The Last Viking Queen

by Janelle Taylor

Genres: Gothic; Medieval Romance; Viking Romance

Synopsis

He saved her life and she gave him a throne.

Joined together by royal decree, the Princess Alysa and her beloved Prince Gavin share a bond of power and passion that no man can tear asunder. But when their kingdom on the enchanted isle of Britain is attacked, Alysa mounts her noble steed and joins her warrior army against the northern invaders who would divide her peaceful realm. Defiant and unafraid, Alysa battles the barbaric Norsemen-with a bold, seductive plan that will sweep her into the arms of her most dangerous enemy. . .before she can return to her land and the lover whose searing caresses will burn in her heart forevermore. . .

Release date: October 24, 2011

Publisher: Pinnacle Books

Print pages: 432

Sample

“Dark days are ahead, my beloved princess,” warned Trosdan, powerful wizard and a High Priest of the Druid sect, which had been outlawed and dispersed by the conquering Romans many years ago. “Days of treachery, peril, and evil lie before us. All must be conquered before peace can rule your land once more. You are the key to turn back the forces of Darkness. Only you can reopen the Door to Light and Good which is being rapidly closed and locked. Only you can halt this madness which threatens us.”

Trosdan’s voice lowered as he warned, “But the price you must pay is great and the perils you must face are terrible.”

A smile warmed the old man’s clear blue eyes and deepened the countless wrinkles on his face; he did not want to panic or discourage this girl whom he loved and respected. The sacred Runes had told him what he, what they, must do to obtain victory and survival. No matter his personal thoughts, feelings, and desires, he must obey the Runes messages and be true to his calling of High Priest, Guardian of the Ancient Laws and Master of the Great Mysteries. “You can bring your people back from the edge of destruction, but you must endure many torments to save all you love and rule. I will guide you and protect you during those dark moments, but you must follow my advice no matter your doubts, fears, and pains. You must use all of your wits, and your courage to battle these savage invaders. And, you also must depend on your special powers to aid your cause.”

In an age when people believed in superstition, sorcery, and the supernatural, she understood Trosdan’s meaning. It was alleged that her grandmother Giselde possessed potent skills of magic and the gifts of insight and healing, as Alysa’s mother Catriona had before her death ten years ago. Princess Alysa Malvern Crisdean had witnessed many inexplicable things, but doubted her inherited ability in such mysteries of life. The ruler of the principality of Damnonia, which belonged to the kingdom of Cambria, refuted gently, “But I have no special powers, Wise One.”

“Yea, but you do, my beloved princess. You will summon them and use them well when the time comes to battle Evil. There is a magical glow about you which Evil cannot extinguish, though it will try for a second time to do so. You must not fail in your awesome task, for victory and survival are controlled by your grasp alone. Even I can do little against such powerful forces.”

Alysa moved a few steps away from Trosdan in the large cave where he lived and practiced his wizardry. As the Celts still believed in and practiced the “Old Ways,” especially since the Roman withdrawal, his words were both frightening and stimulating to Alysa. Her heart beat faster as she recalled the first time “Evil” had tried to destroy her. Victory had been won six weeks past with the deaths of her evil stepmother and half brother and with the defeat of their wicked brigands. Isobail and Moran had tried to steal her land and enslave her people. But a handsome warrior from another kingdom had arrived to claim her heart and to help gain victory. Six weeks past, they had wed, and now ruled Damnonia side by side. Prince Alric, her father and son of King Bardwyn of Cambria, had been slain during those previous dark days; now, she listened to Trosdan warn of more dark days ahead. The Vikings were greedy and vicious invaders; each day they were becoming stronger and attacking closer. She wondered if her land would ever know true and lasting peace again. She wanted to think of nothing except ruling her people, loving her husband, and bearing his children. Grief over her father’s death had been soothed by the fact he had suffered greatly and had welcomed release from his pain and anguish. He was united with his parents in the happy afterworld, so she must not mourn his loss. Since birth, she had been schooled to become this land’s ruler, a task she was carrying out with skill. Her people loved and admired her and obeyed her commands. Why did more trouble—

Trosdan interrupted her thoughts. “I have prepared for this wicked time, but I cannot reveal such plans to you today. Soon you will learn and do all expected of you, as did your ancestors Connal, Rurik, and Astrid. Their bloods run within you and make you stronger and wiser than other rulers. Your destiny is at hand, Alysa; you must accept it and follow it. To refuse it brings disaster.”

