“Conor doesn’t like her,” said Cormack.

Liam stood up. “We must return, Sorcha,” he said. “I’m sorry Father Brien was from home, for I had hoped to speak with him in private of these matters. No doubt Father will send for him again, to perform the ceremony. Meanwhile the house is in uproar, and you are needed. Fetch your things now; you can ride down behind me.”

Leave now, straightaway? Leave Simon alone, without even saying good-bye, without telling him what was happening? I sent a desperate message to Finbar. I can’t leave now, not like this, he’s not ready yet, at least let me—

“You go on ahead, Liam,” said Finbar. “I’ll help Sorcha pack up, and she can come with me.”

“Are you sure?” Liam was keen to go, already donning his cloak. “Don’t be too long, then. There is much to be done. Come on, Cormack, that foolish hound of yours will doubtless be glad to be away home.”

But she was not. The two of them swung up into the saddle, and at first she circled Cormack’s horse, all enthusiasm. But when they rode off down the track, the finality of it struck her suddenly and she paused, then padded back up toward us. She looked around her, sniffing, hesitating. The rain began to come down heavily.

“Linn! Come!” Cormack called her, his horse held in check just where the path entered the forest. “Come!”

She turned and walked slowly toward him; stopped and looked back again.

“Go on, Linn,” I said, fighting back tears for her, for me, for Simon. “Go home!”

Cormack whistled, and this time she went to him, but the keenness was gone from her step. They disappeared under the trees.

“Be quick,” said Finbar. “Where are your things? I’ll pack, you talk to him, then we’re going.” I did not ask him when I would be able to come back; there was a dreadful finality about all of it. Silently I indicated my bundle, my cloak, my small pots and jars; then I fled back through the rain to the cottage door; but it was barred from inside. True to his word, he had done as I asked.

“Simon!” I yelled over the roar of the downpour. “It’s me, let me in!”

There must have been enough urgency in my voice to conquer his distrust, for the bolts were drawn and the door opened quickly. He had the knife in his hand, but he made no move to touch me, instead retreating to the far end of the room as I stumbled in and slammed the door behind me.

There was no way to do this kindly.

“I have to go, now, straightaway. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to be this way. But my brothers are waiting.”

He stared at me blankly.

“It’s too soon, I know, but I have no choice. Father Brien will be back tonight, he will look after you as well as I could—” I was babbling, my distress obvious. Simon put the knife down on the table. His voice was a mere shadow of a sound.