The Wolf and the Dove (38 page)

“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 marked 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.

Once more a note came from William and though Wulfgar had little cause to enjoy the night before, this time he had no choice, for the King demanded his attendance. Now the day drew out with painful slowness and Wulfgar chafed, for his duties did little to occupy his time and he was not looking forward to another evening of watching Aislinn from afar. Thus he entered the palace with dragging feet and to his amazement was led immediately to Aislinn. The radiance of her smile nearly intoxicated him, and her eyes seemed to caress him with their tender touch.

“Wulfgar, you would dally so long the evening is well spent. Come, sit.”

She reached up and tugged at his sleeve, pulling him down in the chair beside her. The glow of her beauty and the warmth of her greeting struck the wit from his tongue and he could only mumble a simple reply.

“Good eveningtide, Aislinn.” Then he ventured further in clever repartee. “Is all well with you? You look fit.”

“Do I?” She laughed low and smoothed her hands down the ice blue silk of her gunna. “You were kind to give the gown to me, Wulfgar. I hope you are not distressed at them taking the garments without your permission.”

Wulfgar cleared his throat. “Nay, why should I be? I gave them to you, therefore I have no further claim on them.”

Aislinn laid her hand casually upon the one he had resting on his thigh and her violet eyes held him softly. “You appear well too, my lord.”

Wulfgar sat in awkward silence, struggling with himself to keep from crushing her to him. Her hand upon his gave him difficulty, for its softness led to imaginings of other parts of her body which he knew were softer yet and more pliable beneath his caress. Feeling the hot blood stir in his loins, Wulfgar withdrew his hand only to heighten his torture, for her hand remained on his thigh. He paled somewhat and glanced around in discomfort. He saw Ragnor across the way occupying his seat of the night before and that knight’s eyes centered upon Aislinn.

“He watches you like a hawk,” Wulfgar complained, “as if he were already tasting the sweetness of your flesh.”

Aislinn laughed softly and ran a finger down Wulfgar’s sleeve. “It has taken you long enough to see his aims but now you see his threat overmuch. Others have leered at me with more open intent.” As his scowl turned upon her, her eyes twinkled into his. “Never fear, Wulfgar. I have turned them away, assuring them my hand is already spoken for.” She raised the mentioned member and he took it in his own. “See, Wulfgar,” she smiled. “ ’Tis not so hard to claim my hand in public. You have taken all else, why not my hand?”

“Your hand?” he sighed. He brushed her fingertips against his lips. “ ’Tis more than that I crave. I called you here to warm my bed and now to find companionship must seek out my men.”

“Poor Melbourne,” she chuckled. “ ’Tis hard to see him meeting your tastes in entertainment. And Gowain harder still. His poetry and prose must ill dispose your ear. Or do you sit like four ancient lords before the fire and exchange memories of feats long past?”

“Nay,” he replied and in dour mess continued. “It seems the three of them have grown dotty in your absence. Gowain moons about the place as if ‘twere his love lost while Milbourne rages at this abuse and Beaufonte sits before the fire ever deeper in his cups.” He laughed at his own words. “I have seen more cheer in the dungeon than in that house.”

Aislinn dropped a consoling hand upon his arm. “But what of you, Wulfgar? Does not Sanhurst see to your needs?”

“Ha!” Wulfgar sneered. “Do not mention that Saxon’s name in my presence. The fool would put a saddle backwards if left alone.”

Aislinn laughed and caressed his arm as if to soothe him. “Be easy with him, Wulfgar,” she lightly admonished. “He is but a lad and does not know the ways of lords and knights. He will learn if given time to know your whims and will serve you well.”

Wulfgar sighed. “I must be ever counciled on the treatment of my serfs and as if I were blind, led to believe that hulking bear is some tender-faced lad.”

So the evening wore unto the meal was done. But every time Aislinn touched him, Wulfgar fought an urge to take her from the room to the nearest bed and there make her kindle to his caress until the flame consumed him. Beneath the table he felt the innocent brush of her thigh against his and where it touched he burned. He clamped an iron-hard self-control on his passion, answering others easily when they questioned or commented but with Aislinn it seemed he was ever given to stilted words. As she laughed with some lord he hardly knew over that one’s clever tale, she leaned against his arm and he felt the softness of her breast. Wulfgar silently groaned and nearly turned away in his agony. William’s approach gave him a diversion and excuse to rise. He started up but William waved him back in his chair.

“So, Wulfgar,” the conqueror said, “on the morrow we will see this matter done. But tell me true, what plagues you? You do not seem the amiable companion I’ve known of yore. Let us lift the horn and taste the ale and be of lightened heart as we have done on many nights long passed.”

