It seemed more important than ever to make sure the rituals were performed correctly, the right songs sung, the stories remembered in every detail. There was no doubt the Folk were frightened. Those who had warned Engus that inviting the Norsemen to stay was asking for trouble now nodded their heads as if to say, I told you so. Some people with family on the outer islands talked about leaving; it would be safer to be well away from this new chieftain, whose men were inclined to use their weapons before they bothered to ask questions. But it was midwinter, and travel between the islands was well nigh impossible. Besides, Engus wanted the men here, near the Whaleback, as many of them as were prepared to make a commitment to their king and to the future of the Folk. Without anything put into words, Nessa understood that her uncle was preparing himself for war.

It was cold today. She wore two cloaks over her tunic and skirt, and her thick woolen stockings and sheepskin boots, and a felt hat jammed down over her ears. The wind tore at her hair and numbed her face and hands as she made her way southward along the path through the dunes. She had been close to abandoning her walk altogether. Even at ebb tide, the wind had whipped ocean spray through the gap between Whaleback and mainland. She must not spend too long over the rituals, for the tide’s inward surge across the causeway was powerful in all seasons, and today the narrow path was treacherous indeed. There were huts near the point, where fisherfolk dwelt, but Engus did not like her to stay there overnight. Were it not for the importance of the rituals, she thought he would have sent her away, as far away as he could, until the troubles were over.

As Nessa neared Rona’s tiny cottage, the dog, which had been keeping pace with her at its usual cautious distance, began to edge closer. Its dark eyes were fixed on her as if expecting something. She had brought bread today, but it was fastened into the small pack she bore.

“You’ll have to wait,” Nessa told the hound gravely. “Later. Good boy.”

The dog kept looking at her. They passed the bushes where it usually settled to wait. They walked on, down into the hollow where the stream flowed by, down into the women’s place. The creature’s tail was wagging furiously; it sniffed the ground and barked again, and now there was an answer, another dog barking in greeting, but the sound seemed to come from under the ground, from the tower in the earth.