Fee’s holding lay in a wide valley at the south end of the loch, hemmed in by hills. Ferns bordered the path that led to the holding, nodding their shaggy fronds at them in the breeze as they passed. The holding itself was small, with just a few buildings surrounded by pastures holding sheep and cattle.
Fee’s kinsman Eireamhon was a young man of seventeen who greeted Thomas with a wide-eyed look of wonder, his even younger wife standing beside him, curiosity sparking in her almond-shaped blue eyes. “Matthew’s son and no mistaking it,” he said to Fee.
“Aye, as I have said,” Fee replied with a laugh, and turned to the young woman as she untied one of the bags from the donkey and hoisted it up. “Aoife, I ha’ brought some flour and honey from Eachan, as well as a new spindle to replace th
