I couldn’t answer. I worked on breathing; on not fainting. Grim crouched down beside me, eyes anxious. Someone put a cup in my hand and I took a gulp. It was watered mead and tasted vile. But I did feel better. I felt much better, especially when I looked up and saw Conmael standing on the other side of the chamber, under a tapestry of strange beasts cavorting in a forest. He was leaning against the wall. His arms were crossed; his pose was nonchalant. He didn’t need to say a thing. Wouldn’t, anyway, since it was quite plain nobody else could see him except perhaps Grim, who followed my gaze then turned his eyes quickly away. Conmael nodded gravely. His face told me what he wanted to say. You are strong. You are good. You are wise. You can do this. See? I’m not worried in the slightest.

‘I’m fine now,’ I said. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

‘A long journey for you,’ said the prince. ‘Learned colleagues, might we allow Mistress Blackthorn to give her testimony first? The accused man could answer to all the charges at the end, both Lord Cadhan’s matter and the others.’

After a murmured consultation, the lawmen agreed that yes, this was acceptable to them provided Lord Cadhan agreed. Lord Cadhan said he had no objection.

‘If this is the way you conduct a hearing,’ said Mathuin, ‘then God help any man who wants justice from you. You ask him if it’s acceptable. What about me? Does my legal representative make decisions without consulting me?’

‘You prefer Mistress Blackthorn to wait, unwell as she is, until Lord Cadhan’s matter is fully resolved? You wish to speak on that matter now?’ Oran’s tone was icy. He was a young man and looked every bit the scholar, soft and kindly. I knew from experience how deceptive that could be.

‘Let the slut have her moment,’ Mathuin said, eyeing me in a way that made my flesh crawl. ‘She’s waited long enough for it. Let her tell her pack of lies. Every so-called wise woman’s got her two coppers’ worth of magic tricks. She might be good for a few moments’ entertainment. That’s all she was worth in the lockup. Or so my men said when they’d finished with her.’

I felt Grim tense; felt the rage in him. ‘No,’ I murmured. ‘No, Grim. Don’t let him do this.’ I could see how it might be: my friend hurling himself forward, using his size and strength to cast aside anyone in his way, be it king or prince or chieftain, and fastening his hands around Mathuin’s throat to make an end of the man. Thereby robbing me of the chance to testify and ensuring justice would never be done. We would not be free of this until the day we died.