‘Perhaps Your Highness could relate the contents of the dream,’ I suggested.
‘Our father dreamed he was travelling through a foreign country. He had no idea where it was. The people dressed strangely and they spoke in languages he did not understand. He was invisible to them so they ignored him even when he tried to engage them in conversation.’ Unexpectedly Adelaide hesitated. She flushed slightly as if embarrassed.
‘Go on, Addy,’ said her sister. ‘That patch Sigwulf is wearing is a fake.’
‘What really troubles my father is that in his dream he had only one eye. The other had been lost,’ said Adelaide.
I relaxed. Artimedorus had written about dreams of blindness or the loss of an eye in a chapter that Osric and I had already translated.
‘There are two possible explanations of the dream,’ I began.
Quick as a flash Adelaide gave a sniff of disbelief.
‘Just as I told you, Bertha. Soothsayers are always devious. They’re deliberately vague so you can read into their prophecies whatever you want to believe.’
‘Hear him out, Addy,’ Bertha said, springing to my defence. ‘Give him a chance to explain.’
I gave Bertha a grateful glance and went on.
‘According to Artimedorus, a person who dreams of travelling through a foreign country while having only one eye means the journey will be hindered and full of difficulties.’
Adelaide looked doubtful.
‘I’ve not heard that the king intends a foreign trip.’
‘The interpretation of the dream does not allow one to say when it will come true,’ I cautioned.
‘More weasel words from the soothsayer,’ Adelaide promptly accused.
Her open scepticism prodded me into saying what I had not intended.
‘There is another interpretation of the loss of an eye,’ I said sharply.
‘And what’s that?’ Adelaide scoffed.
‘The loss of an eye means the loss of a member of the family,’ I said quietly.
That caught their attention. The two sisters looked hard at me.
‘What member of the family?’ asked Bertha. Her voice was flinty, but there was a trace of fear.
I was committed now, and could not draw back.
‘A parent or a child.’
‘Well, both the king’s mother and father are already deceased,’ said Adelaide. Her eyes were alert with interest.
‘And does your Greek offer any further details?’ Bertha asked slowly.
‘You will have to tell me which eye was missing in your father’s dream.’
‘The right one.’
I smothered a sigh of relief.
‘According to Artimedorus, the loss of the right eye means that the dreamer will lose a son.’
No sooner had the words left my mouth than I regretted them. I pictured the royal family seated at their table at the banquet. There had been only one son – Pepin. He was the heir, yet he was illegitimate, the offspring of a concubine. Both sisters in front of me were daughters of legal marriage.
I tried to hide my thoughts, keeping my face blank. But I noticed that the two sisters exchanged a quick, meaningful glance.
Then Adelaide said brightly, ‘We are forgetting our manners.’ She went to a side table, removed the glass stopper from a flask of wine and poured me a drink. ‘Here, Sigwulf, you need something to warm you up before you go out into the cold again.’
It was clear that my audience with the royal sisters was at an end.
*
My thoughts were in turmoil as I left the royal residence. I had a queasy feeling that I was teetering on the edge of palace politics, a very dangerous area. What I had said about the king losing a son had struck a chord with both sisters. Yet nothing I had heard about Pepin led me to believe he was near death. I had not laid eyes on him for some time and he had not been with the royal hunting party, but that was not surprising in light of his physical attributes.
I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I did not look where I was putting my feet. All of a sudden I skidded, flailing wildly to keep my balance.
‘Look where you’re going!’
A building foreman, wrapped up in a heavy sheepskin coat, was waving at me to get out of the way. Behind him a squad of labourers were advancing in a line, tipping buckets of water on to the frozen ground. As the water spread it was freezing into a sheet of ice.
‘Keep off if you don’t want to break your neck!’ bellowed the foreman.
His men were creating a smooth, slick pathway from the unfinished great hall. Behind them was another gang of men. They were hauling on ropes attached to a crude sledge. On it stood the great metal horse and rider which had shocked me on my first day. They were sliding their load along the ice.
I went across to the foreman.