Page 2

The feelings of apprehension that had sent Rhiannon to the sea in search of peace resurfaced. She wished to please her father. If she were fully honest with herself, she also wished to please Cadwgan. But only if she could also remain true to the person she was within. She took an unsteady breath. For now, she could only pray that when her upcoming meeting with Cadwgan was over, she could also claim some measure of pleasure for herself.

They had reached the front door. Her father paused. “A small portion of discomfort over meeting Cadwgan for the first time is understandable, Rhiannon, but I expect you to rise above it. A man of Cadwgan’s rank deserves your respect.” He glanced at her bare, sandy feet. “And that includes being dressed appropriately when you greet him.”

“Yes, Father.” Her stomach churned, but she somehow maintained a placid countenance. “I shall see to my wardrobe straightway. And I will have Heledd help me locate my shoes as soon as she finishes with my hair.”

“Very well,” he said. “I shall look for you in the great hall within the hour.”

The sleek longboat cut through the rolling waves. Dusk was turning to dark, and from his position in the bow of the agile craft, Leif breathed in the salty air and grinned. Returning home from a successful raid was an exhilarating experience, but unlike most of his companions, Leif’s excitement came not from the value of their haul but from being out at sea.

Ahead of his craft, another longboat navigated the breakers. The Norsemen within were silhouetted against the sky even as the row of circular shields lining the craft’s hull glinted in the last light of the setting sun. Although currently indistinguishable, Leif’s brother sat in the bow of that boat. As the oldest son of Jarl Ottar of Dyflin, Bjorn was the designated leader of this raiding party. Leif did not envy him the position. At nineteen years of age, captaining the second boat was responsibility enough for him.

He pulled on his oar, feeling the water’s resistance as his arms moved in unison with those of the other men. The steady, powerful rhythm powered them forward, increasing the distance between the Vikings and the monastery they’d pillaged. Later, if the wind was in their favor, they would raise the sail, but for now, the longboat hugged the coastline, fueled by oars in the hands of twenty Norsemen.

“It would have been nice if the monks had left us something to eat,” the man sitting on the other end of Leif’s bench grumbled softly.

“What ails you most, Knud?” Although Rune, the rower sitting behind Leif, kept his voice low, there was no mistaking his taunting tone. “Is it rowing all night on an empty stomach or the lack of gold beneath your seat?”

Knud’s stroke did not waver, but his square jaw tightened. “You know full well that those goblets should have been mine.”

Rune sniggered. “Not so. We each took a cupboard. You could have gathered more of the candles you found in yours had you wished to.”

Knud growled his displeasure, but before he could speak further, a low bird whistle sounded from the other boat. A warning call. Other than the gentle splash of oars, all sound on the boat instantly ceased. Every man knew how readily voices carried on the water.

“A light. Over there, just above the bay,” Rune whispered.

Leif spotted the flicker even as Rune spoke.

“Is it a traveler?” Knud kept his voice as low as Rune’s.

“I think not,” Leif said. “I see the outline of a building.”

“Aye,” Rune said. “Not tall enough to be a monastery or castle but no humble dwelling, to be sure.”

Knud’s teeth flashed in the gloaming. “What think you, Leif? Is it large enough to provide a meal for forty hungry Vikings?”

Leif glanced at the darkening water. If the decision were left to him, they would make use of the outgoing tide to put out to sea. Leaving the Kingdom of Gwynedd as stealthily as they had arrived was always his preference. Unfortunately, the choice was not his to make.

He kept his eyes on the other longboat, waiting for a signal. The birdcall came again, and with it came the unmistakable grind of oars lifting. Bjorn was turning his longboat toward the shore.

“Looks like you shall fill your belly after all, Knud,” Rune said, satisfaction tingeing his low voice.

Smothering his frustration, Leif raised his oar. The men seated behind him raised theirs as well. Those on the other side of the boat lowered theirs and pulled. The dragonhead carved on the prow of Leif’s boat swung right to follow the serpent tail carved on the rear of Bjorn’s.

Leif gauged the direction of the wind. Already, it had shifted since they had begun their journey. Going ashore for another raid would delay their crossing of the Irish Sea significantly. They would need the wind behind their sails if they were to reach Ireland by morning. He frowned. With two monasteries and a church already looted along this stretch of coastline, news of the Vikings’ uninvited presence on Gwynedd’s soil would have reached the king by now. It was only a matter of time before Owain Gwynedd would send soldiers to oust them from his land.

“You may take the cupboards in the bedchambers, Rune,” Knud said, his eyes on the outline of a substantial longhouse perched above the low cliff. “I am for the great hall. At this time of day, the evening meal should be ready for the taking.”

Leif remained silent. His brother had opted to attempt one more raid. Whether Bjorn had oarsmen complaining of hunger, Leif could not tell. He only hoped that they would not pay too heavy a price for satisfying their appetites.

Chapter 2

“There now.” Heledd stepped back to survey the plaited crown she’d pinned around Rhiannon’s head and gave a satisfied smile. “That did not take long, did it?”

“No.” Rhiannon spoke through stiff lips. “Not long.” In an effort to prevent any cries from escaping, she had clamped her mouth closed some time ago. Giving Heledd a comb had been a risk, but with limited time to prepare for the banquet, it was one Rhiannon had been forced to take.

Somehow, she managed to resist the urge to touch her stinging scalp. Her tangles were gone, and her hair was dressed, so there was no point in looking for sympathy for her throbbing head.

“Well then,” the older woman said, “you’d best join your father. I daresay he’s waited long enough.”