Time’s Legacy

8

Abi shook herself awake. She had been sitting in the rocking chair in the kitchen where she had gone after Justin left. Making herself a cup of coffee she had sat down for a few minutes, intending to go outside to make a plan of the most urgent gardening jobs which she felt she could put her hand to. His abrupt departure had annoyed her but whatever his problems were with his brother they were none of her business; his rudeness was not personal. She reached for her coffee. It was stone cold. She glanced at her watch. It had happened again. For over an hour she had been lost in dreams about Lydia and Gaius. Levering herself out of the chair she went and switched on the kettle. This was happening too often. And this time she wasn’t even holding the stone, if that was indeed the catalyst that was making all this happen. She shivered. These people from the past seemed to be taking her over. Was this some form of possession? Was Kier right? Had he seen something in her she hadn’t recognised herself? Some paranormal ability which taken to extremes could be dangerous. She ought to discuss it with Ben. But he would take steps to prevent it happening; insist that she reject whatever it was that was inside her which was allowing her to do this.

Should she reject it? Did she have any choice? She hadn’t invited these characters into her head this time. She hadn’t gone outside, seeking a front row seat to watch their performance. She had sat down and closed her eyes and at once they had been there, elbowing their way into her brain, and the story had continued. Pouring scalding water into the top of her mug to warm the cold coffee she sipped it slowly. If only her mother had had the chance to tell her more about the crystal. How it worked. What significance it had in her life. Both their lives. She bit her lip sadly. ‘Mummy, you’ve really dropped me in it this time,’ she murmured.

Five minutes later she had an idea. She would drive over to Glastonbury and find a crystal shop. Surely someone in that Mecca of New Age knowledge, or as someone she once knew had put it, the wackiest town in Britain, would be able to advise her what was happening to her or provide her with a book on the subject of crystals.

She set off, heading towards the ever-visible Tor, down the road which must, she now realised, have once been a causeway. Perhaps it still was technically. In the past, the past she had been watching, it hadn’t been there at all. This was where Romanus had paddled his dugout canoe and cut across the shallow waters of the mere towards the Isle of Avalon. Of course, as Cal had pointed out, in reality Glastonbury had never been a complete island. A neck of land to the south-east had always connected it to the higher ground, but to all intents and purposes it was an island even now, the more so when the mist lay across the levels as a pool of white. A lovely mysterious island steeped in legend and lore.

At first sight it appeared to be the same attractive busy small town she remembered, tucked between its famous landmark hills, the Tor, Wearyall and Chalice Hill. Ignoring the by-pass, she turned into the narrow steeply winding roads which led towards the town centre, making her way down the high street, decorated with its colourful hanging baskets and its intriguing range of shops, most of them glitteringly New Age, although there were, she was glad to see, still some food shops there as well. She drove past St John’s Church and the lovely old Tribunal building and the ancient George and Pilgrims pub, swinging round the market place into Magdalene Street where she turned into the car park behind the ruined abbey and pulled up.

She walked slowly back up the noisy, crowded high street, listening with half an ear to a street musician installed outside St John’s. There were several crystal shops to choose from. She wandered past a couple and then at random selected a third. The fascia was painted a deep rich green and the sign writing in an ornate gold script announced that it was called Athena’s Attic. The opening door set off a rippling chime somewhere deep in the shop.

Letting the door close behind her she looked round. The whole place was full of crystals. It seemed to sing with their energy. She made her way in, taking in the cases of exquisite jewellery, the shelves, the tables loaded with dishes of coloured stones, heading towards the counter where a young woman was sitting, reading a novel. She glanced up at Abi then went back to her story. Abi smiled. She obviously didn’t look like your average shoplifter or indeed, perhaps, the average customer either. She walked across and cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt.’

The girl set down the book. ‘That’s OK. Most people just want to look.’ She was wearing long amber earrings which matched her eyes and a green blouse embroidered with sequins. It made her look somehow ethereal, like a dryad from some magical woodland.

‘I want some advice,’ Abi said cautiously. ‘About a crystal I have at home.’

The girl shrugged. ‘I’m not an expert. We’ve got books at the back there. What do you want to know about it?’

Abi was floored. She couldn’t bring herself to say, well, it seems to be projecting memories and I want to learn how to switch it on and off and change channel. ‘I suppose I want to know how you – er, use them,’ she said cautiously. ‘I’ve been left this thing. And it seems very powerful.’ It seemed all right to say that in a shop like this. ‘And I’m not sure what one does…’ Her voice faded away.

‘Have a look at the books.’ The girl waved a hand which Abi saw was laden with amber and silver rings. ‘If they’re no good you could talk to Athena who owns the shop. She will be back later. She knows everything there is to know about crystals.’ She smiled amiably. ‘Go and have a root about. You’ll probably find something to help you.’ She had already picked up her book. Abi glanced at the cover wondering what the title was. It was obviously hard to put down. Following the direction of the wafting hand she made her way down some steps and into a second show room at the back of the shop. There were fewer crystals here -they probably didn’t like it away from the sunshine, she thought with a wry smile but there were all sorts of other interesting artefacts. Abi found herself staring in fascination at the statues, the wands, the rows of little bottles of sacred oils and jars of incense. There were shops like this at home of course – in fact in every town in the country, but this one was somehow special. Was that because this was Glastonbury? She wasn’t sure. She wove her way between the tables towards a wall of books, the shelves neatly labelled and began to search amongst the volumes dedicated to crystals.

The voice behind her some time later made her jump. ‘Excuse me? Bella thought you might need some advice about crystals?’

Abi turned and found herself looking at a tall well-built woman with clouds of silver hair. Dressed in a floor-length embroidered skirt and a black sweater Athena, like her assistant, was wearing copious amounts of jewellery, but instead of looking over the top and stereotyped it just seemed glorious. Abi smiled. It was as though the woman’s deep grey eyes could look straight into her soul.

‘Athena?’ she said. ‘So, one of your parents was a classicist. Homer, am I right?’

