Eoin’s happy enough to sit on the wall and watch me working. And bit by bit the story comes out. How they had a choice of ways to Winterfalls, and Lady Flidais wanted to go through the wood because of something in a letter. How she bade them stop when they came to the pool; how she seemed entranced by it, saying it was so beautiful it was like a poem all in itself.

‘Then she said she’d like to bathe, and who was going in with her? The other ladies didn’t want to, but Ciar was always up for a challenge. Lady Flidais told us to get down and rest the horses a while, and turn our backs while she and Ciar had their swim. So we did, and there was some splashing and laughing, and then Deirdre screamed, and Nuala yelled out, “I can’t see them! They’ve gone under!” and when I turned around, there was nothing out there but some ripples. Got my cloak off, bent down to pull off my boots. When I stood up, there was Lady Flidais, swimming back, and there was the dog scrambling out on the other side. But no sign at all of Ciar.’

You know those times when you come out of a tunnel or a cave or a dark place, and suddenly there’s daylight and a view like you’ve never seen in your life before? This was like that. Sent my head into a real spin. Had to work hard not to let out an oath. ‘A dog went swimming too?’

‘Lady Flidais’s terrier, Bramble, you know the one. Wouldn’t be parted from her. Like a shadow. Back then, anyway.’

‘What happened next?’

‘I went in, being the strongest swimmer out of the escort. Ciar was under the water, couldn’t see her at all. Found her quite quick, though, dragged her out, laid her down on the shore. Domnall tried to squeeze out the water, get her breathing again, but no. Mistress Blackthorn came not long after that, had a look, said it was too late. Never seen anyone drown so fast.’

I’m full of wanting to rush back to Winterfalls and tell Blackthorn. This is the answer. That little dog, that scrap of a thing that sits on Prince Oran’s knee and toddles around after his aunt, it’s . . . Danu have mercy. All this time. Starts all kinds of questions in my mind, too many questions.

‘Sad story, Eoin,’ I say, putting my back into digging. ‘But you couldn’t have done any more for her.’

‘Weighs on me a bit,’ Eoin says. ‘Lovely girl, Ciar, a bit wild, not the sort you’d take home to meet your mother, but full of life. Too young to die.’

‘So you brought her back to Winterfalls, and she was buried there.’