Time’s Legacy

11

He was sitting by the fire, whittling a piece of apple wood, his hands strong and supple as he worked the blade around the grain. Mora came and stood before him with a smile, watching for a moment the sure movements of his hands as he peeled the flakes back with his small knife.

‘Do you ever see into the future?’ she asked suddenly.

She had looked away from him and was staring into the fire.

‘Sometimes.’

‘Does it frighten you?’

He flicked some curls of wood from the carving and ran his thumb softly over the surface. ‘Yes.’ Glancing up, he studied her face. ‘You’ve seen it too?’

She nodded. ‘Do you have to go back to your own country?’

He gave a wry smile. ‘Oh yes. I have to go back. I’ve sent word to my uncle that the time has come. Once he has picked up his cargos all along the coast he’ll bring the ships in at Axiom and wait there for me. This will be his last trip this year. It’s important I go with him. I need to go home.’ He glanced up at her face. ‘I can see my artistic interlude is over. You have more jobs for me?’

She nodded again. ‘There is a whole queue of people come for healing. And after that you can come with me to see a woodcutter called Sean. A messenger arrived this afternoon to beg me to visit him. He lives in the forest up on Meyn Dyppa. Apparently a tree fell on him when he was cutting it down. His leg is broken in several places. He needs it to be set as well as a knitbone poultice and painkillers. If we cannot help him his family will starve this winter. He has only daughters. There is no son to help him.’

‘You know I will come, Mora.’ He smiled at her. He set down his knife and the small carving and stood up, brushing the wood shavings off his robe. He glanced up. ‘It will soon be dark, do you want to go now?’

She shook her head. ‘It is too late. The messenger said one of his daughters is looking after him until we get there. We’ll leave at first light.’

He glanced up at her again. ‘There are many people, Mora, amongst my people, the Jews, who feel that women have no place in the world of men; no right to stand next to them before God. You and your friends here have shown me that women can be so special, so strong, equal in every way to men.’

For a moment she wasn’t sure what to say, she could feel the colour rising in her cheeks. But when at last she managed to master her emotions at his words it was merely to retort, ‘I should hope so!’

He nodded with a grin. ‘Then after we have seen to the patients here I will go and speak to your father. I am getting behind with my lessons and I need to absorb all I can before I leave. There is so much you learn. Law giving, history, genealogy as well as healing and herbs.’ He smiled at her once more. ‘The asceticism of your teaching pleases me. And its inclusiveness. Last time he tried to speak to me about the need to control my temper and rein in my impatience,’ he laughed, ‘and we talked about the wisdom of serpents. I hadn’t known that is what some people call the druids. I shall miss you all so much when I leave. So much of your philosophy touches me deeply.’

Mora bit her lip at yet another mention of his coming departure. She had always known that he would go one day, but she couldn’t bear to think it would be so soon. She had grown much fonder than she dared admit to herself, of this enigmatic young man with his gentle brown eyes and soft-spoken determination.

‘While you do that, I will consult my own gods and I’ll go to my herbs and make sure we have all we need for tomorrow.’ She reached down and took the knife from him, then the small figure. ‘It’s a wren!’

He nodded. ‘Small and cheeky.’

‘And very sacred!’ She laughed and handed it back to him. He set it down on the trestle table near the door to his house to join two or three other little carved birds, staring at them critically, his head slightly to one side.

‘Yeshua! Your patients are waiting!’ she remonstrated with mock severity.

‘You’re right. Enough of childish things.’ He grinned at her, then he turned and clapped his hands once, sharply. The wren shook its feathers, stretched its wings and flew away with a sharp stuttered cry of alarm, followed by the other birds. He turned and winked at her. ‘Don’t tell my mother! She used to get cross with me for doing that when I was a child. I used to make them out of clay!’ Leaving his whittling knife on the empty table he strode away towards the healing complex where their patients waited, leaving Mora staring down at the bare scrubbed boards where the small knife lay abandoned amongst the softly curled wood shavings, its blade glittering in the fitful sunlight.

‘Can I come with you, uncle?’

Looking down as he swung himself into the saddle next morning Flavius saw Romanus slipping down from his seat on the wall. The boy had obviously been waiting for him. Above them a flight of crane angled down towards the mere, their bugling cries echoing into the wind.

‘I’m riding today,’ he said curtly.

‘I can run beside you.’

Flavius gave him an appraising glance. ‘Very well. I’m going into the hills. Perhaps you can show me the way to the house of Sean the Woodsman?’ He gathered his reins, urging his horse towards the gate.

Romanus nodded eagerly as he ran after him. ‘He lives up on the edge of the forest, near the great gorge. It’s a long way,’ he added doubtfully.

‘Then let’s make a start.’

They turned away from the low ground heading east along the narrow track.

‘Why would you want to see Sean?’ Romanus asked, looking up at the man in the saddle. He was trotting easily alongside the horse.

‘He is expecting the healer.’

‘Mora?’ The boy’s face coloured slightly at the mention of her name.

‘Her student. He seems to go everywhere with her.’

‘Not everywhere,’ Romanus said defensively. ‘He didn’t come to see us.’

‘You like her, don’t you?’ Flavius slowed the horse to a walk as the track got steeper. Around them the trees were ablaze with autumn colour. Leaves, red and crimson and scarlet fluttered around the horse’s hooves as it trod the path, tossing its head with a jingle of harness.

Romanus shrugged.

Flavius glanced at him. ‘It must be hard to have a rival, with her all the time. I hear this man is handsome.’ It was a deliberate goad.

Romanus shrugged again. ‘She likes Cynan. Mama says they will marry one day.’

‘I thought she was a priestess.’

‘She is. And he is a priest. But druids are allowed to marry.’

‘Really.’ Flavius grimaced. ‘I’d heard they serve their goddess with orgies in the forest like the followers of Dionysus. Hardly a background to marriage, I would have thought.’

Romanus shook his head, puzzled. He had never heard of Dionysus. ‘I don’t think they do that.’

Flavius gave a cynical smile. ‘Perhaps they haven’t told you, boy.’ He nudged his horse into a canter and Romanus had no more breath for talking. When they next slowed down, the trees had thinned. Around them lofty green pines clung to rocky outcrops and here and there bushes of gorse were still alight with golden flowers. Romanus caught up and looked up at his uncle eagerly. ‘Do you really work for the Emperor?’

