His navelcord. The brother-in-law, turning away, placed something in his free hand. Thanks in silence. Sorry, sir: trouble. Headshake. I know that.

For yourselves just.

The mourners moved away slowly without aim, by devious paths, staying at whiles to read a name on a tomb.

Let us go round by the chief’s grave, Hynes said. We have time.

Let us, Mr Power said.

They turned to the right, following their slow thoughts. With awe Mr Power’s blank voice spoke:

Some say he is not in that grave at all. That the coffin was filled with stones. That one day he will come again.

Hynes shook his head.