The solution was to write. I had long maintained a record of my work. The healer’s craft was not static in nature. Each salve, each solution, each remedy changed and progressed and improved each time it was prepared and applied. It was like a story told and retold over the years, passed from grandmother to mother to daughter. A wise woman would not be worthy of that name if she could not learn from her mistakes; if she did not keep on striving to find new and better ways. It might be a matter of gathering a herb just a little later in the season, or taking only the leaves from the very tip of each branch. It might be a decision to bruise a root before chopping it, or to make the slightest change in the proportions of a salve. Small variations, small risks could lead to significant improvements.

Since Grim and I had taken up residence in the cottage I had been keeping a record of the preparations I made, the folk I tended to and the results. My notebook had survived the fire; it had been in the bag I’d carried over to Silverlake that day. My writing materials had burned with the house, but the prince had replaced them.

The other women did not know how much I loathed company. They were ignorant of the truth: that if I’d had a real choice in the matter, I’d have been out in the woods on my own, not shut within four walls listening to their silly chatter. No, that was not quite true. Given a real choice, I’d be back in Laois seeing justice done. Seven years. Seven interminable, suffocating years. Where would I get the strength?

I took pains to tell the women the place was ideal for writing. The same light that enabled them to do their fine embroidery, their weaving and spinning, would allow me to complete my day’s record neatly and read over my previous notes. It seemed to be convincing, for nobody challenged my presence there. That did not mean they went out of their way to welcome me, but I had not expected that. Seeking a wise woman’s advice over an ailment was one thing; making her your friend was quite another.