Flavius leaned forward and slapped his horse’s neck. ‘I do. Why, has my brother said otherwise?’

Romanus shook his head. ‘No, no. He has said nothing. I just wondered. It sounds so exciting to travel the world on secret missions.’

Flavius nodded. ‘I suppose it is.’

Romanus looked round. He hadn’t noticed that the autumnal sun had disappeared and the creeping tendrils of mist were winding through the trees around them.

Flavius reined in his horse. ‘Is it much further?’ His voice was tense.

Romanus shook his head. ‘We are nearly there. We cross the heath here, and then we follow a track down towards the gorge.’ Where only moments before they had been making their way across the rock-strewn hillside, now they were surrounded by a wall of white. The boy shivered. He turned round, staring over his shoulder.

‘You aren’t lost?’ Flavius’s voice sharpened.

‘No, of course not.’ Romanus glanced up at his uncle. ‘You won’t hurt Mora, will you?’

Flavius held his gaze coldly. ‘There must be no witnesses to what I do here.’

‘But -’

‘No, Romanus.’ Flavius interrupted him. ‘I will not hurt Mora if you help me. When we get there you must see to it that they are separated. If you and Mora leave us alone, then neither of you will be witness to what happens and you will be safe. This is up to you, boy. Her life is in your hands. You will tell no-one of this conversation, do you understand? No-one. Not your sister, not your mother. Certainly not your father. If you do, I shall know and Mora will pay the price.’ He fixed Romanus’s face with a frightening stare. ‘You have it in you, boy, to be a servant of the Emperor. If you do this well, maybe I can get a position for you when you are a little older. It is up to you. Show me what you can do.’

‘He doesn’t kill him. I know he doesn’t kill him!’ Abi found she was clenching her fists, her knuckles white. She looked round. It had grown dark, the last light in the western sky a pale salmon behind the black silhouette of the Tor.

‘Who doesn’t kill who?’ Athena’s voice was almost a whisper. Abi swung round. The other woman had retreated to the bench and was sitting watching her, her hands wedged into the pockets of her jacket. Somewhere nearby an owl hooted.

Abi shook her head. She couldn’t, shouldn’t talk about this. At least, not the Jesus part. She managed a smile, walking over to Athena and sitting down next to her. ‘My Roman family is riven with hatred and jealousy. Two brothers who seem to hate each other.’

‘Common enough, alas,’ Athena said wryly. ‘Especially here. Mat and Justin.’

‘But they wouldn’t kill each other?’ Abi was shocked.

‘No, I don’t think it’s that bad.’

‘My Roman brothers seem to have fallen out over a woman.’

‘How corny!’ Athena gave a deep throaty laugh. ‘Not so, Mat and Just. I don’t know why they fell out, but it certainly wasn’t over dear old Cal.’ She stood up with a shiver. ‘At least I don’t think so.’ She paused thoughtfully, then she made a move towards the path. ‘Come on, it’s getting cold. Have you done enough eavesdropping for the night?’

Abi nodded. ‘You’re right. That’s what it is. Eavesdropping.’ She paused for a moment as they turned towards the house. ‘What did I do while that was going on? Did I say anything?’

Athena shook her head. ‘The only thing you said was, “I know he doesn’t kill him” or something like that when you came to. You were talking to yourself. Before that, all was silence. You seemed lost in thought. You just stood there, staring out across the garden.’

‘For how long?’

‘I don’t know. Long enough for me to get damn cold. Twenty minutes? Half an hour perhaps?’

‘It’s weird. I saw Mora this time, but she didn’t see me. She was across there, on the Isle of -’ She hesitated. ‘I was going to say, Avalon.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Because it wasn’t. Not then, was it? That’s Arthurian. What I am seeing is way before Arthur. But they seem to call it that. Ynys yr Afalon.’

‘The Isle of Apples. It has had so many names. Glaston, from the Welsh word Glas, which was the colour of the waters of the lake. Thence the Isle of Glass, Ynys Witrin.’ Athena moved on across the grass. ‘That was in Anglo-Saxon times I think. Most people go for Avalloch, but whether that was to do with apples too, or named after some ancient chieftain, who knows. I like Afalon. The hard f in Welsh sounds like a v. That would make sense. Next time you see your Mora to talk to, ask her. It would solve a lot of puzzles over which historians and myth-makers argue for hours!’ Athena was heading back towards the house. Abruptly she stopped and turned to face Abi again. ‘How long were you a vicar?’

Abi grimaced uncomfortably. ‘A couple of years. I’m still a curate technically. I’ve never had my own parish.’

‘But you can do all the priest stuff, right? Communion? Bury people?’

‘Yes.’ Abi looked at her uncomfortably. ‘I became a proper priest after my first year as a curate.’

‘Then you resigned.’

Abi nodded. ‘But I’m still a priest.’ She found she was whispering. ‘It’s not something you can just undo.’

‘Blimey!’ Athena grinned. ‘Who’d have thought it. Me being friends with a lady vicar.’ She reached out and squeezed Abi’s hand. ‘Don’t look so forlorn. I expect you’re still human deep down.’ She gave a teasing smile.

Opening the kitchen door they went inside to find Cal and Mat laying the table. ‘Supper in twenty minutes,’ Cal said sternly. ‘And Ben wants you to ring him at once, Abi.’

She put the call through in the study, standing at the window staring out at the darkness while Athena, having accepted Cal’s invitation to stay for supper joined her and Mat in a glass of wine.

‘What did Kier say?’ Ben sounded agitated.

‘Quite a lot, but he went when asked.’

‘Was it very unpleasant?’

Abi hesitated. ‘Not as bad as I had feared, to be honest, but there were other people here. It might not have been so good if I had been on my own.’

‘David is going to contact him and call him back to Cambridge.’

‘You’ve spoken to David?’

‘Yes, of course. This can’t be allowed to go on. The man is obsessed. You have to be protected from his bullying.’

Abi grimaced at the darkened window. ‘Thank you, Ben.’

‘You are happy staying there? I don’t want you to feel that you are vulnerable now he knows where you are.’

