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months following the birth of Donal. In the strictest sense Kareen was a servant under indenture, but in the highlands she was a 'child of the house', a short-term daughter to be loved and cared for after the fashion of the clans. Kareen was a bright, lively girl, not attractive but strong and willing. Her face was long and her jaw square, but she had a pretty smile and wore it often. Maeg liked her.
     
    'Beth's yield is down again,' said Kareen. 'I think it's that damned hound of Bolan's. It nipped her leg, you know. Caswallon should chide him about it.'
     
    'I'm sure that he will,' said Maeg. 'Would you mind seeing to Donal if he wakes? I've a mind to collect some herbs for the pot.'
     
    'Would I mind? I'd be delighted. Has he been fed?'
     
    'He has, but I don't doubt he'll enjoy the warmed oats you'll be tempting him with,' said Maeg, winking.
     
    Kareen grinned. 'He's a healthy eater, to be sure. How is the lowland boy?'
     
    'Healing,' Maeg told her. 'I'll be back soon.' Lifting her shawl cloak from the hook by the door, Maeg swung it about her shoulders and stepped out into the yard.
     
    Kareen placed the last of the stone jugs by the wall, hefted the empty bucket and walked out to the well to wash it clean.
     
    She watched Maeg strolling towards the pasture woods, admiring the proud almost regal movements and rare animal grace that could not be disguised by the heavy woollen skirt and shawl. Maeg was beautiful. From her night-dark hair to her slender ankles she was everything Kareen would never be. And yet she was unconscious of her beauty and that, more than anything, led Kareen to love her.
     
    Maeg enjoyed walking alone in the woods, listening to the bird-song and revelling in the solitude. It was here that she found tranquility. Caswallon, despite being the love of her life, was also the cause of great turmoil. His turbulent spirit would never be content with the simple life of a farmer and cattle-breeder. He needed the excitement and the danger that came from raiding the herds of neighbouring clans, stealing into their lands, ghosting past their sentries. One day they would catch and hang him.
     
    You'll not change him, Maeg, she thought.
     
    Caswallon had been a child of the mountains, born out of wedlock to a flighty maid named Mira who had died soon after childbirth - supposedly of internal bleeding, though clan legend had it that her father poisoned her. She had never divulged the name of her lover. Caswallon had been raised in the house of the Hunt Lord, Padris, as foster-brother to Cambil. The two boys had never become friends.
     
    At seventeen Caswallon left the home of Padris with a dagger, a cloak, and two gold pieces. Everyone had assumed he would become a crofter, eking out a slender existence to the north. Instead he had gone alone to Pallides land and stolen a bull and four cows. From the Haesten he stole six cows, selling three in Ateris. Within a year every out-clan huntsman watched for Caswallon of the Farlain.
     
    Maggrig, the Pallides Hunt Lord, offered two prize bulls to the man who could kill him. Caswallon stole the bulls.
     
    At first his fellow clansmen had been amused by his exploits. But as his wealth grew, so too did the jealousy. The women, Maeg knew, adored Caswallon. The men, quite naturally, detested him. Three years ago, following the death of Padris, Cambil was elected as Hunt Lord and Caswallon's stock amongst the men plunged to fresh depths. For Cambil despised him, and many were those seeking favour with the new Lord.
     
    This year, Caswallon had even declined to take part in the Games, though as defending champion he could have earned points for the clan. What was worse, he had given as his reason that he wished to stay home with his lady, who had a showing of blood in her pregnancy. He had put her to bed and undertaken the household chores himself- an unmanly action.
     
    Yet, as his stock had fallen with the men, so it climbed in direct proportion with the