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Day Two
Caitriona
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Cait fell to her knees beside Godfrid, who was sitting on the floor of his house with his back against the wall and his knees up. “Are you all right?”
“I will be,” he said, though he groaned as he spoke.
Conall stood with his arms folded across his chest, looking just about as severe as Cait had ever seen him. “Can you tell us what happened?”
“Somebody hit me.” Godfrid looked up at Conall. “That is entirely what I know about my situation. Honestly, I’m more embarrassed than hurt.”
Cait reached for his hand. “Jon says that you gave everyone the evening off because you wouldn’t be in.”
“I did.” Godfrid’s expression was more than a little bleary. “Is that how you’re here? Jon went to find you?”
“He’s patrolling the house now—too little too late.” Cait was trying not to be irate on Godfrid’s behalf. “Why wasn’t he with you?”
“This isn’t his fault. He walked me to my doorstep, and I told him to go home. I foolishly assumed I would be safe on my own threshold.”
“Rikard wasn’t,” Conall said softly. He bent over to examine the four-foot-long piece of wood Godfrid’s assailant had dropped. It was a good two inches thick too. Cait’s own head hurt just thinking about being hit with it.
Godfrid put a hand on Cait’s shoulder while at the same time reaching for Conall’s hand. “Help me up.”
Cait didn’t think protesting would do any good, so she allowed Godfrid to use her as a crutch to get to his feet. She pursed her lips as she studied the side of his head. “The skin isn’t broken.”
Godfrid rolled his shoulders. “It hurts, but I’m starting to feel better already. I didn’t lose consciousness. He surprised me more than anything.”
“Who was he?” Cait said, “And what was he doing in your house?”
“That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it?” Godfrid paced forward, somewhat more slowly than usual, towards the central hearth. “The fire is out.” He crouched down and ran his fingers through the ashes. “I think someone put out the fire to look under the brazier.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Cait asked.
Conall answered for Godfrid. “It’s an old Viking trick to hide valuables in an iron chest underneath the hearth. It is literally the last place anyone would look—or so it was once thought.”
“Only a fool would hide anything there now.” Godfrid straightened again, and Cait moved to his side to help him with an arm around his waist. He put his arm across her shoulders, swaying a bit, before he steadied. “The air moves as if a stranger has been here.” It was a very Irish thing to say.
“Can you tell if anything else has been moved or taken?” she asked.
“I’ll know in a moment.” He moved with her the full length of the room and back. At one point, she glanced up and saw his eyes flicking continually up and down and from side to side, taking in the entire space. “He touched everything.” Godfrid actually shivered, again very much like an Irishman. “I feel unclean.”
“Someone was looking for something,” Conall said. “The question remains—did he find it?”
Godfrid and Cait returned to where Conall remained standing, and the three of them exchanged a long look.
“We’re all thinking the same thing, of course,” Cait said. “This is King Ottar’s doing. He fears we found something in Rikard’s warehouse ... like Brodar’s death warrant?”
Godfrid pursed his lips as he thought. “It was my hope that he wouldn’t yet know it hadn’t reached its intended recipient.”
“That’s what Sturla was doing,” Conall said heavily.
Cait nodded. “I highly doubt that he came to the warehouse because he wanted to discuss a contract with Finn. While he didn’t appear to know about the vault, we know for certain that he knew about the warrant, because he wrote it.”
“I’ve thought from the beginning that Sturla knows more about Rikard’s death than he’s telling. He was just a little too commanding yesterday morning in the warehouse.” Godfrid grimaced as he studied the assailant’s weapon, prompting Cait to reach up and gently touch the spot behind his ear where a lump had formed.
“You realize that you cannot tell anyone about what happened,” she said.
“I know.” Godfrid’s head had been bowed, but now he looked up at Conall. “Why search my house and not yours?”
“He could have tried there first, but my servants didn’t get the day off.” Conall shrugged. “Besides, Ottar considers me an ally, remember? And he believes you and I hate each other. He might even think that if I’d found the warrant, I wouldn’t have objected and might even have helped.”
Cait’s eyes widened slightly as she looked into Godfrid’s face. “And since the two of you hate each other, the only logical place to hide the death warrant—or whatever else you might have discovered that you might not choose to share with Ottar—would be in your house. He would have no notion that he really should be looking in Conall’s.”
Conall’s tone when he spoke next was all satisfaction. “Godfrid, my friend, I believe our little deception has finally paid off.”
