasantly. “I am your lord. Is it not meet that you should obey me?”

Kerwick jerked his arm toward Aislinn. “Then leave her be! You have no right to caress her thus! She is mine!”

Abruptly Wulfgar’s manner changed. His great sword sang from its sheath and with a long stride he reached the fireplace. There, with both hands on the hilt, he brought the blade whining downward to split in twain a large log lying there. Then reversing his grip, he thrust the point through the heavy seat of a wooden bench nearby. He strode to Kerwick who though still angry was pale and struggled to present a defiant mien. Wulfgar stood before the younger man, legs spraddled and arms akimbo. When he spoke, his voice fair trembled the heavy timbers that arched the hall.

“By God’s own word, Saxon,” he thundered. “You try my temper sorely! You are no longer lord or landed but a simple serf! Now you maul with outraged passion what is mine!” His voice lowered to a mere growl and gesturing to where Aislinn sat in dire fear, he continued. “You both speak the French tongue well, but she gives me pleasure too, and you most certainly do not! Though I would not pursue my business with a woman hanging to my tails, your life is by far the cheaper. Do not quest this issue again if you would live another day.” Almost quietly, he added, “Do you see the truth of my words?”

Kerwick lowered his gaze and bowed his head. “Yea, lord.” Then he raised himself to full height and squarely faced Wulfgar, though a tear slowly traced its way down his face. “But ‘twill be difficult, for you see, I loved her.”

Wulfgar felt a first inkling of respect rise up within him for this lean Saxon and some stir of compassion for him. He could feel sorry for any man tormented and bedeviled by a woman, though he could not see their foolishness in letting themselves be drawn to such ends by a simple wench.

“Then I count the matter done,” Wulfgar stated flatly. “You will not be chained again unless you bring it on yourself. Now take this man and see that he is sheared then bring him to make his vow before a cross.”

As his men followed Thomas and Kerwick from the hall, Wulfgar turned and crossed to the stairs. He had mounted the first few steps when he glanced toward Aislinn, who sat quietly in dumb confusion, and paused to wait for her. She turned and raised her eyes to him.

“You seem at a loss, damoiselle,” he mocked and then grew serious. “The men of this town are welcome to return to their homes. Winter draws hither and ‘twill be the labor of every sound body to keep hunger from the door. So if you find more, do not hide them but bring them to me in no fear of their lives. Now I bid you come and seek some replacement for those poorly used garments that we may dine and ease our hunger. I do hope your gowns have not been reduced to the point you have no change for that rag. It is simple to see that if you are put upon again by some lusty male that I will have to draw from my purse a sum to clothe you. You may in a short time, damoiselle, come to cost me more than you’re worth. I hope I shall not have to share my coins with some lowly dressmaker since my monies are hard earned and I have better use for them.”

With a haughty air, Aislinn rose. With all the dignity she could muster she mounted the stairs, passing him and leading the way to the chamber, all under his amused stare. He closed the door behind them and moved about the room, shedding the heavy mail and setting it to its place. Aislinn stood watching him in indecision, well aware of her lack of privacy and of his offhand manner with her. When he turned to the hearth to warm himself, she knew it was the most she could expect and that she would have to make the best of it. Turning her back to the room, she hastily dropped the mantle to the floor and stripped the ruined garments from her. Perhaps it was some small sound from Wulfgar that made her clutch the kirtle to her breast. She looked his way and her breath caught in her throat for he stood now staring at her with eyes hot and burning with the passion he made no effort to disguise. His gaze slowly traveled the length of her flawless back, touching the long, slender legs and the rounded hips with eyes that
seemed to scorch her with their searing heat. Aislinn felt no embarrassment. Indeed, a slow pleasant warmth tingled through her. With an effort she lifted her chin and questioned him coolly.

“Does my lord pleasure himself or does he wish me to pleasure him? Please allow me an answer before I clothe this simple frame that you may not have to part with a precious coin for my garments.”

