“Still determined to think the worst of me, I see.” Cathal spoke quietly, as if there might still be men out there to overhear him. “Clodagh, you need better shelter, for the child especially. I can’t take you home, but I can walk with you to wherever you’re going and make sure you don’t come to harm in the dark. I have the wherewithal to make a fire.”

“So do I. But I wasn’t planning to light a fire tonight. They might see it.”

“Who, our little hunting party out there? Why would you be afraid of Aidan? The fellow’s besotted with you. And I don’t imagine it’s my safety you’re concerned about. How much further were you planning to go?”

There seemed no point in holding back this information. Becan would certainly be safer if I had someone with me for the last part of the walk, over the stream and up through the forest in the dark. I told Cathal where I thought the rock wall was. “There will be moonlight soon,” I said. “We should wait until then. And this is not Finbar. It’s something that was left in his place.”

“Something?” I felt him lean closer and reach out to touch the shawl I had wrapped around the child. “What do you mean, Clodagh?”

“I’ll show you when we get up there. He’s a . . . I think he’s a changeling. But when I told them, nobody would believe me. They would have thrown him away.”

The darkness grew deeper; shadows wrapped our hiding place, sealing us off from the outer world. The silence drew out. I could not even hear Cathal’s breathing. After some time I asked, “Are you all right, Cathal? You’re not injured, are you?”

“A changeling,” he said flatly.

“A baby made out of sticks, stones and leaves,” I said, waiting for him to tell me how implausible that was. “Left in Finbar’s place while you and I were . . . saying goodbye outside the door. Father suspects you were involved. He thinks you deliberately distracted me at a critical moment. Everyone believes it was a political abduction, even Johnny.”

“If this changeling is visible, why don’t they believe your story?” His tone was calm. Beyond the opening in the rock, a faint silvery light spread across the ground. The moon was rising over the forest. An owl hooted somewhere up in the oaks, and another replied.

“To them he looks like a roughly made manikin, not a living child. And I’m the only one who can hear his voice, apart from you. Even Sibeal couldn’t, though she believed me when I told her what he was.” Another long silence. The moonlight brightened. “Cathal, there might be enough light out there for us to find our way,” I said. “We should go; it’s not getting any warmer.”