‘I’m OK, Ben. Really. I feel completely safe here, thanks to your brother and Cal. They are fantastic. And Athena.’ She grinned as she thought of Kier’s reaction to meeting her.

‘Good. Well, you know where I am if you need me. Call any time. I mean that, Abi. Even in the middle of the night. And in a day or two we’ll fix up another meeting, OK?’

She stood staring out into the darkness after he had hung up, feeling the silence of the night beyond the glass. It was several minutes before she reached up and slowly drew the curtains.

Outside, Kier gave a final distasteful look at the dented blue car which was parked outside the front door. It had been easy to see that it belonged to the large, silver-haired woman who had been sitting by the fire in the kitchen. A worshipper of the goddess. In the back window was a small poster for an exhibition of sculpture in the town. It depicted a pottery figure of one of those hugely obscene naked females which these women seemed to find so necessary to their so-called worship. He shuddered. That the woman should be sitting there in the same room as Abi was grotesque. It was a disaster. It reinforced everything that he had most feared about the route Abi was taking out of the church. Didn’t she realise that she was still a priest? Once a priest always a priest. She could resign from her curacy, from a parish, but she could never resign from her priesthood. Facing the car he made the sign of the cross, then he turned and walked slowly down the drive towards the road.

Abi woke suddenly, every sense alert. She could hear footsteps downstairs in the room immediately below her bedroom. It was still dark outside. She groped for her bedside clock and stared at it. Three a.m. Sitting up, she slid her legs over the side of the bed and groped for her slippers. It was probably Cal or Mat. It had to be, otherwise the dogs would have barked but there was no harm in checking. Her heart was, she realised, thudding unevenly in her chest as she slipped on her dressing gown and quietly opened her bedroom door. Halfway down the stairs she stopped, listening. There was no sound now. And no light on anywhere that she could see. She crept down a few more steps. Surely if someone had come downstairs they would have switched on the lights? She paused in the hall. The sounds had been coming from the library. The door was closed. There was no sign of any light under the door. She crept closer, listening. Yes, there it was again, the quiet pad of footsteps, the sound of a chair or something, being moved. She put her hand on the door handle and turned it softly. As she pushed the door open and reached for the light switch a torch beam swung violently towards her, raking up and down her body. Dazzled, she let out an exclamation. Justin was standing by the desk, the two dogs beside him, tails wagging furiously. ‘Turn off that light!’ His furious whisper cut across the room.

‘Why?’ She spoke in her normal voice, suddenly furious. ‘What on earth are you doing here, skulking round like a burglar?’

‘I don’t want to wake my brother, that’s why!’ He strode across towards her, manhandled her away from the switch, clicked off the light and quietly pulled the door closed. ‘I’m sorry to wake you. I was trying to be quiet.’

‘Well, you didn’t succeed.’ She rubbed her arm where he had grabbed it none too gently. ‘Why on earth do you have to behave like this? Surely you and Mat are grown adults? You don’t have to creep around like some kind of unwelcome intruder.’

‘I am an unwelcome intruder.’ He glared at her, taking in her bare feet, her tousled hair, her short, unexpectedly revealing nightshirt, and suddenly he grinned. ‘Sorry. I can’t expect you to understand. It’s just easier if we don’t meet. I wanted to grab another couple of books before I leave. I’m going home tomorrow.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Today. There won’t be any time to hang around until Mat goes away somewhere so I can come here in daylight, so I thought I would pop in on my way by.’

Abi shook her head. A smile, however charming, was not going to win her over. ‘Well, I suppose it’s none of my business. And the dogs seem to think it’s all right.’ They were sitting one on either side of Justin gazing up at him with every sign of adoration.

‘Indeed. They will vouch for my good intentions. You can search me if you like. No stolen silver. No hidden cash. No stolen credit cards. And I will leave a note for Cal as I always do, telling her what books I’ve taken. I will leave it somewhere Mat won’t see it.’ His smile disappeared at the mention of his brother’s name.

Abi raised her hands in surrender. ‘OK. I’m off back to bed. I’ll pretend this was all a dream.’

‘Do that.’ He stood waiting. With a shrug she turned back to the door, then she paused. ‘I don’t suppose you would tell me why you and your brother hate each other so much?’

‘No, I couldn’t.’ He folded his arms. ‘Goodnight, Abi.’ He smiled again. ‘Sweet dreams.’

To her annoyance she found herself smiling back.

She woke late. When she reached the kitchen it was empty. A note on the table informed her that Cal and Mat had gone to Taunton and wouldn’t be back until late evening. ‘Sorry about this. Unexpected appointment. Don’t worry. We’ve got the dogs.’ She raised an eyebrow as she set about putting on the kettle and making coffee. So she was alone in the house. Unless…

The library was empty. She stood in the doorway looking round. The room felt deserted; there was no resonance there from her altercation with Justin in the middle of the night. Nothing. She wandered towards the shelf where Justin had been standing, running her hand across the backs of the books until she came to a space. What was it that was so interesting here that he had to keep coming back? She squinted at the titles on either side of the gap and pulled out Mrs Leyel’s The Magic of Herbs. Thoughtfully she ran her finger down the edge of the rough, handcut pages. Beyond it there were several other books on herbalism and ancient remedies. To the right of the gap was a set of Victorian guidebooks to the counties of England. She frowned. Were they all still there, or was one of them missing? She ran her eye along the shelf. So, he had either taken a guidebook or he had taken a book on herbalism. She wandered over to the desk. He said he would write a message to Cal. She wondered where he had hidden his note. The sound of car tyres on gravel disturbed her train of thought and she glanced out of the window. Kier’s Audi was pulling up outside the front door. He drew to a halt and climbed out. She froze. She was standing right by the window. He only had to glance her way and he would see her. He stood for a moment looking up at the front of the house, looking, she realised with a shiver of distaste, directly up at her bedroom window. Had he seen her up there last night, silhouetted against the light before she had drawn the curtains? She took a step backwards. Then another, not daring to turn her back on the window. If she could just reach the door she would be out of sight. Please God, let the outside doors be locked. His attention snapped back to the front door and he strode towards it. Seconds later the bell pealed through the house. She held her breath. He would be expecting to hear the dogs bark. As far as he was concerned her car was missing, it was still hidden round the back, and so was Cal and Mat’s. The house would look empty. Surely he would give up and go away. She tiptoed into the hall and as soon as she was out of sight of the windows raced along the passage to the back. Reaching the back door she turned the key and shot the bolt across before retracing her steps back to the passage. At least there was no window there; no way he could see her if he walked round the house peering in. Were there any other downstairs doors to the outside? She wasn’t sure. None that she had seen. Except the glass doors in the living room which led into the conservatory. She held her breath. They would be locked, surely. She crept back to the main hall, listening intently. There was no sound now from the front door. She pushed open the living room door and peered in. The doors to the conservatory were closed, but that didn’t mean they were locked. She threw a quick look at all the windows. There was no sign of Kier. Running across the polished oak boards with their scatter of old oriental rugs she reached the glass doors just as Kier appeared at the conservatory door.

