Page 32

“Aye.” The fishmonger was also watching the royal visitors’ progress through the market. “Cadwgan ap Gronw. ’Is late father was a brother to Owain Gwynedd’s mother.”

“Does he reside at the llys?”

“No. ’E visits occasionally, but ’is home is in Dyffryn Clwyd. I daresay ’e’s been with Hywel, sorting things out in Deheubarth and Ceredigion after Anarawd’s murder.”

Leif mentally sifted through what little he knew of Owain Gwynedd’s family. Hywel was a name he’d heard before, and if his memory served him, it belonged to Owain’s son and heir. To his good fortune, the fishmonger corroborated the information without prompting.

“Owain sent ’is son to seize Cadwaladr’s lands as soon as ’e ’eard what ’ad ’appened. Word is, Hywel arrived back at the llys in the early hours of the morning.”

“Not soon enough to accompany his sister to the market,” Leif said, rather sorry that he’d not been offered the opportunity to set eyes on the edling.

“So it would seem.” The fishmonger brushed a fly from his nose. “Not that ’e usually accompanies ’er, mind. It’s ’er other cousin who most often comes to the market.”

“Are they brother and sister, then, these two cousins?”

“Not at all. Rhiannon ferch Iorwerth’s mother was the queen’s sister, and rumor ’as it that the lady is to marry Cadwgan ap Gronw, but as yet, there’s been no official announcement.”

The small group was closer now, and as they circumvented a large barrow of vegetables, Leif caught sight of the young lady walking on the other side of Cadwgan. Her green gown, although elegant, was not as extravagant as Gwenllian’s, and her dark hair was loose, flowing like a silky curtain to her waist. Cadwgan said something. She replied, turning to face Leif for the first time.

For a full five heartbeats, the world stopped, and Leif was transported to a courtyard lit by flickering torches. Shouts from Vikings racing for their boats filled the air, but all he could hear were the sobs of the young woman on the ground before him. Leif took a ragged breath. The vision faded, and as the busy marketplace came back into focus, he forced himself to keep breathing.

The young woman who had haunted his daytime thoughts and nighttime dreams for two years was not more than twenty paces from him.

“Looks like you and yer friend ’ave some new customers,” the fishmonger said, a hint of envy in his voice.

“Yes.” Leif’s feet had yet to move.

The fishmonger gave him an odd look. “Seein’ as ’ow their purses are deeper ’un anyone else’s on the whole island, it might serve you well t’ greet them.”

Leif had a sinking feeling that his presence might, in fact, do the exact opposite. But Knud would not wish to fumble through the inevitable language barrier in the presence of such prestigious people. He could only hope that after all this time, Rhiannon would not know him.

A woman approached the fishmonger, and setting her basket on the edge of his stall, she began haggling with the man over the price of a piece of cod. With the fishmonger’s attention fully diverted, Leif took his leave.

He chose his path carefully, coming up behind the new customers so that he might hear their conversation before they noticed him.

“It would seem that they do not have any knives, Cadwgan,” Gwenllian said. “Which is a shame, because their workmanship is exceptional.”

“Indeed.” Cadwgan took one of the candlesticks Knud had crafted and raised it to eye level, studying it carefully.

“Two,” Knud said, lifting two fingers to indicate that he was asking two coins for the piece.

Cadwgan snorted. “It is hardly worth one.”

Knud folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. “Two,” he repeated.

Cadwgan replaced the candlestick. “I think not.”

“It is very finely made, Cadwgan.” Rhiannon spoke for the first time, and even had Leif’s eyes been closed, he would have known her voice. “Surely the silver itself is worth a gold coin.”

“It lacks refinement,” he said.

Leif stiffened. If there was one quality Knud could claim above all else in his silversmithing, it was elegance of design.

“What of that pendant,” Gwenllian said, pointing to the piece Leif had made.

Cadwgan reached for it. The sun caught the etched detail work, sending sunbeams dancing across the ground.

“How beautiful!” Rhiannon’s voice rang with wonder. “It scatters light as it moves.”