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“Good day t’ you, Luc,” the blacksmith responded. “May the remainder of your travels go well.”

Chapter 24

The moment Leif entered the bedchamber, Knud jumped to his feet from the wooden chair in the corner of the room. “You took your time,” he said, wasting no words on pleasantries. “Did you see him?”

“Owain Gwynedd?”

“No,” he said. “That brute, Cadwgan.” Knud placed his hands on his hips. “Being up a tree with no means of escape when the man who tried to kill you a week earlier is standing directly below is not something I would recommend to another.”

“What were you doing up a tree?”

“You asked me to watch those in attendance at the burial. Would you have had me join the group in the graveyard uninvited or simply stand at the roadside and watch them ride by?”

Leif inclined his head. “The tree was a good option.”

“I am glad you think so,” he said grumpily. “Albeit a bit late.”

Leif chuckled and placed a hand on Knud’s shoulder. “I would have picked you to come out ahead had you been forced into combat with the man.”

“That is neither here nor there when he has a dozen guards at his beck and call.”

“True,” Leif conceded. “But as you are here rather than at the castle in chains, I assume you remained concealed. What did you learn?”

“Owain Gwynedd was somber. His edling, Hywel—I assume it was him; they stood together and share a likeness—appeared troubled. Cadwgan was watchful of those around him. His gaze strayed to Owain’s son more than once.”

“Did he pay attention to the women?” Leif asked.

Knud gave him an odd look. “Not that I noticed. The women kept to themselves. It was the same two we saw at the market. The brown-haired young lady shed a few tears. She was the only one who did. The dark-haired one and the older lady were on either side of her, offering support occasionally.

“Anarawd’s brother, Cadell, stood a little distant, an adviser beside him. I would hazard a guess that there is little love lost between him and Owain Gwynedd.”

Leif raised his eyebrows. “Why do you say that?”

“Conversation between the two seemed more perfunctory than friendly. Smiles were forced.”

“Cadell believes Owain’s brother murdered Anarawd. I daresay it is understandable that he would bear some hard feelings toward the king.”

“Is it?” Knud said. “Surely Cadell had the most to gain from his brother’s death. He is now prince of Deheubarth.”

“That matters nothing if he truly cared for his brother and never really wished to rule.”

“Have you ever known a younger brother to not wish for the power of the elder one?” Knud asked skeptically.

“Aye.” Leif dropped into the solitary wooden chair Knud had vacated and met his friend’s eyes without flinching. “I have no desire whatsoever to be the jarl of Dyflin, and if someone were to kill Bjorn in such a premeditated way, I would be hard-pressed to look past it. Although it goes against the Christian teachings I have embraced, I fear it would be difficult to prevent those negative feelings from affecting my view of the murderer’s brother.”

“Fair enough,” Knud said. “Although, I would contend that your lack of interest in power and leadership is even more peculiar than your decision to be a silversmith rather than a Viking.”

“So says the other man in Dyflin who chooses to stay and work on his craft rather than participate in raids overseas.”

Knud grinned. “We are a pair of misfits.”

“We are indeed.” Leif looked at him thoughtfully. “But mayhap we need to start thinking less like silversmiths and Vikings and more like Cymry.”

“How is that exactly?”

Leif rose to his feet once more and began pacing across the room. “Think on it, Knud. What did Frida ask you to bring her?”

“A goblet.”