We stood at the back, beside the guards. Now that it had come to this, now that it was almost over, I felt no sense of triumph, no joy, no vindication. Instead, I felt tired and confused and a little sad. The wrongs Mathuin had done, or had caused to be done, could not be put right. I was glad he would be gone from the human realm. But this was not the only man in Erin to misuse power, to trample on those he believed to be lesser beings, to grab what he wanted and care nothing for the consequences. This was not the only man – or woman – to let entitlement blind him to a knowledge of good and evil. And if I was everything Grim and Conmael and Prince Oran believed me to be, I’d be fighting that until the day I died.

‘Mathuin of Laois.’ As Oran spoke, I did not see the young man of four-and-twenty but a leader who would one day be king of Dalriada, and likely a very fine one. I hoped his father, looking on in silence, was proud of him. ‘With due attention to the evidence brought forward, this hearing has determined you guilty on all charges. For the unprovoked assault on Lord Cadhan’s household, the loss of life, the damage to property and your consequent seizure of his lands, we pronounce this penalty. You are henceforth stripped of your chieftaincy. Your lands are forfeit to the custodianship of the High King, who will distribute them as he sees fit. Your heirs will have no future claim to title or land. Lord Cadhan’s property is restored to him from this day forward. Any attempt by you or yours to dispute this decision, or to take up arms in order to retain or reclaim land or goods, will result in severe consequences.’

Mathuin said not a word. His face showed no feelings at all. Had he expected this, or something like it? If so, his earlier performance had been remarkable. Perhaps he was so shocked he was beyond a response. Or maybe he had anticipated something worse.

‘For your offences against Mistress Blackthorn and against the many other innocent victims whose tales she has told today, Grim included, the penalty is exile for life.’

Mathuin opened his mouth to say something. Now, for the first time, Oran’s words seemed to have sunk in.

‘Do not speak,’ warned Master Bress.

‘You will be delivered forthwith into the custody of Lord Conmael of Underhill, who will convey you to the place of exile. It is far from here. I do not imagine we will meet again, Mathuin of Laois.’

‘Now wait a moment –’ Mathuin began.

‘These proceedings are concluded.’ Oran’s quiet voice cut through the protest like a knife through soft butter. ‘I thank you all for your attendance and cooperation.’

‘Guards,’ said Donagan, ‘take the prisoner out. Lord Conmael is waiting.’