‘Ah, the devils are into your thatch.’ She paused and raised her crook at the birds that were wheeling about Nóra’s roof. ‘Stolen straw makes cosy nests.’‘Are you well, Peg?’‘I am. I’ve come to see how you’re all getting on. My, Nóra, you look a grievance.’Nóra stepped forward to help Peg into the house. ‘’Tis the changeling. Oh, Peg. ’Tis back to bawling and shrieking the whole night through. Not natural, the lungs on it. Begod, Peg, I don’t get a wink, nor the maid either. We’re beside ourselves with lack of sleep.’Peg eased herself down by the fire and looked at the child lying in Mary’s lap, arms juddering, mouth querulous. ‘The poor lad. An empty vessel makes most noise.’Nóra sat down beside her. ‘Do you see any change in it? I thought I could, but . . .’‘Nance is curing him?’Nóra nodded. ‘Just concoctions of herbs so far.’ She lowered her voice. ‘You should have seen it a week ago, Peg. Like something going through. A shaking.’Peg frowned.