“Your pardon, sire, but all that I have strived to accrue in this world will rest upon the field of honor. I do not fear my cause but I grow weary with the wait.”

William chuckled. “Indeed, you have little changed. But I fear I have erred. You seem a poor companion for a lady so fair and lively. You may desire her but your manner speaks little of it. Were I the maid I would prick you sorely.”

Wulfgar flushed and glanced away. “The lady has been within my care of so long I find her absence much unsettling.”

William peered at Wulfgar closely, pausing a moment. “Indeed, Sir Wulfgar? And have you seen to the lady’s honor? It has been our lot to cast her from her home. ‘Twould be a sorry thing were we to abuse her name as well.”

Wulfgar raised a doubtful brow to the king, wondering at the meaning of his words, and as William met his eye he continued in a lighter almost flippant manner.

“Be at ease, Wulfgar. I know you well and have every faith in you that you would do anything but see so fine a jewel cast in less than a perfect setting.”

William rose, dropping a hand upon the warrior’s shoulder and then left him. As Wulfgar turned back to Aislinn she gazed hesitantly into his brooding face.

“Is there anything amiss, Wulfgar?” she inquired softly. “Has the king brought distressing news?”

“Nay,” he said shortly. “Would that the morrow be done and I could take you from here. Ragnor is a fool if he thinks I will give you up to him. You are mine and I will not abide encroachment.”

“But, Wulfgar,” Aislinn murmured. “What will you do? The king has spoken.”

Wulfgar raised a brow at her. “Do? Why, cherie, I will win of course.”

The first day of January 1067 came slowly in the murky skies of London. The low mists lightened first and then the blackness overhead faded to a dull, smoke-laden gray. The air was cold and as a rare breath stirred it was damp and moist against the skin. Before Wulfgar broke the fast he donned full armor and rode the Hun to an open field near the townhouse. There he worked the war horse upon the frozen turf renewing an old acquaintance with the heavy weight on his back. The sun was high and mists of morn long fled when Wulfgar was satisfied and returned the steed to the stables. He fed the horse and rubbed him, still the mount felt the coming fray and stomped and chafed in eagerness to be about the day’s labor. Wulfgar climbed the stairs and made a late breakfast for himself from the kettle of brewis that simmered over the fire. Finishing the meal he went to the hearth and settled himself before it, propping his feet on a low stool. He sat musing upon the battle to come until he realized the light had grown
strangely dim around him. He looked up to find Gowain, Melbourne and Beaufonte had approached him and were awaiting his attention.

Gowain was first to speak as he perched on the raised hearth near Wulfgar’s feet. “My lord, take heed. I have watched Ragnor often in battle. It seems that on the charge he has a tendency to lean—”

Wulfgar held up a hand to stop him.

Milbourne leaned forward. “Wulfgar, hear me out. ’Tis more important that you know he carries his shield high and a bit across his body, thus weakening his defense. If a blow was struck so, it would push aside and bid you enter.”

“Nay, nay, good fellows,” Wulfgar laughed. “I hear your words and in another case would heed them, but there is only one thing I need to know, that he has more a coward in him than knight and I will have no one on the field to guard my back. I thank you for your care, but here as in any other battle what I do on the moment will be of more import than what I plan here. The day is set and well away. See you there to cheer me on and lend a hand if I fall. Sir Gowain, will you be my second?”

With the young knight’s eager nod, Wulfgar rose and made his way up the narrow stairs to the huge, empty bedchamber. In closing the door, he paused, thinking of the glow that seemed to fill the room when Aislinn was present. He swore an oath as again he rued the signs of the dismal mood which held him of late. The coming battle would demand the use of all his mental faculties to see it done rightly and to his gain. He could not be forever dwelling on thoughts of that saucy wench as Gowain was wont to do. His determination of the night before must hold firm. He told himself it was not Aislinn he fought for so much as Darkenwald, but he knew deep within him there were other lands to be got but there was only one Aislinn, and he had not grown tired of her yet.

He disrobed, and washing, donned garments that would see him to his tent at the field. He laid out his mail and shield upon the bed. Sanhurst had labored long to polish and shine them yet Wulfgar frowned at the helm as he put it with his armor. He could still trace the outline of a dent across the back. He wondered at his opponent and what lengths he would go to have Aislinn. The ambush at Kevonshire had near cost him his life and if that was the end Ragnor sought, today’s tournament would not appease him if he lost. He had always been wary of the knight, never fully trusting him. Now he had good reason to distrust him as long as he had life.

