The Silver Witch

‘I have.’ The gasps and anxious mutterings that greet this news mean I must raise my voice to be heard. ‘A vision, clear and bright as a full moon.’


‘What did you see?’ Hywel demands, unable to wait for the prince to speak, his own nervousness making him forget his manners.

‘I saw the crannog desolate, empty! The houses long gone.’

‘And the people?’ comes a cry from the back of the hall.

‘Not a child remained. Neither beasts nor birds, for the place was barren and nothing grew in it or round it.’ Now a woman begins to weep and men set to questioning, clamoring, begging for my interpretation of the seeing. They need the truth, but they fear it. As well they might. ‘And in the dust and ashes of the palace there were broken eggshells.’

The prince leaned forward on hearing this. ‘What manner of bird did the eggs belong to? Was it an eagle? A falcon?’

‘Would that were so, my Prince. Alas, this was a nest not of birds, but of vipers.’

Now Princess Wenna speaks. ‘Then surely there is no cause for alarm,’ she says, letting her hand rest upon that of her husband. ‘In the old religion, does not an adder signify both wisdom and fertility? The very continuation of life. Is that not the case, Seren?’

I resist bridling at the familiar way in which she addresses me but it gives me pause, and in that space the priest leaps up to remind us all that there is a new faith to be followed now.

‘The serpent is to be feared,’ he insists. ‘We were thrown out from a state of grace, from the garden of Eden itself, when Eve fell prey to the viper’s slippery words. Man has learned to beware the serpent.’

Hywel Gruffydd grunts. ‘Man might have, but there are still a few women who can be charmed by a snake if it be of sufficient size!’

At this the tension in the room is broken and laughter erupts. As is often the case, people are keen to make fun of what scares them. To scoff, to laugh off the danger. I see Prince Brynach throw his aide a look, but even he struggles to keep a smile from his face. The priest shakes his head and frowns in my direction. He must realize he has unwittingly talked himself into agreement with me. Not a position either of us is comfortable with. The prince declares himself a Christian, and so those under his protection are happy to follow his faith of choice. There are fine churches hereabouts, and monks aplenty. But many still secretly hold to the old religion. To the ancient wisdom that has served us so well for centuries. Else why would I be tolerated? It cannot be avoided, then, that our different creeds should sometimes be at odds, sometimes in harmony.

‘Princess Wenna is right,’ I say into the heightened mood of the hall, ‘we have nothing to fear from the vipers who share their home with us, save the odd nip. And a snake in a vision can foretell a fertile time of plenty. But these were no earthbound serpents. Whatever hatched from the shells in my seeing were foul, evil creatures, bent on destruction.’

The merriment in the room disappears as quickly as it began. Even the priest stills his tongue.

‘Mark my words,’ I go on. ‘The seeing was a warning. The crannog is under threat.’

‘We know this,’ Prince Brynach waves his hand dismissively in an attempt to dampen any panic that might be kindling among the gathering. ‘There are ever those who want what we have and would take it from us. We live with war as our cousin and our neighbor, who may visit us without invitation. These are not peaceful times.’

‘You may float your palace on the water,’ I say, ‘and you may build your barricades and man them with guards with swords of iron, and, yes, that will keep your enemies at bay.’ I take two strides forward with such urgency that a guard draws his sword, but the prince raises his hand in a signal for him to stay back. I lean toward my noble ruler until my face is but a hand’s breadth from his own. He meets my icy gaze. He is one of the few who is able to do so. I keep my voice low and level. ‘But nothing you can build will save you from the danger that comes from within.’

His eyes widen but he does not move nor look away. ‘You say I have an enemy … inside my camp?’

‘The vision was strong, the message clear. You are in a nest of vipers, my Prince, and they wish you dead!’





3

TILDA

Tilda feeds another log into the Rayburn in the kitchen and is yet again thankful for a solid fuel stove. Having spent a candlelit night at the cottage, she was surprised to find she did not miss the television, the radio, or even her music, but was content to read until the daylight and candle were insufficient for the print of her chosen novel. The memory of Mat attempting to convert her to an e-reader prompted a wry smile. Why not go to bed when the sun did? She was an early riser anyway, preferring to run with the dawn.