Dream of Me/Believe in Me

he put aside old enmity and at least try for a new beginning.
    “I am willing to consider it,” he said grudgingly.
    Hawk smiled broadly. “Excellent!” He began walking toward the hall, Wolf beside him. As though they were engaged in no more than the most ordinary conversation, Hawk asked, “Did you have difficulty getting here?”
    Silvery eyes blinked. “What?”
    “You're a little earlier than I expected. There must still be ice in the sea lanes.”
    Wolf shrugged. “We steered around it.” So did he brush aside a feat of seamanship that would become legend in its own right.
    “Very sensible,” Hawk said and led the way into hishall. He gestured to the servants, who, despite their terror, hastened to bring forth refreshment.
    “Let us dine together,” Hawk said, “and talk over our differences.”
    “I will see Cymbra first, then we will talk all you like.”
    “Alas, I regret she truly isn't available at the moment. Let us talk first.”
    Hawk had already taken his seat and was waiting for him to do the same. With a spurt of impatience, Wolf yanked off his helmet, tossed it down on the table, and made himself as comfortable as he could be while fighting the lingering urge to hack his host to bits. As for Cymbra, he could only conclude that she was being recalcitrant about seeing him again. All things considered, he couldn't blame her. With an inner sigh, he contemplated how he might win back his wife's favor. Not killing her brother was probably a good first step.
    A pasty-faced servant poured mead. Some of the liquid spilled onto the wide wooden table but neither of the warlords noticed. They drank eyeing each other over the rims of their goblets. Food followed. Wolf ignored it. Abruptly, he demanded, “Why did you take Cymbra from Sciringesheal?”
    “Why?” Hawk shot back. “How could I have not done so after you
whipped
her.”
    “She wasn't hurt,” Wolf insisted, though he flinched at the memory. “You must know that by now.”
    “True,” Hawk admitted, “but I didn't then.”
    Slowly, Wolf nodded. The first faint stirrings of hope began in him. Lest they grow foolishly strong, he asked, “What about before then, when you pretended to leave and came back? Did she ask you to do that?”
    Hawk looked at him in surprise. “No, of course not. She had no idea I was coming. She only agreed to go downto the ship because I told her that was the only place I'd believe she was speaking freely.”
    Hawk watched with interest as all the color drained from his guest's face. “Something wrong?” he asked pleasantly.
    Dazedly Wolf said, “That's what Dragon thought. He's only her brother-in-law and he didn't lose faith in her, whereas I, her husband … I believed …”
    “Believed what?” Hawk asked more kindly.
    Wolf took a breath, let it out slowly. “I thought she was lost to me.”
    With a moment's fervent gratitude for being spared the tortures of true love, Hawk said, “That's for the two of you to settle between yourselves. But first, I am charged by King Alfred to work out the details of the alliance between us.”
    Reluctantly, Wolf dragged himself back to the matter of great issues. “He knows of it?”
    Hawk nodded. “I told him when I went to court a few months ago. He is strongly in support of this and prepared to do everything possible to make it succeed.” Because he did not want any diversion from the matter at hand, he refrained from adding that he had also told King Alfred of the false message sent in response to Wolf's original proposal of the alliance. Britain's monarch had agreed that the Danes were most likely at fault, although how exactly remained to be discovered.
    Thus encouraged, the two men buckled down to work. Parchment and ink were sent for, more food arrived, torches were lit as the sun angled westward. Outside in the bailey yard and beyond the walls, two armies waited to learn if there would be peace or war.
    And upstairs, in the high tower, new life struggled to be born.
    Cymbra gasped as yet another wave of pain struck her. The contractions were coming so fast now that shehad no chance to recover between them. She was consumed by the fury of birth, striving with all her might, yet desperately afraid that her strength would not prove equal to the task. For all that she had assisted many women in childbed, she had never truly understood the experience. Now she did. Deep within her, she felt the ancient, absolute imperative to bring forth life