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A shout sounded from the front of the cortege, and Rhiannon looked up to discover that they were coming upon a small hamlet.

“Do you think we shall stop here for a repast?” she asked.

“I think it likely,” Cadwgan replied.

Rhiannon’s stomach was empty, and she was more than ready to be out of the saddle, but her relief at the possibility of an interruption in their journey did not simply stem from physical discomfort. She glanced at Gwenllian, willing her to end her conversation with her mother soon enough to join her before they dismounted. She need not have worried.

It seemed that Cadwgan was also ready to bring their stilted discussion to an end. “If you would excuse me,” he said. “I had best return to my place beside the king before we enter the hamlet.”

“Yes, of course,” Rhiannon said, offering him a polite nod. She could not muster a smile.

Leif set down his small sack in the corner of the silversmith’s shop and crossed to the shelf where Knud had set all the pieces they’d brought back from Ongullsey. It was not difficult to find the pendant he’d made. Even in the weak morning light, it sparkled. He picked it up, rotating it slowly in his hand so that the froth-tipped waves he’d etched into the silver appeared to move. Somehow, he’d managed to capture his love of the sea—and a little part of himself—in this piece.

He ran one finger across its edge, the vague impression he’d received in the dark of the night solidifying into conviction. He could not explain the impulse that had caused him to step forward at the marketplace and take the piece from Cadwgan. After all, he hardly knew the man. But he did not regret his decision. He knew who this piece was meant for now. And he would be the one to give it to her, not her dark-eyed escort.

Taking the necklace with him, he returned to his sack and withdrew a small wooden box from within. The box was worn from use, and the hinge creaked as he opened it. Inside lay a plain gold bangle and a silver brooch. He picked up the brooch, admiring the workmanship. Although simple, the Gaelic design instantly drew the eye. It did not belong hidden away in his bedchamber; it belonged on Rhiannon’s gown and shawl.

He set the brooch beside the gold bangle and laid his silver pendant on top. Closing the box, he put it back into the sack. If he could not find someone in Deheubarth whom he could trust enough to return Rhiannon’s mother’s jewelry box to her, he would persuade Knud to make a stop on Ongullsey before they sailed home. He did not know quite how he would accomplish it, but somehow, this box and its contents would be with their rightful owner by month’s end.

Lifting the sack over his shoulder, Leif left the shop and started for the dock. Already, the streets were busy with merchants setting out their wares. A stray cat crossed his path, and a couple of women stood on the corner chatting. He continued past them with purposeful strides. His sack contained provisions enough for the voyage ahead; the purse at his belt contained coins enough for them to manage once they arrived. There was no reason to delay his departure any longer.

The cry of seagulls and the slap of waves hitting the boats at anchor became louder the closer he drew to the dock. Sparing a brief glance for the Cymry’s boat, Leif headed directly for his own faering. Knud was already onboard, checking the sail.

“Will Frida forgive me for taking you away again so soon?” Leif asked, climbing in behind him and stashing his sack beneath one of the seats.

“That depends upon how handsomely you pay me,” Knud said.

Leif caught the glint of humor in his eyes. “So, you are not willing to make this journey for honor alone?”

“That, my friend, is your job, not mine. I am here for the gold.” He began unfurling the sail. “And I told Frida there will be a lot of it.”

“Would she take payment in cattle?” Leif asked. “There are two thousand head in the offing.”

Knud whistled. “Well, now, that really is something. Although I think Frida would rather have a gold goblet. It would be easier to keep in the house.” Leif laughed, but Knud’s attention was on the fabric in his hand. “When did you patch the arrow hole in the sail?”

“Last night,” Leif said. “You were right. Grom is away and is not expected back for at least a week. I visited Father Robert until he was called away for vespers.” He shrugged. “I had the time to do it.”

“You need a home life,” Knud said, pulling one of the ropes taut. “You need a wife.”

Leif was disinclined to argue. The thought had crossed his mind more than once in the recent past, but Norse young ladies desired a husband who was a valiant Viking, a hero who returned from plundering Christian churches with treasures untold. His close connection to the jarl may attract some maidens, but his decision to forgo participating in Viking raids was usually met with disparagement.

A vision of Rhiannon’s face flashed through his mind. There was one young lady who would approve of his choice—if she could ever bring herself to believe him sincere. He pushed the thought away. He’d told Father Robert about his encounter with Rhiannon. The priest had praised Leif’s efforts to speak with her and had encouraged him to move forward. It was sound advice but did not fully dispel the dull ache in Leif’s chest. Mayhap the pain would always be there.

Shaking off his unexpected melancholy, he attempted to make light of Knud’s advice. “What I need at this moment is a strong wind at our back and a good oarsman.”

“Have you set our course?” Knud asked.

“We make for the southern coast. Dinefwr Castle is some distance inland. We will likely have to lower the sail and follow the shoreline until we find a place to hide the boat.”

Knud eyed him warily. “It seems to me that this voyage requires altogether too much rowing.”

With a chuckle, Leif reached for the anchor rope. “Prepare your oars. We are taking to sea.”

Chapter 21

Leif chopped two more long branches off the willow tree with his axe and dragged them over the sand to the boat. Knud reached for them, draping them over the faering’s stern.

“Is that adequate?” he asked.