Athena raised her eyebrows. ‘Impressive. Not many people recognise the allusion. The grey-eyed goddess, that’s me!’ She grinned. ‘Not my parents, actually. They christened me Elizabeth. No, the name came later.’ They smiled at each other. Abi nodded. She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I gather you might be able to help me.’ This was no time for embarrassment or prevarication. ‘I seem to have been left the most amazing crystal by my mother.’

Before she had got very far with the story Athena had held up her hand. The silver bangles on her wrist jangled. ‘I think we need to go somewhere we can sit down,’ she said firmly. ‘Follow me.’ Five minutes later they were settled in the coffee shop next door, Abi in front of a frothy cappuccino, Athena with a cup of green tea. The shop was crowded and warm and cheerful. Strangely enough, even though there was noise all around them they seemed to be sitting in their own oasis of quiet as Abi poured out her tale. When she had finished she sat back, sipping her coffee. The only fact that she had left out was her own calling. She had a feeling that declaring oneself a priest, even a lapsed priest, of the Church of England, might not go down too well in this environment.

Athena seemed lost in thought. At last she raised her eyes to Abi’s and smiled. ‘When I was a student I trained at the Royal College of Art. Then I decided I wanted to become a jeweller. I designed stuff which went all round the world. Precious stones. Gold. But then I came down here on a visit back in the seventies and I found an alternative man – the one who named me Athena – and,’ she smiled, ‘I was drawn in to the whole Glastonbury thing. The man moved on, but I didn’t. I bought the shop and I began to work with lines of less expensive jewellery – semi-precious stones. Crystals. Working with them I began to open to them without even realising what was happening. Crystals are here to teach us; to heal; to enlighten. All natural stones are, of course. It is part of their nature, but rock crystals are special. Their purity combined with their earthiness makes them very powerful.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘There are people who have analysed them, categorised them. People who claim to have channelled information which has come from the ancient masters of Atlantis.’ She was staring down at the tablecloth, her voice matter of fact.

Abi waited. The woman had an air of serene confidence which she envied deeply. She was, Abi guessed, nearer sixty than the forty she had originally guessed at – she must be if she had come here in the seventies. ‘Crystals come into my shop in all sorts of states of,’ Athena hesitated, ‘I was going to say mind.’ She looked up and smiled. Abi found herself smiling back. ‘But that is right. That is what it is. Some are traumatised by the way they have been blasted from their rock beds. Some are frightened. Some are angry. Some have been calmed and reassured by wherever it is they have been; most are wise. Wise with natural wisdom. Some contain memories which they have picked up on their travels and others have been programmed.’ She held Abi’s gaze. ‘My guess is that yours is one of those. From what you say yours is a natural crystal ball. Maybe it is a natural crystal from this country. It hasn’t come from far away. And it is not telling you its own story. It is telling you the story of this Roman family and that implies that someone in that family had the knowledge and the desire to implant those memories. And there must have been a reason for that. They were not just recording a daily diary. There must be some piece of information there which is important. So important that they wanted it remembered forever.

Abi shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to say. It’s all too extraordinary.’

Athena laughed. ‘Heavy, too, I dare say. Don’t try and rationalise it. Play with the ideas for a while. See if you think they fit. The thing to bear in mind is that it is you who is the catalyst here. You are making it work. Your mother obviously knew how as well. She seems to have tested you to see what would happen and, satisfied that you could do it, she left it to you to find out whatever it is you need to know.’ She paused. ‘I don’t think she was necessarily going to tell you anything else, Abi. I can see you feel that her death somehow prevented her from letting you into the big secret. Maybe she wanted you to find it out for yourself.’ Another sip. ‘You are inhibited by your own fear and doubt and incredulity as we all are at first when we come across something like this. The intelligence of our programming; the science we have been taught; the whole atmosphere of disbelief in our culture. It all adds up to make it so hard for us to open ourselves to the unexplained. Let yourself get used to it.’

‘And you really think it could switch on my higher powers?’ Abi tried to keep the ironical inverted commas out of her voice. ‘Would it have told me the same story if I was still in Cambridge? Or would it have picked up something else over there?’ She was still trying to rationalise – she couldn’t help herself.

‘Ask it. But remember to listen for the answer with an open mind.’

‘Mummy did come from near here. She was born in Priddy.’ Abi was still trying to pursue the rational approach.

‘Remember there is no such thing as coincidence. Perhaps the crystal led you here.’

No, it was the bishop. Abi bit the words back in time. But of course, Athena was right. Her mother’s mother had given Laura the crystal. And her mother’s mother before that, judging by the note. The bishop too had been born in the Mendips. She was here because he knew these people; because the Cavendishes too had lived here for generations. It was all wheels within wheels.

Her coffee was finished. Suddenly she realised that they were going to have to leave and she didn’t want the conversation to be over. Athena was in some strange way a kindred spirit. She liked her.

‘Would it affect the crystal if someone else touched it?’

Athena shrugged. ‘You said your father threw it out of the window.’

Abi nodded sadly. ‘I was wondering whether I could show it to you.’

‘You are looking for someone to make sense of it for you, Abi,’ Athena said gently. ‘It is better if you do that yourself. You have to have the courage of your own convictions. There may be more to this quest than just looking at a story. You may be drawn in. There may be a job for you to do.’

Abi grimaced. She gave a deep sigh. Athena frowned. ‘I’m always here if you want a chat. Where did you say you were staying?’

‘With a family called Cavendish. At Woodley Manor on the Wells Road.’

Athena nodded. ‘I know Justin.’

Abi’s eyes widened. ‘He dropped in this morning.’

‘Really?’ Athena seemed astonished.

‘Mat and Cal were out.’ Abi rubbed her forehead. She was feeling her way. She didn’t want to gossip but on the other hand perhaps Athena was a friend of the family. She hoped so.

Athena laughed. It was a deep throaty chuckle. ‘Justin and Mat have never got on. They come from two different planets.’ She hesitated. ‘A word to the wise. Be careful of Justin.’ She leaned forward on her elbows, cupping her chin in her hands. ‘So, Abi, how do you fit in with the family? You didn’t say.’

‘I was having man problems. A…’ She hesitated. ‘A friend suggested I come down to stay for a few weeks while I got my head together.’