He smiled and strode towards her. ‘So, there you are.’ She could hear him through the glass. She threw herself at the doors, groping for the key, but he was already there, effortlessly dragging them out of her hands. ‘I know the others are out. I saw them on the road. So there is nothing to stop us having a nice quiet talk.’ He turned and closed the doors behind him, turning the key and putting it in his pocket. He stopped suddenly, staring at her. ‘There is no need to be frightened, Abi. I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘Of course you’re not.’ Somehow she managed to keep her voice steady. ‘I just had no wish to speak to you. Not now. Not today. Not ever. And I don’t like the way you keep locking me in with you. You did that in church and it freaked me out. Anyway, I’m just going out.’

‘Then I won’t keep you long. Can we go and have a cup of the coffee you’re making? I can smell it from here. You always did make good coffee, Abi.’ He walked ahead of her to the door and opened it for her. She had no alternative but to precede him to the kitchen.

‘I don’t think there is anything else for you to say, Kier.’ She pulled down two mugs from the dresser.

‘Abi, whatever you think of me, you must agree that I have your best interests at heart,’ he said slowly. He sat down at the kitchen table. He was wearing a navy blue three-quarter-length coat with an open-necked shirt under it. No dog collar. Heavy silver cross plainly in view this time. ‘Please listen.’

She said nothing. She poured him some black coffee and pushed a mug towards him. ‘You’ve got five minutes.’

‘Did you know who that woman was who was in here last night?’

‘Of course. And before you say anything I should remind you that she is a friend.’

‘She is a witch.’

‘No she isn’t. She is a talented artist. A jewellery designer.’

‘And a goddess worshipper.’

Abi smiled thinly. ‘She may well be. That is her business. It doesn’t make her a witch. Not in the way you mean it.’

‘Associating with her is putting your immortal soul in danger.’

‘Rubbish.’

He linked his hands around the mug, his knuckles white. ‘It is not rubbish, Abi,’ he said gently. ‘And you know it. You must let me help you.’

‘I thought you were the one who needed help, Kier. I don’t. Not from you. I have told you that. Your five minutes are nearly up.’ She walked over to the fireplace and stood with her back to the cold ashes. ‘Two minutes more, then you go.’

‘No!’ Kier slammed his mug down on the table and stood up. ‘No, I will not be hounded out of here. I will not let you be endangered in this way, Abi. Can’t you see what danger you are in? For God’s sake listen! At least let me pray with you. Let me protect you. I can make you happy, Abi. I can look after you. Come away with me, now. Far away from this godforsaken place. We can pray together, we can beg God to forgive you. We can start again.’

‘No, Kier!’ Abi felt her stomach tighten as his voice grew more frantic.

‘I can’t go, Abi. Not without you.’

Abi eyed the telephone which was on the table behind him. No chance of grabbing it and ringing Ben or the police. He would take it from her before she even touched it. ‘Please, Kier. Just leave.’

Behind Kier the door into the hall suddenly opened. She spun round in astonished relief to see Justin standing there. ‘You heard the lady.’ He had obviously overheard at least the last part of the conversation. Abi had never been so pleased to see anyone in her entire life.

Kier’s mouth dropped open for a second. ‘Who are you?’ He backed away from the table.

‘I live here.’ Justin narrowed his eyes. ‘And I don’t remember asking you in. Neither, I suspect, did my brother. Please leave.’

‘Not without Abi.’

‘Abi stays.’ Justin stepped into the kitchen. ‘Quite apart from threatening her, I heard you making some very disparaging remarks about a friend of mine. That kind of thing makes me angry. I don’t think you would like to see me angry.’

Abi held her breath. She watched Kier’s face intently. His mouth was set with fury. He was, she was sure, trying to decide as he eyed Justin, whether or not he could take him on. Justin was taller than him, but slimmer, more lightly built. But he was younger and, Abi suspected, far lighter on his feet. Whatever the reality, Kier obviously decided that he would not chance his luck. He raised his hands in surrender. ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. I’ll go.’ He turned to Abi. ‘But I will come back. I can’t leave you to this. My conscience won’t let me. You are too good a person at base, Abi, to lose you to the devil. Who knows, you might even come back to the church. Don’t throw that chance away, I beg you. Let me help you. Please.’ He was backing away from Justin, towards the door. ‘I’ll ring you. I promise. I won’t leave the area without you.’ He was walking down the passage now, with Justin right behind him.

‘Kier!’ Abi called suddenly. ‘The key!’

Kier stopped and turned. For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, but he put his hand in his pocket and fished it out. It was Justin who put out his hand and after a second’s pause Kier gave it to him. Then they were both out of sight. Two minutes later Justin reappeared. He walked over to the table without speaking and sat down.

Abi left the hearth and came to sit opposite him. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky.

‘You are a priest?’ Justin held her gaze. His whole demeanour had changed. He looked cold and angry.

She gave a tight, miserable smile. He was no longer the enigmatic, good-looking mystery man who she had, she had to admit, secretly found rather attractive. He looked suddenly frightening. ‘I was.’

‘In which church?’

‘The Church of England.’

He held her gaze for several seconds more without speaking, then unexpectedly he smiled. ‘Does Athena know?’

Abi nodded.

‘And that prick was a priest as well?’

She nodded again.

His smile broadened. ‘I take it my sainted brother and his wife know?’

