Time’s Legacy

14

Bishop David looked up from his notes and waited while Kier took the chair in front of him. The younger man looked tired and he had lost a lot of weight. ‘I know I shouldn’t have gone after her,’ Kier said.

The bishop laid down his pen. He stifled a sigh.

Kier glanced up under his eyebrows and flinched as he saw the flash of anger cross the bishop’s face. David Paxman’s summons back to Cambridge had been peremptory, his fury barely controlled. Kier had obeyed the command at once. ‘I’m sorry I went against your orders and I’m sorry if I’ve made things worse, but I had to go.’ He rushed on before the other man had a chance to interrupt. ‘I had been to see Abi Rutherford’s father. I though it would help me get over her,’ he shrugged with what appeared to be genuine embarrassment, ‘if her father told me to sod off! It would have made it easier somehow, but he didn’t. He begged me to go and find her. He begged me to help her. He seemed genuinely distraught.’

‘So you made that an excuse to disobey my orders.’ David Paxman was finding it hard to curb the surge of anger and impatience which was rising inside him.

Kier nodded. He kept looking at his hands, folded on his knee. He no longer seemed able to meet the bishop’s eye.

‘And what happened when you got there?’

‘I saw her. She is staying – ’ He paused and gave his head a small shake, as if trying to keep himself awake. ‘But of course you know where she is staying. Professor Rutherford gave me her address and I went to try and persuade her to give up a piece of rock that her mother had left her when she died. The rock is some kind of pagan talisman. The professor felt it was having an evil influence on her and I agreed with him.’

‘You agreed with him.’ The bishop repeated the words without emphasis as if to make sure.

The flat delivery made Kier even more nervous. ‘Yes. I wanted to find it and dispose of it. Throw it away somewhere where it could never be found. I had planned to throw it in the moat at Wells Cathedral.’ He gave a rueful grimace.

‘But you failed to find it.’

Kier nodded. ‘Abi was very angry. I thought she would have complained by now. She was angry and rebellious. She seems to have forgotten all her vows as a priest of the church.’

‘She has offered her resignation as a priest of the church, Kier.’ The bishop leaned back in his chair and recapped his pen slowly.

Kier’s eyes were riveted to the action. ‘She mustn’t be allowed to resign. She is far too good a priest.’

‘I seem to remember that you told me she was quite the opposite. That she was practising witchcraft in your church.’

‘She was being influenced in a way she could not control, but that was because of her inexperience. I want you to take her back. Help her.’

‘She has all the help she needs down at Woodley, Kieran. She has a spiritual supervisor there, and she was supposed to have peace and quiet to allow her to spend some time in contemplation.’

‘But she isn’t.’ Kier was becoming agitated. ‘Don’t you see? She is using this stone as some kind of key to access a supernatural world. There are ghosts everywhere down there.’

‘Ghosts which you too have seen?’ David looked up and fixed Kier’s face with an intense glare.

Kier shifted uncomfortably. Then he nodded. ‘I know she’s telling the truth. I watched her. She didn’t know I was there. I saw figures. I saw people around her. Sort of swirling, misty lights and shapes and shadows.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

‘What did you do at the time?’

Kier shook his head. ‘Nothing. I was so afraid. I couldn’t move or speak or even call out to her. I watched it all happen and then I fled.’

Flavius was back at the house, and had shouldered the entire blame for taking Romanus with him without informing his mother, and for their late return. He had explained away his injured hand by saying he had fallen from his horse and landed on it. Sorcha had cleaned the wound and bound it up for him with a warm poultice. Romanus, shaken and silent, watched his uncle grit his teeth against the pain, and felt an overwhelming wave of relief that his mother’s wrath at his all-day disappearance without a word had been directed at someone else. When their supper of mutton stew and bread and beans was over, Lydia and Sorcha reached for their sewing, whilst Rhiannon brought her small harp to the fire and gently began to strum a slow melodious tune. Lydia glanced at Flavius. He was sitting in silence, the shadow of the flames playing across his face as he nursed his bandaged hand. She caught the thoughtful look her son threw at him from time to time and wondered what had really happened up there in the hills. With a sigh she laid aside her sewing. She found it harder to see these days in the dim light of the flames. ‘Petra was worse today, Rom,’ she said quietly. ‘I think I am going to have to ask Mora to come back with the stronger medicine she promised.’

