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    "You are only the fairest maiden in the land!"
Gwendolyn laughed and squeezed her sister's arm reassuringly. "Come, we
must not keep the guests—or Wulfgar—waiting."
    Hesitating at the door, Anora turned suddenly to look
at Gwendolyn. "Tomorrow morning, before the games begin, would you like to
visit the grotto?" she asked excitedly. "It would be nice to see it
together for one last time, and we would have another chance to talk." She
knew how much their secret place meant to Gwendolyn, and she could not think of
a more meaningful gift for her sister.
    Startled, Gwendolyn smiled in agreement, a warm glow of
happiness spreading through her at Anora's thoughtfulness. "Aye, we could
leave before sunrise, and be there and back before anyone even notices we have
been gone!" she exclaimed.
    Giggling brightly at the thought of their adventure,
they walked quickly down the corridor, arm in arm.
     
     

 
    Chapter 5
    "My Lord Godric and Lady Bronwen, you do me a
great honor to prepare such a banquet," Wulfgar stated graciously, taking
his seat to the right of the earl, at the main table. Situated at one end of
the great hall and raised on a dais, the main table overlooked the vast expanse
of the hall and the four long tables that stretched across its length.
    "The honor is indeed ours," returned Earl
Godric diplomatically, grasping Wulfgar's wrist firmly in a gesture of
goodwill. Having dispensed with the initial amenities, he nodded for the
several hundred guests in the hall to be seated.
    Conversation and eager laughter resumed as the lords
and ladies, seated at separate tables in the Anglo-Saxon style, made themselves
comfortable. The evening promised to be quite a memorable one. The very fact
that King Edgar had arranged the marriage of an English noblewoman to a prince
of the Danelaw lent a heightened air of excitement to the evening.
    The magnitude of the wedding festivities was also a
choice topic of furtive discussion. It was clear to the guests that no expense
had been spared, fueling the rumors that Wulfgar Ragnarson was as wealthy as he
was powerful. The night's feast would be followed on the morrow with a
tournament of games and wrestling matches, and would culminate in the wedding
ceremony and celebratory feast on the third day.
    The festive scene in the large hall was illuminated by
great blazing torches and thick tallow candles set in candlesticks of beaten
gold and silver. Magnificent tapestries graced the massive timbered walls,
depicting fierce battles and deeds of bravery from days gone by. The earthen
floor had been swept and then strewn with fresh rushes. Bunches of lavender and
sage hung drying from the rafters, their sweet fragrance melding with the
pungent smells of roasting venison and fowl that wafted from the kitchen.
    Servants rushed to and fro, endlessly filling and
refilling goblets from the huge kegs of ale and mead set against the walls.
Even a few of Earl Godric's favorite hunting dogs had been allowed to join in
the celebration. They lay in wait under the linen-clothed tables, their tails
wagging playfully, eager for any stray morsels that might be tossed their way.
    Earl Godric looked out over the teeming hall, his
expression growing increasingly impatient. "It seems our daughters have
seen fit to keep us waiting," he whispered gruffly in an aside to his
wife. "By God, Bronwen, if Anora has changed her mind at this late hour .
. . !" Unable even to consider the possibility, he quickly turned his
attention to Wulfgar, who was inscrutably observing the crowd of guests.
    Aware of the flirtatious glances being cast his way by
several bold ladies at a nearby table, Wulfgar averted his gaze to find the
earl regarding him closely.
    "Humph! Lord Wulfgar, I take it your needs and
those of your men have been seen to adequately?" Slightly embarrassed,
Earl Godric wondered if he would ever become used to the fact that his daughter's
soon-to-be husband was a Dane, and a powerful one at