She did not. She remembered hearing that the prince of all Wales who had died, Llewellyn, had a tiny baby girl. Nan had been vaguely aware that there were other Welsh princes but they were just more lords, to her. It had never been a thing that mattered before.

“Prince Llewellyn had no sons when he died. His daughter was taken from Wales and given to a convent as a babe in arms. She will never be allowed to leave it, for fear the Welsh will rally to her. They say she does not even know Welsh, and it will never be taught to her.”

There was no anger in his tone but she heard it anyway, and understood why. They stole even her language from her, this orphaned Welsh princess, as though taking her land and her people were not enough.

“Prince Dafydd was executed for treason.” He paused, and she nodded quickly to let him know he need not detail the execution to her. Everyone had heard of it, how the traitor Dafydd had been tortured. His skull still rotted on a spike in London. “He had two sons, both imprisoned at Bristol. The oldest was near my age. Last year he died in his prison. The younger prince...” His voice faded, and she glanced to see his face. His lips had gone white at the edges, and she looked away quickly. “He is there still. He is locked in a cage every night.”

The sun seemed too bright, the air too cold. She did not know what to do with the images he put in her head. She pressed her tongue hard against her teeth and thought of her lady, wise and cunning, who said he would not be put to death. Nothing had been said about cages.

“It is a curse. All the misfortunes of my life have befallen me because they call me a prince. Believe me that I would live happily as your Welshman. I have lived happily as that.” He stepped closer. Close enough to touch. “In all my wretched life, Nan, it is the only happiness I have known.”

What was there to say – the truth, that it was the same for her? She stared out at the empty sky and remembered him saying simply, And then I wake, and you are there. He had said it like it was an answer to everything. And it had felt that way.

But it was no answer to this. There was no answer to this at all.

He turned from her to face the same sky, and they looked out in silence together. She could feel him giving up on her. Yet her tongue would not move.

“Tell me anything of what is inside you.” He said it like a prayer, a supplication to her silence.