His eyes rose to her face, and she saw the passion die. His brow darkened and without a word he stumbled from the room.

Dark clouds of wintery gray smothered the dawn as a first splattering of rain turned into a roaring downpour that soaked the earth and sent sheets of water cascading from the roof. Aislinn stretched contentedly upon her furry bed and turning, snuggled deeper into the warmth of the pelts, half opening an eye and seeking the source of light that roused her, wondering if Wulfgar had risen in the early morning hours to open the shutters. She gazed out for a moment at the falling rain, enjoying the restful sound, then a shadow moved across the window, and she came to her feet realizing Wulfgar was already up and dressed. He wore a tunic and leather braccos and did not seem to mind the chill which prompted her to seize a fur and wrap it close about her.

“My lord, forgive me. I did not know you wished to rise early. I’ll get food.”

“Nay.” He shook his head “I have no business pressing. The rain woke me.”

She walked to the window to stand beside him, brushing a glossy tress from her face. Her hair fell about her in loose curls that many times defied a sober braid. He reached out and lifted a heavy lock from her breast as she peered up at him.

“You came quite late to bed, my lord. Was there some trouble?”

He looked into her eyes. “I crawled between no wenches’ thighs if that is what you mean.”

With a flush of color she leaned forward out from the window to catch the rain within her cupped hands. She scooped it to her mouth, giggling gayly as some dribbled down her chin and plummeted to her bosom, wetting her light kirtle. She held the dampened cloth from her breast, shivering at the crisp chill of the water. As she reached out for more she felt Wulfgar’s eyes upon her as she played.

For a moment she stared out the window at the countryside, very much aware of his manly presence beside her. His nearness stirred some strange, pleasurable spark that flickered along the ends of her nerves.

“My lord,” she began slowly without glancing his way. “You have said you do not wish my gratitude, yet I feel dearly thankful for your mercy to Kerwick. He is not so shallow-witted as he has seemed. I cannot think why he has acted so foolishly. In truth, my lord, he is clever with his mind.”

“Until it is dulled by a wench’s treachery,” he murmured thoughtfully.

Aislinn turned to him sharply, taken aback by his harsh words. An angry flush rose to her cheeks as she stared up into those gray eyes. “I had always been true to Kerwick. Until that choice was taken from me by your man.”

“I wonder, damoiselle, if your loyalty would have stayed fast if Ragnor had not bedded you.”

She drew herself up, looking at him squarely. “Kerwick was the choice of my father, and I would have honored that choice to my dying day. I am not a fickle maid who falls in any bed to be wooed thereon by every passing stag.”

He considered her quietly and she raised a questioning gaze.

“But tell me, sir, why do you fear women and their infidelity so?” She saw his scowl blacken. “What makes you hate women and loathe the one who gave you birth? What did she do?”

The scar across Wulfgar’s cheek went livid, and he struggled with himself to keep from striking her, but in her eyes he saw no fear, only a calm, deliberate look that quietly questioned. He whirled and in irate strides crossed to the bed, grinding his fist in his hand. He stood silent for a long time as violent rage gripped him in its power. Finally he spoke over his shoulder with a voice sharp and brittle.

“Yea, she gave me birth but little else. First she loathed me, not I her. For a small boy who begged for love she had none and when that lad turned to a father who would be one, she destroyed that too. They cast me away like something begotten in the gutter!”

Aislinn’s heart wrenched at the thought of a small lad having to plead for affection. She did not know why she suddenly wanted to go to Wulfgar and hold his head close to her breast and smooth the troubled frown from his brow. Never in her life had she felt such tenderness for a man, and she was at a loss as to how to cope with her emotions now. This man was enemy and she wanted to soothe his hurts. What madness was this?

She went to Wulfgar and gently laid her hand upon his arm, gazing up into his eyes in humble apology. “My tongue is sharp and quick to wound. ’Tis a fault I’m oft reminded of. I beg your pardon. Memories so sad should be left buried.”