‘I see.’ Athena glanced up at her face thoughtfully. ‘And what did you say you do for a living?’

‘I didn’t.’ Abi bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t lie to this woman, but on the other hand if she told her Athena would probably get up and walk out. Almost certainly she was a pagan if she was anything at all and pagans in her experience did not like Christian priests. There were several students who called themselves pagan on her beat in the parish at home. They had made their feelings abundantly clear. Her church was to blame for witch burnings, for the crusades, for the Inquisition, for the persecution of women in general, for every real and perceived iniquity which had been enforced against the feminist cause, for destroying the planet, for burning the rain forest, for exploiting animals. The list went on and on. And most of the accusations, she had to admit, were to some extent based on real attitudes and real stances which from time to time various elements within the Christian church had embraced with so much misguided fervour. Not all, she wanted to say. Not today. Not me. It was not what Jesus wanted. It never mattered. She was tarred with the Christian brush. They never let her go any further with her self-justification. She looked at Athena and shrugged. ‘I resigned from my last job. I’m unemployed at the moment.’ That at least was true. Athena nodded. Abi had a feeling she knew that this was not the whole story but for now she was prepared to let it lie. ‘I hope we meet again. I will come into the shop next time I come to Glastonbury,’ she went on quickly. ‘I’ve so much enjoyed our talk.’

Athena smiled. ‘Me too.’ She stood up, and to Abi’s surprise leaned across to give her a warm hug. ‘Relax, Abi. Listen to your heart. Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks.’ Again she seemed to have read Abi’s thoughts. ‘Be your own woman!’

The crystal was still there on the window sill. Abi gazed at it for a few minutes, then she picked it up. Carefully rewrapping it in its cotton bag she laid it in a drawer hidden under some jerseys. Then she knelt down by her bed and began to pray.

Mora lay back on her elbows and stared up at the sky. She had fair skin and red-gold hair, bound into a heavy plait which she wore twisted round her head. Her eyes were slate-blue. Wearing a brown woollen cloak, she gave the impression of a slender flower emerging from the dead leaves of winter. ‘Was it ever this beautiful in your country?’ She threw a glance at her companion.

Yeshua was sitting a few yards away from her, staring down from the hillside across the glittering sunlit waters of the reedy mere spread out beneath them. He smiled. ‘Every country I have visited has its own beauty.’ He reached for the jug at his feet and drank a few sips of the sweet local cider. ‘Some are hot with desert sands; some are green and full of forests or grassy plains. Some have mountains so high you cannot see the top. They have snows all the year round. But here, yes, there is a special beauty. The water is everywhere. Your sunlight is soft, your mists beguiling, the smell of apple blossom enchanting.’ His eyes were deep warm brown. She could see he was laughing at her.

‘Pass me the jug.’

Standing up, he brought it over. He was a tall, slim man with light olive skin and dark brown wavy hair. Between them lay two woven bags, full of packets of dried herbs, their pharmacopoeia and medicine chest. ‘We must get on.’ Drinking her fill, Mora rammed the stopper back into the jug. ‘We need to be at the fisherman’s house before the sun begins to drop. I need good light to examine his wife. She has a canker in her breast.’ She shook her head. ‘I have tried everything. I’m afraid all I can do is relieve her pain. Maybe you can do something.’ She was beginning to have great faith in this young man’s powers of healing. He was a student and a teacher, who had travelled far across the seas to study with the druid priests of the Pretannic Islands and on arrival in Afalon had been assigned to her care by her father, Fergus, the archdruid, to watch and help her as she carried out her duties as a healer. More often than not however, their roles had been reversed. She it was who was watching and learning from him. He had not studied medicine. He did not use herbs as she did. He worked through instinct and through prayer. He examined a patient, and considered the nature of the illness, and sometimes he held his hands over the wound, or he ran his fingers across a sore stomach or laid his palms gently on an aching head and bade the illness go. She had tried it secretly. It didn’t seem to work for her.

The message from the fishing village had come as they were setting off towards home after several days moving sometimes in rain, sometimes in sunlight, amongst the homesteads and farms in the foothills to the east of their watery home. They would barely make it before dark.

Trefor was waiting for them at the door to his house, his face lined with sorrow. ‘It is too late, Mora. She’s gone.’

He turned and led the way inside, gesturing towards the bed by the fire. His wife lay there, her eyes closed, her face white as marble.

Mora sighed. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She had already guessed as much. The lonely call of the curlew across the marshes had signalled a death. She knelt at the bedside and touched the woman’s face. It was ice cold. ‘At least she is free of pain, now,’ she said sadly. ‘And she is with the ancestors where there is no fear or anguish. You will see her again.’ She looked up at him.

Trefor nodded. He shrugged his great shoulders miserably. ‘Who will look after the children?’

‘You will find yourself a new wife, my friend.’ She rose to her feet and laid a hand on his arm. Behind her Yeshua stepped forward and bent over the cold body. He laid a hand on the woman’s forehead for a moment, then he too shook his head sadly.

‘Who are you?’ Trefor had swung round suddenly as he saw the stranger stoop over his wife. ‘Don’t you touch her.’ He looked afraid.

Mora stepped forward. ‘Peace, Trefor. This is Yeshua, one of the students at the college. He is a healer like me.’ She frowned at Yeshua. ‘There is nothing we can do.’

Yeshua nodded and stood away from the woman’s body. ‘I’m sorry. I had no intention of upsetting you.’ He smiled regretfully. ‘She was a beautiful woman.’ Mora saw the older man frown, hearing the strange accent. But the meaning of his words were clear and he nodded sadly, reassured.

Behind them three small faces had appeared at the doorway. Yeshua turned. He walked over to them and in moments they had come trustingly into his arms. It was a long time before they let him depart. Mora gave an inner smile. Wherever they went he attracted children. They seemed to adore him unreservedly, begging for stories, queuing for the little models of animals and birds he whittled for them with his knife, reassured when they were sad, comforted when they were in pain.