Before leaving the chamber he stood in front of the hearth where the coals glowed red, yet there was no fire to warm him. Sanhurst had been lax again and failed to put kindling beside the hearth, but it did not matter now. He would be gone in a few moments and Aislinn was not here. With a sigh he picked up the small scrap of yellow velvet from the table beside him and stared at it for a long time before tossing it on the coals where it scorched, then ignited, and was gone in a small burst of flame.

Whirling abruptly, Wulfgar flung a heavy mantle about his shoulders and strode to the bed where he gathered his equipment into a bundle, then strapped on his sword and tucked within his belt an ax which Sweyn had given him as a companion upon his journey. With his gear he descended again to the hall where the three knights awaited him. Sanhurst glanced up from the task of clearing away the remains of his lord’s meal and Wulfgar scowled at the young man, noticing his lateness at doing so, but bit off the sharp words that baited his tongue. For once since having the Saxon in his service he was determined to be patient, nettled by Aislinn’s pleading words.

Gowain came to him and taking the bundle from him left the hall. Wulfgar followed with Milbourne and Beaufonte and chuckled as the older knight with much humor pleaded with him not to damage the goodly Sir Ragnor overmuch.

“After all, my lord,” Melbourne grinned. “If he were gone, who would you have about to exercise your anger upon except us three?”

It was a heady sight, though rare. Every favored lord in London came to view the coming combat. Small pavilions were draped with cloth that pulled aside. Other seats were simple and crude affairs and intended only to form a perch for their bearers. The edges of the entire field were draped high with multicolored banners to shield the fray from the preying eyes of serfs and peasants, for this was an affair of honor and not meant for common folk.

Wulfgar and his party entered the field. As he and Gowain made their way to the tent that bore his colors, Wulfgar surveyed the grounds. William’s pavilion was still closed against the chill breeze that swept the field and no sign of Aislinn was to be seen. These was great activity around Ragnor’s tent and Wulfgar surmised he had arrived early and was as anxious as he himself to get the deed done.

Wulfgar dismounted at his own tent, and as Gowain entered he paused to caress the Hun and hang a bag of grain over his nose. Sweeping into the shelter, Wulfgar found Gowain inspecting the links of his mail and the enarmes of his shield. In silence Wulfgar donned the leather garments he wore beneath the armor and with Gowain’s help shrugged into the heavy hauberk.

A plate of meat and wine was brought to them. Wulfgar declined the brew but Gowain took a second draught that equaled the generous amount of the first. Seeing this, Wulfgar raised a dubious brow.

“ ’Tis not meet that we should lose the maid with this small skirmish, Gowain. ‘Twould take a heartier one to see that done.”

The young knight saluted him. “My liege, I have all faith in you.”

“Good,” Wulfgar replied, belting on his sword. “Now lay aside that cup and hand me my gauntlets before I must give assist to you.”

With a grin Gowain postured a bow and then accommodated him.

Time dragged out and Wulfgar gave no thought to William’s intent, but only that he must win. In the past he had been noted for his jousting and he must be at his best today, for he knew Ragnor was both strong and cunning. They had never met before in a tourney of arms, yet he was not fool enough to believe that Ragnor could be easily beaten. It would take great strength and wit to win this day.

Trumpets blared, and he knew they announced the arrival of the king and his party. Aislinn would be with William, the only woman in the King’s group. If it had been another king, Wulfgar knew he would have had cause to worry, but William was not wont to take mistresses nor be anything less than a loyal husband to Matilda.

Wulfgar swept the flap aside and strode from the tent to where the Hun stood waiting. He removed the bag from the steed’s nose and caressed its velvet softness, speaking to him in a low voice as one would talk to a close friend. The horse snorted and nodded as if in reply. Wulfgar mounted and Gowain handed him up his helm and shield. The front of the tent was hidden froth the king’s pavilion and though he desired to he could not see Aislinn nor she him.

Across the way, Ragnor strode from his tent with Vachel, the former nodding his head while the latter spoke to him. As he swung up onto his horse Ragnor caught sight of his opponent already mounted and waiting for the signal. He settled into his saddle, bending his body forward in a mock bow, and his laughter rang with exaggerated confidence.

“At last, Wulfgar, we are met,” he called. “Come see me at Darkenwald with the fair Aislinn as my own when this day is done. I will not begrude you a glimpse of her, since you gave as much to me.”

Gowain stepped forward with fists clenched.

“Hold, lad,” Wulfgar counseled him. “ ’Tis my affair. Let me have the honor.”