Alysa could not forget that Connal, her great-grandfather from Albany, had been captured and carried away by Vikings. He had escaped and brought Astrid—his Viking love—to his homeland. Enraged, the Norsemen had attacked again and as they again searched for the treacherous couple whom their attiba—wizard—had vowed would be the cause of all future defeats on this mighty island. During one of those raids, a royal Viking warrior had fallen in love with her grandmother, causing Rurik to take sides with the Albanians. He and Giselde, daughter of Connal and Astrid, had given birth to Catriona, Alysa’s mother. How strange, Alysa mused, that my family’s blood is always mingling with that of our fiercest enemies. Stranger still, and an alarming threat, was the fact Alysa was alleged to be the Last Viking Queen of royal birth, a prize for any Viking to capture.

Alysa did not like that thought, so she dismissed it from her mind. “Tell me more, Wise One,” the young princess urged.

“Soon,” he responded mysteriously. Trosdan’s watchful gaze eyed the lovely young woman before him. Her medium-brown hair tumbled down her back and halted near her waist. Her sea-blue eyes were bright with intrigue, and her beauty could be denied by no one. At nineteen, she was one of the youngest rulers of this mighty island of Britain. The old man knew what loomed before her, for his hand controlled her fate. “You must return home. As we speak, your first challenge approaches. Throughout the ages, each time Evil strikes at Good, the Great Beings provide us with a champion to battle their dark forces. Remember,” he cautioned, “you are the ruler here, the one chosen by the gods to save all. Let nothing and no one mislead, halt, or discourage you. No one,” he stressed, his expression grim.

“What is your meaning, Wise One?” she questioned the man with white hair and soft and snowy beard which fell below his heart. Never had she met anyone who was kinder or gentler or wiser, or more trustworthy. There was a reverent air and magnetic mystery about Trosdan, and all heeded his words. His skills were said to be matchless, and many feared disobeying or angering him. His insight and magic had guided them through their last battle with Evil, and he was offering his help once more. No one knew the enemy better than Trosdan, as he was a Viking by birth and a Briton by choice. He had loved and served her grandmother Giselde for years, but a wizard never wed if he wished to keep his powers. To save and to help those he loved, it was imperative for Trosdan to retain his strengths and talents, to remain unblemished by surrender to worldly desires.

“You must be strong, Alysa. You must put your destiny and victory above your own desires and dreams. Soon you will travel a narrow path, a dangerous one. Do not let anguish halt your journey, or all is lost—for you, for your land, for your people, and for Good. Many have suffered and died already. If you battle your fate, many more will do so. Others will draw from your abundant courage and prowess; they will follow your lead, even into death’s jaws.”

The High Priest’s words revealed an awesome responsibility. She asked, “What if courage deserts me or the knights refuse to follow a woman into fierce battle against our invaders? It is easier for a female to rule a peaceful kingdom than to persuade men to allow her to lead a battle charge. Will the gods prepare their hearts and minds to accept me as this chosen one?”

Trosdan caressed her cheek and smiled again. His eyes twinkled with the knowledge he possessed. “Before the new moon shines on this land, you will have proven yourself to all.” Trosdan lifted her left hand and touched her wedding ring with a gnarled finger. “You shall become a legendary warrior queen who even this powerful ring of desire cannot restrain or defeat. Go, for a great adventure with many sacrifices and challenges awaits you. When the time is right, I will come to you and set your feet upon the path you must travel.”

Alysa wondered where her husband fit into the events confronting her, as Trosdan had not mentioned Gavin. The elderly man had made it sound as if she were going to face those perils alone. She recalled how Trosdan and Giselde had foretold the truth about Isobail and how those two special people had used their skills to aid Alysa’s side. Somehow, she could not resist believing in such powers.

Fear furrowed Alysa’s brow. “How can I become a queen without my grandfather dying? Is that your meaning, Wise One? Do you say King Bardwyn will soon pass into another world?” she inquired, worried and sad as she anticipated his answer.

“That was not my meaning, Princess, but I can tell you no more today. Hearts do not accept difficult words until they have been prepared to receive them. You are not ready to begin your journey.”

