As for Donagan, he listened to me, which as much as I had hoped for. He listened while I told him the old tale of the brothers and the boar and explained what it might mean, and he listened while I told him what I had not told Blackthorn: the shameful and bitter story of how false Flidais had come to me by night, twice, and how I had let desire be my master. When I was finished, he said, ‘I know,’ and poured me a cup of mead. And when I asked him to come with me on the night of full moon, and to arrange horses for four, and explained what he should say if anyone asked why we were riding out at such an hour, he said he would do it. He did not tell me whether he believed the plan might work and I did not ask. I simply accepted what he offered and felt my heart ease a little.

It was as well there were no grave matters to be heard at the council, for my mind was leaping here, there and everywhere. Donagan helped, as did Aedan, keeping the proceedings moving along, asking the questions I forgot to ask, making suggestions when I had none. Ciar sat beside me, demure in a gown of russet brown with her hair in a plait down her back. She smiled and nodded, contributing little. The mood was muted, and the council concluded early.

Our departure for court in the morning would require a great deal of work. I let the folk of the district know that after the next council we would have a feast, with music and dancing. We provided mead and oatcakes, then sent them all home. The folk of the household busied themselves with packing up and preparing for the journey. They were too busy to think of asking awkward questions.

The most difficult moment, for me, was encountering my aunt, with Bramble, in the hallway. Aunt Sochla asked if I was planning to take the dog with me to Cahercorcan or leave her here at Winterfalls.

‘I know Lady Flidais has lost her enthusiasm for the creature,’ she said. ‘If you prefer, Bramble can ride along with me and I will house her with my other dogs. It will be a shock to her at first, I imagine, but she’ll cope. Bramble may be happier there, Oran. Your father’s court is full of hunting hounds and the like. And Flidais . . .’