‘I wanted to tell you, but…’ She leaves the sentence unfinished as the professor nods his understanding.
Dylan reads on.
‘Next, who is the woman in the top half of the grave being dug up? Third, were they the same person? Why is the frightening ghost trying to attack you? What was she saying when she leapt at you in the studio? And last, but not least, who did the bracelet belong to?’ He waves the piece of paper. ‘Simple.’
‘Says you.’ Tilda swigs some more wine, ignoring the growling of her empty stomach. ‘Actually, I don’t believe the scary creature that keeps threatening me can be the same as the woman in the boat. She is terribly disfigured, her face all broken up, but no, now that I really compare the two, her body shape is all wrong. She is shorter. Fatter. And darker, I think.’
‘There you go,’ Dylan says. ‘One question answered already.’
‘So now I’m definitely dealing with two ghosts. Great. Oh, and there is something else. The scary ghost; I’ve been thinking about the words she spat at me in the studio. They were Welsh, I think, and very hard to make out. All I could get was something that sounded like “bewit”? Or “buwid” could it have been? I’ve looked, but I couldn’t find anything.’
‘Hmm,’ the Professor, without so much as questioning the fact that Tilda is talking about more visions, more ghostly women, closes his eyes, mumbling words over and over until he comes to one he thinks could fit. ‘How about bywyd? It means “life”.
Tilda nods. ‘Yes. That could be it. She … the ghost … she said it twice.’
Dylan looks at her. ‘A life for a life?’
There is an uncomfortable silence. At last, Professor Williams picks up the bracelet from the desk. He fetches a magnifying glass from the mantlepiece and sits in the armchair beside the fire to examine it again. ‘I do feel some of the answers you seek lie here,’ he says. ‘This is a very fine piece of jewelry and would have been of considerable value. It must have been owned by someone important.’
Dylan tops up Tilda’s glass. ‘Do you remember seeing it on any of the women in your visions?’
‘No. I’m sure I would have remembered if there had been anything like it.’
The professor holds it up to the light. ‘It occurs to me that it is rather large.’
‘It is.’ Tilda nods. ‘When I put it on, it was much too big for my wrist. I assumed it was meant as a band to wear on the upper arm.’
‘Possibly.’ He sits up, an idea striking him. ‘Of course! It isn’t a bracelet at all.’
‘Not?’ Tilda is confused.
‘It’s a torc. Look. How dim of me not to see it before. Dylan, pass me that book on the end of my desk, would you? The one with the red binding. Thank you.’ He flicks through the tome until he finds what he is looking for. ‘Here, see? These are plain, I know, not beautifully decorated as yours is, but the shape is identical. A loop not completely closed, rounded edges, with slight thickening at the ends. It is a torc, meant to be worn around the neck. I’m certain of it.’
‘But, I’d never get that around my neck,’ Tilda points out.
The professor whips off his glasses with a smile. ‘That my dear, is because you are an adult. This marvelous object was made for a child.’
SEREN
Another winter has come and gone and life around the lake feels as settled and timeless as ever it was. It is hard to imagine we lived on the edge of fear for so long, anticipating disaster, awaiting danger. Is this a trick played on us all by fate? She can be a cruel mistress. Are we lulled to softness, our sword arms weakened, our vigilance dulled, only so that we may be easier prey at some future date? I am still assailed by visions of my prince’s descent into the water, but it has become impossible for him to believe the threat is real. And how can I argue otherwise? As the weeks turned into months, and the seasons swing full circle once more, and life continues undisturbed, my prophecies lose their weight. Other smaller seeings have come to pass, and I continue to work my minor magic as is required of me, but on this one matter my opinion no longer holds sway. I see Rhodri plumping himself up with each passing moon, never missing an opportunity to remind Prince Brynach that it was he who brokered the deal with the Mercian Queen, he who helped him bring about this time of peace. He is ever at the prince’s side, and with him Wenna, quick to parade the family bond. It is as well for her that her brother is seen as so successful, so useful, in the prince’s eyes, for that other vision of mine has proven true. She has given him no heir, nor will she.