Although he clearly had ended their conversation, Alysa persisted. “When will I be ready, Trosdan? What will prepare me?”

Trosdan smiled. “Your mind runs in many directions like a wild horse. Tether it until you understand the secrets in my words today. Then, I will come to you. There will be no need to summon me, for I will know when the time is here.”

Trosdan gave Alysa a final warning, a tormenting one. Her face paled and she trembled. As she stared at him in disbelief, she began to shake her head. “Nay, Trosdan, you have misread the Runes.”

His sea-blue eyes exposed honesty and sympathy. “The will of the gods cannot be denied, my beloved princess. But there is hope,” he added, and explained his meaning. “Go now. I will come to you soon.”

Knowing the Druid leader would tell her nothing more, Alysa embraced him and departed. Mounting Calliope, she rode for home with mixed emotions. Perhaps, she sadly decided, Trosdan had gotten old and his mind and eyes were playing tricks on him. Surely he could not be right about… She reached Malvern Castle only minutes before her “first challenge” arrived, just as Trosdan had predicted.

Sir Teague and his wife Thisbe dismounted hurriedly and joined the alert princess, who had halted on the castle steps to speak with a servant. Their faces shone with perspiration, and Alysa knew from their expressions that something was terribly wrong. Trosdan’s words flooded her mind, and her heart pounded in dread. She ordered water to wet their throats, which most certainly were parched. “Rest a moment and drink, Sir Teague, then reveal your bad news.”

Thisbe, who had been Alysa’s handmaiden until her marriage, collapsed on the steps in exhaustion. Alysa commanded her servants to carry the young woman to a visitor’s chamber to recover. Alysa was anxious to hear the news, but did not press the fatigued man, a past squire at this castle and a longtime friend. She wondered why her husband, Prince Gavin Crisdean, had not joined them. Surely he was aware of the commotion in the inner courtyard. Before she could send for him, the prince galloped through the castle gates with several of his knights.

Alysa’s sea-blue eyes washed over Gavin’s handsome face and virile body. From their attire and gear, it was obvious her husband had been hunting with a few of the knights. She watched his eyes take in his curious surroundings as he dismounted and came forward. In spite of the dark episode in progress, she could not help but seal her loving gaze to his probing green one. “We have trouble, my husband, but Sir Teague must catch his wind before he reveals it.”

The Prince of Cumbria and Damnonia observed the red-haired knight who was still laboring to breathe normally after his swift and lengthy ride. League’s sorry state of appearance alerted the ruler to trouble. “Let us go into the Great Hall where we can sit and drink while we talk,” Gavin invited. He extended his hand to Alysa to escort her inside. He felt her tremblings and knew she was gravely concerned over this apparently grim situation. He, too, was worried. Under the guise of a hunting trip, he and several knights had been scouting the countryside for any signs of peril and foe, but had found none. Yet Gavin realized it was only a matter of time before the persistent invaders reached Damnonia and created the same havoc here they were causing in the neighboring kingdom of Logris.

After a short rest and a cup of inspiriting ale, Sir Teague revealed his grisly news. “The Vikings crossed our border, Your Highness, and raided our castle. They slew, burned, and pillaged. Lady Gweneth and her two daughters were captured with other slaves and carried off after the attack. There was nothing we could do to halt them; they were many and strong. They raided with a blood-lust which I have never witnessed before.” The weary knight’s voice was hoarse from his dusty journey. He drank more ale before continuing. “At my guard’s insistence, Thisbe and I were concealed in a secret room just before the Norsemen broke down the inner gates. We were forced to remain hidden while they plundered my home and lands. After they left, we escaped to a nearby village to procure two horses and rode here with much haste. I have dishonored myself, my country, my rulers, and my rank with such cowardice.”

Alysa watched the red-haired knight lower his head in shame. The scars from his capture and beatings by Isobail and Moran were still visible on his face and arms. Only four weeks past he had been knighted, wed, and placed in control of Lord Daron’s estate near the Logris border. Alysa grasped his hand and said comfortingly, “Do not punish yourself, Teague. There was nothing you and your men could do against such odds. You have served us well and you will continue to do so. We have been friends since childhood, and I love you as a brother and Thisbe as a sister. Do not burden yourself with undeserved blame. I have no knight with more courage and honor than you possess.”