‘Yes, of course they know.’

‘And you are some project of Ben’s?’

‘You could say so.’ She was beginning to feel angry in her turn. The shock of Kier’s arrival was wearing off, and she resented this supercilious line of cross-questioning. So Justin was another hater of the church. The knowledge didn’t surprise her but she was shocked to realise how much it upset her. ‘I’m glad you were still here,’ she said stiffly to change the subject. ‘I take it you knew Mat and Cal were going to be out for the day and changed your plans.’

Justin gave a barely perceptible nod. ‘Cal told me. Don’t worry, I have her permission to be here. I spoke to her before they left.’

‘It is none of my business why you are here,’ she retorted crisply. ‘I’m just glad you were. I don’t know how to get the message across to that man. I don’t like him. I don’t need him. I want him to leave me alone. What will it take to get through to him? Perhaps I need to scream at him a few times!’

He grinned. ‘I’d like to be there when you do.’

‘At this rate you will be!’ she replied grimly. She was not going to be placated by a smile now she knew how he really felt about her. She stood up abruptly. ‘Well, I think I will leave you to it. I don’t feel particularly safe here. I think I shall go into Glastonbury for the day.’

He stood up too. ‘May I ask why you don’t feel safe? Not because of me, I trust.’

She gave a small snort of laughter. ‘No, Justin, not because of you. It is because I suspect he is waiting round the corner to reappear when you go.’

‘Well, I won’t be going for quite a while, so feel free to be here safely.’ He surveyed her silently for a moment. ‘I can’t quite see you in a dog collar.’

She felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t bother to waste your imaginative powers on me.’ She moved towards the door.

He folded his arms, watching her. ‘Actually I think it would be rather appealing.’ He paused. ‘You don’t like me, do you.’

‘Is there any reason why I should?’

‘Christian charity?’

She gave a wry smile. ‘That is in short supply today, I’m afraid.’

‘OK.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll be gone when you get back. Take care.’ He turned away from her back to the table and reached for the telephone. For a moment she didn’t move, then she headed for the door. It didn’t seem worth saying goodbye. He was already engrossed in his call.

Athena was serving a customer when she opened the door and let herself into the shop. Abi hovered for several minutes, studying a small table laden with incense burners and candlesticks, waiting until they had gone. ‘Kier turned up again this morning,’ she said as soon as the door was closed behind them.

Athena sighed. She pushed the drawer of the till closed and heaved herself onto the stool behind the counter. Leaning forward, her chin on her cupped hands, she surveyed Abi. ‘He’s persistent, isn’t he?’ This morning she was wearing a saffron-yellow low-necked blouse with multiple stranded filigree necklaces with brown agate and copper drops strung along the wires. ‘You could come and stay with me. He’d never dare follow you there.’

Abi smiled. ‘That’s true. He thinks you’re a witch and a goddess worshipper.’

‘He’s not necessarily wrong.’

‘No.’ Abi paused. ‘It’s kind of you Athena, but he is not going to chase me away and I do have a reason to stay where I am.’

‘The ghosts.’

Abi nodded. ‘It’s not that I haven’t seen them elsewhere, it’s just that that is the epicentre. I sort of feel it’s meant to be, that I am there.’

Athena straightened and looked at her watch. ‘Listen, I’m off duty at twelve. As soon as Bella comes in why don’t you and I have a spot of lunch, then this afternoon we’ll climb the Tor. How does that sound? We’ll see if your Mora follows you there. That is the true epicentre of power, the focal point. In every era, pagan and Christian it has been recognised as special. Let’s see what you make of it. Have you brought your stone?’

Abi shook her head. It was at Woodley, tucked back in the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers in her bedroom.

‘Doesn’t matter. You don’t need it. As I told you, you can do it without, whatever it is it does or doesn’t do. Go and buy yourself a pretty skirt, Abi Rutherford, and some low-necked sexy blouses and dump those churchy blue shirts. I’ll meet you at twelve thirty.’

‘Go and see what the situation is,’ Flavius whispered. He had dismounted several hundred paces from the woodman’s hut and tied his horse to a tree. Around them the grey limestone cliffs reared up out of the trees towards an intensely blue sky. ‘I’ll wait here.’ He frowned as in the distance something moved on the distant rocks. He recognised the outline of a wild goat and nodded, satisfied.

Romanus crept forward, russet leaves rustling under his feet. The hut seemed deserted. Listening intently he moved on a few more paces. The place was utterly quiet. No smoke seeped through the roof and the door was closed. He glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the horse or its rider any more; the forest seemed empty. He glanced up as a shadow flicked across the sunlit track at his feet. A bird had flown overhead to perch on a tree near him. A crow. He shivered. It was watching him intently and after a minute it called, the three raucous caws echoing across the trees. The door of the cottage was pushed open and a dog raced out, barking wildly. It came straight at him and he had no alternative but to stand up in the sunlight. He held out his hands soothingly. Dogs liked him as a rule and this one was no different. It stopped its headlong rush and began to lick his hand, its tail wagging.

‘Hello?’ A weak voice called from the cottage. ‘Who is there?’

Romanus glanced back over his shoulder in an agony of indecision. He was supposed to be spying out the land, but there was no hiding now. The dog had seen to that. Straightening his shoulders he walked up to the cottage and stooped in the doorway. ‘Hello, Sean.’

The man was lying on a pallet on the floor. In the light from the doorway Romanus saw a pale face, sweaty with pain, the big man propped uncomfortably against some rough pillows. There was a rug across his legs. He was alone, but someone had left him a cup of water and a plate of bannock with a chunk of sheep’s cheese. He didn’t appear to have touched the food. Romanus decided the truth was probably the best option. ‘I heard Mora the healer was on her way to see you,’ he said. ‘I thought I would bring you the message. Reassure you that you hadn’t been forgotten.’

Sean managed a smile. ‘That was kind. My daughter said she would try and send word to the island. She left yesterday to find someone to take a message.’

‘And she hasn’t come back?’ Romanus frowned.

The man shook his head.