Ragnor’s mirth rose as he rocked back in his saddle with glee. “What, Wulfgar? Another swain smitten by the tender wench? You should be hard pressed by now keeping them from her. I vow even your favored Sweyn has had the urge to tussle her. Where is that good heart by the way?” Ragnor laughed, knowing full well the answer. “Guarding my lands?”

Wulfgar knew the game and gave no word or gesture but sat mute in reply. Vachel murmured a word to Ragnor that caused him further peals of laughter and only the blare of trumpets sobered him. The two knights rode as if to meet each other—then swerved and galloped toward the king’s tent. Now Wulfgar caught sight of a yellow snood covering Aislinn’s head and as he neared could see she wore the yellow velvet gown beneath her fox-lined cloak. He felt pleased with her choice. Without spoken words she gave him her favor by choosing to wear that garment.

William stood as they neared the pavilion and acknowledged their salutes. He then read the order of the day, which commanded all to honor the outcome of the meet. Aislinn sat next to William, tense and pale, obviously distraught at the thought of what would come. Though Wulfgar’s gaze remained on the king her eyes held him. Aislinn wanted to cry out her preference and let the world know whom she would have, but as part of the prize of combat she was not asked to declare herself.

The trumpets sounded again, seeming strident against her ears, and as the horses whirled Aislinn thought she saw Wulfgar glance her way but she could not be sure, for if he had, his look had been brief. The knights went to their places, each marked with a banner bearing their crest and colors. As they turned and faced each other they drew on their helms. Both were handed a lance by their seconds and again both saluted the king. Now the trumpets began to play and when they ended it would be time for the first charge. Aislinn was tense and fearful yet outwardly sat proud and aloof. Her heart would not cease its rapid pace and thudded hard against her breast. As she clenched her hands together beneath the mantle she silently renewed the prayer she had murmured within the chapel that morning.

She held her breath as the last note of the trumpets fell. The great horses bunched their muscles and charged forward, the rapid tattoo of their hooves echoing the beat of Aislinn’s heart. The knights came together with a crash of arms that made Aislinn start. Wulfgar’s lance glanced off his opponent’s shield and Ragnor’s splintered against Wulfgar’s arms. Aislinn released a grateful sigh as she saw that Wulfgar was unharmed and still astride and for a moment her heart warmed. The two men wheeled and returned to their boxes, each taking new lances and she again knew fear. The second charge was made with no warning. This time Wulfgar struck fair but his lance shattered into a thousand splinters. Ragnor took the blow and was rocked back, his own lance rising and missed Wulfgar completely. They returned to their places and took new lances. The great Hun was warming to this fine play, and Wulfgar could feel his muscles tremble as he waited. Now Ragnor whirled and the sound of the charge
was like thunder. Wulfgar leaned into his lance and took the edge of Ragnor’s shield. The Hun slammed into Ragnor’s horse and he was thrown to the ground. Aislinn bit her lip as Wulfgar’s Hun stumbled over Ragnor’s destrier but he kept his feet. Wulfgar withdrew slightly and seeing Ragnor struggle to rise, cast aside his own lance and dismounted to meet his opponent on foot. With an angry snarl twisting his lips, Ragnor snatched the spikeless mace but quickly flung it down. With spikes it would have been a deadly weapon indeed, but William sought to save his knights. It did little to appease Ragnor’s blood lust.

Where he stood Wulfgar drew the ax from his belt and hefted it but cast this weapon aside also. Both knights now drew their heavy broadswords and began to walk toward each other as Aislinn watched in pained silence. The first blows rang smartly in the cold winter air. It was difficult to follow the blows for the blades flashed in the sunlight and seemed to continuously ring on one another. Aislinn sat rigid, willing her body from any outward display of her emotions. The tall, heavy shields provided a wall from behind which each knight fought. The blades glistened in the sun and again and again thudded into the shields. Sweat began to run from the faces of the two men and trickled unheeded beneath the leather coats that padded the hauberks. Ragnor was fast and deft, Wulfgar while a bit slower wielded his strokes with more sureness. This was no mere duel of rapiers but a test of sheer strength and will. Whoever could last out the other would win the day. Ragnor began to feel the weight of his sword on his arm and
sensing this, Wulfgar drew vigor from some unknown source and pressed his attack the harder. But of a sudden there was a weight about his leg and his foot tangled in the chain of the fallen mace. Ragnor seized upon his advantage and rained his blows stout and heavy. Wulfgar fell to a knee as the weight about his ankle held him fast. Aislinn half came to her feet and smothered a gasp with her hand. Still, William heard the sound and took full note of whom the maiden favored.