We were at the river’s edge. Cathal took my arm, tugging me toward the bobbing craft. I trembled with terror. My cowardice appalled me, but I could not make myself be brave about this. In my mind I saw the ramshackle conveyance tipping midstream and sending us into the swift-flowing water. Becan would be borne away in a heartbeat. And I could not swim.

“No,” I whispered even as we reached the raft. “There has to be another way.”

“In the name of the gods, Clodagh,” Cathal snapped, “do you have a mission or don’t you? This is it. There is no other way.”

“Stop!” The voice was loud and commanding. I looked over my shoulder and my heart froze. Aidan was standing ten strides up the bank, visible between the oddly separated sheets of rain, his brown hair plastered flat to his head, his jaw set grimly, the arrow in his hunting bow aimed squarely in our direction. “Let her go, Cathal. Now.” It was a warrior’s tone, deathly calm. The moment Cathal obeyed him, he would be ready to shoot. If Cathal would not give himself up, his best friend was going to make an end of him.

“Aidan, don’t!” I called. This couldn’t be right. Neither my father nor Johnny would have wanted Cathal dead. “Don’t do this!”

I might as well not have spoken. “Let her go, Cathal,” Aidan said again. “She’s not for you. I don’t know what you’re planning, but Clodagh has no part in it.” The bow was perfectly steady.

Cathal let go of my hand. I was between him and Aidan’s arrow. Aidan would not release it while there was a risk of hitting me. And now Cathal was giving me the choice. Be safe; go home. Forget him and his rash offer of help. Or . . .

“Get on the raft,” I said. “Left foot first. Keep behind me. Take my hand, please. I’d rather not slip and go into the water.”

His hand closed around mine again; I heard his indrawn breath. He had actually thought I would walk away. He’d really believed I would leave him facing that arrow. The raft creaked as he stepped on; I felt his grip tighten as the thing rocked and he fought for balance. A moment later I was standing there beside him, wobbling, my gut clenching in fear. Up on the bank, Aidan had lowered his bow. He looked like a man watching something dear to him perish before his eyes. His two companions had appeared behind him now, each with a straining dog on a rope. One gestured, clearly asking if the hounds should be loosed, and Aidan answered with a sharp negative.