The Silver Witch(98)

‘Even as she is!’ I can contain myself no longer and leap to my feet. ‘In one breath you bid me part with my very heart, and in the next you pierce it with your barbed observations! How could Wenna love a child that is the reflection of the woman who has her husband’s desire, his passion, his love? How could I give up my own blood into that nest of vipers, none of whom would truly accept her as their own, but always see her as something fearsome? Something from another realm altogether. I would not condemn her to such an existence for all the gold and furs and fine silks such privilege could bring. You talk of her birthright, well it is here. With me! She is a born witch, she has the gift of magic in her, even you can see that. And I will raise her as a shaman, which is what she is destined to be!’

Nesta’s face sets hard. Her mouth closes in a firm, thin line. Her eyes are like currents in dough. She looks away. Her shoulders slump. She is defeated.

‘I see your mind is fixed,’ she says quietly. ‘You are not to be persuaded, not even for the sake of the child.’

‘It is for the sake of the child that I refuse such a proposition.’

She nods, slowly. ‘I had hoped to return to my mistress with my task a success.’ She smiles almost wistfully. ‘Imagine how such news as I would take her would gladden her poor heart! She has been a good mistress to me all these years, never belittled me, always treated me with kindness. Affection, even. I had so hoped to bring her joy, to see her happy again.’

‘We are each mistresses of our own happiness. We ought not to look to others to supply it.’

Nesta gets stiffly to her feet. ‘I see that you will not consider the merits of my plan, and it is clear you refuse me not from malice or spite, but for love of your child. I believe you are wrong, and that she would fare better in life were she to take her place with the prince, but I cannot deny your intentions are true. You act as your own conscience bids you.’

‘I do,’ I say, instinctively stepping between Nesta and Tanwen.

The woman picks up her basket and holds it to me. It is made of plaited wicker, with a curved handle, the top narrower than the base, and has a cloth tucked over the contents.

‘At least take this token from me, to know that there is no ill will left after my … disappointment. You may refuse me the status of your equal, my seer, but you will surely not deny we are women both, at the mercy of those we love, working only to protect and care for them. Here, some beer and honeyed bread for yourself and the babe.’

I want nothing from her, but nor do I wish to inflame her dislike of me further. I reach out my hand toward the basket. As I do so, Tanwen stops playing and looks up at me. Her bright eyes are wide and fierce, and as she stares at me I experience a sudden wild seeing. There flashes before my eyes a vision of startling clarity, fleeting, but powerful. I see a scarlet sky, the red of pain, with black tendrils of a monstrous ivy twisting and tightening, robbing the air from the night, bringing death with them. I gasp, and stay my hand.

‘What manner of gift is this? There is agony and death in that basket, wise-woman!’

Her face darkens and she opens her mouth to speak, but her words are silenced by the thundering of hooves as Hywel and a fellow soldier come riding to my door. He springs down from the saddle, surprisingly nimble for one so large. I no longer have a guard watching over me day and night, but still Hywel takes it upon himself to see for himself that I am safe whenever he can.

‘What strange alliance is this?’ he asks. He knows well that I do not trust Nesta, and she has never made any secret of her hatred for me. I wonder if word had reached him of her making her way to my house.

Nesta backs away. ‘I came to visit Seren Arianaidd, bringing my mistress’s good wishes.’

‘Ha!’ Hywel barks, ‘that is not a thing I find easy to believe!’

‘Liar!’ I spit at her. ‘You claimed the princess knew nothing of your intention to put your cruel plan to me. And when I would not listen you sought to do me harm.’

‘That is not true!’ she protests. ‘I came in good faith. I brought a little bread I baked myself…’

‘And what poison did you add to the mix?’ I demand.

‘None! See here…’ She pulls off the cloth cover and breaks off a piece of the honeyed bread, stuffing it into her mouth before she can be stopped. She chews noisily, and swallows. We watch, waiting for some dire effect to take place, but nothing happens. ‘See?’ she sneers at us. ‘You accuse me falsely! The princess will hear of this. Your treatment of me will not go unnoticed.’ She makes to push past us, but Hywel blocks her way.