‘It makes me so angry when we are too late!’ Yeshua shouldered his bag at last and led the way out of the compound. It would soon be dark, but the family in their distress had not thought to ask them to stay. ‘If we had been there days ago, perhaps we could have done something. The poverty! The exhaustion on that poor woman’s face! It is so wrong. If the children were only old enough to help her! Or her husband did more! If he had gone to the king and begged!’ His voice rose in anger. ‘I can’t bear it when I see so much suffering everywhere I go. Good people, in so much pain and so much misery and grief. How can God allow it?’

‘Her spirit was ready to leave,’ Mora replied as she ran to keep up with him. ‘One cannot always save people, you know that. She wanted to go.’

He stopped and turned to face her. ‘How do you know?’

‘I saw her.’

‘You saw her spirit?’

She nodded. ‘She was tired. Sad to leave him and the children, but she was exhausted; beyond life. Beyond recall.’

‘So, you are saying I couldn’t have saved her?’

Mora nodded. ‘You know we couldn’t.’

‘I get too angry!’ He shook his head after a moment.

‘Only because you care so much.’ There was a long pause. She stood looking down the track ahead of them towards the fen. The sun was setting, leaving a trail of gold in the waters. ‘Do your people believe as we do that there is somewhere wonderful that we go when we die?’

He nodded. ‘It is called Heaven.’

‘And is Heaven full of apple trees?’

He smiled at last, his anger subsiding. ‘Ah, there is a garden called Eden. It is a place of everlasting blessings.’

Mora nodded, reassured. ‘She will be happy there.’ She sighed.

He glanced at her. ‘But her spirit is lingering, watching over them all.’

Mora nodded again. ‘That house is full of the dead. I sometimes think we should teach people how to speak to their loved ones who linger, and help them on their way.’ She shrugged. ‘Trefor needs to let the sunlight and the air into that place. It courts illness. Three of his children have died. That is his third wife. The other two also died. One in childbirth, with the baby barely born, the other of an injury which went bad. I could do nothing for any of them, and yet still he asks me to come. He trusts me. He believes I can help him.’ Her voice rose in frustration.

Yeshua reached across and laid his hand on her arm. ‘Don’t punish yourself, Mora. You do what you can. There are many others you do help. I have watched you.’

She gave a sad little smile and shook her head. ‘Come. We must set out. It will be full dark soon.’ She sighed.

‘The nights come earlier and earlier,’ he said after a moment. ‘You know I am going to have to leave before the winter sets in.’

‘Not yet.’ She went cold at his words. ‘There is so much for us to talk about. So much to study together. There will be time for some more visits before you go?’ She heard the plea in her voice and despised herself for it.

‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled. ‘There will be time for a few more yet.’

She reached out her hand as if to touch his, then changed her mind. Already he was striding ahead of her into the trees. He hadn’t noticed the gesture.

Abi jerked away from the scene with a start. She had put the stone away. This was ridiculous. She had to take control of herself. She sat down on her bed. So, Mora, the healer, was away visiting her patients whilst the family out here in the garden were looking for her. She was a herbalist, but her skills were limited; a druid healer who was not all-powerful. She didn’t use a wand or magic or invoke the druid gods of healing. She did her best with the medicinal herbs she had collected from the countryside around. Like her companion, she was frustrated and angry and miserable because she couldn’t help. And her patient had died of what, breast cancer? Abi stood up and walked across to the window and stared out towards the Tor. Two thousand years later and they still hadn’t conquered it!

She found Cal in the kitchen. For once she wasn’t cooking. She was sitting at the scrubbed oak table surrounded by sheaves of bills. Abi grimaced. ‘Oh dear. Is this a bad time?’

Cal looked up. ‘It’s always a bad time when I have to try and sort this lot out. Come and sit down. Did you have a good day?’

Abi nodded. ‘I went into Glastonbury and wandered around. Went into some of the shops. Had coffee with a fascinating woman from a crystal shop. Athena.’

Cal shook her head. ‘My God! Boadicea herself! How on earth did you get talking to her?’ She shuffled several bills together and fixed them with a paperclip.

Abi shrugged. ‘I was in her shop. We talked about this and that. She designs jewellery.’ She paused. ‘She mentioned Justin.’ She hesitated. ‘He was here this morning. Did you know?’

Cal looked up. ‘Here? In the house?’

Abi nodded. ‘He said better not to mention it in front of Mat.’

‘Too right!’ Cal said fervently. ‘What did he want? He obviously knew Mat and I were out.’

‘I think he must have waited until he saw you leave. He was indoors – I didn’t let him in. He was in the library, looking for some books.’

Cal nodded. ‘He always thinks of the books as his own. I think their grandfather promised them to him at some point. It seems only fair as Mat and Ben got all the rest. Not because Justin was diddled out of it, he just didn’t want to be part of it. They were supposed to end up with third shares in the house, but it didn’t work out that way.’

‘Can I ask why they don’t get on?’

Cal let out a gusty breath, blowing the pepper and salt fringe up away from her eyes. ‘Chalk and cheese. Justin is a good ten years younger than Mat. Mat resented him when he was born, I think. He had been the baby for a long time. But they never had anything in common. Justin is a natural rebel. A bit of a free thinker. I am not surprised Athena knows him.’

A word to the wise…

Athena’s warning rang in Abi’s head for a moment.

Cal pushed back her chair and stood up with a groan. ‘Tea? I’m exhausted after a day in town. Too much traffic; too many people; too much noise. I’ve turned into a country bumpkin. But at least I got some shopping done. I needed a halfway decent coat for the winter.’ She paused frowning. ‘But at this moment I’ve got a splitting headache and I feel like death.’

‘Would you like me to massage your shoulders?’ Abi offered. ‘Something I’m quite good at,’ she added humbly. She didn’t call it healing any more. Not after Kier’s comments.

Cal gave a wan smile. ‘Thanks. I’d love it.’ She subsided back into the chair.

Abi stood behind her and rested her hands gently on Cal’s shoulders. She could feel her fingers tingling. Her hands were heating up. Then suddenly the sensation was gone. She stared down, devastated. She couldn’t do it. Not any more. She gave Cal’s neck a perfunctory massage, then stepped back. ‘Is that better?’ She could hear the huskiness in her voice.

Cal stood up. ‘Much. Thank you.’ She glanced at Abi, frowning, sensing that something was wrong, but not quite sure what. ‘Shall I make us that tea?’

