“He says you must be left behind, Celiese. He gave me no reason for his decisionâ??as if I would not know it!”
Celiese also feared the worst. “Then we will simply change places before the voyage begins rather than after. Our original plan will still work for us,” she insisted. “You will wear my cloak, and I’ll wear yours when I bid you goodbye. Surely the confusion at the beginning of such a voyage will make the switch easy to effect.”
Badly frightened, Olgrethe clung to her friend. “It must, it simply must, Celiese, for if we are caught before the wedding, I dare not even imagine what my father will do to us!”
Sickened by the thought of what Raktor and his sons would do with her, Celiese turned their conversation to Olgrethe’s wardrobe, distracting the pretty young woman as well as herself from the fear gripping them both. They retired early, escaping their fright in dreams, but Celiese was awakened at midnight, lifted from the large bed so quietly that Olgrethe did not stir as her faithful maid was carried away. Oluf’s hold did not slacken; he held Celiese firmly, his right hand over her mouth to silence her screams as he shoved her inside Raktor’s chamber.
“You must not be so rough with the girl; we want no bruises marring her lovely skin when she becomes Mylan’s bride tomorrow,” Raktor scolded.
Disgusted by Olaf’s touch, Celiese wiped her lips on the back of her hand. None of Raktor’s sons were kind, but Oluf was not only mean but crude as well. He reeked of beer and his tunic was covered with grease stains from the evening meal. That he had brought her to his father rather than carry her straight to his own room puzzled her greatly, as did Raktor’s remark.
“Is it not your daughter who is to become Mylan’s bride? And did you say tomorrow? You did not tell her it was to be so soon.”
Celiese was wearing no more than a light chemise, and Raktor walked around her slowly, enjoying her scantily clad beauty. Her figure was superb, her breasts high and full, her waist small, her hips held a womanly curve, and her legs were long, and slender.
“I have decided to send you in her place, after all. There will be celebrating long into the night, and I will see that Mylan is so drunk he must be carried to his bed. When he awakens in the morning, he won’t question his lovely bride’s name. I have had gowns made for you, not unlike my daughter’s. You will sleep alone for the rest of the night and we will leave at dawn. The voyage is not lengthy, and Aldred will entertain us all until we are ready to go home.”
Celiese backed away, not trusting the master of the house or his brutish son. “Shall I return to my own chamber?”
“Yes, your gown for tomorrow is there, and the rest are already on board my ship.”
Celiese left quickly before the man could change his mind about how she should spend her last night in his house. She heard Oluf begin to argue and ran to bolt her door against him. She sagged against it and waited. Oluf was the strongest brother, too difficult for her to fight off for long, but Raktor could not send her if she were black and blue from the beating Oluf would have to inflict to force her to submit to him.
Time passed slowly before she could relax. Raktor was no fool, and apparently he had known his plan would be ruined if Oluf had his way. Taking no chances, she pushed her bed across the door before lying upon it, but still she was too frightened to sleep and lay awake until dawn.
The silk gown that lay across her chair was a pale green that reflected the jade of her eyes. She brushed her hair into the elegant style Olgrethe wore and secured it with the gold hairpins she had found with the gown. There were gold bracelets for her arms and heavy gold earrings, too. Raktor had left nothing to chance, and when he came for her she was ready. He handed her a fine light gray woolen cloak.
“Cover your head, Celiese, none in the household can know you are not my daughter, and Olgrethe will accompany Helga home. Take care that none of my men see your face while we are on board my ship, as this is a secret that must be well guarded.”
She did not question his motives and did as she was told, following close behind him. His sleek vessel was moored at his dock, and had been prepared to sail. The prow was sculpted in the shape of a dragon’s head, its large eyes seeing all in its path, and she shivered, remembering her last voyage aboard the evil ship as though it had taken place only yesterday rather than five years hence.
The salty sea spray stung her eyes as she sat huddled in the stern. It took too many men to sail the dragon for her to dream of stealing it to make her way home. The work was hard even with the brisk wind, and the crew cheered when land came again into view.
Raktor took her arm firmly in his hand to lead her ashore and whispered, “I did not think to ask if you ride as well as my daughter. The Vandahls will expect you to manage your own horse for the journey to their home.” Raktor shaded his eyes with his hand as he saw a band of riders approaching. “Good, they have seen our arrival and will be here soon.”
“I rode frequently with your daughter: I will not disgrace you now.”
“See that you never disgrace me, Celiese!”
“You must call me Olgrethe, do not give away this deception with your own words,” she cautioned. As the horsemen drew near, she wondered which would be Mylan, and what his thoughts would be that day. Did he long for a bride, or was he as opposed to this marriage as Olgrethe had been? Her eyes swept the faces of those approaching. She found Aldred easily enough; he commanded the group and welcomed Raktor with a loud greeting, but none of the fine looking riders with him appeared to be his eldest son, for none came forward to meet her as she had expected Mylan to do. She looked down demurely as Aldred came forward, hoping modesty would impress him.
“I have long awaited this day, Raktor. My son remained at home, a condition upon which he insisted,
but he should have come with me, I know.” The man reached out to tilt Celiese’s chin so he might see her more clearly, and he exclaimed with delight, “Ah, I had heard Olgrethe was a beauty, but not even my imagination provided such a splendid face as this. You are exquisite, and Mylan will be enchanted. Come to the horses, do not keep him waiting when he is so anxious to meet his bride.”
Celiese smiled sweetly, “Not too anxious, I hope. Is there to be no celebration, no feast to mark this wonderful occasion?”
“But of course, you will not find my hospitality lacking. Now let us make haste.”
As Raktor helped Celiese to mount her horse he whispered, “Good, fool your groom as easily as you have his father, and I will reward you well, dear daughter.”
Celiese turned her horse and took up a place near her future father-in-law. His hair and beard were a light auburn shade, only faintly streaked with gray. He was muscular, not thick through the waist like Raktor, and she thought it likely Mylan might once have been as attractive a man as his father. They rode at a brisk pace and soon sighted their destination. Set upon a rise, the stone buildings of Aldred’s farm spread over a considerable distance, dwellings and barns, storehouses, granaries. The main structure was an imposing one, and Celiese hoped she had not exchanged one prison for another.
“You ride well, did your father teach you?” Aldred held her horse’s bridle as Celiese slipped gracefully to the ground.
“Yes, my father wasâ??is a fine horseman, and he taught me many things.” She blushed with embarrassment, but the man had not noticed her slip, and she reminded herself to be more cautious in her replies, for Olgrethe’s father was very much alive.
“Mylan is most fortunate then. Come quickly, he insists upon meeting you the moment you arrive. But first I want you to meet Thulyn, his mother.”