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Day Two
Cait
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Since the investigation into Merchant Rikard’s death, Cait had ventured down to the docks only rarely at first, but once Brodar had settled into his kingship, she’d been more welcome. One of his first acts, decreed with Bishop Gregory at his left shoulder, had been to abolish slavery in Dublin.
Over the last century, and really since the Danes had become more aligned with the Roman church, slavery in Dublin, and Ireland as a whole, had been on the wane anyway. The Normans had abolished it entirely when they’d conquered England in the previous century, making the slave trade for Danish merchants far less lucrative than it had once been, since an entire market was now closed to them. Conall had discovered an illicit slave trade in Shrewsbury—and almost become subject of it himself—but no Dublin merchant had made his primary living trading in people for at least twenty years.
There had been slaves in Dublin, however, and there were still many throughout Ireland, since the Irish Church had not yet bowed to the pope’s decree on the matter. Cait herself had masqueraded as a slave for three weeks, and upwards of twenty slaves had worked for Merchant Rikard.
No longer.
Rikard’s son Finn, who’d inherited his business, had been informed of slavery’s abolition in advance. Part of the arrangement worked out between Bishop Gregory, Brodar, and the merchants of Dublin was that any slave who wanted to continue as a slave could, working for their former master, with a free living, for the rest of their lives if they chose. The rest would be paid the same wages as free workers and dockmen, already in the vast majority. If the former slave declined the free living, she was then obligated to make her own way in terms of finding a place to live or food to eat. No longer would it be provided for her. Or him, as the case might be.
That said, Finn already had a barracks and kitchen, and he’d set up a system where his former slaves could choose to pay him for food and housing from the wage he paid them. It was in Cait’s mind that Finn was actually getting the better end of the deal financially with this new arrangement. Now, he had all of the benefit of slave labor but, except for their wages, none of the responsibility.
Whether Finn and the other merchants hadn’t fought the Bishop’s request because they’d realized in advance how this might play out, Cait didn’t know. For her, the side effect of abolishing slavery was a genuine friendship with several of Finn’s former slaves. Lena and Ana had both stayed to work for Finn as employees, since as cook and laundress respectively, they had skills that made them valuable. Finn had needed to pay both a bit more to keep them in his employ.
Cait’s other friend was Iona, strangely enough, who’d been openly hostile when she’d learned Cait’s real identity. Freedom had transformed her, however, from what might have uncharitably been termed a drudge to a business woman in her own right. She’d been hired to oversee a tavern a stone’s throw from Finn’s warehouse, and daily she blossomed into her new role. In addition to working at the tavern, Iona was in charge of supplies at Finn’s kitchen, so Cait hoped to see her too.
Cait and Gwen had walked several blocks through the streets of Dublin, with Cait’s guards (Sitric and Bern) trailing five paces behind, before Gwen finally asked a question that appeared to have been eating at her for some time. “Is Dublin different now that Brodar is king?”
Cait looked at her, genuinely startled by the question. “Can’t you tell?”
“I was a prisoner when I was here last, and I was too wrapped up in my own misery to notice much of anything.”
Cait smiled ruefully. “I forgot about that. You are so beautiful and competent with such lovely children. It’s easy to forget you lived a life before becoming the wife of the steward to the edling of Gwynedd.”
Gwen glanced at her. “We have that in common, then.”
It took a moment for Cait to realize Gwen was paying Cait’s compliment back to her, but then she smiled and added, “It takes some getting used to, doesn’t it? A city, I mean.”
“I’ve been to Chester.” Gwen’s head swiveled this way and that. She seemed curious about everything, without actually poking her nose into anyone’s doorway. “That was a big city too. It smelled worse, however, and was full of Saxons and Normans, so not my favorite place.”
“You could despise Dublin for being the place to which you were brought against your will.”
“That would mean despising Godfrid, which is impossible.”
At the mention of Godfrid’s name, happiness bubbled up inside Cait. She couldn’t wait to marry him, to be able to be with him all the time without worrying about what anyone thought. For a moment, she was lost in the anticipation and forgot what they were doing, only to blink and find Gwen smiling at her, eyebrows raised.
Cait shook herself, blushing at Gwen’s knowing look. “To answer your question, the city feels like an entirely different place. That we have someone to respect on the throne straightens everyone’s shoulders. They know Brodar has everyone’s best interests at heart. I think most people knew from the start it was a mistake to put Ottar on the throne, but they did so out of fear.”
“Fear of what?”
Cait tipped her head. “Losing what they had? Losing more than they’d already lost? Dublin has been on the decline for years, and while Ottar promised to stem the tide, he never developed a real plan for doing so. He was the one who agreed to fight in Gwynedd for Cadwaladr, seeing only the gold he offered and not the cost to attain it. He thought like a raider, never a king.”
“And Brodar is different?”
“Brodar understands Dublin can no longer survive on its own. It is an island of Danes in a sea of Irish. He can either embrace the future or run from it. He seeks to navigate a path forward in alliance with Leinster while maintaining the integrity of Dublin. It won’t be easy to do, but if anyone can do it, I think he can.”
Gwen guffawed. “Is that Godfrid speaking?”
Cait grinned. “I know more about politics than I ever cared to. But yes, with Godfrid’s help, and our marriage, there’s real hope for the future here.”
“Now you’re talking about the O’Connors.”
