Page 76 of How the Belle Stole Christmas
The two men who’d come to see the Viking artifacts were not what Catriona had been expecting.
They certainly didn’t sound like rich dilettantes on a sightseeing tour of the Highlands.
As her mother had said, their accents were those of working men, and they were dressed like them, too.
The short one wore an ill-fitting tweed coat and a hand-knitted stocking cap that he declined to remove.
The taller one wore a coat of rough brown twill that did not look sufficient for the weather, and no hat at all on his windblown brown hair.
Catriona had no idea how they’d come to be in their tiny hamlet of Kilmore. But she didn’t mind showing a pair of working men the artifacts. Most of the people who came to see them were local crofters, after all, and she liked the fact that people were proud of the island’s history.
She led them to the old armory, where the treasures were displayed in a glass-topped case.
She couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as she beheld the artifacts she had discovered, glittering in the candlelight.
Off to the left was the dagger she had stumbled upon when she’d been twelve years old.
She’d found it near the shore, and the blade was scarred by a thousand years of rust. But it was instantly recognizable, in spite of the ravages of time, with the handle and cross guard still intact.
The dagger would always hold a special place in Catriona’s heart, as its discovery had incited her fascination with history and archaeology.
The rest of the case was filled with the discovery she had made last year. There was the urn that had contained the rest of the treasure, a silver pot with a lid that just fit within her hand. It was inlaid with gold swirls and scrolls.
Inside the vessel, she had found indescribable wonders. A pair of delicately filigreed brooches. Six silver bracelets. And forty-seven coins of gold and silver, some of which bore writing in an unfamiliar eastern script.
Catriona’s chest swelled with pride as she presented the case for the visitors’ inspection. The two men leaned forward, peering through the glass.
“Is that all the gold there is?” the taller man asked, sounding surprised.
Catriona’s smile tightened. “Indeed. This is the entire hoard.”
He shook his head. “I heard this find was unusual on account of how much gold there was.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “I’m given to understand that most Viking hoards contain only silver. What’s unusual is that there are any gold coins.”
The man’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.” He tapped his lower lip with one finger, considering. “Do you know the weight of the gold, altogether?”
His companion elbowed him. “Shut it, Mort.”
“I was just curious!” Mort protested.
Catriona cleared her throat. “Do ye have questions about any of the items?”
“Who found this lot?” the shorter man asked.
Catriona crossed her fingers behind her back before she answered, “I cannae say.” It wasn’t precisely a lie.
Not because she didn’t know, but because she had been forbidden from doing so by her parents.
“It was found in a field of peat.” That bit was true, and hopefully that made it sound like the treasure had been discovered by some anonymous crofter out cutting peat for fuel.
The two men asked a few more questions, mostly along the lines of Wot’s that?
and So this is from who, the Vikings? They certainly didn’t seem like antiquarians, amateurs or otherwise.
If they had any knowledge of the items they were examining, they kept it well hidden, nor did they seem particularly curious about the objects they had purportedly come so far to see.
She noticed the tall one, Mort, eyeing a set of armor standing on a pedestal. It was of the ceremonial sort, polished to a high sheen and covered with decorative swirls. “What’s this made of?” he asked. “Silver? Gold?”
“Steel and brass,” Catriona answered. “I ken it looks fancy. That’s just because it’s been polished. Silver and gold arenae much good for stopping a broadsword.”
Mort’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”
Something about these two made Catriona feel uneasy. She gestured toward the door. “I’m sorry to cut yer visit short, but there are a few matters I must attend to.”
As they walked toward the entrance hall, the shorter man observed, “There were a number of carriages out front. Going somewhere for the holidays?”
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. “The opposite,” she replied sharply. “We have family come to visit. My aunt and uncle, and four cousins, all the way from Edinburgh.” She gestured to her cousins Sorcha and Fergus, who were conveniently heading up the stairs.
Unfortunately, Meaghan chose that moment to stroll into the room and declare, “Make sure you load my hatboxes on the seat next to me. It looks like rain, and I won’t have them getting soaked.”
“Going somewhere?” the shorter man asked.
Meaghan did not notice Catriona’s speaking look. “Yes. To Paris!”
“Paris!” The two visitors exchanged a look, their eyes gleaming. “That’s wonderful news. How long will you be gone?”
“Meaghan!” Catriona hissed, shaking her head.
Her sister either did not notice or did not care. “At least four months. Our uncle is a physician, and he was asked to present a lecture series at the école de Médicine de Paris.” She gestured to the bustling hall. “We’re all going to stay with his family.”
Catriona did not like the turn the conversation was taking. “The castle will be occupied while we’re gone,” she said quickly. “There will be fourteen servants looking after it.”
This was true for the majority of the family’s absence.
But not for the next few days. Most of the servants had been granted leave to spend Christmas with their families.
They would not return until after the last day of the year, called Hogmanay, which was traditionally spent visiting friends and neighbors.
Only Robert Campbell and his wife, Doreen, would be present for the next week, and if there was any trouble, Catriona wasn’t sure how much use Doreen would be, considering she was five months pregnant.
The shorter of their visitors grinned. Catriona noticed the gleam of a gold tooth toward the back of his mouth. “We’ll keep that in mind.”