‘It was hardly going to be a castle or a fleet of ships or a parcel of land – how could the Red Giant keep any of those in a cave? Even the horse or dog would be tricky. The sun was going down, sinking into the west. A golden light shone on the rocks around the cave mouth; it would soon be dusk, and it would be over the cliff for Dougal.’

‘Down,’ murmurs Bardán. ‘Down, way down.’ I can see his jaw clenching again; I need to get this finished quick.

‘It came to Dougal, a bit late, that he’d been foolish to think a beautiful fey woman was ever going to want to wed him. What was he, after all? An ordinary shepherd, not handsome, not wealthy, not magical in any way. Folk called him kind. They called him dependable. They called him a good friend in time of need. But he was hardly the husband for a woman lovelier than springtime and more graceful than a swallow. Maybe he should say this to the Red Giant.’

‘A good husband,’ Bardán says, surprising me. ‘Kind, dependable. That was what she wanted.’

I’m about to tell the next part when I see Gormán coming over from the barn. ‘We’ve got company,’ I say, finishing my ale and setting the cup on the tray. ‘Tell you the rest tomorrow.’

‘Full of theories,’ Bardán said. ‘Everyone in the village. She’d fly off one night and leave him on his own. She’d abandon her child. She’d turn the milk sour and curse the cattle so they dropped dead calves. But she didn’t. He was a good husband, and she was a good wife. She was the one got them out of that place. Why would she want to go back?’

I’m trying to warn him to shut up, hold his tongue, but he keeps on talking, telling a story that’s a bit like the other one but not the same, and now Gormán’s here, not looking pleased at all.

‘A word of warning,’ he says. ‘Break the rules and you’ll be out of a job,’ he nods in my direction, ‘and you,’ he looks at Bardán, ‘will be in all kinds of trouble.’

I don’t like this. Don’t like it one bit. ‘Lose the two of us,’ I say, keeping it quiet-like, ‘and the master won’t get his heartwood house built. Thought he wanted it finished, every part just so. Taking a break, telling a tale or two, what could be wrong with that?’

Gormán looks a bit discomforted. ‘A tale? Depends what it is. Best if you keep your minds on the job. That’s what he wants.’