She sits there quietly while I struggle to obey. Pain attends each inward gasp; I consider the elements of it, the tight band around my chest, the raw, burned sensation in my throat, the twinge up my neck and at my temple.

“You’re fortunate to be alive,” Clodagh says, touching her cool cloth to my brow. “Sibeal saved your life.”

Sibeal! I don’t intend to speak the name aloud, but perhaps my lips form the shape of it, because her eyes widen.

“You do understand,” she murmurs. “Sibeal thought you might have some Irish. She’s gone off for the day. To the seer’s cave, to pray and meditate. She will be back by supper time.”

A dark-haired man enters, and Clodagh gets up to greet him. “Cathal!”

I watch them as they talk. When Cathal looks at Clodagh, his eyes soften. She turns the same tender gaze on him. She is heavy with child. Husband and wife, I think. There is a strangeness about Cathal, a touch of the night forest, the mist over the lake, the forbidden well. He puts me in mind of Sibeal’s striking tale. Now he is telling his wife that she looks tired and should be resting, not tending to me.

“Muirrin’s coming back soon,” she says calmly. “I’m fine, Cathal. You know how hard I find it to be idle.”

Cathal glowers. He looks formidable. “What about the child?”

“Women dig gardens and weave blankets and gather crops all the time, and the children they carry are none the worse for it,” Clodagh tells him, formidable in her turn. “I will do perfectly well here until Muirrin gets back. Don’t you have some work of your own to do, with these visitors due any day?”

“Dear one,” Cathal says, putting his arms around her, “I’m sorry. I can’t help worrying.” He touches the place where her gown covers the shape of the child. “I’d keep guard over the two of you day and night if I could.”

She returns the embrace, and I avert my gaze. The moment is tender, beautiful. It is not for my eyes.

“Go on, Cathal,” Clodagh says to her husband. “Johnny needs you.”

With some reluctance, he goes. Clodagh approaches with a bowl of the brew they’ve been spooning into my mouth as if I were an infant. She feeds me a few mouthfuls, a wretched process for both of us. I swallow obediently and am soon exhausted. She helps me lie back. “Sleep now,” she says. She mimes it, head pillowed on hands. “I’ll be here if you need anything. Rest well.”