“I met one of them this morning,” I said as I dried myself off and got back into my clothes. “The wee folk. A healer, out gathering herbs just like me. When I tried to talk to her she wouldn’t answer. Seemed to be telling me she was forbidden to speak to me. But she gave me a message anyway.” I told him about the ogham letters and what I’d guessed they meant. “When she heard Onchú coming she ran away. She was scared of him.”

“But not scared of you,” Grim said. “Stopped to listen, didn’t she? And to give you a clue.”

“A clue to what? That’s what I can’t work out.”

“Our king is captive in the thorn. If it’s the king of the wee folk, who’d want to lock him up? Could it be like that story with the clurichauns, two tribes of them at war? Maybe there’s a whole other part to this. Something Geiléis doesn’t know anything about.”

The silence drew out as we considered this possibility. We changed places; he bathed, I got everything ready for a brew, though I would not make it until after supper.

“Grim, what was Flannan talking about? What is this manuscript?”

For a while I heard only splashing sounds. “Scholars’ business,” he said eventually, and there was a darkness in his voice.

When it became obvious that he was not going to elaborate, I said, “It sounds as if it may be our business too. And Geiléis’s. That’s if Flannan is right about what the manuscript contains. Who knows? It might even tell us about the wee folk and this captive king of theirs. Were you there when they found it? How is it that nobody knows what’s in it?”

“Not for me to say. Only . . .”

“Only what?”

“Meddling. Not right, is it? Some of these old fellows, the old monks, their books are like their children, the ones they never had. Not right to mess around, just take things when you want.”

“What are you talking about? Did Flannan take something he wasn’t supposed to? Has he brought the manuscript here to show us?”

“Wanted to. Brothers wouldn’t let him. Only found those old documents today, when we were clearing out the far end of the scriptorium. All hidden away. In a secret part of the wall. Brothers were as surprised as I was.” I heard him stepping out of the small bath; saw him stand to dry himself. The screen was not tall enough to conceal fully a man of his height.

“You found it?”

“Mm-hm. Old oak box with a heavy lock. They got me to open it up. Lot of excitement. Not just the manuscript your friend was talking about, but quite a few others too. They called him—Flannan—to ask him what he thought they were. Written in some odd tongue, that’s what they were saying. Flannan had a look, started reading the one he was talking about, but it was hard even for a scholar. Told them he wanted to show it to Lady Geiléis right away. They said no, the documents were too old and precious. They had to go back in the box. Locked up again, taken over to the infirmary.” He moved the screen away. He was fully dressed, with his damp hair sticking up on end. It had grown since we left court. Time was passing all too quickly.