“Of course not.” Helga reached out and patted her hand. “Forget I said anything. I was speaking of my husband.” She paused. “Come to think on it, the night was unusual for more than one reason. Sturla knocked on the door to wake us not long after dawn. If anyone was about in the night, it was he.”
Reaching this point had been almost too easy, and Cait wanted to make sure she didn’t give away her pleasure, since Helga, a longtime veteran of a royal court, would recognize triumph when she saw it. Still, as Cait made her eyes go wide and innocent, she wondered if Helga had guessed the reason for Cait’s appearance today and, for whatever reason, decided to hang Sturla out on the line to dry.
“What did Sturla want with the king?”
Helga turned up her nose—not at Cait so much as at the event. “This business with Rikard, of course. They whispered to each other in the corridor for a good quarter of an hour before Ottar returned to bed. Of course I asked him what it was about. He told me that Rikard the Merchant was missing, but not to trouble myself over it. It was ridiculous, of course, for him to think that I could sleep after that, but it is always better to know than to not know.”
Cait couldn’t agree more, and they were getting along so well, she decided to take one more chance. “You don’t like Sturla?”
“You never heard me say so.”
That was a Danish way of saying, yes, I hate him! Cait licked her lips. “Would you tell me what troubles you the most about him?”
Helga clasped her hands together in her lap, her eyes moving up and down over Cait. “Where did you get that dress, my dear? It’s lovely, though I must say, of a slightly older style.”
The criticism was well-placed, and Cait took it for exactly what Helga intended: that her questions were enough, and she wasn’t to pry any further, so she repeated the lie she’d told Ragnhild. “You are right that it is older. All of my things were lost in a river crossing on the way here. I had only my traveling clothes when I arrived, and Ragnhild, wife of Arno, Rikard’s business partner, took pity on me and gave me this dress. She’d saved it for many years for a daughter who would never wear it again.”
Helga smiled. “I apologize. My words were meant to wound and belittle. It was unkind of me. I had no idea you had no proper clothing, and I will send you several of my dresses before the end of the day, along with my seamstress to fit them to you. You are staying at your brother’s house?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Helga gave Cait’s hand another pat, which was meant as a dismissal, and Cait stood. “My lady, I can’t express my thanks to you enough.”
Helga waved dismissively. “It will be enjoyable to dress you. I expect to see you in one at the evening meal tonight.”
Cait curtseyed. “I am looking forward to it.” She left, closing the door behind her and breathing a sigh of relief. She couldn’t help but think she’d escaped by the skin of her teeth.
But she’d gone only a few steps before Sturla appeared in the walkway leading to the main palace building. She pulled up short because he entirely blocked her way.
“Lady Caitriona.” He bowed in that ingratiating way of his.
“Lord Sturla.” Cait wasn’t exactly sure of his station, but it was best to err on the side of caution.
“What brings you to the palace on this troubled day?”
“My brother told me about the two bodies found in Holm’s yard. Terrible.”
“Yes, it is.” His eyes moved up and down her body, making her intensely uncomfortable. She had a feeling he was doing it deliberately, and she took in a breath to clear her head. “One wonders what these new deaths have to do with Rikard’s and Deirdre’s. That’s four people murdered on the same day. It can’t be a coincidence.”
He stopped looking at her body and focused on her face, which wasn’t necessarily better. “What do you know about it?”
She widened her eyes as she had with Helga. “What could I know about it?”
Sturla took a step forward. “Who does your brother suspect?”
She smiled as sweetly as she could, even as her heart began to race. “My brother doesn’t discuss such things with me. You will have to ask him.” Then she let her mouth fall open in feigned shock. “You don’t fear that he suspects you, do you?”
Sturla snorted. “Why would he?”
“I don’t know. I believe he mentioned something about you being seen in the warehouse district that night.”
“That’s ridiculous! Who said that?” Sturla’s right hand clenched into a fist.
