‘I came in to tell Mistress Blackthorn her horse was being well looked after.’

‘And stayed to pass the time of day, from the sound of it. Aren’t you supposed to be helping your father? Mistress Blackthorn’s come down from Wolf Glen and she’s still got to ride all the way to Winterfalls. She doesn’t have time to listen to your horse talk.’

‘What are you baking?’ Fedach asked with a grin. ‘It smells good.’

‘Not ready yet,’ said his mother. ‘Off with you, now. I’ll see you later.’

On the threshold, Fedach hesitated. ‘Do you know the girl from the big house?’ he asked me. ‘Up at Wolf Glen?’

I got in before Luíseach could speak. ‘Cara? I know her quite well,’ I said. ‘She and I are staying in Prince Oran’s household at present. Why do you ask?’

‘That’s –’ Luíseach began, but was interrupted by a man’s voice, calling her name from out the back somewhere. Muttering something under her breath, she got up and went out.

‘Cara’s like someone from an old tale, isn’t she?’ Fedach said. He leaned closer, his eyes bright, his tone confidential. ‘Like a lovely wildwood creature. She’s the one I’m going to marry, Mistress Blackthorn. Someday. If she’ll have me. That’s a secret, though. Don’t tell my mother.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Fedach. Does Cara know about this?’ It seemed unlikely; as far as I could recall, she had never mentioned this charming young man. Sadly, a farmer’s son was unlikely to meet Tóla’s requirements for a future son-in-law.

‘Oh, no. We’ve hardly spoken to each other. Her father doesn’t let her out much. But I’ve seen her at the lake, with Gormán, once or twice. Had a word or two. When it’s the right time I’ll ask her. And she’ll say yes. I know it deep down, Mistress Blackthorn.’

His shining, hopeful eyes made me sad. ‘Whatever lies in your future, I hope you will be happy, Fedach,’ I said. ‘And I hope the same for Cara.’

I waited, hands curled around my empty cup, while Fedach took his leave of his mother and went back out to the horses. I waited while Luíseach made another brew.

‘That sorrowful story you mentioned,’ I said. ‘I would be interested to hear a little more. Am I right in thinking Master Tóla hired you as wet-nurse for Bardán’s daughter, not long after that fine son of yours was born?’

Luíseach was standing opposite me, hands twisted through her apron. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘I had enough milk for two. My son and . . . the girl.’