‘Isn’t there someone who would take over the job of miller at Silverlake?’ I asked, remembering that there was a story attached to that mill; a tragic one, the miller killed in some gruesome way and the place more or less abandoned. It had happened not long before I moved to Winterfalls in preparation for my marriage. ‘Couldn’t one of your assistants get everything working again, Scannal, while you keep your own place going? I understand there are living quarters at the old mill that could be refurbished.’ The land on which the Silverlake mill stood was in my gift. If the previous miller – what was his name, Ernan? – had died and the place had been allowed to run down, it was for me to determine its future. ‘Did Ernan not have sons?’ I remembered, then, something about a daughter.

‘He had no boys, only the girl. Ness. Turned to the bad. We’ll see no more of her.’

I was not quite sure what turned to the bad meant. ‘She’s no longer in the district?’

‘Gone off with the travelling folk, that was the story put about at the time,’ said Iobhar. ‘Though it was the wrong season for them to be here. But she had a fellow that was sweet on her, one of the travellers. Maybe he came on his own and fetched her away, who knows?’

‘She helped herself to her dad’s life savings before she went,’ put in someone sourly. ‘A traveller boy would come a long way for that.’

‘So it appears there’s no claimant to the mill,’ I said. ‘But generally, folk would agree that we do need a mill in Silverlake as well as Scannal’s place here, yes? There is enough work for both?’

‘That’s how it’s always been, my lord,’ Scannal said. ‘Two mills and two bakers. Until Ernan died, that is. Branoc’s fussy about his flour; too fussy for me, to tell you the truth. I could do without having to grind his special blends when I’ve got a big order for oaten flour or barley meal on hand. Problem is, nobody will take Ernan’s mill on. Not after what happened.’

‘Crushed to blood and splinters,’ said Deaman the baker. ‘Who’d want to be using that grindstone again?’

As a man, I found myself in perfect agreement. As a prince, I understood the wastefulness of leaving a perfectly good mill to rot away in disuse. ‘We’ll discuss this further at the council, when folk from Silverlake are present. Meanwhile, think about how we might remedy the situation. For instance, we might call Master Oisin or the local wise woman to conduct a cleansing ritual at the mill and set poor Ernan’s spirit to rest. Or, in the shorter term, we might find a way to persuade Branoc to hire his own carter. That would go some way toward ameliorating your problem, Scannal.’