Prince Gavin added, “If you had not concealed yourself, you would not have survived to bring us this news or to battle our enemies on another day. You are not responsible for your defeat. Lift your head and shoulders, for your honor is still intact.”

Teague did as he was commanded, but his gaze exposed the anguish within him. He felt it was his duty to protect the property and people his rulers had entrusted to him. Shame would plague him until revenge was obtained. “We were taken by surprise and had no time to prepare a defense. If you will provide me with warriors, I will ride after the raiders and rescue Lord Daron’s family and the others.”

The tawny haired ruler said, “First, we must gather our forces and plan wisely. I will send for our lords and knights. We cannot strike at our foes until we set up defenses for our land. It will require many days to track them and attack. We cannot leave our homes and families unprotected during our absence. To do so would invite the raiders to swoop down on them. We must be patient and cunning.”

“Prince Gavin is right,” Princess Alysa remarked. “To venture into Logris will be a long and difficult journey. We must be well prepared. How many raiders attacked you and who was their leader?”

“It was a giant of a man called Rolf with hair the color of the sun. From the parapet I saw him battle several men at once. He has great prowess. His followers numbered more than fifty—fierce men who clearly enjoy killing and destroying. Our victory will be a hard and bloody one.”

While the men talked, Alysa called to mind Trosdan’s warnings and wondered how she could lead a defeat of this would-be conqueror. What, she fretted, were the “price” and “perils” which the old man had mentioned? How could she alone lead her people to victory over such awesome forces? Gavin loved her. He had proven so by remaining here in Damnonia to live and rule at her side, even though he seemed bored and restless with his quiet existence. When the time came for him to become King of Cumbria and she Queen of both Cambria and Damnonia, they would decide together how to carry out their duties in three different lands. Trosdan had to be mistaken about them taking separate paths. Nay, Gavin would never betray or desert her!

“We need courageous and daring spies, my husband, to bring us news of their numbers and locations. If one band of raiders counts more than fifty, there must be hundreds of Vikings in Logris. We must do as you did before—separate and conquer them a band at a time. If they are allowed to join forces against us…” Alysa shuddered and did not finish her distressing statement.

To relax his anxious wife, Gavin suggested, “Let us wait for our retainers to arrive before we talk more on this depressing matter. There is nothing we can do or decide today. Teague needs rest and nourishment.” He summoned Piaras, the trainer of castle knights, and ordered the man to send for their vassals. Leitis, Piaras’s wife and head castle servant, was called to prepare food and lodgings for Teague.

Alysa and Gavin were left alone when Teague excused himself to check on Thisbe his wife and Piaras departed to carry out his ruler’s command. Gavin slipped his arms around his wife and whispered, “Do not be afraid, m’love. I will allow no harm to come to you.”

Alysa looked up into his smiling face and witnessed his love and desire for her. Their bond was a powerful one and nothing could destroy it. Easing to her tiptoes, she sealed their lips in a heady kiss. As always, passion’s flames and tingles swept over her and she clung to him, refusing to think of any intrusion by fate or a visitor. She felt his arms tighten about her slender frame and perceived his possessive grip on her heart and body.

As his lips roamed her flushed face, he disclosed ardently, “While I am gone, I will make certain you are guarded and protected. When I return victoriously, we shall have a large feast to celebrate.”

Alysa tensed in his embrace. She leaned back to gaze into his eyes. “Nay, my husband, I cannot remain here while you battle our foes. I must ride with you and the others. Piaras has trained me well, so I can fight beside any man. A ruler always rides into combat with his knights and warriors. I can do no less because I am a woman. Did I not prove myself a skilled fighter only weeks ago?”

“This is different,” Gavin protested in a gentle tone. “In days past, you used your wits and daring. In the battles awaiting us, warrior skills and strengths will be required. You are not strong enough to fight men. You are needed here to hold our people together, to keep them from losing faith. You will be safe at home.”