There was a pause. The boy didn’t know what to say next. Why would she not return to her father when he was in such pain and all alone? He glanced round the shadowy hovel. The dog had followed him in and was lying at the foot of the pallet. The man’s tools were neatly stacked by the doorway. Axes, mattocks, hooks. His needs seemed to be simple. A small pot for cooking. The plate and cup by his side, his breeches and a leather jacket lying by the bed. Someone had taken his clothes off. He could see the bloodstains on the torn fabric. ‘Shall I fetch you some more water?’ he asked at last, noticing that the cup was empty. The man nodded gratefully. Romanus picked it up and looked round for a jug.

‘There is a spring. Behind the house.’ Sean was speaking through teeth gritted against the pain. Romanus nodded and ducked outside into the sunlight.

Behind the hut a narrow track showed where a clear spring trickled out of a rocky outcrop. High above a raven soared upwards from the cliffs. Romanus held the cup under the water and swilled it round before refilling it.

‘What the hell did you go in for?’ The whisper at his elbow nearly made him drop it.

He swung round. ‘I had no choice. The dog saw me.’

Flavius glared at him. ‘No harm done, I suppose. So, he’s alone?’

Romanus nodded.

‘And he’s expecting the healers?’

He nodded again.

‘Good. We’ll hide over there near the door. If we keep still long enough the dog will grow used to our presence. It seems to accept you. Come.’

‘I’ll just take him the water.’

‘No. We need to hide! Leave it.’ Impatiently Flavius struck the cup out of Romanus’s hand. It hit the rock and shattered. The boy stared at it in horror. ‘That was his only cup. He’s thirsty.’

‘I’m sure the ever competent Mora will bring something with her. He can wait,’ Flavius said curtly. ‘Come.’

Romanus looked from his uncle to the ground where the shards of broken pottery lay scattered. ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he said stubbornly. Then he thought of something else. ‘What happens if his daughter comes back? You’re not going to hurt her, are you?’

Flavius glared at him ‘She won’t come back. She’s had a message telling her that the healers have taken her father back to their island. By the time she finds out that’s not true this will all be over.’

‘But -’ Romanus began.

‘But nothing!’ Flavius glared at him. ‘You are beginning to annoy me. Has no-one ever taught you obedience? If you want one day to serve the Emperor, that is something you are going to have to learn, and learn fast. Sentiment has no place to play in my world, Romanus. You obey or you fail.’

Romanus stared at him, terrified. ‘I do want to serve the Emperor.’

‘Then obey me.’

Romanus followed him without a further word. They skirted the hut at a safe distance and found a hiding place from which they could watch the entrance. As they settled down out of sight amongst the bracken Romanus saw his uncle loosen his sword in its sheath. He bit his lip. ‘You won’t hurt Mora, will you? You promised.’

‘Be silent!’ Flavius narrowed his eyes. He had seen a movement on the path in the distance.

Mora glanced up at the tall pine on the edge of the forest. The crow launched itself into flight as she watched and again the three caws echoed over the treetops. She frowned, stopping in her tracks. Yeshua stopped beside her. ‘What is it?’

‘Something is wrong.’

He looked up at the bird. ‘We have disturbed it.’

‘It’s more than that.’ She looked round, narrowing her eyes against the sunlight. They had travelled more quickly than they had expected, hitching a ride on an ox cart through the lower slopes of the hills, setting off on foot across the heathland on the edge of the forest as the sun began to settle into the west. Even from here as they followed the track they could see the sharp silhouette of the Tor against the pearly western sky far away through the trees. Below it the marshy levels and the water of the mere were shrouded in mist.’

‘We must go back,’ she said suddenly. ‘There is danger here.’

He shook his head. ‘There is an injured man here, Mora. We need to help him.’

‘But the bird has spoken.’

‘Even so, we need to give help where it is requested. If we have been warned of something, then we can be on our guard.’ He threw a glance over his shoulder. ‘You are right. I sense all is not well, but there is a sick man out here somewhere, that is true and he needs our aid.’ He smiled at her. ‘Come.’ He held out his hand.

She gave in. ‘It isn’t far.’ She looked up at the tree. There was no sign of the crow now. ‘Thank you, brother bird,’ she said, ‘wherever you are. We will be careful.’

It was not long afterwards that Yeshua stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He pointed up ahead to the spot where the hovel lay in the shadow. ‘Is that the place?’ he whispered.

She nodded. ‘Where is the woodman’s daughter? Why isn’t there a fire?’

He eased his pack off his shoulders and gestured her to do the same. Then he pushed her gently out of sight into the bushes. ‘Wait here. I will go and see.’

‘No!’ She caught at him. ‘No, it is you who is in danger.’

He shook his head. ‘Why me?’

‘I don’t know. I just sense it. Something is wrong.’ She looked round wildly. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘Leave it to me.’ Yeshua took a firm grip on his staff and stepped back onto the track. ‘Wait here.’

Cautiously he approached the door to the hut. Seconds later the woodman’s dog began to bark.

Mora watched as he pushed open the door and stooped to go in. She saw the dog jumping around him, its tail wagging, then she saw the movement in the bushes beside the hut. A tall figure emerged into the clearing, followed by a boy. She froze. The man was carrying a drawn sword.

‘Abi, are you OK?’ Athena’s voice in her ear woke Abi with a start. ‘You called out. You sounded terrified.’ They were sitting side by side on the grassy slope below the old tower of St Michael’s on the summit of the Tor. Around them the view stretched away on every side into the hazy distance. Abi shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image of the woodman’s hut and the clearing in the forest. Yeshua had gone inside to heal the man and outside Flavius was waiting to kill him. She groaned with frustration.

‘I’m sorry.’ Athena stared at her. ‘I shouldn’t have interrupted.’

‘No!’ Abi rubbed her eyes fiercely. ‘I was watching someone. He was in danger. I wanted to stop it. To be there. To be able to do something.’ Scrambling to her feet she walked across to the tower – all that remained of St Michael’s church which once stood on top of the Tor. The tower stood four square, the entrances on each of the four sides open to wind and rain and sun.

As she ducked inside and stood looking up at the sky Athena followed her. ‘But you couldn’t?’

‘No.’

