Narrow slit windows pierced these towers, designed for the shooting of arrows in defense. There were some larger openings lower down, and from the gateway where I stood I glimpsed someone moving about inside, perhaps a woman. Magnus is the most ordinary it gets up there, Tomas had said.

I advanced cautiously through the gap.The space enclosed by the wall was immense, far bigger than it had seemed from outside, and there were buildings of various kinds set up against the bastion, here on one level, there on two, with external steps of stone. In one place these went up to a high walkway, a place where fighting men might be stationed in time of siege. Not that such a presence could be effective now, when anyone could wander in without a by-your-leave. The high, round towers were situated at the corners of the wall and had their own entries.

I would have expected a chieftain’s stronghold to have a courtyard inside, a place where warriors on horseback and oxen drawing carts could be accommodated, and where all the bustle and activity of a noble household could unfold. There was nothing like that here. Instead, the whole place was grown over with trees of various kinds—I saw a plum, a hazel, a weeping willow—and under them were bushes and grasses alive with insects and birds. I advanced along a flagstone path, my skirt brushing the thick foliage of bordering plants, and saw that beneath this lush, undisciplined growth there were traces of old gardens, lavender and rosemary bushes, stakes for beans now leaning on drunken angles, patches where straw had been laid to shelter vegetables of some kind. On a weedy pond, two ducks swam in desultory circles.

The main door might have been anywhere. All was swathed in creepers and mosses, and every time I glanced across at the biggest of the buildings, the one I thought most likely to be the entry point, it seemed to be in a slightly different place.