I reached the infirmary to find it full of quiet activity: women putting sheets on pallets, sweeping the stone floor, clearing space. My eldest sister, Muirrin, stood at the workbench preparing poultices while a young helper checked the supply of bandages. A pot steamed on the fire; a fragrant smell of healing herbs filled the air.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Nothing here until they start bringing in the survivors,” said Muirrin. Her black hair was scraped back under a neat head-cloth; a capacious homespun apron protected her gown. She was a picture of orderly calm.

“Where’s Evan?” I asked, not seeing the tall, dark-skinned figure of her husband among the helpers.

“He went out in one of the boats. It helps to have a skilled healer there as soon as they pick the survivors up.”

It had looked a substantial ship, with many oars. Norse, I guessed. Such a vessel would require a big crew. Each of the island boats had capacity for only a few passengers. The work of bringing back the survivors might take some time.

I headed for the kitchen, where my sister Clodagh was helping Biddy, cook and matriarch of the island establishment, to prepare food. A great cauldron bubbled on an iron trivet. Biddy was kneading a large lump of dough, her hands pummeling and punching with a violence that suggested her attention, like mine, was on those poor souls out there in the water. Clodagh had been chopping vegetables, but she had laid down her knife and was staring out between open shutters. The breeze caught strands of her fiery hair, tossing them around her face. One hand rested on the swell of her belly. Her child, and Cathal’s, would be born within two turnings of the moon.

“Can I help?” I asked Biddy.

“You could talk to your sister,” Biddy said, glancing in Clodagh’s direction.

I walked over to the window. “Clodagh? Are you all right?” I followed her gaze. There was a view from here down the track to the anchorage. Across the water, the small boats were making steady progress toward the reef. The stricken ship looked almost submerged. I thought I could make out dots in the water, men swimming or floating, but the wash of the waves around those rocks made it hard to be sure.