Cait waved a hand. “Oh, I couldn’t tell you that. It was just something I heard. If you’ll excuse me.” She started forward, aiming for the right side of the pathway, determined not to slow or stop, even if Sturla touched her.
Fortunately, he moved aside at the last moment. Happy to escape, Cait didn’t look back and hastened around the main hall to where she had left her brother loitering near the stables. Godfrid was at the palace too, but the two men had thought they shouldn’t be seen together.
“Anything?” Conall asked in an undertone.
“King Ottar was in bed all night.” And then she told him about Sturla.
Conall made a humming sound deep in his throat. “I hadn’t intended to attend the dinner at the palace tonight, but since your presence has been all but commanded, I will be happy to escort you.” The humming turned into a rumble. “We are getting close to the truth. I can feel it.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Day Three
Godfrid
While Cait had been meeting with Helga, Godfrid had been cooling his heels on the porch of the hall, having learned that Holm had been admitted some time ago, and by now had imparted his momentous news.
King Ottar had then spent a full hour in close consultation with his counselors and the leading men of Dublin. This was more normal than not since it was his responsibility to manage his kingdom. Almost daily, the king heard issues, complaints, and disputes from the various settlements of Danes throughout Ireland. Ships sailed in and out of Dublin every day, bringing goods and news from every corner of the world, and that too was digested and assessed over a lengthy morning meal.
Godfrid thought it just as well that he hadn’t been a participant in that initial conversation, since that meant they could now meet with Ottar with more information, thanks to Cait. The treaty had been left in Conall’s house with a guard standing over it, too precious a document to risk bringing into Ottar’s palace. The knowledge of it was dangerous enough, and Godfrid felt the weight of his secret as it settled next to all the other secrets he’d kept from Ottar over the years, chief among them being his own disloyalty.
Because Cait would not be welcomed in a conference with Ottar, Conall had taken her home (she was not pleased), and then returned. He now lounged in the porch alongside Godfrid, his shoulder propped against a side wall and his arms folded across his chest. No matter how he tried, Godfrid could never quite look as casual and nonchalant as Conall.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. Soon Sturla himself poked his head out the door of the hall. “The king will see you now.”
Godfrid, who’d been sitting on a bench near the door, pushed to his feet, but when he approached the entrance, Sturla put a hand on his arm. It was unlike Sturla to actually touch Godfrid, and Godfrid could almost feel the evil oozing out of the man’s fingers onto his skin. “I should warn you that the king is in no mood to hear more bad news, but if you have any, best to say it without delay and not pretty it up with fine words.”
“You know me, Sturla,” Godfrid said. “I do not have a silver tongue.”
Sturla scoffed. “You speak the truth.” Then he looked at Conall. “King Ottar will be particularly concerned about the response of Leinster to the news that Brega sent assassins to Dublin to murder our citizens.”
“Is that what they were?” Conall asked mildly, but then headed inside before Sturla could make an answer.
Godfrid wasn’t displeased at Conall’s rudeness, fei
gned or (as he suspected in this case) genuine. For his part, it was all he could do to remain polite. Perhaps overcompensating, he gestured magnanimously that Sturla should precede him, but as he strode down the length of the hall behind the steward, he could feel the battle lines being drawn. Godfrid didn’t take kindly to how easily Ottar plotted to murder his brother.
Unusually for the palace—and as evidence of the seriousness of the proceedings—the only occupied table was Ottar’s. Various lesser lords and notable merchants surrounded it, including Finn, Thorfin, and Arno, all three of whom seemed to be getting along better than Godfrid would have expected, given the private conversations he and Conall had conducted with each.
Bishop Gregory was there too, along with Abbot Rhys, which was something of a surprise, and Godfrid felt a little of his tension ease to see them both. Though he knew Rhys less well, he had trust in both churchmen, who strived always not to take sides in political disputes. Though Gregory was unmistakably loyal to the Church, he would no longer be bishop if Denmark or one of the Irish clans overcame Dublin. Which meant, to Godfrid’s mind, that he would be on Godfrid’s side once he knew the whole truth.
