‘Now, this might be of interest to you.’ Professor Williams lifts up a dusty, leather-bound book and angles it so that the light from the window falls upon the page. ‘I’d quite forgotten I had this until the other day. Written by a fellow called Humphries. Goes on a bit, he was an expert on Ogam text. Not much survives, but he busied himself translating whatever he found. All sorts of snippets. He places this as dating around 914 AD, although I have to say that’s probably an educated guess. Ah, here, an entry in the monastic records of that time, curiously not in Latin, for reasons we may never discover. The writer is unknown, but he mentions a feast held by Prince Brynach “… on the crannog of Breconmere, and in attendance was the entirety of the village, for all were made welcome to celebrate their good fortune, and the guest who was honoured for her part in protecting the crannog was the Seer, Seren Arianaidd.” There, you see?’

‘Do I?’

‘Your woman in the boat, I think. The one you mentioned you’d seen a picture of.’

Tilda remembers telling him this half-lie, and is at once ashamed of not trusting him with the truth, however bonkers it might have sounded at the time.

‘The way you described her to me,’ the professor continues, ‘suggests the garb of a shaman. One given to having and interpreting visions. A very important member of society at that time. Do you recall what color her hair was?’

Tilda hesitates. The woman in the boat had been wearing an animal skin headdress, so her hair was not visible. The vision Tilda had seen when she had put on her bracelet, that other version of herself, had, of course, had silver blond hair the same as her own. She cannot imagine trying to explain all this to the professor as he watches her over his reading glasses, waiting for her answer.

Were there two different women, or one? Who am I looking for, myself, or a ghost, or an ancestor?

‘I’m not sure,’ she says at last. ‘The first time I … I saw her, her hair was covered. After that … I’m not certain.’

‘I only ask because, well, there are clues here as to what she must have looked like, not least in her name.’

‘Really?’

‘“Seren” is still a common Welsh name. It means star. Rather lovely, don’t you think? “Arianaidd” on the other hand, is very unusual. I’ve never heard of anyone else being called that. It means “Silver.” So, she was known as Star of Silver. Which suggests she would have been very fair. Not unlike yourself.’

A chill wriggles down Tilda’s spine.