The Irish Bride by Sarah Woodbury

Author:Sarah Woodbury
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dublin, viking, historical mystery, viking mystery, medieval mystery, romantic suspense, wales, middle ages, medieval, spies, espionage
Publisher: The Morgan-Stanwood Publishing Group
Published: 2019-07-20T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Day Two

Gwen

Gwen’s Danish was rudimentary, but she had learned some basic words and phrases by now and caught the last thing Lena said. “Fighting ring? What on earth is a fighting ring?”

Cait was already asking Lena the very same thing, and received a long explanation, which Gwen did not interrupt. She watched Lena’s face, however, and it was obvious she knew what she was talking about.

When Lena wound down, Cait turned to Gwen and explained: “It’s a gathering of men who practice their warrior skills together. She first heard of it six months ago. Admission is by wooden coin.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Why couldn’t they meet openly? Why the coin?”

Cait spoke to Lena again and received a short reply.

“She doesn’t know for certain. They change the location of their meetings often, moving around the city and the surrounding countryside. She thinks they aspire to turn themselves into an elite group, like the Dragons.”

Gwen could have told them there wasn’t ever going to be anyone like the Dragons, but that would have been rude and unhelpful. “Does she know where the next meeting is? Or when?”

“She does not.”

“How does she know about all this?”

When Cait asked that question, Lena shrugged. “We may no longer be slaves, but we hear things. People talk in front of us.”

“Or we listen in doorways.” This was said in Welsh, by a woman who swept aside the curtain that blocked the far doorway to the pantry. She was close to fifty in age, buxom but not unfit, with a halo of red curly hair she didn’t appear to be trying to tame, beyond a headband to hold the bulk of it back from her face. She set the wrapped block of butter she was carrying on the table.

“Iona!” Cait greeted the woman with a huge smile and then spoke in Danish, since she herself had no Welsh to reply to Iona’s initial greeting.

Iona gave Cait a beatific smile and approached and curtseyed low, also speaking in Danish, but this time something Gwen could understand. “It is wonderful to see you, my lady.”

Cait scoffed, indicating this was an old jest between them. “It’s nice to see you too.”

Iona laughed. “You look lovely.”

Remembering her manners, Cait gestured to Gwen and said something along the lines of, This is Gwen, wife to Sir Gareth the Welshman. We are investigating the death of that monk, Harald.

“I know.” Iona bobbed a genuine curtsey in Gwen’s direction and returned to Welsh, “You must forgive my manner. I was cruel to this child when I learned she had deceived us as to her identity. But she more than made up for it by doing what only she could.”

Gwen’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. What could only Cait do?”

Iona looked from Gwen to Cait, her own expression puzzled, and said, “Doesn’t she know?”

Cait made a helpless gesture. “I-I don’t know.”

Iona turned back to Gwen. “It is our Caitriona who convinced the bishop and King Brodar to free all the slaves in Dublin.

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