She was holding the kettle under the tap as the phone rang. ‘Can you get that?’

Abi picked it up. ‘Hello?’

Silence.

‘Hello, Woodley Manor?’

There was a quiet laugh. ‘Hello Abi.’

‘Kier?’ Abi froze.

‘Your father gave me the number. How are you?’ He paused and when she didn’t answer he went on. ‘Things are not going well here. I’m not very happy, Abi. I thought you should know. The bishop has suspended me.’

‘Because of what you did to me?’

‘Of course. He thinks I should take time out to consider my behaviour.’ He gave a weak laugh. ‘So, what did you tell him about me, exactly?’

‘Only the truth, Kier. That I couldn’t work with you any more. That I wanted to leave. It wasn’t all your fault, and he knows that. I realised that I no longer had a calling to the priesthood. Perhaps I never did.’

Hearing Abi’s tone Cal turned off the tap and put down the kettle. She ran her finger across her throat. Hang up!

Abi shrugged and shook her head. ‘Kier, I am truly sorry, but the bishop knows best. If he thinks you should take a break -’

‘They’ve brought in someone else to look after the parish. They have told them I’m not well. Sandra thought I must have cancer.’ He gave a strange, humourless laugh. ‘You have ruined my career, Abi. Did you set out to do that? To seduce me? To use magical powers to draw me in?’ His voice was tight and oddly expressionless.

Abi opened her mouth to retort and found no words came. She was literally speechless.

‘I suspected as much when I heard what you were doing in the parish,’ he went on. ‘I tried to understand, to give you leeway, but you just used the time to condemn yourself more. I have told him about all that. Your healing powers, your magical passes, your spells and potions.’

‘What spells and potions?’ Abi stammered at last. ‘What on earth are you talking about!’

‘Don’t pretend not to know,’ Kier went on. ‘That was how you drew me in, didn’t you. You probably put something in my drink. And The Bishop knows it. After all, he hasn’t moved you to another parish, has he. He’s suspended you too. You will go before a consistory court to explain what you’ve been doing, I shall see to that. I’m afraid you will be unfrocked, Abi. You may even go to prison, but I will support you. You know I will -’

Abi slammed down the phone. She was shaking. ‘OK.’ Cal came over to her. ‘Sit down. I got the gist of that, the man was speaking so loudly. This is your ex-colleague, Kieran, I gather, and he thinks you’re a witch?’ Suddenly Cal’s face creased with laughter. ‘I’m sorry, Abi, but this is ludicrous. This is the twenty-first century, for goodness sake!’ She broke off, seeing Abi’s expression. ‘Oh no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed. Of course I shouldn’t. This is your career, but truly, he sounded completely off his rocker!’

‘My career doesn’t matter any more.’ Abi had sat down at the table. Her hands were shaking. ‘I have tried to give in my resignation. I expect now it will be accepted with alacrity.’ She gave a small bitter laugh. ‘It’s just so damn wrong! A bigoted, sexist man shouldn’t have the power to ruin someone’s life. I might have been a good priest but I never got the chance to find out. We were warned there were a lot of people out there who would try and bring us down just because we were women, we were even warned from time to time people would mention witchcraft, but we all laughed; we thought it was a joke. That happened at the beginning, not now there have been women priests for ages. I never expected this.’

‘Why did David send you to that parish in the first place?’ Cal asked. She switched on the kettle and then came and sat down opposite Abi. ‘He must have known what Kieran was like.’

Abi shrugged. ‘I suppose the matter hadn’t arisen before. His last curate was a man.’ She paused. ‘He had a nervous breakdown, I gather, but that was due to overwork.’ Hesitating, she sniffed and groped for a tissue. ‘You know, this started because I was a healer. I trained before I went into the ministry and I went on using the skills I had developed. That’s where the idea that I was practising witchcraft came from. Stupid, stupid man!’

Cal shook her head. ‘My dear, he won’t be the first man to claim a woman has used magical arts to lure him in against his will. It’s a way of saving face. “She used witchcraft to get her wicked way with me, my lord, but when I saw her for what she was I backed off and came to my senses,”. For that read: “She couldn’t stand me pawing at her and she rejected me and I can’t believe that anyone would say no to me as I’m such a gorgeous specimen, so she’s either mad or bad!”’ She smiled.

‘Abi laughed. ‘Thanks. You’ve made me feel a lot better.’

She looked up sadly and frowned suddenly. There was someone else in the room with them. A figure, swathed in a brown cloak, was standing watching her, halfway between the door and the window, her eyes fixed on Abi’s.

‘Mora!’ Abi leaped up, pushing her chair back so hard it fell over.

Abi, what is it?’ Cal stood up too, alarmed.

The figure had gone.

‘Did you see her?’ Abi’s voice was shaking. She pointed. ‘There. Did you see?’

Cal stared round anxiously. ‘I couldn’t see anything. Not one of the Romans? Not in here?’ She backed towards the window.

‘The healer from the college. One of the druids.’ Abi’s mouth had gone dry.

For a moment Cal said nothing. She was glancing round the room. There was nothing there. ‘Tea,’ she said firmly at last. She reached for the caddy from a shelf. ‘Sit down again, Abi. You are overwrought and I’m not surprised.’

‘She must have heard me. Perhaps she understood.’

‘You mean she’s come with the sympathy vote?’ Cal smiled tentatively. ‘Poor old Abi. Look, don’t answer the phone again. Leave it for one of us or the answer machine. The last thing you want is that vile man threatening you.’ She poured water into the teapot. ‘Shall I call Ben? He should know about this.’

‘About Mora?’

‘About Kieran.’

‘You don’t believe I saw her, do you.’

‘I know you think you did. It’s just -’ Cal hesitated. ‘No-one has ever seen them indoors before, Abi. But that doesn’t mean they can’t come in. I believe you. Of course I do. You appear to be very psychic. Far more so than I am.’

‘I wasn’t making it up.’ Abi bit her lip. ‘But on the other hand, she was only there for a fraction of a second. It could have been a trick of the light, I suppose. I don’t know. I’m just so confused.’ She put her head in her hands.

