Ardal. I wanted Ardal. I wanted to talk to him, just the two of us alone. I wanted to release the churning mass of guilt and confusion that was building inside me. Ardal would listen without judging me. I could tell him anything. He would hold my hand and make me feel better again. But that made no sense at all. It was upside down and back to front, and I did not want to consider what it meant. I clutched my cup more tightly, wondering when my hands would stop shaking. A druid. Almost a druid. Falling apart like an overwrought child.

I was not accustomed to feeling this way, almost as if I were drowning. Summon a simple technique, Sibeal, something you know so well you can do it without thinking. A pattern of breathing, slow and steady. That was the key to calm. It was the first thing every novice learned in the nemetons.

It wouldn’t come. My heart raced, my head whirled, my body was possessed by bouts of shivering. I was on the verge of tears. It would not do. Soon I must face Johnny. Eat. Drink. Be calm, I ordered myself. I nibbled the newly baked roll Biddy brought me. I sipped my ale. When I had achieved some measure of control over my wayward thoughts, I asked myself why a fit young man, with friends and skill and, I supposed, a good future ahead of him, would wander off, lose his balance and fall to his death.

After a while someone came to fetch me, and there was an awkward interview in which Clodagh and I sat at a table with Johnny and the leader of the Connacht men, with one or two others in attendance, and I gave my account of what had happened. I felt as if I were somewhere else, watching myself as I spoke calmly and precisely, not forgetting any detail. It was obvious how Rodan had died. I had no idea why. Perhaps his friends could cast some light on that.

I agreed to conduct a burial rite next day. Rodan had not been a man of faith, but his father followed the old ways, and the Connacht chieftain wanted to be able to tell the family their son had been laid to rest with appropriate prayers. I expressed my sympathy for the loss, and the three Connacht warriors who were present thanked me. It had been necessary to explain to them that I was a seer, and that a flash of Sight had led me to the fallen man. I did not say that I had seen the vision before, several times, and had mentioned it to nobody. When we were done, Johnny walked to the door with me, and before I went out, he said in an undertone, “We’ll speak further of this, Sibeal.”