‘Had Branoc not taken it into his head to confess to the offence of burning the cottage,’ said Master Tassach with a grimace, ‘I’d have been in a position to argue for a lower fine or a shorter period of service. As it is, I have no alternative but to agree to your terms. They seem perfectly appropriate.’

‘I’m satisfied with the decision,’ said Master Cael.

We sat in silence for a few moments. Then the prince said, ‘Donagan, will you call in the scribe? Let’s have this in writing before we return to open council.’

I wanted to congratulate Prince Oran on not being like other men of power; to thank all of them for seeing the truth of this matter and reaching a just resolution. They did not realise, perhaps, how unusual that was. It was hard to find the words. He was the future king of Dalriada. I was a witch and a meddler. And not so long ago, I had been that wretched creature in Mathuin’s lockup.

‘Should we leave now, my lord?’ I asked.

The prince took an assessing look at me. ‘Sit here awhile if you will; have something to eat and drink. It will take a little time to prepare the document. That’s a big crowd of folk out there, all of them doubtless talking at once, and I imagine you’d rather not be in the middle of it. Where is young Emer?’

‘Her brother’s looking after her. Thank you, my lord.’ Right now, it wasn’t so difficult to speak politely. ‘And thank you for your wise judgement.’

‘Ah, well,’ said the prince, and for some reason he sounded sad. ‘We all played a part in that.’

25 Oran

25

~ORAN~

It was nearly dusk, and the household was quiet at last. The council was over and the folk of the district had headed home. Tomorrow the lawmen would ride back to Cahercorcan. With them would go a message to my father on the matter of Branoc. Within a few days I would send the prisoner himself, appropriately guarded. Having that man in my house was like harbouring vermin; I could not wait to see him gone.

I made my way up the track toward the burial ground. There was time to get there and back before nightfall, though if Bramble kept stopping to investigate interesting smells under bushes, we might be running all the way home.

‘Come, Bramble!’

She trotted after me, tail held high, eyes bright: a different dog from the frightened, aggressive creature Flidais had brought into my house. Perhaps, when it was time for Aunt Sochla to go home, I should suggest she take Bramble with her. That would be kinder. And my aunt’s household always had room for one more.