‘Drink this.’ Cal pushed a cup and saucer over towards her. ‘And try to stop worrying.’

‘Did Bishop David tell Ben I had lost it?’ Abi raised her head and looked up at Cal. ‘Was Kier right? Is that why I’m here?’

‘No.’ Cal took a deep breath. ‘Look, I don’t know if I’m supposed to tell you this, I thought perhaps you knew it anyway, but the reason you’ve been sent here to us, and to Ben, is to try and keep you in the church. The bishop thinks you are too valuable as a priest to lose.’

Abi gave a little snort. ‘Somehow I don’t believe that.’

Cal shrugged. ‘Up to you. I can’t believe that after one call from that odious man you’ve been reduced to a quivering jelly!’

Abi smiled. ‘My mother called him oleaginous.’

‘Good for your mother! Come on, Abi. Where’s your backbone! You don’t strike me as the type to cave in at the first fence!’

There was a moment’s silence. Abi took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I have to stand up for myself. It just shows, doesn’t it, what men do to us women if we’re not careful.’

Cal sat down opposite Abi again, studying her face with care. ‘Talk to Ben about all this. He is a genuinely good man. He’s very experienced in counselling people. I know it’s trendy to denounce counsellors but some of them do an awful lot of good.’

Abi nodded. ‘I will. I’ll ring him now.

Mora was standing lost in thought. It had happened before, this strange feeling that she had slipped somehow into another world. Lost in her own meditations, alone as she walked the fields and hills, or sat beside the waters of the fen, listening to the soft whisperings of the reed beds she would suddenly be aware of other people nearby. Other people in another world; not nature spirits, not gods, not souls of the ancestors, people just like her, going about their own business, unaware of her. Until now. Now there was another woman there in that world. A woman who had looked up and seen her. She was half afraid, half intrigued. This was a special place, a place where physical worlds conjoined, the territories of three tribes, all neighbours, all respectfully standing back from this sacred place; a place where past, present and future too overlapped and interlocked and the border between them was thin. That was why there was a college here; that was why the waters and the hills and the islands were sacred. That was why the high Tor itself was entrance to the otherworld. She shook her head, looking round. The moment had lasted only a second and then it was over. She had thought of telling Cynan about it, but somehow the right moment hadn’t come. He had been more distant lately, spending more time alone in meditation on his little island across the water near the mainland. Their easy affectionate friendship had wavered and she knew why. He was jealous of all the time she was spending with Yeshua. But then her father had put Yeshua under her supervision, as a healer like her, whilst Cynan was a studying to be a seer. She shrugged. She might be destined to marry Cynan, but that did not make her his exclusive property. She liked Yeshua. She liked him very much, they had grown closer as the months passed. Perhaps she could talk to him about it. In fact she could always talk to him; he was wise and gentle and very learned, even if from time to time he, like her, exploded with rage and frustration at the iniquities of the world around them.

She always knew where to find him. He was sitting in his accustomed place beneath the ancient yew tree which overhung the spring. He was often there, praying. He prayed more than anyone she knew. For a moment she studied his face. In repose like this, eyes closed, he radiated a serenity she found strangely disturbing. It excluded her so completely.

‘Were you looking for me?’ His eyes were still full of that other-worldliness as he registered her presence.

‘I wanted to talk to you about someone I’ve just seen.’

He raised an eyebrow, patting the ground beside him. She subsided onto the grass and sat cross-legged. ‘Someone special?’

She nodded. She never needed to explain with him. ‘I don’t know if she is a spirit or a ghost. There is something strange about her. I see her as if through clear water, in the distance. But today she was closer and our eyes met and I felt her reach out to me.’

He sat in silence for a while, staring out across the slopes of the hill below them. Two women were collecting late apples in baskets in the sunlight; she could hear their voices in the silence.

‘If she is reaching out to you, you should go to meet her,’ he said at last.

She nodded and waited in case he was going to say anything else. He too was watching the women with their baskets of fruit. ‘I need to go across to see Petronilla,’ she said at last, letting the subject drop. ‘I wondered if you would like to come and meet her and her family? Her brother was here. He left a message for me.’

‘Of course.’ He rose to his feet.

‘Where were you just now?’ She hadn’t moved.

He smiled. ‘Sometimes, when I pray for my family, I feel I can see them all there, at home. I like to check up on them. My mother and father; my brothers and sisters; touch each one on the hand.’

‘You are homesick.’ She smiled sadly.

‘A little, perhaps. I have been away a long time.’

‘You said you had to go back soon?’ She rose to her feet, clutching her cloak around her as the wind rose and snatched back her hood.

He shrugged, then nodded. ‘I had thought maybe I could take another year for my studies, but now suddenly I can feel -’ He paused, looking up at her. ‘I can feel the appointed time for me to go drawing near.’

Her heart sank. She was still studying his face. ‘And that frightens you, doesn’t it?’

He sighed. ‘God thinks I am ready.’

‘You talk about your god with my father.’

He nodded again and this time she saw the humour she loved so much surface in his eyes. ‘Your father is a learned man. That is why I came here, to study with him. His reputation has spread far across the continents. I enjoy my discussions with him. He tells me the legends of your peoples and your gods, and I tell him about the Torah, the written law and teaching of my people, the Jews. It was he who suggested that I come out here to pray alone in the sacred places of your tribe.’

‘But you do not pray to our gods.’

He shook his head. ‘My God doesn’t allow us to pray to other gods; but your father sees aspects of my great God everywhere and in everything around him. In this sacred spring; in this tree; in birds of the air; in the mountains and the hills in the storm. Where he sees gods, I see angels, caring for my father’s world. So we can talk.’ Rising to his feet, he smiled again. ‘Come, let’s go and see Petronilla. This is the child you mentioned, with the swollen joints? You have tried willow bark, of course?’

Mora punched him affectionately on the arm. ‘Of course I have tried willow bark. My medicines are the best for miles around and they work for her, that was why Romanus came to fetch me. Medicine was sent back with him, and Addedomaros promised I would go and see her as soon as I could, but I thought, maybe…’ She hesitated. ‘Maybe if you came with me, you could ask your God to heal her?’

