The Silver Witch

The professor returns quickly with the tea, clearly eager to discuss his favorite subject. ‘Was there any particular period of history you were interested in?’ he asks, setting the tray down on the cluttered coffee table. ‘That map is finely drawn by a cartographer of some renown, but I have earlier renditions. Or perhaps a book would better suit your needs?’ He picks up his wire-framed reading glasses from the mantelpiece and begins to scan the nearest bookshelf. ‘I have many excellent volumes that might be of use … let me see … there’s Thomas Jones’s The Lake. An unimaginative title, I grant you, but the text is reliable. Of course, if you were looking for an emphasis on the art of the area … for your own work perhaps…?’


Tilda gives a rueful shrug. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure where to start. I.… I think I’d like to get an idea of who lived here long ago.’

‘How long, precisely?’

She tries to recall the people in the boat, to bring to mind what they were wearing, what tools or weapons they were carrying, but the recollection is unhelpfully hazy at this moment. All she can clearly see in her mind’s eye is the young woman with the animal skin hood or headdress, the leather straps on her legs. Her hair covered, more leather twists and braids … and tattoos.

Yes, she had ink!

‘Did any of the people who settled here use tattoos, do you know?’

‘Well, I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that before!’ He gives a low laugh. ‘I daresay there are one or two youngsters sporting such things even now, but…’

‘These … the ones I’m interested in … they weren’t colored. Just black. Shapes, rather than objects, I think. Twisted together. Like tangled branches or vines, I suppose.’

‘Ah, that sounds very much like Celtic knot work. In which case’—he squeezes behind the sofa in order to get to another shelf—‘you could do worse than take a look at Bartlett’s Celtic Britain. He’s a little wordy’—he removes a chunky book and blows off the nonexistent dust—‘but knowledgeable. And there are illustrations aplenty.’ He takes the book to her. ‘Good references for an artist like yourself, I should imagine.’

‘Thank you,’ says Tilda, flicking through the pages, taking in glimpses of dozens of images. ‘Yes, these are just right. Exactly right.’ She browses further for a moment, and then looks at the professor, hesitating before going on. ‘The people who would have worn designs like these, when would they have lived here?’

‘Oh, that’s difficult to answer with certainty. Celtic artwork such as this was used over centuries, you see. I’d need a little more information…’

‘They had a boat, a small one, but big enough for three people.’

‘I’m sorry, who had a boat?’

Tilda realizes she has given just enough information to be cryptic. She wants to say more, to explain, but how can she? How can she tell this sensible person that she is chasing the identity of some ghosts?

‘I mean,’ she tries, ‘I imagine they would have a boat.’ This still sounds lame, so she adds, ‘I saw a picture once, of a woman, and two men, in a boat. There was a Celtic feel about it. The woman was … striking. Like a warrior, or someone powerful, anyway, but not dressed in finery. More … earthy, somehow. She had tattoos.’

The professor waits for more.

Tilda shrugs. ‘I thought I could use patterns like that in my work. I just wanted to get the context right.’ She turns back to the map. ‘There would have been other buildings here centuries before this, wouldn’t there? Different ones, of course.’

‘Well, if you’re talking about the Celtic people, yes. Nothing that remains now. That’s the trouble with huts built of sticks or wattle, they don’t leave much for we historians to work with.’ He comes to stand next to her. ‘We know now that there were people living around the lake before the Romans came here, and long after they left, naturally. It’s a good place for a settlement. There were monks and villagers here, and even royalty, such was the appeal of the place. I think I mentioned Prince Brynach to you on your previous visit. He went to all the trouble of building the crannog here precisely because he recognized what a splendid place to live the lake provided.’

‘There are just a few trees left on the island now. Was there really a palace there once?’

‘Not one you and I might recognize as such, but yes. It was a royal dwelling, built to impress. It was known as the long hall, or sometimes the great hall—a simple construction, timber framed, with wattle and daub. We are not entirely sure what materials were used for the roof, most likely some sort of reed thatch from the lake. The large space inside could accommodate gatherings and meetings as well as providing a relatively warm and comfortable home for the prince.’

‘It must have been cold, surely? On the water like that. When it was misty or frozen, wasn’t it damp and horrible?’

‘There is evidence they used a large fire in the center, and later another at the far end, though this was before the idea of fireplaces set into the walls with proper chimneys. They would have had to dress against the cold.’ He smiles, ‘Don’t forget how much heat people themselves generate, all in one space together. And there would have been more people living around the lake. They could have retreated to the crannog for safety if the settlement came under attack.’

‘And did it?’