Time’s Legacy

22

‘Cal?’ Athena put her head in through the open back door and looked round. ‘Are you there?’

Cal was sitting in the chair by the unlit fire, staring down at the floor.

‘What’s happened?’ Athena took in the scene as she came in, threw her bag down on the table and ran across to Cal, dropping on her knees beside her and taking her cold hands in her own.

Cal looked up blindly. ‘I am so frightened.’

‘Why?’

‘He came. The Roman. He stood in the doorway and looked round as though he was hunting for someone. Then he came in. He had a sword. He said he had killed them all, Athena. He killed his family out there in the garden. The children, the dogs,’ her voice broke, ‘his own twin brother. All of them.’

‘But he didn’t hurt you or Mat.’ Athena gripped her wrists tightly.

Cal shook her head.

‘So, where is Mat?’

She shrugged. ‘He was here. He went out after him.’

‘Sweet goddess!’ Athena stood up and put her arm round Cal’s shoulder. ‘Tell me what happened. Exactly.’

‘He came in and he raised the sword.’ Tears started trickling down her cheeks ‘I was screaming for Mat.’

‘Where was he?’

‘He was here. Right beside me. He picked up the bread knife from the table there. He raised it up and stabbed at Flavius.’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘He brought the knife down and…’

‘And?’

‘And,’ she paused and took a deep shuddering breath, ‘and there was nothing there. Flavius wasn’t there any more. He vanished.’ She swallowed hard. ‘We couldn’t move. We couldn’t breathe. For a moment it was as though everything – time itself – had been suspended, then slowly everything went back the way it was. It was just Mat and me in here. No-one else. Nothing. The dogs came out from under the chair and they started to bark.’ She gave a watery smile. ‘Hackles up. They went ballistic. Mat said he thought that meant we were safe. The kitchen door hadn’t really opened. It was still bolted.’

For a moment they sat in silence then at last Athena spoke, her voice little more than a whisper. ‘If he killed all of the family out there, Cal, who is he hunting? Why did he come in here?’

Cal refocused on Athena’s face. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.

‘Are you sure he killed Lydia? Didn’t he love her?’

Cal shrugged.

‘What about Mora, the druid priestess? Wasn’t she the one who Abi has been contacting through her stone?’

Cal nodded. ‘Oh God, Athena, you think he was looking for Abi?’

‘Where is she?’

Cal swallowed hard. ‘She’s gone with Justin. To Ty Mawr.’

‘That’s sensible. She’ll be safe with him.’

‘Will she?’ Cal threw herself down in a chair and clasped her hands on the table in front of her. They were still shaking.

Athena nodded. ‘She will. She has to be.’ She reached for the kettle and plugged it in, glancing at the door. ‘Where are the dogs now? Did they go with Mat?’

‘I suppose so.’ Cal gave a wan smile. ‘Don’t open the door!’ she called as Athena turned towards it.

‘He’s gone, Cal. Your Roman has gone,’ Athena said. She sounded, she realised, a lot braver than she felt. ‘After all, I didn’t see him when I came in. I’m going to call Mat. He can’t have gone far.’

He hadn’t. He reappeared almost at once, his face white, the bread knife still clutched in his hand. ‘I wish Ben was here,’ he said, throwing it down. He had bolted the door behind him again. ‘I wish everyone was here!’

‘He’s gone for now,’ Cal said at last. She didn’t point out that a bolted door had not kept Flavius out. ‘The dogs will know if he comes back before we see him.’

‘And if he does?’

‘Perhaps by then the others will be back. At least he knows now that Abi isn’t here.’

‘But why should he be after Abi?’ Athena put in.

‘Because Abi has the stone? Because Abi can tell the story? Because she can tell the world what a shit he is?’

‘And you don’t think he will follow her and the stone to Wales?’

‘If he does, at least she isn’t there on her own,’ Cal said after a minute. ‘The others must have got there by now. They are all there. Kier followed them. They rang and told us he was outside the cottage. Ben went after them with the bishop and the bishop’s chaplain and another man called Greg who’s an exorcist.’

Athena stared at her. For a moment her face registered horror then slowly the corners of her mouth started to twitch. ‘You are telling me that, what, three vicars and a bishop are on their way to Justin’s house? Our Justin. Druid Justin?’

Cal nodded. After a moment she started shakily to smile as well. ‘I would like to be a fly on the wall, wouldn’t you?’

Athena nodded. ‘Indeed I would,’ she said slowly.

‘Give it to me.’ Kier had risen from his chair and moved stiffly towards the table. He reached out for the crystal. ‘I’m going to help her.’