He folded his arms. ‘Yours don’t help, then?’ He raised an eyebrow humorously.

She shrugged, refusing to rise to the bait. ‘Don’t or won’t. Who can understand why they heal one person and not another? But it occurred to me that Petra’s parents come from Rome. Maybe your God would help them.’

He gave a snort. ‘Rome is not considered a friend in my country.’

‘But Lydia and Gaius have chosen to settle with us; they have the protection of my people. You will like this family, I promise.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ He reassured her. ‘And I will do what I can, Mora. I always do, no matter from where they come or what their beliefs -’ He broke off as Cynan appeared, climbing the hillside, through the blowing leaves, the patterns of sunlight reflecting on his woollen robe.

He paused and looked at them. ‘Am I interrupting?’

‘Of course not!’ Mora could feel herself blushing as she stepped away from Yeshua. Why did Cynan always make her feel guilty when he caught them alone together?

‘I heard you might be going across to see Petra’s family. If so I was going to offer to come with you. I can distract young Romanus from making sheep’s eyes at you while you talk to her.’

Mora hesitated. It was Yeshua who stepped back. ‘I think it would actually be better if you two went. I have work to do on my hut. It needs substantial repairs before the storms you have warned me about begin. Even if I am no longer here, someone will want my house and I wouldn’t want to leave them a ruin.’ He smiled.

‘But you were going to help me with Petra!’ Mora couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.

‘I will pray for her. And there will be other times when I can come and see her. I have arranged for one of the wattle men to show me how you weave your walls. It fascinates me and my house is full of holes!’ He laughed. ‘I know. But I enjoy working with my hands. I used to watch the builders working near our home when I was a boy; my father is a master mason and woodworker.’ He was already moving away from them. He raised his hand in blessing and began to stride down the hillside.

Mora turned away from Cynan with a frown. ‘You just can’t resist it, can you!’

‘What?’

‘You hear I am going out to visit patients with Yeshua and you have to interfere! Are you jealous or something?’

Cynan looked at the ground. His face had turned puce. He shook his head. ‘Of course not. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he would change his mind if I came too. I’ll go after him if you like and say I’m not coming.’

‘No!’ She shook her head. ‘No, don’t bother.’

‘Is he really leaving soon?’ He looked at her anxiously.

She nodded. Taking a deep breath she made herself smile. ‘As it happens he looked as though he was quite pleased to stay behind. I’ll go and fetch my bag of medicines then you can paddle the dugout for me.’ Relenting, she caught his arm. ‘You’re right. Romanus is beginning to be a bit of a pain. He’s growing up and noticing women for the first time. I just wish it wasn’t me! Take him away and teach him to fish or something.’

Cynan laughed. ‘I think it would be a case of him teaching me. But I will do my best.’

Janet Cavendish opened the front door to Abi next morning and smiled warmly. ‘Come in, my dear. Ben is expecting you. Through there.’ She waved towards an open door before turning away and disappearing herself in the opposite direction. Abi gave a tentative knock on the door and pushed it open. ‘Ben?’

He was sitting at an untidy desk, staring out of the window, but he climbed wearily to his feet as she came in. ‘Come and sit by the fire, Abi.’ Sweet scented logs were roaring happily in the hearth, obviously newly lit and still fed by firelighters, she noted as she took one of the squashy armchairs. They were upholstered in blue patterned chintz which seemed somewhat incongruous in the distinctly masculine surroundings of Ben’s study. Very comfortable though. She noticed the discreet box of Kleenex on the small table at her elbow. The window looked out over the front drive where she had left her battered green car parked under a field maple. The leaves were turning the most stunning shades of scarlet and ochre.

‘I’m seeing ghosts, Ben.’ She hadn’t even waited for him to sit down opposite her as she blurted out her confession.

Deciding to remain standing, he arranged himself comfortably with his back to the fire. ‘Tell me about them.’

‘Aren’t you shocked?’

He shook his head. ‘David told me all about your experiences in Cambridge and Mat and Cal said you’d already seen our own domestic crew.’ He smiled.

‘It doesn’t worry you?’

‘Not if it doesn’t worry you.’

She paused, thinking about that one. She was worried, obviously, otherwise why would she have come to see him. But about what? She had prayed for a long time the night before and this morning, in the cold light of dawn as the sun rose over the Mendips she realised what it was that had alarmed her so much. Mora had followed her inside, had appeared while she was talking about being a healer and then, and this was what had scared her, had made eye contact. This was not like a film, watching a bunch of people in another dimension somehow going about their daily lives and allowing her to watch. Or being completely unaware that she was watching. Nor was it some kind of eternally playing record, etched onto the Woodley atmosphere. This was one of their number, a druid priestess, by all accounts, trying to contact her.

Ben listened to her halting description of what had happened.

‘And Cal didn’t see her too?’

Abi shook her head.

‘Or the dogs. Dogs often see ghosts in my experience.’ He smiled.

‘The dogs were out with Mat.’

Abandoning the fire he threw himself down in the armchair facing hers, steepling his fingers over his knees thoughtfully as he stared down at the carpet between them. ‘You have prayed, of course.’

She nodded. ‘Kier rang me yesterday, Ben,’ she went on suddenly. ‘David has suspended him.’

Ben waited for her to say something else. When she lapsed into silence he glanced up. ‘I can see this has upset you,’ he said cautiously.

‘He had the phone number of the house. He knows where I am. He is still accusing me of witchcraft.’ She gave a shrill laugh. ‘I know it’s stupid, Ben, but it frightened me. He sounded so vicious.’ She bit her lip. ‘And what if he’s right? What if I am possessed in some way? What if seeing Mora, contacting her, is exactly that. Witchcraft.’

‘Abi, you have not contacted this,’ he hesitated, seeking the right word, ‘this entity, this woman, deliberately. You have not performed rites or spells or conjured her intentionally. You have prayed for help. And you have come to me for advice, so get the idea of your being a witch right out of your head. Kieran Scott is at the moment a disturbed and angry man with his own problems. He is not thinking rationally and he is looking for excuses for his own bad behaviour. Leave him to David. He is not your concern.’ He paused for a moment, deep in thought.

