‘The tale is very old and has several names. The variant best known to me goes like this. There was once a wealthy man whose lands were broad and whose cattle were sleek. A river flowed between his fields, with a bridge of worked stone across it. Under this bridge there lived a monster. Not the troublesome kind of monster that frightens good folk about their daily business and eats prize cattle and makes fires and floods to amuse itself. This was a quiet creature, content to stay in the concealment of the bridge by day, coming out to bathe in the river water at twilight and to spend the moonlight hours conversing with wild birds and eating the grasses that grew along the banks.

‘Not to say that folk did not fear the monster, for she was bigger than the most formidable bull in the herd, with skin like a toad’s and a face only a mother could think beautiful. Folk did not cross the bridge after dusk unless they had pressing business, and if they did so they blocked their ears and kept their eyes straight ahead. For the monster liked to sing. She had a little one, you see, and she’d sing to it as the two of them swam in the river.

‘Now the man I was speaking of had many worldly blessings, but there was one thing he lacked: a child of his own.’

It’s only a coincidence, Cara told herself. This is an ancient tale, it can’t have anything to do with me or Father. It can’t.

‘It happened that the wealthy man was walking over the bridge one night, having been out on an errand and delayed in his return. And he caught the sound of singing from down below, singing and splashing as the monster bathed her little one. The words of that song made him stop in his tracks to listen. Build it, build it, stone on stone, stone on stone on stone, the creature sang. Strong as faith, strong as love, strong as living bone. She went on to describe a house with a roof of nine couples, a house built from every timber in the wood. A heartwood house. A magical house. Every tree would impart a particular blessing on the one who built it. Rowan for protection from evil spirits. Oak for strength of both body and mind. Fir for clear-sightedness. And so on. Every blessing a man could possibly want for himself and his family was contained in the heartwood house. Including the blessing the wealthy man most desired at that time in his life: fertility, represented by the elder.

‘He listened in silence, and in silence he walked on, leaving the monster bathing her child, still singing. Stone on stone on stone. The next day he came to the bridge with armed men, while the creature was sleeping, and he stole away her child.’