Behind them two strangers walked into the space beneath the tower, looking round. ‘I can feel the power of this place,’ Abi said suddenly. ‘Rising up through me. It’s amazing.’ She held out her arms, pivoting round in a circle. She smiled, and stood still shading her eyes with her hand as she looked towards the east. ‘Somewhere up there in the Mendips, there is a woodcutter’s hut, near some limestone cliffs. It might even have been in Cheddar Gorge. Mora went there to heal him after a tree fell on him.’

‘And did she?’ Athena held her gaze steadily.

‘I don’t know.’

‘She went there alone?’

Abi hesitated. Why did she not want to mention Mora’s apprentice? Because who he was, or might be, was still such a huge deal. Because, she realised, she wanted so much for it to be true. Because she still couldn’t believe it herself. Because she couldn’t bring herself to put her vision into words. ‘Romanus was there,’ she said at last, ‘with the wicked uncle, Flavius, lying in wait.’

‘I see. And I interrupted at the wrong moment?’

Abi nodded ruefully.

‘Do you want to try again?’

But it didn’t work. However hard Abi tried to summon her vision of the past nothing happened.

After a while she shrugged. ‘It’s gone.’ She stood staring out across the levels towards the distant Bristol Channel with beyond it a faint haze which shrouded the hills of Wales.

Retrieving the crystal from the drawer where it was stowed, Abi made her way slowly to the bench by the ruined arch. There was still no sign of the Cavendishes when she got home. The house was very quiet. The afternoon was drawing in fast and already she could see the mist beginning to form over the flat fields. She went to sit down, pulling her jacket close around her. ‘OK, Mora. What happened next?’ she whispered.

She turned the stone over and over in her hands. She could feel nothing. No warmth, no vibration, no tingling in her fingers. A shot of panic went through her. Supposing she couldn’t do it again? Supposing she never found out what happened?

‘Mora?’

She stared round at the ruined arch, the old crumbling remnants of the walls, the fragment of pillar poking up through the flowerbed. In the light of the low sun all she could see was the shroud of ivy which protected it. The air was full of the smell of damp moss. Shivering she tried to still her thoughts, concentrating on letting her mind stay blank. Allow it to come. Don’t try and force it. She cradled the stone on her lap, touching it gently with her fingertips. ‘Mora, where are you? What happened next?’

The shadow of the arch stretched across the grass at her feet, its shape elongated, irregular as it crawled across the flowerbed and onto the grass.

‘Mora? What happened? I know Flavius didn’t hurt him.’ She held her breath, listening. ‘He didn’t attack you, or Romanus?’ The words were no more than a whisper. ‘Mora?’

Supposing he had killed her? Supposing in his rage and frustration at somehow missing his target, he had struck out at the druid priestess. Perhaps that was why she felt the need to haunt the place where her story had unfolded. Clutching the stone, Abi rose to her feet. ‘Mora? Where are you? What happened?’ She stepped forward onto the flowerbed and rested her hand against the arch as though somehow it would connect her to the past. In the orchard a blackbird shrieked its warning and flew past her. She stared round, desperately trying to see into the shadows, trying to sense the past which must be there, just out of sight, but nothing came. She looked down at the stone in her hands. ‘Was it Kier? Has he frightened you away?’ She gave a bitter smile. Or was it the priestess of the goddess with her pretty skirts and lovely necklaces? She turned slowly looking towards the house. If Cal and Mat were home the lights would have come on in the kitchen by now and the dogs would be rushing across the lawn towards her. All was silence. The place was still deserted. With a sigh she rammed the stone into the pocket of her jacket and began to walk down through the orchard at the end of the garden.

Opening the door she made her way inside the little church and closed the door behind her. Silence enfolded her. That was why it kept drawing her back. Her own church. Her own sacred space. It was a novelty, this special feeling, this certainty that she had to come back here constantly to be safe, and that here everything would in the end begin to make sense. It was just possible to make out the aisle in the gloom and she made her way towards the chancel as for the first time she registered that there didn’t appear to be any electricity in the church. That explained the proliferation of candles. Besides those on the altar there were more on the window sills, a candelabra hanging from the ceiling on a heavy black chain, another standing at the back near the font. All the candles looked well used, half burned down, decorated with patterns of waxy drips. She sat down in one of the chairs at the front. The east window was in total darkness with no light from the eastern sky outside to illuminate the figure of Christ. It was as though he wasn’t there. Behind her a faint rosy light flooded low onto the floor as the setting sun found a momentary gap in the racing clouds. The church was cold. As was the stone in her pocket. She reached in to touch it briefly, her fingers stroking the rough surface, then she withdrew them. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it with her.

Slipping to her knees she folded her hands together in prayer. ‘What happened?’ she whispered. ‘Is it true? Were you here? Did what happened here become a part of your teaching?’

Somewhere in the body of the church a timber creaked as the temperature outside dropped. She shivered again. ‘Our Father…’ She paused. She could sense someone behind her. Not Kier. Surely he hadn’t followed her here. Swallowing hard she levered herself into a sitting position, straining every nerve to hear any movements in the nave behind her. There was nothing. Whoever it was, if there was anyone at all, must be holding their breath just as she was. After a minute she began to turn round, staring into the shadowy spaces of the church. Nothing moved. If there was someone there he must be deliberately hiding, down amongst the rows of chairs. Another small sound echoed into the silence. Something had dropped and rolled a little way before coming to a stop. She could feel her heart banging against her ribs. ‘Who is it? Who’s there?’ She could hear the fear in her own voice. ‘Come on. Show yourself.’ She paused for a second. There was no reply. ‘Kier, is that you?’

Nothing.

Standing up, she stepped into the aisle, straining her eyes as the light grew fainter. The pink light on the floor was beginning to fade now into the grey of evening. Taking a couple of steps towards the back of the church she paused, then she took two more. There was a box of matches lying in a saucer on a shelf near the door. With a shaking hand she lit a candle and as its faint light spread feebly into the darkness she stared round. There was no sign of anyone there. Picking up the candlestick she looked round again, not giving herself time to think. She was not going to be driven from this place of refuge. There was no-one there. It was a small church. There was nowhere to hide. No vestry, no pillars, no curtains. The noises had been natural ones, the creak of ancient timbers, the small sounds of mice or bats, the branch of a tree tapping a window. With a final look round she went back to the altar step to pray.

