My mind’s on home, the glow of the fire, the smell of supper cooking, Blackthorn saying Get those wet things off, big man, you’re dripping all over the floor. I ride around the path that skirts the wood. Ripple sees home and gets her heart back all of a sudden. Sprints ahead.

‘Well done, Mercy,’ I tell the horse, giving her a pat on the shoulder. ‘Give you a rest and a rub down, eh, before I take you over to Scannal’s?’

I come closer. Dusk’s falling now, but there’s no light from inside the cottage. No smoke from the chimney. Door closed against the rain, which is fair enough. But she’d have the lamp lit. Always does, so I can see my way home. Ripple’s at the door, barking to be let in, but nobody’s opening up.

I get off Mercy’s back, lead her in under the eaves, tether her where it’s dryish. Heart hammering now, which is foolish. She’ll have been called to someone ailing or to a childbed. Had to leave in a hurry. Maybe she’s left me a message. Something simple that I can read for myself. ‘All right, girl,’ I tell Ripple. ‘Quiet now.’ I open the door. Hands clumsy with cold, shaking on the latch.

Nobody home. Fire’s out. Been out a while, no glow under the ash blanket. No sign of supper, not even the makings of it. Must have been an urgent call. It happens. It’s the nature of the job. Shut it, I say to my stupid thoughts. They’re busy telling me all the bad things this could be. She’s alone somewhere out in the rain with a broken leg. She’s rushed off south to find Mathuin of Laois. Again. Only this time she’s gone too far to be stopped. She’s decided she wants to be on her own. Doesn’t want me around, getting in the way, needing her too much. If I lose her, I can’t go on. Not even now, when I’ve started to sort myself out.

I make myself breathe slow. Weigh it up. A cold, wet horse, no fire, not much fodder for Mercy. A wet ride over the fields to Scannal’s. But there’s a warm stable and a good feed there. Mercy’s carried me for an hour in the rain already. And she’s not my horse. Also, someone at Scannal’s might know where Blackthorn’s gone. If they don’t, I’ll go to the settlement, drop in at the smith’s, ask Emer. Only thing is, if Blackthorn gets home while I’m out, she’ll be the one coming in to a dark house, no fire, no supper. Be happier if I could get the place warm and bright for her.