“Ciarán,” I said, “this is Felix. He is a scholar from Armorica. Felix, this is my kinsman and teacher Ciarán, of whom I’ve told you.” Even the semblance of calm deserted me; my voice shook.

All along the shore, women were embracing their men, men were hoisting their children onto their shoulders, mothers were greeting sons, and warriors who had stayed at home were slapping the adventurers on the back and talking about jugs of ale and the exchange of stories. The Connacht men were mingling with the rest. The place was awash with relief and delight, save for here, where the three of us stood in our own little world. Ciarán and Felix exchanged a look. What was yet unspoken filled the air with tension.

“Sibeal, you have a new niece.” Evan came up, smiling broadly. “And a new nephew.”

My jaw dropped. “Twins?”

“They were born on the sixth night after you sailed. Clodagh’s well. I’m not sure I can say the same for Cathal; he looked deeply shocked. You’ll want to come and see them straightaway. I’ll take you.”

Twins. No wonder my sister had grown so large. “Are they healthy?”

“They’re healthy indeed. And it won’t surprise you to learn that Clodagh’s the most capable of mothers. There was a certain point in the process when she cursed Cathal for his absence, but all’s well now. And their hut is finished. She wanted to be in her own place. Shall I carry that bag for you?”

“I’ll take it.” Felix relieved me of the bag, then melted away into the crowd.

“Who is he?” Ciarán was walking beside me as we followed Evan up the steep path to the settlement.

This was not the obvious question it seemed.

“You’ll have heard the story,” I said. “Unless you only just arrived.”

“I have been here a few days. It’s earlier than we arranged. I hope that does not inconvenience you, Sibeal. If you wish, I will be happy to remain on Inis Eala until the end of summer. I need to talk to Cathal, and to Johnny.”

“Once you’ve done that we may as well go,” I said, failing utterly to match his equable tone. Why delay the pain of parting? Whether it happened tomorrow or the next day or at summer’s bitter end, it would hurt no less.

He gave me a sideways look. “Is something troubling you, Sibeal?”

“No.”

“We’ll talk soon,” Ciarán said quietly. “First you must see your sister.” He glanced at me and added, “Clodagh will want to look on smiling faces.”