“Leinster and Dublin standing together are stronger than either alone, as was proved at the Battle of the Liffey. And as long as my uncle is king, he has sworn not to subsume Dublin into Leinster.” Cait waved a hand. “Danes are unruly and troublesome anyway. Why would my uncle want to rule them when he has Brodar to do it for him?”
“That’s one way to look at it.” Gwen frowned. “We’re all slaves, in one way or another, aren’t we? We all serve a master. The goal is to have that master be one of our own choosing.”
Cait came to a halt in the road. “Do you have the sight? A similar thought was in my mind a moment ago when I was thinking about who we are going to see.”
“I am no more gifted than any woman.” Gwen had walked two paces farther on and now came back to Cait. “You are of the blood, like I am.” She tipped her head towards the nearest house. “Not like these Danes. They put their heads down and barrel forward, without looking out of the corners of their eyes. They seem to think only a select few, and those mostly men, have insight.”
Her heart suddenly full, Cait threw her arms around Gwen. They were on a slight hill, with Gwen on the downward side, and Cait was taller, so she almost unbalanced them by mistake before she straightened and released her new friend.
“What was that for?” Gwen asked, between breathless laughs.
“Until now, I hadn’t realized how alone I felt, with no other woman who truly understood me.”
Gwen smiled. “I hoped you would be a kindred spirit. We are lucky to have you.”
The two women set off again, glad to be reminded that finding a friend was a little like falling in love, without the thumping heart. They had a sense of each other now—and a trust—that meant they could talk without shielding their true selves.
When Cait and Gwen arrived at the kitchen associated with Finn’s warehouse and barracks, Lena was elbow deep in bread dough she’d turned onto a floured table in the center of the kitchen. She had new staff now, paid for their work, one of whom was stirring a pot suspended over a fire while the other sliced cheese in the corner.
“Cait! What are you doing here so close to your wedding day?”
“I don’t have anything to do now my mother has arrived. She has it all in hand.”
Lena snickered. “I’m sure she means well.”
“I am happy to let her have her head.” Cait gestured to Gwen. “This is my friend, Gwen, from Gwynedd. She speaks a little Danish.”
Gwen bobbed her head. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Now Lena’s smile widened further. “I know who you are. You are the wife of Gareth, Prince Godfrid’s friend.”
“I am.”
Lena looked from one woman to the other. “Does that mean ... you are here about the death of that priest yesterday? I thought he took his own life?”
After Cait translated, Gwen ground her teeth. “May I ask who told her that?”
Cait then asked the question for her.
“Iona. I don’t know who she heard it from, one of her men, I think.”
“Her men?” Cait asked.
Lena gave Cait a sideways glance. “Now she is free, she has many suitors, and she is taking her time choosing among them.”
“Did you ever encounter Harald?”
Lena shook her head. “No. We live our own lives down here.”
She meant on the north side of town near the dock gate, which Cait understood because she’d lived here too. Being a slave was an entirely separate existence, in large part because a slave didn’t have leave to wander Dublin. At the same time, if a dockman appeared in one of the wealthier sections of the city, near Godfrid’s house, for example, or the palace, he would be looked at hard by everyone he encountered. It didn’t mean he couldn’t go there, but he might be asked his intentions more than once.
“Which church do you attend?” Gwen asked.
After Cait translated, Lena said, “St. Mary’s parish church, here at the docks. Father Bertold understands us.”
Dublin had a dozen parish churches, most of which were small, serving parishioners living in a handful of streets each. Cait could see from Gwen’s face it wasn’t what she was used to either, but city living was odder to her even than to Cait, who had lived in Dublin since the spring.
Cait nudged Gwen’s elbow. “Show her the wooden coin.”
Gwen drew it out and held it on her palm so Lena could see it. By the look of awareness that crossed Lena’s face, she knew what it was before either Cait or Gwen could ask, “Do you know what this is for?”
“Where did you get that?”
Cait was pleased they’d come to the right place for answers. “From Harald’s room.”
“The monk had it?” The surprise in Lena’s voice was impossible to mistake.
“Does it lead to a brothel?” Gwen asked.
Cait translated, causing Lena to blink. “Is that what you think? No.” She shook her head vehemently. “A brothel is no place for a monk either, but that isn’t what this is for.”
“Then what?” Cait said.
Lena looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Cait and Gwen waited, though Cait couldn’t think what could be so momentous that Lena would be this reluctant to tell them. Finally, when Lena couldn’t avoid their stares any longer, she sighed. “I know you are aware that some young men are troubled by Dublin’s submission to Leinster.”
Cait nodded. She did. Of course she did.
“When times are hard, people long for the old ways, before—” Lena made a helpless gesture with one floured hand.
“Before slavery was abolished in Dublin?” Cait said.
Lena scoffed. “They would like to go back to those old ways too, but that is not what I meant or their main concern. They want to bring back the glory days of old. They want to go a Viking.”
Those hadn’t been glory days for Cait’s people—nor Gwen’s and Lena’s for that matter—but she didn’t say so. She could feel Gwen listening and watching intently, but she didn’t interrupt, understanding, Cait hoped, that Cait would explain everything when Lena was done speaking.
“How does that relate to this wooden token?”
Lena chewed on her tongue for another moment before finally capitulating. “It gains entry to the fighting ring.”
