There was some discussion. The two fellows set out their arguments, which had to do with rights of way and wandering cattle. My mind was wandering too, away from a matter that was of little interest to me and back to the past, where I didn’t want it to go. A hearing in front of Mathuin, chieftain of Laois. My hands bound behind my back, as if they believed I might leap forward and strangle the man even with guards on either side of me. My gut churning with hate as I looked my enemy in the face and thought, How can he not see the truth in my eyes? How can he not know that the day he killed my dear ones, he ripped out my heart?

The prince was saying something about putting in another gate. Grim leaned forward, looking at me across Emer. His brows went up as if to ask again if I was all right. I managed a stiff nod. He may once have been known as Bonehead, but Grim was remarkably quick to notice things. It was a wisdom that had nothing to do with book learning, but came from much deeper down. It made me uncomfortable. It made me wish I hadn’t told him my story.

The two farmers had agreed to what the prince proposed. They clasped hands, clapped each other on the shoulder, then returned to their seats. Aedan called up the next pair to be heard.

Another farmer – Brocc – gave an account of how three of his best breeding ewes had been attacked and mauled at dusk, only two days ago. He accused a neighbour – Cliona – of letting her dogs stray onto his fields. Cliona swore that her dogs were always kennelled before dusk, and that they could not have been responsible for the losses. It seemed nobody had actually seen the attack take place. Brocc had stumbled upon the dead and injured animals later.

‘At what time did you find them?’ asked the prince. ‘Later that night, or in the morning?’

‘Same night, my lord. Heard barking, but by the time I got out there with a lantern, the dogs were gone. Had to slit one ewe’s throat, put her out of her agony. Another was already dead. The third I’ve got in the barn, with a nasty wound to the foreleg.’ He glared at Cliona, who scowled back at him.

‘Could not this attack have been carried out by animals from further afield?’ asked Master Tassach. ‘By wild dogs, perhaps, or even wolves?’

‘It’s her dogs,’ said Brocc, hands on hips. ‘Must be.’

‘Why are you so certain?’ asked the prince.

‘She’s got those long-legged herding hounds. Sprinters. Jumpers. Over the wall in the blink of an eye. Besides, woman trying to farm on her own, stands to reason.’