After breakfast I gathered my household together as Donagan had suggested. I congratulated my folk on their hard work and praised their forbearance in a time of significant change. Nobody was in any doubt as to the challenges presented by the royal visit – that the king and queen were my parents made no difference. Winterfalls would be crammed with folk, and they’d all need to be well looked after. It would, I suspected, be particularly trying for people who were used to running an establishment with minimal interference to find their house full of someone else’s serving folk, who would inevitably bring their own ideas on how everything should be organised, and who might not take kindly to direction from, say, Aedan or Eochu.

‘My lord,’ said Aedan, ‘what about the next open council? Will you be delaying that until everything returns to normal?’

‘I don’t think we need delay it,’ I said. The councils were held at full moon, which gave us nearly twenty days until the next one. The open gatherings were important; they gave all who lived on my land the opportunity to bring their problems to me and to be heard. We held them in the main hall at Winterfalls and they were always attended by a great number of folk, some of whom, I was fairly sure, came only to catch up on the latest gossip.

Attendances had increased markedly since we’d started serving refreshments when the formal part of the proceedings was over. The settlement of Silverlake had a baker of exceptional skill. Branoc, a man born and raised in Armorica, did not bother with everyday loaves, but specialised solely in cakes. His creations were small miracles of the pastry cook’s art. In my mother’s opinion, such masterpieces were wasted on the ordinary folk who attended my councils, and the provision of them was yet another example of my being too soft in my dealings with such people. I disagreed. The refreshments allowed time for everyone to mingle and chat, to discuss openly the issues that had arisen and to come to terms with my decisions. This helped maintain a healthy, happy community. The quality of Branoc’s cakes ensured good attendances. I had tried to explain this to my mother, but she had simply thrown up her hands with a sigh, as if my ways were beyond understanding. ‘And we’ll hold the following council as planned,’ I told Aedan, ‘even though that will be very close to the hand-fasting. When Flidais and I return from court, we could have a celebration for everyone, with a bonfire, feasting and dancing.’

‘The travelling folk may be camped in these parts by then,’ said Niall, my farmer. ‘There are some fine musicians among them; you could ask them to play, my lord.’

‘And buy a couple of fine yearlings while you’re about it,’ put in Eochu.