Wulfgar reached up a hand and caressed her cheek. “I do not trust women, fair to say.” He smiled stiffly. “ ’Tis a fault I’m oft reminded of.”

Aislinn’s eyes held him softly. “There can always be a first time, my lord. We shall see.”

The firelight danced along the blade of the sword as Wulfgar held it up and with his thumb tested its edge, then he bent again to honing out the nicks. He had discarded his tunic with the warmth of the fire and the long, sinewy muscles of his back and arms rippled and played in magnificent rhythm with his movements. At her place by the foot of the bed, Aislinn sat mending his chainse. She had laid aside her gunna and wore only a white kirtle. Seated crosslegged on the pile of furs and with her hair loose and flowing over her shoulders, she looked like some wild Viking bride of old. Perhaps some of the blood from those seafarers coursed in her veins, for the warmth of the fire and the sight of this man half naked and closeted with her for the night made her pulse beat faster. She bit through the last thread and the thought crossed her mind that were she that savage Viking maid she might rise now and go to him and caress that sleek and shining back, run her hands down those mighty arms—

A chuckle burst from her as she considered what might be his reaction. At the sound of her laughter Wulfgar’s gray eyes rose and regarded her quizzically, and Aislinn turned her attention quickly away from him to folding the garment and putting aside her needle and shears. Wulfgar jerked and cursed lightly and raised his thumb to show her a tiny gash where a drop of blood welled brightly.

“Your humor wounds me,” he quipped. “Does the sight of me amuse you so?”

“Nay, lord.” Then she blushed deeply for her own haste in denying his accusation betrayed to a small degree her interest. She was amazed at herself, for it seemed now she almost enjoyed his company and would even seek him out on any plausible excuse. What truth lay in Kerwick’s words? Was she more the smitten maid than the vengeful vixen?

Wulfgar returned to his labor as she took up another of his garments and began to mend it with careful attention. A light tapping at the door disturbed the domestic tranquility of the scene and upon Wulfgar’s answer Maida entered and bobbing to the lord seated herself close by Aislinn.

“How fared your day, child?” the mother inquired in a chatty voice. “I saw you not, for ills and troubles kept me busy in the town.”

Wulfgar gave a derisive snort at this woman talk and bent close to his blade as he whetted it carefully. Aislinn, however, arched her brows in question, for she knew her mother now cared little for the people and even less of their sicknesses but spent most of her day in seclusion wherever she could find it, plotting vengeance upon the Normans.

As she saw Wulfgar’s attention elsewhere, Maida lowered her voice and spoke in the Saxon tongue. “Does he not leave you unguarded a moment? Since the morning’s fare I’ve sought to speak with you but I always find some Norman perched by your side.”

Aislinn made a motion for Maida to cease, glancing quickly toward Wulfgar in apprehension, but the old woman shook her head and almost spit out:

“That bumbling ass does not know our gentle tongue and probably could not follow our thoughts if he did.”

Aislinn gave her the point, shrugging her shoulders, and the old woman continued anxiously.

“Aislinn, heed the Norman not but listen carefully to my words. Kerwick and I have set a way to escape and I bid you join us in the hour when the moon sets.” She ignored her daugher’s startled stare and took her hand. “We would leave these southern sties and fly to the north country where they are yet free and we have some kin. We can wait there until a new force is raised and then return and free our home from these vandals.”

“Mother, do not do this thing, I pray you,” Aislinn pleaded, trying to keep her voice level and calm. “These Normans are too many and they patrol the countryside. They would ride us down in the fields like thieves. And Kerwick, what will they do to him if they take him this time? They will surely choose harsher measures for him if he is caught.”

“I must,” Maida hissed and then again more calmly. “I cannot bear to see these lands once mine now trod by Norman heel and to give this one”—she jerked her head over her shoulder towards Wulfgar—“the pleasure of hearing ‘my lord, my lord’ from my lips.”

“Nay, Mother, ‘tis foolery,” Aislinn argued. “If you are so bent then go, but I cannot, for our people still bear the yoke of the Norman Duke and at least this lord”—she cast her eyes toward Wulfgar—“bears us some compassion and yields us small concessions however sorely won.”