‘No!’ David Paxman stood up and reached across the table to intercept his outstretched hand but he was too late. Kier picked up the Serpent Stone and turning back to his chair by the fire, subsided once more, clutching the stone between his hands. There was silence in the room.

Abi turned to Justin in appeal but he shook his head and put his finger to his lips, watching Kier’s face. Ben had risen to his feet anxiously, but Greg put out his hand and pulled him down into his chair. ‘Wait,’ he whispered. ‘See what happens.’

Mora was clutching her side. She could feel the hot blood welling up between her fingers, cooling, turning sticky. In front of her Flavius had stepped back towards the empty fire pit, moving quietly, on his toes, his eyes fixed on the doorway where the shadow of the man hovered, just out of view, the silhouette thrown, strangely distorted by the sunlight outside onto the wall.

‘In the name of Jesus Christ, come out!’ The disembodied voice echoed strangely in the shadows of the house.

Mora shrank back. The silhouette had straightened. The shadow figure outstretched a hand and she could see the shape of a cross thrown slantwise across the wall. He was holding something. Was it a reversed dagger? Crossed sticks?

Flavius shifted the grip on his blade and moved, light as a cat on his feet to the far side of the fire from where he could see out of the doorway. She saw his face tense, his concentration absolute as he looked from side to side. For a moment he hesitated and she saw a flicker of puzzlement as he crept closer. ‘Who is there?’ She heard him mutter the words as she slipped lower onto the ground. Her strength was going, her mouth dry. She could only watch as he moved again. He had reached the door and carefully, back to the wall, he peered outside. ‘Nothing!’ She heard the sneer in the words. ‘A dream.’ He moved outside, out of the shadows and she saw the light fall across his face. Then, ‘Who are you?’

Again the voice, further away this time. ‘Jesus Christ is here. He will save these women. He loved them.’

Mora could hear the blood pounding in her ears. She was struggling for breath. ‘Yeshua,’ she murmured. ‘Save Petra. Save me. I can’t do it alone without you.’ She could see the shadow growing larger. There was someone out there.

‘Who in Hades are you?’ Flavius’ voice rang out, sharp with fear, then she heard him scream.

As she subsided into unconsciousness she heard quick light footsteps running towards her and Lydia’s voice, gentle in her head. ‘Hold on Mora. I am here, my dear. Hold on.’

‘Kier?’ The silence in the room had lasted for several long seconds before Ben rose to his feet again. ‘Are you all right?’

Kier had fallen back in his chair. The stone had rolled from his hands onto the floor, falling onto the hearth rug where it lay inert, the crystal faces gently reflecting the flicker of the flames from the fire. Ben moved towards him and took his arm, shaking him gently. ‘Kier?’

Greg stood up. He walked over and stood for a moment looking down at him with a frown, then he reached out and put his hand to Kier’s throat, pressing his two forefingers below the jaw. ‘His pulse is steady.’

‘Thank God!’ Ben glanced up at him. ‘For a moment, I thought the worst…’

‘That was his voice we heard. With Flavius and Mora. There. In the past,’ Greg said thoughtfully. ‘It was. Wasn’t it? I’m not imagining it?’

Both men turned towards Justin. He stood up. He moved over to Kier and took his wrist, also testing the pulse. ‘That is amazing,’ he said quietly. ‘You are right. We heard his voice from the past. He is a walker between the worlds. A natural shaman.’ The other men looked at him sharply, but to Abi’s surprise no-one said anything.

It was several seconds before the bishop rose to his feet and moved over to join the other men looking down at Kier. ‘We shouldn’t have allowed him to do this. Will he be all right?’

Justin nodded. ‘He should be.’ He looked troubled. ‘In theory he should sleep it off and wake naturally after a time, only…’ He paused and put his hand on Kier’s forehead.

‘Only?’ Bishop David prompted after a moment.

‘He is untrained.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning that he could get lost; not know how to return, am I right?’ Greg looked across at Justin.

Justin chewed his lip for a moment. ‘He used the crystal as a signpost, or an access point, but then he dropped it.’

‘Then give it back to him!’ Abi elbowed her way passed the bishop’s chaplain who seemed to be incapable of movement as he sat beside her, and pushing between the men, she scooped the crystal off the floor and put it between Kier’s hands, trying to fold his fingers around it. They were inert. The ball rolled off his lap again.

She stood back in horror. ‘Go after him!’ She looked across at Justin. ‘You can, can’t you?’

Justin nodded doubtfully.

‘Well then?’

‘It’s not that easy, Abi.’

