When An Caidreamh Suiri comes into view, I can't help but think of last year's raid. If it can be called a raid! Cunningly we disguised ourselves as a Niafer war party. We came away with very little for our trouble - some stale food, a pair of boots that was too small for anyone but Baine, a few tarnished and dented silver cups, and an old sword. The sword was the best of the take and we gambled all night to see who would own it.

The luck was with Baine. Ah, Baine, vein of my heart, pulse of my lifeblood, sweet Baine, what madness made you leave us?

There is no stopping, not even at An Caidreamh Suiri, which looks as tidy and welcoming as it did last summer. I kick my horse to hurry past. The river Shannon is just ahead, where I promised to wait for Nion, Keu and Sean. I don't want to stop, I want to go straight on to Tara and hold Baine in my arms once more. The horses will need a rest, though, and it would be folly to run this fine black steed into the ground.

Not far beyond An Caidreamh Suiri I see a group of riders approaching. At a distance their weapons and ornaments shine. Well-dressed and well-armed they are, and traveling at urgent speed. I glance nervously back down the road. No sign of my lagging kindred. Good that Sean is slow, for once.

Before I can think of what to do to avoid them, they are reining in and the leader is greeting me, rather breathlessly. His dialect tells me he is of Connacht. I sigh with relief, for although he may have heard of the Niafer war-chief's demise, he probably would not know my face. Depending on whatever alliances now exist, if any, it might not matter to him anyway.

"Have you seen anyone else on this road today?" he wants to know.

I widen my eyes in mock innocence, fighting the urge to look again behind me for Nion and the others. "Only a shepherd boy driving his flock across to the next hill," I reply, lowering my head to feign a humbleness. Swallowing hard, I pause to gape at the glittering weaponry of this horde before I ask meekly, "Are you chasing a murderer, good sir?"

The reply is a sneer. "Murderer and more! A notorious pirate has returned from exile to plunder and lay waste to the land. He goes by any name he likes, usually calls himself Cuinn Dubh. His head is worth a king's ransom in Connacht. We've tracked him over the countryside and lost him by the river's bend. I suspect he could be going this way. Be wary, lad, for he's a cunning bastard and will rob you blind and slit your throat before you can say his name twice."

"Go raibh maith agat!" I look back, as if the pirate might be coming up behind me. There is still no sign of my outlaw brothers. "I'll hurry home, then, my wife and children are alone." With a polite but hasty nod, I leave the men of Connacht to their hunting.

Nion will be very interested to hear of this Cuinn Dubh. When I get to the river, I let my horse drink his fill while I lie down in the cool grass, look at the sky and wonder, as I wonder a hundred times each day, what Baine is doing at this moment.