‘You see how at times it is best, after all, not to be the center of all things?’

Prince Brynach gasps, and then laughs, louder than he meant to. Louder than he should. A nearby coot is startled from its reedy bed and splashes out onto the safety of the open lake. ‘Why, Seren, my revered prophet, I believe you are chiding me for vanity!’

‘If the crown fits…’

He laughs again, more softly this time, and reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder. It is a gesture of friendship, casual, the reflex of a soldier, or one man to another. But I am not a man. And the instant his palm alights on my shoulder I feel the tension in him. He lifts his hand, hesitant, unsure, before moving to touch my hair. I am not in my ceremonial garb now, but wear my workaday woolen tunic. My hair, unbraided and loose, reflects the moon’s beams. My arms are bare and the prince’s hand is cool against my flesh. His touch is restrained, but there is no mistaking the catch in his breath, nor the widening of his eyes.

‘I trust Princess Wenna is in good health,’ I say.

At the sound of his wife’s name Prince Brynach drops his hand. His manner alters. He becomes brusque. The friendliness is gone. He is a Prince once more, and I his advisor, nothing more.

‘At the gathering,’ he says, staring out over the lake as he speaks, ‘when you told of your vision, you said there were others who threaten us. Others besides the Queen of Mercia.’

‘That is what was shown to me in the vision, yes.’

‘How? How was it shown?’

I shrug, shaking my head, as if I must explain the obvious to a child. Again. ‘There was more than one egg,’ I tell him.

‘And that signifies multiple enemies? You can be certain?’

‘Visions would be of little value were they to mislead, to shroud their meaning in mystery,’ I point out.

‘Yes. Yes, I see. But how can you know from where these other adversaries will come?’

‘The nest within your own fortress clearly suggests your enemy is close to you.’

‘But Queen Aethelflaed is not. She is not of my court. She resides a hundred miles from here.’

‘Then there is a connection. Something, or someone, links you with a chain of ambition to the Mercian queen and her army. Someone you trust.’

‘Someone close to me will betray me?’

‘There is more than one manner of closeness, my Prince, as you are aware. A person might live within the same region or cantref. Or the same crannog, perhaps. Or that person may enjoy your trust. Your friendship. Your love, even.’

Anger flashes across Prince Brynach’s face. ‘You would accuse my wife? Tread with care, Prophet.’

‘I accuse no one. I recount my vision. I interpret its meaning for those not able to read the message themselves.’