‘Of course it is. You have to.’ Instinctively she had put her hands over Kier’s. She could feel the healing warmth flowing out of her. Closing her eyes, she pictured Yeshua. ‘Help me help him,’ she breathed silently. For a few seconds there was silence in the room then Greg reached forward and put his hand on her shoulder.

‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘I think Justin’s first idea was the best one, to let him sleep it off. With luck he will wake naturally and remember only that he has had a dream of the past. You, take the crystal again, Abi. We need to know what has happened.’

Abi hesitated. She was looking down at her hands. Justin stood up and came over to her. ‘You have the gift of healing Abi,’ he said quietly. ‘I sensed it. But this is not the right time. Kier has something to do, or somewhere to go. Over there, in the past.’

She met his eyes doubtfully, then quietly she nodded and turned away.

Bishop David shook his head. ‘I don’t believe any of this!’

‘Of course you do.’ Greg managed a quick grin. ‘Come on. You’re known for your broad-mindedness. Let us pray together, then Abi can look and see what has happened to Mora.’ He paused and looked at them thoughtfully. ‘And Kier.’

When Mora woke she was in her own bed. Her father was sitting on a stool at her side holding her hand in his. He saw her eyelids flicker and he leaned forward with a gentle smile. ‘At last. You have slept for a long time, my Mora.’

She moved uncomfortably and felt a tight restriction round her middle.

He nodded slowly. ‘Addedomaros has been looking after you. He has strapped your ribs and stitched the wound. You lost a lot of blood but you are on the mend.’

‘And Lydia?’

‘She is all right. She is staying here on Ynys yr Afalon. She has been helping us.’ His eyes sought hers. ‘There is nothing left for her on the mainland.’

Mora closed her eyes, feeling hot tears slipping out onto her cheeks. ‘Petra?’ There was a long silence.

‘Petra sleeps,’ he said at last. ‘Between life and death. We have tended her wounds and Addedomaros has dripped life-sustaining drinks between her lips, but her spirit has fled.’

‘But she is still alive?’ Mora struggled to sit up.

He shrugged. ‘She still breathes. Addedomaros says – ’

But Mora was not listening. Somehow she managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed. ‘Take me to her.’

‘You’re not strong enough.’

‘I am. I am strong enough. I know how to help her.’

Her father carried her. Petra was in a small cubicle near Addedomaros’ own room. Lydia was sitting with her in the flickering light of two beeswax candles. The whole room smelled of honey.

Setting Mora gently on her feet Fergus Mor stepped back in the shadows as she stood for a moment, looking down at the unconscious figure in the bed. For several moments she didn’t move then painfully she sat down on the edge of the bed. Smiling sadly at Lydia who was seated on a stool at the far side, she reached for Petra’s hand. It was soft and supple but very cold.

‘Petra?’ she whispered. ‘Petra, can you hear me?’

There was no movement in the girl’s face. It was as still as carved stone.

‘Petra. I am going to make you better.’ Mora laid her hand on the cold forehead. ‘I want you to wake up.’ She hesitated, glancing up at Lydia, then at her father, her eyes for a moment full of doubt.

‘Do it!’ Abi whispered. ‘Do it, Mora. Heal her in Jesus’ name.’

She saw Mora turn and look back at Petra again. Had she heard her? Abi wasn’t sure. The hut was full of shadows as the candle flames danced.

‘Petra!’ Mora’s voice was stronger now. ‘In Yeshua’s name you are healed!’

There was a long pause. Lydia, Mora and her father were gazing at the child’s face. The whole world seemed to hold its breath. A sigh of wind from the doorway flattened the candle flames for an instant and, as they watched, Petra opened her eyes.

It was later, when Petra was once more asleep, this time in Lydia’s hut where she had been given a bed of her own after she had eaten and drunk for the first time in days, Mora went back to her father’s house.

He looked at her as she settled on her stool. ‘In Yeshua’s name?’ he repeated gently.

She nodded. ‘He is the greatest healer I have ever seen.’

Fergus Mor stared down into the fire. ‘I do believe he is,’ he said at last.

There was another long silence, then for the first time she remembered to ask. ‘What happened to Flavius?’

‘He disappeared.’ She heard the harsh note in her father’s voice.

‘He escaped unhurt?’

‘We don’t know.’

‘And the man who was outside?’

Her father did not reply and she gave him a glance from under her eyelashes. ‘I saw him. Or at least, his shadow.’

‘As did Lydia. He too has gone. There was no trace of him. The whole area has been searched, but both men have vanished. There were no footprints. No clues. No trace at all save this one thing.’ With a sigh her father heaved himself to his feet and walked across to the table. He picked up something and brought it back to her. It was a silver cross on a broken chain.

