‘How was it a favour?’ I ask. ‘Seeing as you needed him to build your heartwood house? Wasn’t Bardán the only one with the know-how?’

‘He was the only one. But unreliable. Up and down in his moods. One day eaten up with anger, the next curled up in a corner weeping. Don’t know that I would have taken him on, other things being equal. No certainty of getting the work out of him.’

I don’t ask a question this time, though I’ve got plenty.

‘What happened was this.’ Gormán speaks up at last. ‘Bardán appeared on the doorstep with a little tiny baby in his arms. His wife was dead – she was a local girl, from Longwater, so we knew of them. He’d had a goat for a bit, kept the child alive on his own, but he couldn’t cope anymore. Asked for help. Said he’d work for his keep and his daughter’s. We asked why the child couldn’t go to her mother’s kinsfolk who lived not far off. But Bardán didn’t want that. Said if he handed her over they’d steal her away, not let him near her. Could have been true. The folk over at Longwater thought him odd. He was odd. They might have thought the child would be better off growing up in her grandmother’s household.’

‘Bardán was her father,’ I can’t help saying. No wonder the wild man was sad or angry most of the time. Who wouldn’t be? Wife newly in the grave, tiny babe to look after, folk turning their backs on him. Poor sod.

‘I took them in,’ says Tóla. ‘Bardán to live at Wolf Glen and build the heartwood house. His daughter to be looked after in my household. That was before Cara came along. My wife was a warm-hearted woman, generous and kind. She arranged everything for the child. And for some time it all went as planned. Bardán was moody, stubborn, difficult. But he worked hard and he knew what he was doing. The little girl thrived under the good care of our folk.’

Something bad’s coming, it’s on his face and in his voice. Something so bad that Tóla doesn’t say it himself. He gives Gormán a nod instead.