‘No sign of Abi?’ Mat walked into the kitchen and looked round. He had brought in an armful of logs and he let them fall into the hearth.

‘Her car was there.’ Cal followed him in. ‘I hope she didn’t mind us going off so early. We should really have spoken to her before we left.’

‘I should think Abi welcomed some time to herself,’ he said cheerfully. ‘It was worth it though, wasn’t it!’ He smiled at her suddenly. The trip to Taunton had been to discuss a new job for Mat; or to be strictly accurate, an old one. A follow up for one of his previous clients. Nothing large or permanent, but a huge help financially in the short term. ‘Abi will be fine. You don’t have to watch over her the whole time. Unless – you don’t think the ghastly Kieran was here again?’

Cal shook her head. ‘His car isn’t here. I expect she is out viewing the ghosts in the ruins.’ She went over to the window and looked out at the rapidly darkening garden.

‘What do you think is actually going on there?’ Mat stooped to pile the logs over some kindling and struck a match.

‘Not sure. They may be our ghosts technically, if one can have ownership of ghosts, but she is obviously connected in some way.’

‘And rapidly becoming obsessive. Ben is worried.’

‘I’m sure he is.’

‘As is the ghastly Kier. The man is genuinely concerned. I know Abi is furious and resentful, and even frightened of him but he does have a point.’

Cal made a face. ‘Don’t let Abi hear you say that.’

The phone began to ring.

‘Heaven forbid.’ He walked over to answer it, listening for a few seconds before replying. ‘She’s not here, Athena. We were just wondering where she was ourselves. We’ve only just got in. OK. I’ll get her to call you.’

He put down the phone and turned to Cal. ‘They went up the Tor this afternoon.’ He walked over to the door and opened it. ‘Go on, dogs, have a scout round. Where is Abi? Find her!’

They watched as the dogs streaked off into the darkness, barking. ‘Do you think they know who you mean?’ Cal grinned.

‘Of course they do!’

‘OK. Let’s see how long it takes them to come back.’

‘Are you sure Romanus went with his uncle?’ Lydia had found Sorcha in the byre. She had taken an empty jug outside to the girl who milked the goats, dipping it into one of the cool clay storage bowls and had stayed to gossip.

Sorcha nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. They went off together early. Romanus was running behind his horse.’

‘And do you know where they were going?’

‘Flavius had heard that Mora had been called to visit someone who had had an accident up in the gorge. He was sure the Galilean would have gone with her.’

‘And you didn’t think to tell me?’ Lydia’s voice was frozen with horror.

‘I’ve only just found out where they were going,’ Sorcha said defensively. She glanced at the milkmaid. ‘Rhiannon has just told me.’

Lydia turned to the girl who had gone as white as the milk in her pail. ‘Who told you this?’

‘The lad who brought the fish, ma’am. He heard it from the woodman’s daughter who had told his brother to fetch the lady Mora from the island. The lord Flavius had offered good coins to anyone who could give him information about where she was going and why. I’m sorry. Was it wrong?’

‘No.’ Lydia shook her head impatiently. ‘You weren’t to know. None of you was.’ She stared out across the palisade, down the fields, towards the island. Darkness had come early, a white mist hanging over the water of the mere. ‘They should be back by now, surely.’ It wasn’t just that she was worried about Romanus. Petra’s pain had worsened sharply and she had retired to her bed, feverish, trying to suppress the agonised sobs which she knew so upset her mother. Lydia needed Mora to come back with the stronger medicine she had mentioned.

‘Romanus will be all right,’ Sorcha said reassuringly. ‘Flavius will look after him.’

‘You think so?’ Lydia turned on her. ‘The man is a professional killer.’

There was a shocked silence behind her. She turned and surveyed the two young women. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s true. He is not to be trusted. I told Romanus!’

‘He’s a boy, lady Lydia,’ Rhiannon said quietly. ‘To him the man is exciting. Exotic.’

‘And I am someone whose orders can be ignored,’ Lydia murmured to herself as she turned away again and began to move back towards the house.

Sorcha picked up her jug and made to follow her. ‘Let me know if you hear anything,’ she whispered under her breath.

Rhiannon nodded. ‘I’ll ask the men when they come in. Someone will know something. The lord Flavius is not someone you see and instantly forget.’

‘Though he would have it so,’ Sorcha said wisely. ‘He seeks to creep around and listen and watch, spying on everyone and plotting against the family. The lady Lydia is right. He is not one to be trusted. I would not like my son to choose him as a hero to worship.’

Both young women swung round as a group of men appeared at the gate. Laughter rang out in the misty air as they jostled into the yard and began to stack hoes and rakes and mattocks in a corner of the byre. Rhiannon called out and they came over. They all knew Flavius had offered rewards to people who could give him information about Mora; none of them knew that someone had accepted his bribe and sent him on a quest into the hills.

The men looked at one another uncomfortably. ‘Was it wrong to listen to him?’ one of them ventured. He looked guilty.

Rhiannon shook her head. ‘We are only worried because young Romanus went with him and no-one knows where they are. They should have been back by now.’ She looked across at Lydia and shrugged. ‘All you can do is wait, my lady. He’ll be all right. Romanus is a resourceful young chap.’ She smiled reassuringly.

Back inside after a quick glance at her daughter who was sleeping fitfully, huddled under the covers, Lydia sat down by the fire, wrapped in her cloak against the evening chill. If only Gaius were there, but yet again he had made the long ride north towards the coast to meet up with the last batch of traders of the season. It had been a wet summer; the rivers had flooded, the summer-lands had never properly dried and now once again the meres and lakes were filling and spilling over one into another to make wider and wider lakes across the levels to the west. Mora said the wise men in the druid school were predicting a stormy autumn and a cold winter. Gaius had been reluctant to leave her, but there would be no more overseas trade after this until the spring. She shivered. It was imperative that Flavius leave too on the last boats. The gods forefend that he be trapped with them for the winter. She glanced up as Sorcha followed her inside. ‘Petra is asleep.’

‘Perhaps Mora will come back with them. She often senses when Petra needs her help.’

Lydia nodded miserably. She was full of misgivings about Flavius’s intentions towards the young woman. What if he hurts her? What if he hurts Romanus?