The wailing continued; not the distant voice of the monster, but that of a child in the next room. The woman—young, thin, harried—turned from me to Donncha to the inner door as if pulled in all directions at once. “Sorry . . . sorry. The baby’s poorly. I’ve nothing to offer you—”

“Ana!” The old man’s voice this time, louder. “I need the privy!”

Donncha was unpacking his bag onto the table. Cheese, honey cake, dried fruits, a little sack that might contain flour, the remains of a leg of mutton. We had had roast mutton for last night’s supper. “Go on, Ana,” he said. “I’ll fetch you in some wood and we’ll get the kettle on.”

She disappeared into the other room. Donncha took himself outside, and fairly soon there was the sound of an ax splitting wood. I rolled up my sleeves and set to work. There could be no hot water until we got the fire going, but I removed the dishes to a bench, then gave the table a wipe down. Took the drying garments outside and hung them over a bush in the sun, glad that the earlier downpour had ceased. Discovered that there was very little food in the house—no surprise.

Donncha came back with an armful of wood and a bucket of water. The infant was still crying; it seemed the beleaguered Ana had put the old man’s needs before her baby’s. I was about to knock on the inner door and offer assistance when Donncha said, “Mistress Blackthorn, do your wise woman’s skills stretch to lighting a fire very quickly?”

“They do,” I said. “But maybe I should . . .” I jerked my head toward the inner door, behind which the baby’s wails had become hiccupping gasps. If Ana did not tend to it soon, I would march right in there and do it myself. Not that I could feed the child. Nor had I seen a goat or sheep outside, or any other means of providing fresh milk.

“You look after the fire; I’ll deal with that.” Donncha surprised me again by walking over to the inner door, tapping gently, then going in. “I’ll get your grandfather back into bed,” I heard him say. “You look after the boy.”

Soon all was quiet. Remarkably quiet. We had come far enough from the ford to render the creature’s cries almost inaudible. It was startling what a difference it made, not to have that sound constantly nagging at one’s ears. I felt that at long last I could breathe again.

By the time Donncha reemerged, followed by Ana with a baby wrapped in a woolen blanket, the fire was crackling, the kettle was boiling and I had the food we had brought set out on the table. We might have to eat it from the chopping board with our fingers, but I did not think anyone would object. Once I’d made a brew, I’d boil more water for washing up. And while I had not expected to spend my afternoon carrying out domestic duties—I didn’t even do a lot of those back at Winterfalls; Grim was the house-proud one—perhaps my contribution would bear fruit in the form of information. Not that Ana looked in any state to talk. If ever I’d seen a person desperate for sleep, she was it.