‘How could it be?’ Bardán says. Voice a wisp now, faint as faint. ‘How could my girl be dead? I was running, running. In the night. Then falling down, down . . . But she . . . she was safe. She was! She was! Safe and sound. Snug and peaceful, all wrapped up.’

I see it in my mind. The wild man running through the woods, why I don’t know, but running away from something. Could be a master who beat him, who knows? Could be his wife’s death had caught up with him, torn his heart, scrambled his thoughts. She wasn’t long gone then. Running to a place like that one Cara fell into, not an ordinary hole in the ground but an uncanny spot. A doorway. And I’m wondering. Wondering if, when a man’s scared half out of his wits, he might put his baby somewhere he thinks will be safe, or at least safer than staying with him. Planning to come back and get her later. Or hoping someone will find her in time. Or, if a man’s running so hard he can’t think straight, he might trip and drop what he’s carrying and not even notice. Just keep on running until he falls into another world. Is that possible? Wish I could ask Blackthorn.

‘Tell me,’ Bardán says. Voice like a knife now, wanting blood. ‘Tell me what happened to her.’

‘That night when you left Wolf Glen,’ I say, trying to pick the right words, ‘they said you took her with you. Your baby, who was being looked after in Tóla’s household. They said you went running off into the woods with her. They went searching straight away. Couldn’t find you. Couldn’t find her. Searched for two days. No trace of you. But they found your daughter and – I’m sorry, brother, but she was dead.’

He bows over, puts his head in his hands. No words now, but he lets out a groan, a sound that ties my guts in a knot. Someone hammers on the wall and yells, ‘Be quiet!’

Can’t even get up and make a brew, which is what I do at home when Blackthorn can’t sleep or has a nightmare. Have to go through the foresters’ quarters to do that. A pox on this place!

‘Where?’ whispers Bardán. ‘Where did they find her?’

‘Out in the woods, under an oak tree.’ I put a hand on his shoulder. He’s shaking with sobs. ‘It would’ve been cold.’

‘Wrapped up,’ he whispers. ‘Wrapped up snug and warm. Safe. She was safe. It’s a lie. It’s all a lie.’

‘You’ve been away a long time. In a strange place. They didn’t treat you kindly there. And when you first came back you didn’t remember any of that story.’