Dream of Me/Believe in Me

made the good sense of that advice all the more apparent. Miriam hurried to her side and clasped her hand. “There, there, sweetheart, it will be all right. Just breathe when they come and try to relax in between.”
    “Sweetheart,” Cymbra murmured as the pain receded. She blinked back tears that had nothing whatsoever to do with her labor. “He called me that.”
    “Called you what?” Miriam asked.
    “Wolf, he called me
elskling
, ‘sweetheart.’ ”
    “What a dear man,” the elderly nurse said, forgetting that she had rained down a thousand curses on his head when she learned he was responsible for taking Cymbra.
    “He is dear,” she gasped as another pain seized her. “Dear and kind and gentle … and always so reasonable, so understanding.”
    Miriam murmured consolingly, gently wiping the sweat from Cymbra's brow as the contractions continued to come hard and fast.
    Meanwhile, down below on the open ground in front of Hawkforte, the dear man had a few things of his own to say.
    Armored and helmeted, his sword gleaming as it slashed the air, the Scourge of the Saxons roared, “Stone by stone! Plank by plank! I will leave nothing standing. Send her out
now
!”
    From his position on the parapet, Hawk looked at the enraged warrior who had just threatened to demolish his keep and could not repress a surge of admiration. Behind Wolf, drawn up in ranks ten deep, was a veritable Viking army. He estimated at least a thousand men, and there might be more. His own garrison matched them in strength and he had the additional advantage of high walls. But not for a moment did he doubt that the Wolf stood a damn good chance of doing exactly as he threatened.
    Nor could he blame him for seriously considering it.
    Fortunately, they were closer to accord than Wolf had any way of knowing. It was now up to Hawk to convince him of that. Leaning over the wall, he gave his answer. “Cymbra is busy right now. Come in and we'll talk.”
    Hearing this, the Viking array shouted in derision and drummed their sword hilts against their shields. But Wolf did not answer immediately. Instead, he spoke quietly with his brother, who stood at his side.
    “Strange answer; what the hell does he mean she's busy?”
    Dragon shrugged and didn't meet Wolf's eyes. “It's not as if he said no.”
    Wolf glanced back up at the parapet, noting that Hawk was watching him with interest but no apparent concern. He didn't look like a man who wanted to fight, but then it wasn't always possible to tell.
    “Hell of a risk,” Dragon said cheerfully. “Just you and a thousand Saxons. You're good, all right, but maybe not
that
good.”
    “What choice do I have?” Wolf muttered. “If I try to take the damned keep, Cymbra could be hurt in the process. Odds are Hawk's already figured that out.”
    Dragon nodded. “Sounds like he's got you.” He patted his brother on the back encouragingly. “Don't worry. I'll handle things out here.”
    Sparing a moment's thought for Dragon's odd willingness to see him walk into the jaws of death, Wolf nodded. When all was said and done, there was little else he could do.
    Hawk shouted down an order and the gates were opened just enough to admit one lone Viking. Wolf strode into the bailey yard to find himself the target of all eyes. The Saxon warriors glared at him but kept their distance, well aware that they were in the presence of a legend.
    Hawk was more forthcoming. He jumped down fromthe wall and walked over to Wolf. Both men were armed but Hawk had not drawn his sword. He stood before his “guest,” took a deep breath, and said what he knew both honor and reason demanded. It wasn't easy but he managed it with more grace than he had thought possible.
    “I made a mistake when I took Cymbra from Sciringesheal. I was wrong to do it and I ask your pardon.”
    Wolf stared at him, dumbfounded. Never had he expected that the proud Saxon warrior would admit guilt and apologize. A great knot of tension began to ease in him, just a little. Still cautious, he said, “Then she will come to me now and we will leave.”
    Hawk hesitated. “First there are other matters we should discuss, bearing on the alliance. That's what you wanted in the beginning, isn't it? Have you changed your mind?”
    Scant moments before, Wolf would have sworn that he had. The very notion of an alliance with the Saxons seemed an evil joke. But now he wasn't so sure. Hawk had apologized and invited him into his home. Honor demanded that