Dry-mouthed, Abi stood up and went back to Kier’s side. Reaching under his jacket she pulled his shirt open. ‘He wears that cross all the time – ’ She broke off, staring down at his throat. ‘Nothing,’ she whispered. ‘It’s gone.’

Greg moved over to her side. He pointed to Kier’s neck. ‘See that mark? And here, a raw tear in his skin, as though something has been pulled off.’

Abi looked up and they held each other’s gaze. ‘The cross is still there, in the past,’ she whispered. She threw a pleading look back at Justin who was still seated at the table. ‘Help him,’ she whispered.

Justin rose to his feet. He came over and stood looking down at Kier’s face then he reached for the man’s hand, his eyes full of compassion. ‘I will try and go after him,’ he said after a moment.

‘No!’ Bishop David’s voice was firm. ‘We don’t know what has happened or what is happening, but I do not want to risk anyone else’s safety.’

Justin narrowed his eyes. ‘Thank you for your concern, but this is my job.’

‘And mine is the welfare of my clergy.’

‘Then let me help him. He is lost in another world. He doesn’t know where he is or how to return. He doesn’t know the byways between the worlds.’

‘And you do?’ Bishop David fixed him with a steely look.

Justin nodded. ‘I have been trained to do this, David.’

The bishop opened his mouth to retort and changed his mind. He shook his head. ‘I am uncomfortable with all this. You are a pagan – ’

‘And I am dealing with pagan times and with pagan people and with pagan concepts.’ Justin paused. ‘These people were the friends of Jesus Christ. They risked everything for him. Your colleague has gone into the past in Jesus’ name.’

‘And he saved Mora and Petra,’ Abi put in.

‘With your help.’ Justin turned back to her. ‘That was the moment when history was at a point of balance. Without your prompting Mora might not have used Yeshua’s name. In her father’s presence she might have felt too inhibited.’

Abi shook her head. ‘Rubbish. Mora was a strong woman.’

‘Stronger with you beside her.’ He winked, then he turned back to Kier. ‘This part of the action belongs to me.’

Abi nodded. She laid her hand on the bishop’s sleeve. ‘We owe him this. We can’t abandon him,’ she said firmly. ‘What if he dies?’

‘I don’t think he will die,’ Greg put in doubtfully, ‘At least…’ He paused. ‘You would be risking your life or at the least your sanity.’ He had been staring thoughtfully at Justin. ‘I know shamans do this in many cultures, but even so.’

Justin gave a wry smile. ‘They do it in our culture too. Now please, let’s not waste any more time. Can I suggest you all go out and leave me to get on with it. I find the overlay of scepticism in this room rather overwhelming. Why not go down to Hay for a few hours. Buy some books, drink coffee, walk by the River Wye, go to St Mary’s and pray. I will ring someone’s mobile when I have finished and call you back.’

Abi didn’t go with them. She watched the car drive away from the doorway then turned back inside. ‘Do you want me to go out too?’ She had refused to accompany the men, but she wasn’t sure Justin wanted her there. Behind them Kier lay back in the chair by the fire, eyes closed, unmoving. Justin shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to go. It depends. Can you sit in a corner in here and pray for me without interfering?’

‘You want my prayers?’ She scanned his face, searching for signs of mockery. He stepped towards her and put his hands on her arms, drawing her close. ‘Yes, Abi. I want your prayers. I want you to cover my back; to watch over me. To hold me in your heart and surround me with prayer. Because I don’t worship in your church doesn’t mean I don’t believe in prayer. My faith is too complicated to discuss now.’ He grinned suddenly, his boyish face lighting with mischief. ‘Suffice to say, I was brought up a Christian. I respect Christian values and your prayers are as good as anyone’s.’ He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

She pulled away. His touch had sent a bolt of electricity through her. She closed her eyes and tried to turn aside, aware of the blush creeping across her face. Not now. Don’t fall in love with the man now! She had been fighting it for so long, surely she could fend off her feelings while poor Kier was in such peril. Justin was studying her, a quizzical smile playing round his mouth. She suspected he could read her every thought as gently he released her. ‘Come and sit over here, on the far side of the table. You are going to watch me do things which will shock your puritan little soul.’ He grinned again. ‘They are just techniques. They work. They are ancient shortcuts into the other world. They are methods which the original Christians in this country would probably have known and utilised. Don’t be afraid whatever I say or do, or whatever Kier says or does and do not move. Do not interfere. Do not touch either of us. If we fall a sleep or seem to lose consciousness do not panic. Just go out for a walk and let us sleep. Understand?’