Abi watched him. He had a gentle, intelligent face, not unlike his two brothers, but older, more lined, his hair already white. There was wisdom and reassurance in this man. Instinctively she liked and trusted him. ‘I did contact her deliberately,’ she said softly. She glanced up at him. His eyes were fixed on the tips of his fingers, on his knees. ‘Not at first, of course, but once I discovered how easy it was, I couldn’t resist trying to do it again.’

He said nothing. She hesitated, then went on. ‘It was the crystal ball my mother gave me. Not a round shiny thing, like you see in jokes about fortune tellers. No, this is a lump of unpolished rock crystal, dredged out of a mountain or a river somewhere. It is a wild crystal, still encased in its bedrock.’ She smiled at this description. Athena would approve. ‘Somehow it acts as a key. It has switched me on to see and hear and know things I didn’t know before. I only have to think about them and I seem to be there. It is an heirloom. It seems to have been passed down my mother’s family and it has enabled the women in the family to tune in to the unseen.’ She stood up and took a short turn round the room, moving in short agitated steps towards the fireplace and then back to her chair. Throwing herself down again she shook her head. ‘I don’t believe it’s evil. It’s not witchcraft, is it! It sounds as though it is, but I am not conjuring spirits. I can’t be. Those spirits have always been there. They are your family’s ghosts, not mine!’ The words came out as a wail of despair. ‘Ben, my mother left it to me as a sacred trust. I mustn’t get rid of it; I can’t drop it into a lake. I can’t lose it or give it away except to my own daughter.’ She rubbed her hands down her face and looked up again in despair. ‘My mother told me it would destroy my Christian faith.’

Ben didn’t move, still intent on studying his fingertips. When at last he spoke, it was without looking up at her. ‘This must terrify you, Abi.’

For a moment she considered. Then she shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think so. Not terrify. That’s not the right word. What is happening is odd and disconcerting. Unsettling. But not terrifying.’

He thought for a moment. ‘Do you still believe in the power of prayer?’

‘Of course I do.’ She stood up again, pushing her hair back off her face. ‘This hasn’t destroyed my faith in God, just in myself as a priest.’

‘Then why don’t we pray together.’ He looked up at last. ‘Sit down and take a moment to compose yourself. Push away your doubts and fears. Still your mind.’

Behind him a log shifted in the fire. She reached into her pocket for a tissue and sat miserably twisting it between her fingers as she stared down at the carpet. Ben stood up. Stepping forward he removed it gently from her hands and turning, threw it on the fire. Then he went back to his chair. After a moment he began to say the Lord’s Prayer. Abi closed her eyes. When he had finished they both sat quietly for several minutes.

‘“My daughter, in time of illness do not be remiss, but pray to the Lord and he will heal you. Keep clear of wrong-doing, amend your ways, And cleanse your heart from all sin.”’

Ben raised his eyes and looked at her. ‘You know the passage from Ecclesiasticus?’

She nodded dumbly. ‘Am I committing a sin?’

‘Only God can know that. You aren’t happy about what is happening or you wouldn’t have come to me about it, would you. You feel uncomfortable. You are uncertain. I can only suggest you pray. Surround yourself with the love of God. If you feel you shouldn’t be doing this, Abi, stop.’ He fixed his gaze on her. ‘Recite the Breastplate. “Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger”, remember? If the crystal frightens you, hide it. Put it away. Give it to someone to look after it for you. Don’t think about it. Don’t let it have power over you. The fact that it came from your mother is incidental. Don’t allow your loyalty or your grief to sway you into doing something you wouldn’t do normally.’

Abi was thoughtful. ‘It has passed through generations of women in my family,’ she said after another silence. ‘I wondered if Lydia or Petronilla might be my ancestor.’ As soon as she said the words her eyes flew up to meet his. ‘Oh, my God, Ben! I don’t know why I said that. And it’s ludicrous. Woodley is your family home, not mine.’

‘Though your mother came from not far away.’ He smiled. ‘It might be true but I doubt if you can ever prove it.’

‘What if the crystal was Mora’s? What if she knows it is telling her story? What if it has come down through her descendents from mother to daughter all those generations?’

Ben looked sceptical. ‘I hardly think that is likely or even possible. If these people are Romans and druids, you are talking about nearly a couple of thousand years, Abi!’

‘But it makes sense of what is happening to me.’ Suddenly she was excited.

‘Does it?’ He held her gaze. ‘Are you sure?’

She looked away, deflated, and shrugged. ‘I still don’t know what to do.’

He grinned affably. ‘So, you’re not going to stop?’

‘I’m not sure I can. Not because I’m not capable of saying no, but because I’m not always sure when it is going to happen or how or why.’ She stood up. ‘I don’t have to be holding the stone. It has happened more often without it than with! Spontaneously. Without me doing anything to initiate it.’

‘Then, whoever she is for now, we must hope she means you well.’

‘So, taking all that into account, do you think Kieran is right and I’m some sort of witch?’

Ben laughed. ‘Is that what is really worrying you? Not that what you are doing might be in some way wrong, but that it might be seen as witchcraft? What is witchcraft, Abi? How do you see witches?’

‘Isn’t it more about how he sees them? For him I am the impersonation of the female half of the evil zeitgeist.’

Ben raised an eyebrow. ‘And do you feel this describes you at all?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Then forget witchcraft.’ He stepped forward and took her hand. ‘Go home, Abi. Relax. Rest. Pray. Spend time in St Mary’s. That is what you are here for. Try to resist the urge to conjure spirits. If they come anyway, watch, but stay uninvolved. We will talk again in a day or two.’

As Abi’s car disappeared out of the gate Janet came into the room. She went over to the log basket and threw a couple of logs onto the fire. ‘Glamorous lady. You didn’t tell me she was beautiful.’

Ben smiled. ‘I can’t pretend I hadn’t noticed.’

‘Is she much troubled?’

He nodded. ‘Oh yes. I need to pray about this.’

‘Be careful, Ben.’

He glanced across at her with a rueful smile. ‘You know, I think this is one for brother Justin if I only knew where to find him.’