Maida saw her daughter’s gaze shift and soften and she sneered. “Aaiieey, that my own flesh, my own tender child should set her heart upon a Norman bastard and desert her own kind for his lowly company!!”

“Aye, Mother, bastard perhaps and Norman true, but a man and a kind of man I’ve never set my eyes upon before.”

Her mother snorted. “He rides you well I see.”

Aislinn shook her head and raised her chin a notch. “Nay, Mother, never that. This is my bed where we sit and I’ve gone no further, though sometimes my mind betrays me and I wonder what adventure there would be seeking that fate.”

She motioned to her mother and they again spoke in French of woman’s things and doings. As they continued Wulfgar rose and returned his sword to its sheath and left the room without so much as a glance toward them though both watched quietly until they could hear his footsteps going down the stairs. Aislinn now pleaded in earnest with her mother to cease her useless planning and see more to the people of the town that she might ease their plight somewhat and not lead them to paths of revenge where they would find only the lash or the headman’s block.

Some moments had passed before Wulfgar returned, hitching up his chausses as if he had but yielded nature’s call. With a surly grunt in their direction he seated himself and taking up his shield began to rub it with an oiled cloth.

Maida came to her feet, giving Aislinn a gentle caress across her cheek, and bidding them both adieu slipped out of the room. Aislinn sat deep in thought, her contentment gone and worry beginning to take deep hold, until she raised her eyes and found that Wulfgar had paused and was looking at her with an almost gentle smile on his lips. She puzzled at his manner, for he nodded silently and returned to his work, but in some subtle way he seemed to be waiting for something.

Long moments dragged past. Wulfgar labored on and Aislinn’s nerves stretched taut with tension. The break came abruptly. Maida’s shriek rang from the hall and there was a loud crash and a scuffling and then silence. Aislinn’s eyes flew wide in horror and garments and sewing were flung in every direction as she ran to the door, threw it open and fled to the stairs overlooking the hall. There she halted in puzzled perplexity. Her eyes fell first on Kerwick, bound and gagged and chained with the dogs. His eyes blazed in fury but he wasted no more effort in struggling. Maida choked out curses as she hung helpless in Sweyn’s great arms, her feet high off the floor. She was dressed again in rags and a large bundle lay on the rushes where it had fallen. A slow anger began to build in Aislinn and her eyes darkened as it grew. She whirled in a high rage as Wulfgar’s voice came from the stairway behind her.

“What makes you seek to leave my room and board? Do you hate your home so much? Do you not find justice and reward here for labors well performed or is it perhaps that you find the northern moors more attractive?”

Three pairs of eyes turned to him and two jaws fell open as the three of then realized he had spoken in flawless English. Aislinn’s face burned as she knew then just how much he had heard from her very own lips. Her thoughts raced back to all the times she had spoken in his presence when she had felt assured he could not understand her, and her shame mounted.

Wulfgar descended the stairs, passing her, and strode to where he could look Maida in the eye. He gestured to her frayed and tattered garments.

“You old hag, I’ve seen you here before and did I not say if I found you here again that I would treat you as you deserve. Sweyn, tie this crone with the dogs and free that fellow’s arms before they eat him.”

“Nay!” Aislinn shrieked, flying down the stairs to stand before Wulfgar. “You will not do her thus!”

Wulfgar ignored her and gestured to Sweyn, and the Norseman did as bade. When it was done, Wulfgar stood before the leashed pair and spoke almost as a stern father to his errant children.

“You will no doubt find warmth in each other tonight. I bid you think well and converse on this evening’s game while you rest. Seek the wisdom of it all and remember this: Where I play the game you are but innocents of the world, for I know the way of courts and kings and men of politics and have played their games in earnest upon a battlefield. Have a good night—if you can.”

He bent to scratch one great hound behind its ears and thump its ribs in good comradery, then turned to Aislinn and without a word took her arm and led her to the stairs where he paused for a moment as if in thought.