Abi nodded. She sat down obediently. ‘But I am allowed to pray.’

He smiled. ‘Quietly!’

‘Quietly.’

‘OK. Go for it.’

She put her hands together on the table in front of her, palm to palm, fingertip to fingertip and closed her eyes.

He followed the soft beat of the drum into the shadows, the Serpent Stone before him on the table. In the quiet room the smoke rose from the burning sage, to which he had added a grain or two of frankincense, dried mugwort and vervain, trailing up towards the ceiling. In his chair Kier hadn’t moved. Abi’s eyes were closed, but her lips moved in silent prayer; he could feel her calm strength. His fingers stroked the taut deerskin of the drum, the call growing softer, more persuasive. This was something he did rarely. Whatever he had said to the others, the way of the shaman was Meryn’s calling, not his. He was a scholar, not a traveller of the ways, but Meryn wasn’t here and Abi had asked him.

He could sense the atmosphere clearing and he stared round, trying to make out what he was seeing. There had been no rush, no swoop through time, just a gentle drift into the darkness. Then he heard it, the soft lap of water, the sibilant murmur of the wind in the reeds. He moved forward and felt the mist of cold rain on his face; under his feet the ground was soft and muddy. All was dark save for a small light in the distance. It flickered in the wind, beckoning him on.

Slowly he moved another few paces forward. He could see the outline of the house now, the doorway, the lamp on the floor just inside, out of draught. The place appeared deserted. He crept on, his eyes narrowed against the cold rain, aware that somewhere the slow drumbeat had stopped. He could no longer smell the burning herbs or sense Abi’s presence near him. He was alone.

At first he hadn’t seen the woman sitting by the fire, swathed in a dark cloak. He hadn’t realised the fire was lit, albeit sunk to embers, barely warm. He stood looking at her, then he stepped forward, wondering if she would be able to see him. Her face was thin, weary, patrician, the long nose, the high cheekbones betraying her Roman origins, her face aged beyond its years with sorrow.

‘Lydia?’ He spoke very softly, not wanting to scare her.

She looked up and he saw the despair and lack of hope in her face. ‘Who is it?’

She couldn’t see him then, although she had heard him call her name.

‘I am a friend, come from far away to try and help you.

‘How can you help? Gaius wanted us all to go when Flavius came. He knew the danger. It was me who insisted on staying. It is all my fault.’ She showed no interest in locating the source of his voice, turning back to stare into the fire. A stray breath of wind fanned the embers for a moment and the charred, cold end of a branch caught, flaring suddenly, throwing highlights on her face. She had once been very beautiful but her face was ravaged by grief.

‘A man came here to try and help. I think he was the one who chased Flavius away.’ Justin moved closer but she still didn’t look round. ‘The man with the cross. I have come to try and find him.’

‘The man with the cross? When he spoke the words, Jesus Christ, my child’s hands were whole again. Her hands were perfect, her face serene. She was smiling.’ Tears spilled over again. ‘He followed Flavius. He said he would not return until Flavius was dead.’ She sounded distant. Uninterested.

‘Do you know where they went?’

She shrugged. ‘Flavius said he was going back to Judea. He said he would wait for Yeshua there. He killed my son and my husband, he all but destroyed my daughter then he laughed in my face. I wanted to kill him but I’m not strong enough. I was never strong enough.’ She sighed. ‘Then the man with the cross came. He knew Yeshua. He knew what had happened.’ She inclined her face slightly as though looking towards him. ‘They are long gone.’

‘You still have Mora,’ Justin said gently. ‘She will be another daughter to you.’

Lydia nodded sadly. ‘And Mora’s child.’

‘She’s expecting a baby?’ Justin was shocked into speaking loudly and he saw her jerk backwards, fear in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know,’ he said more quietly. He was searching his memory to try and fill in the story Abi had told him. ‘Cynan’s child?’

Lydia nodded slowly. ‘Or Yeshua’s. It matters not. It will be loved and cherished in the sanctuary of Ynys yr Afalon.’

Justin stood in silence for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Indeed it will,’ he said quietly. He took a step backwards towards the doorway, then another.

She heard him. ‘You are leaving me?’

He nodded. ‘I have to try and find my friend.’

She raised her head and for the first time stared straight at him. ‘I doubt if you will find him.’

He felt his stomach tighten. ‘Why?’

‘He doesn’t mean to be found. That was why he took off the cross and threw it down. He said without it he would be free to travel anywhere. Without it no-one would find him.’