“You won and I did not even see it?” Olgrethe complained with real pain. “Oh, Andrick, I am so sorry I missed your victory.”
“It was no more than a horse race, Olgrethe.” But despite his teasing he was pleased to have her praise. He had found her to be the best of wives, and drawing her into his arms gave her a lingering kiss to remind her how dearly she was loved.
Celiese turned away, embarrassed by Andrick’s show of affection. She was trembling still, horrified to think that had she fallen it would have been he and Mylan who would have killed her. Their spirited stallions would have flown over her with the swiftness of eagles and she would have been crushed to bits beneath their hooves. As she looked up she saw a man standing in the doorway. The sun was at his back, his face in shadows, but she recognized Mylan.
If he had overheard their conversation he did not care to comment upon it, or perhaps he simply did not care, for he turned away and was gone without speaking. Celiese stared after him, hoping with all her heart he would come back, if only to say a brief hello, but he was gone and, although the opportunities were many that day, he did not once approach her, nor acknowledge her presence in any way.
Chapter 15
Horse races were not the only thrilling but dangerous sport enjoyed by Viking men. When the fleetest mount had won several races decisively, they turned their attention to a more brutal pastime: pitting the strength of one magnificent stallion against another’s. The beasts were high-spirited and naturally antagonistic, so needed little in the way of encouragement to fight as fiercely for the crowd’s amusement as they would have fought in the wild over possession of a herd of mares.
Celiese covered her ears, as much to shut out the harsh shouts of the men as the piercing screams of the enraged stallions. She had not thought anyone could possibly enjoy such a spectacle, but clearly she was the only bystander who did not. She had felt the same strained detachment from the Vandahls’ guests all day, and when Hagen put his arm around her waist she let him lead her away without argument. She drank the wine he offered, and then swiftly regretted that foolishness when she immediately felt its numbing effect upon her senses.
“I can see you are as unused to the amusements we have provided today as you are to that wine, for clearly you enjoy neither,” Hagen remarked with a rakish grin.
Celiese saw the teasing sparkle in his eyes and was not insulted; however, she saw no reason to remind him she had been a slave in Raktor’s home and had never been included in the celebrations he had hosted. As for the wine, she knew only wealthy families were able to serve it, for Vikings did not make the intoxicating beverage themselves, but brought it home after raiding France. The source of the wine was not a subject she would approach, as she assumed the Vandahls, being traders, had bargained for it rather than stolen it from a winery in her homeland.
Hagen had obviously enjoyed himself that afternoon, and she thought he would prefer to talk about the stallions they had been watching. “Are the horses not badly injured? I know I would never risk a pet of mine in so ridiculous a sport.”
“Neither would my brothers and I. Our mounts are in their stalls in our stable where they have been brushed and fed, their sleek coats marked by neither bite nor kick.”
Smiling with genuine delight, as well as a lazy warmth from the wine, she complimented him graciously, “I should have known the Vandahls would value their animals too highly to risk their lives needlessly simply to provide entertainment.”
“The stallions do not battle to the death, Celieseâ??it is as much sport to them as it is to us,” Hagen explained good-naturedly, for her ignorance greatly amused him.
“It can’t be.” She glanced toward the pen where a chestnut animal’s mane shone in the sun with golden highlights, while his jet-black opponent glowed with the sparkle of the midnight sky. The proud beasts circled each other warily, and then one gave chase, trying to bite his adversary while avoiding being kicked. The advantage passed back and forth frequently, for the two horses appeared to be a match of equal strength and bravery, and their antics brought delighted cheers from the enthusiastic crowd of spectators.
“Those stallions are magnificent beasts and are clearly true enemies. Their teeth and hooves are sharp; they are not simply playing, but each is trying his best to do the other harm. That fight is no mere sport to themâ??they are most serious.”
Hagen laughed at her fears, and again took her arm. “And so am I.” He led her around the house to the flower-filled garden where they would enjoy more privacy while they talked. Once Celiese was comfortably seated upon a bench he put his hands behind his back and began to pace slowly in front of her.
“We have seen little of each other the last few days, Celiese, and I cannot speak of the things I must when others are present.”
“Do you anticipate problems with the voyage? I know the spring is the best time to sail, and it is nearly autumn.” She thought this the safest subject to discuss and hoped it was to what he was referring. “The weather will turn cool soon, is that your worry?”
Sighing sadly, Hagen assured her that while weather was a factor, it was not his only concern. “The days are still long and warm enough if we make haste, but I find myself becoming increasingly reluctant to depart when I know the journey will have to be made swiftly and I will be returning home alone.”
She waited for him to continue, hoping he would say something to let her know how futile he knew such thoughts to be. She had done all she could in both her manner and actions to discourage his affections, and she prayed he would not persist in showing them. Had she never known Mylan, she would have thought Hagen most handsome, rather than merely a slightly less perfect replica of the man she loved. He was intelligent, but he lacked his older brother’s ready wit and keen sense of humor.
His dark moods were now less frequent, and if his disposition was not truly pleasant, it had at least greatly improved. But she dared not encourage him in any way. As tactfully as she could, she attempted to explain her feelings. “The world into which I was born was such a gentle place, and I long to return home even if none I loved will be there to greet me. If you cannot or will not take me, then I shall have to wait for someone else who will.”
“I have not refused to take you,” Hagen responded angrily, “only said I do not want to let you go.” That declaration appeared to be a most painful admission, for his cheeks flooded with a vivid blush his deep tan did not hide, and he turned away for a moment to compose himself once again.
Touched by the obvious depth of his emotion, she tried once again to make him understand her true feelings, “I am flattered that you have grown fond of me.”
“Flattered?” Hagen threw up his hands in disgust; exasperated by her lack of response. “I want you to stay here. Are you saying you will not?”
She rose slowly to face him, her expression as serious as her tone as she replied softly, “I am saying that I cannot stay.”
Swearing loudly with the vilest oath he knew, Hagen left the garden without looking back. Pits had been dug to roast sides of beef over coals, and if not properly supervised the servants might uncover the meat before it was fully cooked and spoil its flavor. He doubted he would taste a bite, but he went to take charge of the final supper preparations himself rather than argue another minute with Celiese when she was so determined to go her own way.
In an instant his mind was made up. With one excuse or another, he would delay the voyage to France until it would have to wait until spring. He was determined to have the delectable beauty, for he had spent the entire day comparing all their attractive female guests to the enchanting Celiese and had found each of them wanting.
*
For a long while after Hagen left her Celiese wandered the garden alone. It depressed her greatly to realize she had hurt him, but clearly she had, although it had most certainly not been her fault. Why had he been the one to want her to remain in his home when it was Mylan she longed to hear speak those same sweet words? She was so terribly confused, but she had been right to tell Hagen the truth.
She had not thought him capable of love; indeed he had not even mentioned the word in their many conversations, but still, regardless of his motives, she had not responded as he had hoped she would, and he had been deeply hurt and angered. She could think of no way to make amends without compromising her own ideals. She walked toward the house, intent upon returning to the party, for she did not want Hagen to think he had upset her so badly she could not bear the company of his many friends.