Not that either Conall or Godfrid intended to openly acknowledge in this hour that there were sides.
“So it seems we have our murderers.” Ottar leaned back in his chair and gestured expansively. “God is good.”
For a heartbeat, Godfrid hesitated, fearing that Ottar had somehow decided that he and Conall were the murderers, but then his breath eased as he realized Ottar was referring to the two dead men.
Holm rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking satisfied. “It is a good day for Dublin.” He had begun the day fearing that he would be accused of their murders, and now he was basking in the glory of solving the case.
“You all have done fine work, I must say.” Ottar clapped his hands together. “With the funeral done, I think we can put these deaths behind us.” He looked at Finn. “Do you feel that justice has been done for your father?”
“Yes, my lord.” Finn bent his head. “You will find no argument from me or from my partners.” He indicated Arno and Thorfin, both of whom nodded.
Godfrid glanced at Conall, who’d just met with Thorfin yesterday when things weren’t nearly as congenial. His focus was on King Ottar, however, and Godfrid waited a moment, thinking his friend was going to say something. He didn’t, so Godfrid let out a sigh, knowing he couldn’t in good conscience leave the matter alone. “Are we not at all concerned as to the reason two men from Brega would kill a leading merchant of Dublin?”
Finn held up his hand. “With the help of my partners, I am in the process of thoroughly searching my father’s records, looking for any transaction that could account for their presence. We will scrutinize everything and report our findings to the king.”
“Sturla has agreed to help in the search as well. I have sent word to the King of Brega that further forays into Dublin by his men will not be tolerated.” Ottar looked hard at Conall. “I expect you will send a full report to King Diarmait?”
“Of course.” Conall paused. “My lord, I don’t want to deflect from pressing issues, but what of the murderer who remains free?”
Ottar’s smile became stilted. “What murderer would that be?”
“The one who killed the men from Brega?”
Ottar affected an innocent look. “It seems obvious to me and to Sheriff Holm that they had a falling out. One man was strangling the other when his victim stabbed him. No more needs to be said about it than that.”
Conall coughed politely. “Someone dragged them into Holm’s stables and buried them under a mound of hay.”
Everyone at the table frowned, but Ottar still gestured dismissively. “Holm has made enemies in the time he has been sheriff. One of them stumbled upon the bodies and took advantage of their proximity to his house.”
Sturla nodded with satisfaction. “The King of Brega sent two murderers into Dublin. He can hardly object when they lost their lives in the process. Killing them was a righteous act, one my lord would reward most generously if we knew who’d done it.” He put up a finger. “Surely King Diarmait will see that the matter has been resolved internally. I can’t imagine there will be any more trouble from that quarter.”
It was only then—with some shock—that Godfrid realized everyone at the table really did think that Holm had killed the two men. Their smiles and nods and dismissal of the investigation were their way of praising him for it without open acknowledgement that he’d done it.
Godfrid couldn’t believe it, but he could find no words that would penetrate their mutual complacency. He found that his feet were frozen to the floor, but Conall simply bent his head politely and turned on his heel. When Godfrid didn’t immediately follow, he subtly tugged on his elbow and got him moving. Side-by-side they strode down the length of the hall, Godfrid’s temper rising with every step.
He held it in until they were actually through the palace gateway, at which point he stopped and turned on Conall. “Can you believe—”
“Not here, Godfrid.” Conall’s voice was sharp and commanding. “We will regroup again at my house.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Day Three
Conall
“You can see why he made the decision he did,” Cait said a quarter of an hour later as the three friends sat down to a small meal. They would have to return to the palace for the evening meal nearer to sunset, but that was still many hours away. Conall found that he needed to eat less in his old age, but Godfrid was still in his early thirties. Conall had heard his stomach growling during the walk from the palace.
