‘No!’ I say, too sharply by half. ‘That is, he did, but we said no. Need to be here, with the others.’ Now I’ve said too much. A pox on night, and the dark things, and the way they mix up my head.

Donagan keeps quiet for a while. Then he says, ‘Why don’t the two of us go in and sit by the kitchen fire awhile? We could share some mead. You’re right, the fellows won’t appreciate being woken. If you want to sleep, you can roll up in a blanket on one of the benches there. If you want company, I’ll stay with you until morning. Brid’s usually in pretty early, and no doubt she’ll sweep the two of us out the door.’ And when I don’t say anything, because I’m wondering why he’d bother doing this, he goes on, ‘You’ve got a job to do, haven’t you? Spend the night out here, and you’ll be too sick to do it.’

I’m shocked. He knows about the spying job? The prince said he hadn’t told anyone.

‘Your house, I mean,’ Donagan says. ‘You want to be back in as soon as you can, don’t you?’

I let out my breath in a rush. ‘Fair point,’ I say. ‘But why should you miss your sleep?’

The torch light’s not the best, but I see the flash of Donagan’s teeth; he’s smiling. ‘Never mind that,’ he says, and I wonder if, after all, he does know the real reason we’re here. I wonder if he’s giving me a good excuse for bolting out of the sleeping quarters in the middle of the night. Because if he’s with me, the prince’s right-hand man and all, nobody’s going to ask awkward questions. Could be Prince Oran summons Donagan whenever he likes. Could be there was some reason he needed me to go with him. ‘Are you coming, or are you set on dying of cold?’ he says.

I don’t answer, but I get up, and we head for the kitchen. Fact is, the company will be welcome. Never thought, that day when I was thatching and Donagan came riding by our place with the prince, that I’d sitting up at night drinking mead with the fellow. And feeling like he’d saved me from something.

The fire’s warm, the mead’s good and the company suits me. Donagan’s not asking questions and nor am I. He finds me a blanket, I hang my wet shirt and trousers up to dry. Might look a bit odd if anyone walked in, but they don’t.

We sit there for a while, then I say, because I know I should, ‘You don’t have to wait up. You must need your sleep. Calls you pretty early, doesn’t he? Prince Oran, I mean.’