“Oh Sweyn.” He turned. “Loose the dogs for a run in the morning and see if those two then can act like loyal slaves. They may even have their freedom if they promise to give up this foolishness.”

For his thoughtfulness Wulfgar received a murderous glare from Kerwick and a strangled curse from Maida. He shrugged and smiled almost pleasantly.

“You will feel differently on the morrow.”

Without further ado he proceeded to the chamber, his fingers firm and unrelenting upon Aislinn’s arm. A dog yelped as Maida’s foot found his ribs.

Wulfgar had closed the door of the chamber behind them and was just turning when he caught the full force of her open hand across his cheek.

“You chain my mother with the dogs!” she cried. “Then you will chain me beside her!”

Aislinn pulled her other arm back to strike again but found it seized in an iron grip. It did little to dampen her rage and she swung her foot against his shin, winning her freedom as he grimaced and grabbed his leg in pain.

“Cease, you vixen!” he bellowed. “Take care!”

“You played us for fools!” she screeched, stepping lightly away to seek something heavy to throw at him. A drinking horn shattered against the door behind him as he ducked out of its path.

“Aislinn!” he warned, but she was already grabbing for another piece.

“Aaaah, I hate you!” she shrieked, hurling it at his head. She did not wait to see that he dodged out of its way also, for her eyes were already searching for other weapons. With two long strides Wulfgar was upon her, wrapping his arms about her, pinning her own to her sides. Aislinn gasped as they closed tightly about her and felt his rock-hard chest against her back.

“Your anger is not because of your mother!” His voice thundered in her ear. “You know the merits of the whip had I laid that to her. You cannot but agree this is the gentler way.”

Paying no heed, Aislinn squirmed and struggled to get away. “You’ve no right to degrade her.”

“ ’Tis
your
pride you think has been damaged and you seek revenge because of that.”

“You played false with me!” She sought his foot with her heel.

Wulfgar’s arm slipped around her thighs to still the movements of her legs and he lifted her clear from the floor.

“Had I played falsely with you, wench, you’d have shared my bed by now.”

There was no answer for that and she could only shriek and squirm. He sat her down roughly in a chair.

“Now sit until your temper cools, my pretty vixen. I have no intention of letting those hounds nibble on your flesh.”

“I will not stay here in this chamber with you!” she cried, bouncing to her feet as he stepped away.

“You needn’t worry,” he mocked, smiling roguishly as his eyes swept down her body. “I do not intend taking advantage of your willingness.”

She flew at him and sought to lay another blow, but he grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her, crushing her against him. Her fury muffled against his chest, she lifted her foot to stamp upon his and immediately gained her release as her knee struck between his loins. Wulfgar groaned and stumbled back upon the bed as Aislinn looked at him in surprise, wondering what she had done to cause his pain, but she was without mercy and leapt upon him to press the attack. With an arm outflung Wulfgar tried to hold her off, but her fingernails raked across his chest, clawing deep furrows.

“You bloodthirsty vixen,” he choked. “ ’Tis time I taught you a lesson.”

He caught her wrist, dragging her face down across his knees, but before his hand could descend upon her, Aislinn wiggled from his lap and slid to the floor. Determined to mete out this punishment he deemed well deserved, Wulfgar reached down to draw her back, and Aislinn started violently as his hand met the bare flesh of her hip. The loose kirtle had slipped up and was twisted about her waist, leaving her lower body naked. Her eyes widened and her purpose changed abruptly. Now she fought to escape him as her raging anger dissolved in rapid waves and was replaced by a flooding fear.

She tried to pull away but his hand held her wrist in an iron grip and Aislinn felt herself relentlessly drawn to his lap. Her long hair twined about them hampering her battle, but her sharp teeth found his hand. Wulfgar grunted in pain and released her arm, then as she snatched away, reached for her again catching his fingers in the neck of her kirtle. There was a rending tear and the garment split from top to bottom as she straightened.