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Not recognizing the word, Mylan asked her to explain. “What is a convent?”
“You have heard of monasteries, have you not? They were a favorite target for Viking raids, for the monks had the most marvelous of treasures.”
Exasperated by that bit of unwanted news, he urged her to continue. “Yes, I know what a monastery is, a place where men live to study your god.”
“A convent is a similar place, only it is women who live there, they devote themselves to prayer and the religious life, as monks do.” Seeing he understood, she continued excitedly, “My mother is alive, she’s alive! I want to visit her tomorrow, as it is too late to go today. Will you come with me?”
Mylan looked around at the curious faces of the peasants and nodded; “Yes, but we will need more than we have with us now. Let us go back to the ship for the night, I am afraid if we stay here these good people will only offer to share food they cannot spare.”
Pleased that he would be so considerate, Celiese laced her fingers in his before turning to André to explain. “We are going back to our ship, but at first light, I will come for you if you will show us the way to Yvetot.”
“With pleasure. I will find a horse for you to ride, but I fear your husband, like Hrolf, is too tall to ride one of our ponies.”
“A small problem, André, if there is no horse for him then I will walk too, for I want to hold his hand in mine.” Smiling happily, Celiese nearly skipped alongside Mylan as they retraced the path from the ruins of her home, her joy at finding her mother alive too great to be contained.
*
Being adventuresome by nature but cautious from experience, Mylan insisted all remain on board the Surf Falcon that night. He had seen no boats and doubted enough of the Frenchmen could swim to mount an attack through the waves, but he posted a guard to keep watch, nonetheless. As for Celiese, she was still so thrilled by the discovery of her mother’s survival she could scarcely sit still. He knew better than to ask her to make the effort to sleep when she was in so talkative a mood. Instead he sat up with her, listening attentively to all her fond memories.
“Don’t you see, Mylan, she was the best of mothers, but I was only twelve when I was kidnapped. I’d no opportunity to ask her the most important questions of all. I had no knowledge of life’s secrets, and suddenly I was thrust out into the world to fend for myself and I had nothing to sustain me. I had absolutely no hope I would survive one day to the next, no hope any of those I loved were living still, no hope I would set foot in my beloved homeland ever again.”
“Yet you are the most charming and confident of young women, Celiese, so if you had no more than the determination that makes up such a large portion of your nature it must have been enough,” he replied with a rakish grin.
She studied his teasing glance for a long while. It was an expression she knew well but had never enjoyed. “Do you think I am being foolish, to remember my home and childhood so fondly?”
“No, every child should be as happy as you obviously were.” He had tried his best not to yawn, but he could not hide his next one, although he raised his hand quickly to cover his mouth. His stamina had increased measurably during the voyage, but still had its limit.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet so you can rest.” She put out the small oil lamp and, moved to his side to snuggle close, but she was too restless to sleep and lay wide-awake trying to imagine her mother’s excitement when they met the next day. Despite her promise to be still, she continued to talk. “My mother is a very beautiful woman. I know they will not allow you to enter the convent grounds, but perhaps she can come to the gate to meet you.”
Surprised, by her enthusiasm for that event, he pulled her close, tousling her soft curls playfully. “You saw André‘s expression and the townspeople’s when they saw me. I was amazed they summoned their women so swiftly. Do you want to subject your mother to the same fright?”
Celiese sat up, not pleased by his question, for who he was, was ever so much more important to her than what he was. “I am not ashamed of you. Not in the least. I would be proud to introduce you to my motherâ??why shouldn’t I be?”
“I am flattered, of course, but do you plan to tell her the truth? That I am your husband?”
She hardly knew how to respond. In the darkness she could not see his expression, but she was positive he was simply teasing her again and she did not appreciate his humor in the least. “When I really was your bride, the last thing you wanted was for me to call you husband. You were ashamed of me then.” Had they been on shore she would have grabbed the blanket and run off to find a place to sleep by herself. Now, her only choice was to stay under the makeshift tent with him, since she had no desire to cuddle up with his crew or to leap over the side into the sea.
Mylan had not meant to begin an argument, but since she had he meant to finish it. “I was never ashamed of you. That’s ridiculous. I was furious wit
h you for pretending to be Olgrethe, but I was never ashamed.”
Too angry to cry or scream, she clamped her mouth shut and moved to the edge of the blanket, her posture as rigid and unyielding as her mood. Why had she never realized why Mylan would never love her? By pretending to be Olgrethe, she had given him a dream of love, but Raktor had stolen its beauty before dawn. She had been as badly hurt as Mylan, but he would never believe her pain had matched his own.
Swearing to himself, Mylan tried to pull the defiant Celiese into his arms, but failed. She had been ecstatically happy, happier than he had ever seen her, and somehow he had ruined everything without meaning to. “I am as happy as you are to learn your mother is alive, and I will be proud to meet her no matter how you wish to introduce me.” Since he would be unable to understand what she said to her mother, he could scarcely specify what words she used.
Her nervous energy finally exhausted, she answered calmly, “I fear I could apologize a thousand times, Mylan, and you would never forgive me for how greatly Raktor tricked us both.”
His temper flaring anew, he responded heatedly, “I would prefer you did not mention that villain’s name in the same breath as mine. He is barbaric vermin, and I am not.”
“Were it not for that evil man we would never have met, for I would not have set foot in your country nor you in mine. My life seems to be becoming increasingly complicated, like some ancient riddle that can never be solved.”
Mylan took a deep breath. He would have much preferred to scream every vile curse he knew, but, it would relieve only his own tensions without soothing hers, and he restrained himself with a mighty effort to be civil. “I am a great fool, I know. I should have killed every last one of the Torgvalds when I had the chance; then maybe you would finally be content.”
Celiese did not move. She lay upon her side and tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, dampening the soft woolen blanket where she lay. It was not the Torgvalds who mattered, but only him. Why was he talking about vengeance and death when she had just asked for his love?
Exasperated beyond all endurance, Mylan doubted he would be able to sleep while she was so miserable. His words seemed futile, and he could think of nothing else to do but try again to slip his arm under her neck so she would have to rest her head upon his shoulder. When this time she made no objection to the move, he drew her closer still, covering her damp cheeks with light kisses. He wiped away her tears with his fingertips, knowing somehow he had caused them. He held her cradled in his arms and in no more than a minute she was sound asleep, nestled in his embrace as if they had made love. Yet somehow he understood it was important to her that they had not.
*
