“While our visitors are here, we’ll have an open session like this once every seven days. Next time, you Connacht men are welcome to participate. It’ll be on the basis of challenges. If you want to take part, let Rat know a few days beforehand. Choose an opponent, one of yours or one of ours. If that man accepts, the bout goes ahead. Rat, stand up.”

Rat obliged.

“Rat’s been fighting since I was a babe in swaddling,” Johnny said. “He’s in charge of the challenge days. Connacht men, we’ll expect to see each of you participate at least once before your departure.” Judging by the buzz of talk among the men, I thought Rat was likely to have more takers than there would be time for. “I’ll answer everyone’s questions after this final bout. Ready, men?”

Now it seemed Cathal was to fight, and his opponent was Kalev. As they stepped out onto the open ground, what looked like the entire complement of Inis Eala warriors came in ones and twos to settle on the benches around the practice area, until every seat was full and folk were standing all around the outside of the circle.

“Big audience,” I whispered to my sister.

“The men like to watch Cathal fight,” Clodagh murmured. She sounded calm, but she had gripped my hand hard enough to bruise me.

Both combatants wore the same kind of clothing as the other fighters had: padded wool garments with a leather breast-piece over the tunic, protective straps buckled around forearms and shins, and a cap-like leather helm. Each bore one of the lightweight swords.

Now that his bout was over, Niall had come to sit between Brenna and Alba. “Count of fifty,” I heard him say to the man behind him.

“I’ll give you seventy.”

“Done. Don’t like your chances.”

“Five-and-forty,” someone else was saying.

“Wagers?” I asked, wondering how you could lay a wager without naming the man you expected to win.

“That’s right,” Niall said, touching a clenched fist with that of the man behind him, which seemed to denote an agreement. “You don’t wager on anyone beating Cathal. Not unless he’s fighting Johnny. We put our stake on how long his opponent can last. Mind you, Johnny may have asked them to keep it going today, since this is in the nature of a demonstration. I might lose my two coppers. Doesn’t matter; I’ll win them back soon enough.”

“I see.” I watched as the two men adopted the fighting pose, swords at the ready, eyes intent on each other, ready to read a move when it was no more than a gleam in the opponent’s eye. “And if Cathal fights Johnny, who gets your wager?”