Warm and dry at last, I sit across from Ruaidri and think of how to explain myself.

"Gun robh math agaibh!" I mumble. From the damp pouch I fish out a piece of silver. When I lay it on the table, the metalsmith glances at with mild curiosity. Being a smith, there is no doubt that he recognizes it for what it is.

"It has been a long time since I found myself on these shores."

At least that much is true. Ruaidri nods. Gruoch fills our empty cups with more delicious mulled ale. Then she smiles at me, scoops up the silver and goes back into the kitchen.

"I am a trader, on my way home from Eirinn, as you might have guessed."

The smith nods again. He has no reason to suspect I am lying. The silver had a mark of the Gael on it and I could very well be a trader for all he knows, since my boat is empty and reveals nothing about me.

"My home is to the north of here, but I will need to have my curragh repaired before I can return. Or perhaps I could trade it for a better one."

I jingle the pouch to show that I have more riches there. Reaching for the pouch, I deliberately move my cloak aside to show the keen blade that I carry. The man seems friendly enough, but he is still a stranger to me and so I remain wary.