“Up late talking?” Cathal was back from wherever his thoughts had led him. “Not to Gull, I gather. I hear your fellow’s recovering his memory.”

“Some.” I made myself swallow a spoonful of porridge. “It’s patchy.”

“So what is he?” Cathal asked. “A fighter, a priest, a craftsman, a scholar?”

“Not a fighter. And I think not a priest, though I did wonder about that. He seems to like debate.”

Clodagh gazed at me across the table. “No wonder you were up late talking, Sibeal. He sounds just your type.”

I grimaced at her in sisterly fashion.

“I hear he speaks very good Irish when he’s alone with you and Gull,” commented Johnny, who had been diverted from his conversation with Gareth. “One might suppose he has been in these parts awhile. Possibly his brother, too.”

“Where is this brother now?” asked Gareth.

“Drowned,” I said. “I think Ardal’s brother was one of those we laid to rest after the wreck. There was one among the dead who resembled him. Ardal remembered a wave coming and his brother being washed away. And something about knots, trying to unfasten knots . . . ” My voice faded as I realized my companions at the table were looking at something behind me. I turned my head to see Kalev standing there, waiting for me to finish. Beside him was Knut.

“I do not mean to interrupt, Sibeal,” Kalev said. “When you are finished, we wish to speak to Gull about this morning’s activities.”

But Knut’s light blue eyes were fixed on me. “The man remembers?” His look was like a sudden blade, making my heart thump in fright. Before I could say a word, he added, “He is better. Is good, yes?”

“Better than he was, certainly,” I said with hard-won steadiness. It was clear that nobody else had noticed anything unusual. Had I imagined that moment? “But still very sick.”

“You say brother?”

He understood more Irish than I realized. “It seems likely his brother was on the ship with him, yes. One of those we buried. One of the men whose names you did not know.”

Kalev translated this for Knut, then rendered the Norseman’s reply: “How much does the stranger remember? Has he told his tale?”

“He hasn’t said much. Most of what he remembers is from long ago, when he and Paul—his brother—were little boys. I suppose it will come back to him in bits and pieces over time. He’s still quite weak. Gull and I don’t want to push him too hard.”

Knut spoke again.

“Knut says that if the story comes out, perhaps Ardal will tell it to you, Sibeal.” A familiar blush colored Kalev’s cheeks as he spoke. “He has heard the two of you are very close.”