Outside my door, crouched in a corner of the drafty passageway, was Linn. I almost missed her, for she was cowering in the shadows, but my ears caught her faint whimper.

“What is it, Linn? What’s wrong?” I looked closer, and gasped at the great oozing weal that cut across her face from above one eye to the corner of her mouth. Her teeth gleamed through a gashed, bloody lip.

I coaxed her out; she was shivering and flinched even from my friendly touch, but I kept talking quietly, and stroking her gently, and eventually I got her over to the old stables where Padriac greeted me with the shocked outrage I expected. Muttering about certain people and why they shouldn’t be allowed near animals, and what he’d do to them when he found out who they were, my youngest brother neatly cleaned and stitched the wound while I held poor Linn still and talked to her of green fields and bones. Padriac was very efficient, but it still took a long time. After he was finished, the dog heaved a great sigh, drank half a bowl of water, and settled down in the straw next to the donkey.

It was dusk now and I reminded Padriac that we’d better clean ourselves up for supper; the lady Oonagh frowned on lateness. As we turned to go, there was Cormack, standing back in the shadows, his face linen-white.

“How long have you been there?” I asked, surprised.

“She’s well enough,” said Padriac, and there was a strange edge to his voice. “Why don’t you pat your dog, let her know you’re here to see her? Why don’t you do that, brother?”

There was an awkward silence, and then “I can’t,” said Cormack in a strained voice.

I looked from one of them to the other.

“What’s going on?” I asked, bewildered.

“Ask him,” said Padriac furiously. “Ask him why he won’t come in and touch his own dog. The guilt’s written on his face, plain to see. This is his handiwork. Forgive me if I don’t stay to chat.” And he was gone, brushing past his elder brother as if he were not there.

“Can this be true?” I said, horrified and incredulous. “Did you do this, Cormack?” Surely Padriac was wrong. It was Cormack who had saved this dog from drowning, Cormack who had raised her from a small pup, Cormack whose steps she followed with slavish devotion. My brothers might show little mercy to their enemies on the field, but they would never willfully hurt a creature in their charge.

I stared mutely as Cormack made his way over to the stalls and stood looking down at his damaged hound. He held his arms around himself as if unable to get warm, and when I moved closer I could see that his cheeks were wet.

“You did do it,” I whispered. “Cormack, how could you? She is a good dog, faithful and true, and sweet-tempered. What possessed you to hurt her?”