He laughed then, and she smiled. Never before had she made a joke, and though it was not a particularly good one it was a breakthrough for Gwen. She wished he would tell her his name.

'Do you have other wise animals?' she asked him.

'No. I have a very stupid hound. We call him the Old One. He does not like other dogs, but will pad across the meadows in the early morning, ignoring all the rabbits. They are so used to him that they carry on feeding as he passes by. He likes rabbits. One of my other hounds – a young rascal named Piga – took off one morning on a rabbit hunt. The Old One charged at him, nipping his shoulder and driving him from the meadow. Then he sat down, and all the rabbits came back out of their burrows and began feeding again. I am very much mocked by my fellows for the antics of the Old One.'

A red-headed woman approached them. 'There you are,' she called. 'Come, Bran, as the Master of the Feast you should be at table.'

He waved at her. 'That is my mother, Meria. Commanding, isn't she? Well, I must go and do my duty.' He rose and strolled away.

Gwen found that she missed his company even as he began the walk back to the feast tables. Suddenly he turned and strolled back. 'Come,' he said, holding out his hand. 'We can dine together.'

Fear flickered once more, but she took his hand and he raised her to her feet. They were married five weeks later.

Now, as she gazed around the house in which Bran had grown to manhood, Gwen felt only sadness. Her son had been so strong, so quick and so full of life. It amazed her how swiftly that strength had evaporated. And now he was gone.

The door opened and Meria strode in. 'Can you believe the stupidity of that woman?' she said. The calm atmosphere disappeared in an instant.

'Which woman?' asked Gwen, returning to her chair.

'Vorna. She had a dream that Sea Wolves were coming across the land to Three Streams, and that we should all just leave and run away into the wilderness. I'm sure some people will. Idiots all of them.'

'It is said she once had great power.'

'Aye she did. But not any more. Now she is merely wilful.'

'Why do you hate her so?' asked Gwen.

'She befriended the bastard Bane – the man who has sworn to kill Connavar. Can you imagine that? Such treachery? She should have been hanged!'