“You won’t be happy with this news, Sorcha,” he said gravely. “I wish I had better for you.”

“What?” I demanded, not allowing myself to think.

“Your patient is gone,” Father Brien said bluntly. “The day I was away, I made haste to return by sundown, as we planned. When I reached home, the place was in darkness. At first I feared the worst for the two of you; but I could see your belongings were taken, and no apparent harm done, and the dog had neither remained nor, it seemed, come to any ill. I knew Linn would not have let you be taken without blood being shed. It was plain the horses whose hooves had marked the ground belonged to your brothers.”

“But Simon—I left him safe—he said he would wait for you—”

“There was no sign of him, child,” said Father Brien gently. “His outer garments were gone, and his ashen staff; though it seemed he took neither food nor water, nor a cloak against the cold, and he left his boots behind. I can hazard a guess at his intentions.”

For he cared not if he lived or died. But he had promised me.

“Didn’t you even look for him? Why didn’t you send for us?” I was beset with visions of Simon alone in the forest at night, surrounded by his personal demons, slowly weakening with pain and cold. Perhaps already he lay still and silent under the great oaks, with the mosses creeping over his lifeless body.

“Hush, daughter. Of course I searched; but he is a warrior, and though hampered by his injuries, knows how to disappear when he will. And how could I send for you or your brothers? I thought it most likely that he had been taken prisoner again, and brought back here by whoever came to fetch you. I have learnt from Finbar that this nearly did happen.”

“Indeed,” said Finbar. “Maybe, when he saw how easily he could be taken again, he chose this way, Sorcha. There is a breed of man that would rather die than be captive. And he was as pigheaded a fellow as I ever saw.”

“But he promised,” I said rather childishly, choking back tears. “How could he come so far, and then throw it all away?” I could not forget that I had broken my own promise. Now I knew how it felt.

Conor put a comforting arm around me. “What exactly did he promise you, little owl?”

I hiccupped. “To live, if he could.”

“You cannot know if he has broken this promise or not,” Conor said. “Probably you will never know. Hard though it is, you must put this behind you, for there is no way you can help your Briton now. Rest easy that you did for him all you could, and think of tomorrow, for we all have other tests and trials ahead of us.”

“Your brother speaks the truth,” said Father Brien. “We have no choice but to move on. There is a marriage to perform; it gives me no great pleasure to do so, but I am bidden by your father and have no grounds to refuse him. Will he speak with me alone, do you think?”