Yet I see the truth. See the man who is flesh and blood, soul and heart. See the truth he veils from others.

I judge the moment right and make my entrance, flinging the door wide and striding into the hall. The guards draw their swords but stay their hands the instant they recognize me. All eyes turn toward me and I level my gaze at as many as will meet it. The quiet that greets me is a marrying of respect and fear with its mistress, hatred, though none would profess such a thing. Even Hywel will silence his blustering. I am permitted to walk to the center of the gathering and stand before my Prince. He inclines his head, a gesture of cool regard. I dip my staff and bow low, so that I am lower than my chief, though the farseeing eyes of my wolf-pelt headdress will remain level with his own. There is no other man living I would defer to in such a way. And this he knows.

‘Seren Arianaidd,’ he says, ‘you are welcome. We are honored that you grace us with your presence.’

I straighten and look about me. While the prince’s words are sincerely uttered, there are many here who would wish me as far away as their imaginations could send me. And the most ardent of my detractors sits in the finely carved seat to the left of our ruler. Princess Wenna. Unlike her husband, she wears her opinions plainly for all to see, so that now her beautiful, highborn face and her eyes, green as the leaves of young holly, are darkened with her loathing for me. By her side sits her toad of a brother, Rhodri, whose refined exterior hides a warty soul. He is a man I would not trust to mind a cooking pot, let alone a princedom, and yet Prince Brynach, out of loyalty to the princess, in truth, trusts him with the royal coffers. One day Rhodri brother-of-the-princess will let slip his mask.

‘Won’t you sit with us?’ The prince asks. He summons a page. ‘Fetch wine for Seren Arianaidd.’

The boy scurries to do his master’s bidding, but I shake my head.

‘I come not to drink, but to speak,’ I tell him.

There is an uneasy silence in the room now.

‘We are always ready to hear your words,’ the prince assures me with no more formal courtesy than is expected of him.

‘I bring a warning.’

At this, Hywel cannot stop himself asking what they are all wondering, ‘You have had a seeing?’

‘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.’