Alysa knew that Gavin—as most men—was raised to think of women as wives and mothers, creatures who were born to please and serve men. Perhaps he had not realized she was different; she was a royal regent. She was a leader, not a follower; she was a commander, not an obeyer. Trosdan’s warning flashed through her troubled mind. She had to make her husband understand her position and agree with it. “One day I will be queen of two lands, Gavin. If I cannot protect my people and ride with them into the jaws of peril, I am not a worthy ruler. Being wise and just while sitting in the lap of safety is not enough to hold their allegiance. I must prove I am strong, cunning, and valiant in the midst of danger. My warriors will be filled with greater courage if their regent is riding and fighting with them. To face such odds and perils, they will need this added courage.”

Her words did not persuade him. He shook his head and stated firmly, “This is foolhardy, m’love. I cannot let you go.”

“I must,” she argued just as resolutely. “I am the ruler of this land. I cannot allow a warrior, even a prince, from another kingdom to lead my people in my place. It is my duty.”

Gavin was concerned over her determination. He did not wish to be forceful and stern with his gentle wife, but he would do so if necessary to halt her wild plans. He could not permit Princess Alysa to play warrior for any reason. How could he and the others concentrate if they were distracted by protecting her? How could he imperil his love? “I am your husband and joint ruler of your lands. My wishes must be honored. You have many talents, m’love, but you are not a soldier. Our enemies will laugh if we go into battle with a delicate woman riding before us. You could be injured or slain. What then of our warriors’ courage? What of their safety with their thoughts turned on defending their ruler?”

Alysa’s gaze roamed the stubborn set of her husband’s jaw, the scowl lines on his forehead, and the determination in his green eyes. His dark-blond hair with its sunny streaks rested on his shoulders, shoulders whose size revealed the strength and prowess in his six-foot-four-inch frame. His well-toned and strong body was proof of the practice and exercise he participated in each day with Piaras and the other knights. Yet those steely muscles were covered by smooth flesh of golden brown, flesh which tantalized her when pressed against her silky skin.

Alysa tried another path to reach him. She revealed, “Trosdan has warned me of these dark times before us. He told me of Teague’s coming. He has read the Runes which say I am to lead our people into battle. If I do not, all is lost. I cannot yield to your fears for my life.”

The prince realized she was serious and not to be swayed easily. Although it was distasteful to him, Gavin knew he had to be slightly dishonest to discourage her from what he considered a wild and dangerous idea. He tenderly chided, “It is only superstition, m’love. Marks upon broken stones cannot foretell the future or control it. The only real magic lies within ourselves, Alysa, within our hearts and minds. Do not allow an old man’s dreams and words to misguide you and to cause great trouble and conflict between us and in our land.”

Alysa frowned. “You did not feel or speak this way weeks ago when Trosdan and Giselde’s predictions came true.”

“That was only coincidence, perhaps clever insight or good judgment. Your grandmother is gone now, wed to King Bardwyn and living in Cambria. Forget her curious ways, and those of the old Druid’s. Our warriors cannot follow and obey two leaders. Would you have me stand aside while you try to guide them? I am trained and experienced in such matters. You are not. You have only lived nineteen summers and I have lived twenty-seven. You have enjoyed peace here, but I have roamed the world and battled countless dangers. If you insist on leading our forces, they will be confused and disgruntled. Think of what is best for all, Alysa. Do not let your pride destroy us.”

“Was it coincidence that my grandmother removed the royal tattoo upon your chest?” Alysa argued, referring to the custom of staining royal symbols on the bodies of highborn men with a woad dye which was supposed to be permanent. Yet Giselde had magically removed Gavin’s to conceal his royal rank during their war against Isobail, and that was why Alysa had not guessed his identity during their intimate relationship. Since that day, it had been replaced.

“It was a trick, m’love. Giselde is well acquainted with plants and herbs. I do not deny her skills in nature, but she is not a powerful sorceress. If I was learned in such matters, I am sure I could explain how they perform their spells and deeds. There are many secrets and powers in nature, but that does not make the knower of such things able to do more than use them. It is people’s fears or desires which make them believe in such powers and enchanters. Trust me, m’love; Giselde did not perform magic on me, nor on others.”

“If I refuse my destiny, we will be conquered.”

Gavin caressed her cheek. “Your destiny is to be my obedient and cherished wife, the mother of Britain’s future rulers. We have need of several sons to sit upon the thrones of Cambria, Damnonia, and Cumbria. Remain here in safety where my seeds can grow within you and fulfill our true destiny while I go forth to meet this challenge. Is that not enough for you, Alysa?”

