‘Tír Mallacht was fortunate in that it hadn’t suffered the woes of famine or illness common to the country at large. I theorise that their isolation kept them safe. They were a self-sufficient people and practised no contact with other communities. Survival of the narrow-minded, you might say, but they fared better than most. The young grew old and only then did their souls depart, leaving behind them families and fond memories, and a sense of loss that could in time be accepted.

‘All good things, however, as I’m sure you both know, cannot last forever. It is one of life’s painful little truths, I dare say.

‘Tír Mallacht was no exception in this regard. And there came a time of unprecedented sadness, when death was not reserved strictly for the aged. In a few short weeks, six lives were lost without any recognisable ailment. Naturally, they feared that disease had finally found them. The more devout turned to their priest for answers as though God’s will were accountable.

‘So often in those weeks, he would spend his evening hours giving counsel to those in need. There were times – as he departed their homes – that Brendan marked a presence; the silhouette of another trespassing on their land. Each sighting preceded another loss of life. It was the only element that tied these tragedies together.

‘His body was tall and spindly. The head, though impossible to discern by the moonlight alone, was without hair. The man didn’t resemble anyone that the priest knew to live in the village. Not anyone that he had met, that is.

‘He kept vigil over the man’s home in the hope of resolving his suspicions face to face. He was certain – as only a man of good faith could be – that there had to be an innocent explanation.

‘Good people see the good in others. They search for it, even when it isn’t there. You could say that Brendan was a shepherd who didn’t believe in black sheep.

‘But days passed and the stranger neither came nor went. The priest’s fears began to fester. So many lives had already been lost. Would God have forgiven him if another were to die because he had failed to act?

‘Atop his pulpit, facing a full church, he aired his wariness of the stranger, beseeching the opinions of all those present, confident that someone could put his fears to rest. The man was a fool, so desperate for reassurance that he spoke without a thought ceded to consequence. His parishioners trusted his word without question. Each one eager to share and support his suspicions.

‘Worried whispers passed between the pews until a child made her voice heard. The girl’s mother urged her to speak. Everyone listened, their priest included, still ignorant as to the events he had now set in motion.