“Of course I can see it!” Godfrid said.
“But you don’t like it.” Cait reached out to put her hand on top of Godfrid’s, before quickly moving it back.
Godfrid had greeted Cait with a kiss on the cheek when they’d arrived, and she’d accepted it as her due.
Conall pretended he hadn’t noticed their exchange. “Just because Ottar is finished with the investigation, doesn’t mean we have to be.”
Godfrid eased back from the table, his eyes curious and somewhat appeased. “I am convinced that Sturla was in that warehouse at some point the night Rikard died. It is his hand that wrote the document. Ottar could not have met directly with the men from Brega, so he would have sent Sturla. But what happened next?” He gestured to Conall. “We didn’t mention it. Holm clearly hasn’t thought of it. But since Ottar found neither the death warrant nor the contract in my house, he is asking himself about—and hoping for—a third man who got away with both.”
“But we know the truth.” Cait grinned. “This time keeping secrets is fun.”
Conall was amused too. “King Ottar’s refusal to continue the investigation is exactly what I assumed would happen, so I was prepared for it. Short-term thinking is far more common than the ability to see past one’s nose.”
Cait’s chin was in her hand as she picked at her mutton. “Exactly whose nose are we seeing past?”
“Ottar’s, apparently,” Godfrid said, finally relaxing enough to laugh. “What do you mean by that?”
“Ottar is thinking of his immediate problems and has so far given no thought to what is going to happen in Dublin if he doesn’t look into these second murders. He can credit Holm all he wants, but eventually that ruse is going to crack, because Holm didn’t kill them, and his men know it, and then where will we be?”
Godfrid snorted. “As I told him, with another murderer on the loose.”
Conall nodded. “Right now, Ottar is happy to put aside the investigation because nothing has gone as he planned, and I’m certain he feared we were getting too close. He shouldn’t have brought either of us into it in the first place.”
“I’m wondering again at his motive for doing so,” Godfrid said.
“He did it because he knew that at one time Rikard had been your friend, and he didn’t want you looking into Rikard’s death on your own without H
olm at your side. He thought he could control you better with you serving him than with you wandering Dublin unattended.”
Cait eyed Godfrid. “He fears you.”
“As well he should.” Now Conall grinned. “Ottar doesn’t command my loyalty. I will carry on with the questioning alone.” Then he put up a hand to stop their sputtered protests before they turned into real arguments. “Now that Cait has been introduced at the palace, you should take her on another walk about town, introduce her officially to the worthy people of Dublin.”
Godfrid eyed Conall warily. While he’d escorted Cait from the warehouse after Rikard’s murder, causing quite a bit of gossip at the time, this would be the third day that they would be seen together. Godfrid knew as well as Conall what such an act would mean. “It would be my pleasure, but—why?”
“Just as when I rode to Brodar’s manor, while everyone is looking at the two of you, nobody will be wondering what I am up to.”
Cait shook her head. “You’re heading back into the shadows, just the way you like it.” But rather than critical, her tone was admiring.
“You have to admit, I’m good at it.”
“Will you dress again as Fergus?” Cait asked.
“I don’t dare.”
Godfrid made a shooing motion. “Fine. Go.”
Conall went with hardly a backward glance, knowing that his presence was surplus to requirements anyway and wanting to leave before either of them questioned his ulterior motive. Godfrid and Cait were very aware of each other’s presence, but neither might yet realize how well-suited they were to one another. After a circuit of the city, either they and all of Dublin would know, or, alternatively, the pair would spend the day at each other’s throats and learn that they could only ever be friends. To Conall’s mind, it was best to learn these things sooner rather than later, before a physical connection or emotions progressed past the point of no return.
He whistled tunelessly to himself as he strolled towards the dockside one more time. The guards at the gate were different from yesterday, but they knew him, and he raised a hand as he passed through the open doors.
The Viking Prince Page 19