‘Nice lady, you think? You’d be surprised.’

‘I would?’

He leans closer, drops his voice to a whisper. ‘Saw ’em in the stables at the brewery, up against a wall, him and her, at it like ferrets. Or not ferrets, maybe, but you catch my drift. She was on her knees, giving him a suck, going at him as if she knew what she was doing. Funny thing was, it was her wanting it, not the prince. He was arguing with her, trying to push her away. Stupid, eh? What man in his right mind would turn that down?’

I’m too shocked to say anything, so I just sit there pretending to eat.

‘Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’ Pátraic goes on. ‘About the prince, I mean. Maybe he’s one of those men that like other fellows. There’s that serving man of his, Donagan, always hanging about.’

Has to be a mistake. That’s my first thought. Lady Flidais? Young, high-born and betrothed to the king’s heir? Hardly. Even if she fancied a bit of that, she’d never be so foolish as to do it in a stable yard where anyone could – and did – see them. ‘Have you told anyone else?’ I ask.

‘Not a soul. Been tempted, once or twice. Wondered if I was imagining things at the time. But I wasn’t. I heard him say, Stop it, Flidais!’

This is something Blackthorn needs to know. So I need to think fast and ask the right questions. ‘Bit of a surprise,’ I say. ‘When was this? Didn’t think Lady Flidais rode out much.’

‘A while back. After they were betrothed. The prince was in the village to have a drink with the fellows and talk about the next council. He brought Lady Flidais with him.’

‘Mm. Might be best if you don’t tell anyone else. Seeing as the lady has to live here, I mean. Might make some folk think badly of her. Or of him.’

‘Mm-hm. More ale?’

‘Nah, better get to work on that table.’