They’d found Finbar. Something terrible had happened to him. What else would make Father shout like that? My stomach churning, I left my chamber, shutting the door firmly behind me, and hurried down to the hall.

A man stood before my father, his chest heaving, his clothing in disarray. His hair looked as if it had been singed and there was a red mark across his cheek. Johnny stood close by, in his riding clothes. There were two of Father’s men-at-arms by the door. I went quietly over to the hearth, waiting to hear the worst.

“Glencarnagh,” the man gasped. “An attack—a terrible fire—” He bent double, fighting for breath.

“Take your time, Cronan,” Father said, though alarm was written all over his face. “Johnny, where did you come upon him?”

“On the main track westward,” Johnny said. “We rode straight back here. The assault on Glencarnagh happened yesterday, at dusk. It seems many men have been killed.”

“My lord,” Cronan said, his breath still rasping, “it was utter carnage. The fire took hold so quickly . . . As we fled the house, they attacked.”

“What of Lughan and his family?” Father asked. Lughan was the steward who looked after Glencarnagh for us; I knew his wife and daughter well.

“We got them out safely, my lord. We kept watch over them in the forest until the raiders were gone. At first light Lughan sent me to give you the news.” The man took a gasping breath. “So many lost, my lord. To use fire in that way, heedless of the women and children . . . Of Lughan’s household guard, I am one of only three survivors. And the house is gone. Gone up in flames . . .” Cronan swayed where he stood.

“This man has suffered burns,” Johnny said. “He should be attended to before he tells us more.”

Father looked grim as death. “Cronan, who were these attackers?” he asked in a voice whose very quietness was frightening. If he had seemed on the verge of losing control not long ago, now he was a different man. “Can you hazard a guess? Who would dare make such a mockery of my authority?”

“I don’t know who they were, my lord. They had masks on and plain clothing. No insignia; nothing. And it was growing dark. It was a party of perhaps thirty men. We had no warning at all. They must have disabled the forward sentry posts.”