Unusual anger suffused her. “I am more than a breeder of future kings and princes. You will become king of Cumbria when your father dies, but I will be queen of Cumbria and Damnonia at Grandfather’s death. I will also become queen of your land, but you can become nothing more than my consort. If Fate had wanted a king for my lands, I would have been born a son. I am not just a mere woman, Hawk of Cumbria. A great destiny awaits me as a warrior queen. I must let nothing and no one prevent me from seeking and following it.”

“Nothing and no one, Alysa? Not even me or our love or our future?” he questioned. “Do you seek glory more than these precious things? Do an old man’s words mean more to you than mine?”

Price you must pay …. Put your destiny and victory above your own desires and dreams …. Was Trosdan right, would she be called upon to travel her path alone? Could she give up her love to do so? Clearly, Gavin was not going to change his mind. If she believed Trosdan and followed his advice, would her price be Gavin? And if she surrendered to Gavin’s wishes, would all be lost as Trosdan predicted? If only she had the Gift of a Seer, she would know what to do.

Gavin released her. “Your silence answers for you.”

Alysa grasped his arm and protested, “I love you with all my heart, Gavin Crisdean. Glory means nothing to me. But there is more to consider than our love and desires. My land has been invaded and I have my duty. There are things I as a ruler must do, even if it endangers my life. I beg you, do not force me to choose between my love and my country.”

There was an unfamiliar emotion in his eyes and tone as he asserted, “Your choice was made even before we spoke. You will do as you wish, no matter my words or feelings. I cannot agree with you, so we waste our breath discussing this further. Think more on your decision and we will talk tonight. I must go order spies to the Logris border. We want no more surprise attacks before we are ready to strike.”

Gavin left Alysa standing in the Great Hall. He hoped a show of anger and coolness would dissaude her. Once she realized how impossible it was for her to ride into battle, he would become himself again. Perhaps a lusty bout of lovemaking tonight would clear her head—or cloud it with thoughts of only him. He grinned in anticipation of how he would master his wayward wife.

Alysa leaned against a towering pillar of stone. Suddenly she felt weary and dispirited. Trosdan’s final warning returned to haunt her:

“The Hawk of Cumbria will not fly with you on this fated journey. It is a path you must travel alone. Do not fear, for I will be at your side to aid and protect you. The prince will not understand or accept what you must do to win this victory. For a time, he will seek his own fate along a different path and you will rule alone.”

Gavin, whose name meant hawk, was dearly loved by her. Could she risk losing him, after having him only a short time? Would he desert her if she refused to bend to his will? He was so strong and proud yet so gentle. He had helped her win the last battle to save her land. Why could he not do so again? He was her husband, but this was her land. He was practically a stranger here. Surely the Dam-nonians would follow her before following him. Was there hope?

“… But there is hope. If you yield to your destiny, he will not be lost forever. He is a warrior of great prowess and you are a bride of destiny. You have seized the magic of love which runs undaunted through the ages. Beneath a conqueror’s moon, my warrior queen, you will again bind this man’s soul and heart to yours with gyves of love and with this sacred ring of desire. By love enchanted, you shall rule side by side and love forever … if you follow your fate. If you do not, even I cannot save you.”

Alysa prepared herself for bed without the assistance of her current handmaiden. She had missed Thisbe. The young princess was happy to have Thisbe and Teague back at the castle, but she hated the situation which had driven them here. She and Thisbe had spent many days together—sharing knowledge and secrets, enjoying pleasures, enduring pains, and growing into womanhood. The friendship between princess and servant had been a very close and unique one. Alysa knew that Thisbe could be trusted with all things, even with her life, as could Teague.

In the privy where bathing and other personal tasks were carried out to avoid disorder in the adjoining royal chambers, the blue-eyed princess stepped from the circular wooden tub and dried herself. After slipping into a soft kirtle, she brushed her hair. As she relaxed, her mind wandered to dreamy places. So much had changed since Prince Gavin Crisdean had entered her life several months ago—a mysterious and irresistible warrior. Tonight she must prove her love to her new husband, although it should not be necessary.

She and Gavin needed more time to get to know each other fully. Their romance had been swift and passionate. It had been surrounded by perils and mysteries, and plagued by doubts and fears. Her grandfather, King Bardwyn, had suggested their hasty wedding,