Romanus froze. He looked up at his mother with an expression of utter horror.

‘It’s all right. She stayed in bed today, and she has eaten some supper.’ She had interpreted his look as concern for his sister. ‘We’ve wrapped some hot stones for her and put them in her bed to keep her warm.’

‘Perhaps you should volunteer to go and ask Mora to come to see your sister tomorrow, Romanus,’ Flavius said suddenly, raising his voice over the sound of the harp. ‘And to bring her colleague with her. He can perform miracles, so we heard today. He seems to be more successful than she is at curing people.’ He eased himself back on the bench with a groan, flexing the fingers of his injured hand. ‘He can take a look at this while he is at it.’ He gave a strange harsh laugh which made Romanus flinch with terror.

A short while later he rose to go outside and beckoned Romanus with him. The boy hesitated, then reluctantly he followed his uncle to the door. The night was bright with stars. They walked across the yard and stood leaning on the gate, looking out across the fields down towards the marshes. Romanus could see the great cone shape of the Tor in the distance outlined against the luminous sky.

‘You will go over there tomorrow, and you will tell them that I have left.’ Flavius turned to him. ‘You will beg them both to come and see your sister. Then you will return and if you do not want your mother and sister to see what happens you will make sure they leave the place and do not return until after dark. Is that clear?’

Romanus shook his head. ‘I don’t think I can -’

‘You can, boy and you will. Do you want me to kill Mora?’

Romanus went white. His eyes were round and huge in the starlight. Flavius smiled. ‘I saw how you looked at her. That was the reason you cried out her name and ruined everything for me today. You like her. Do you want her to die horribly? It is up to you, boy. Do you want to serve the Emperor, to be regarded as a warrior? Do you want to write your name in history with any woman you want, or are you going to remain no better than a petty tribesman in an unknown corner of this godforsaken island? You want her to notice you, don’t you?’ He paused. ‘Well, I will let you save her. How is that? She won’t know what has happened to her precious Yeshua, I shall make sure of that. You can take her away. Be a man. But of course, you are not yet a man, are you. How old are you boy? Have you had a woman yet?’ He laughed. ‘Well now is your chance. Do you want her to go to that filthy druid priest we saw on the island? What was his name, Cynan? What kind of name is that?’ He spat over the gate. ‘Or what about Yeshua? Do you think she lets him sleep with her after they have discussed their medicines and their bandages? I saw them looking at each other. She likes him. You want her to look at you like that, don’t you?’ Finally he stopped. He glared at Romanus. ‘Right?’

Romanus nodded. His mouth had gone dry. He felt like a fish, pinned wriggling into the mud by a toothed bone harpoon. He watched as his uncle turned away and went to piss into the ditch by the kitchen house. He saw him hitch his clothes back into place and then walk back towards the main house. In seconds he had ducked into the entrance and out of sight and Romanus was alone.

Abi sighed. She was sitting outside on the bench, the crystal on her lap in the darkness. She glanced up at the stars. The rain had blown away and the night was clear now. She could see the Big Dipper low on the horizon, just as Romanus and Flavius had seen it all those years ago. She shivered as the wind cut through the orchard, lifting the hair on the back of her neck. The scene had ended. She had looked away and when she looked back the view had changed. It was almost imperceptible, this shift of perspective, a change of focus between one breath and the next. She didn’t need Athena or Justin to show her how to use the crystal after all. She had found the way again on her own. She had come out with it in her pocket and seated herself in the darkness and waited. She looked over her shoulder towards the house. The windows were in darkness now. Everyone must have gone to bed. She glanced at her watch. It was after two a.m. Stiffly she rose to her feet. She still didn’t feel sleepy. She carefully re-wrapped the stone and groped in her pocket for her torch. The hiding place was a small leaf-lined hole, almost cosy in the light of the beam. She tucked the stone inside and pushed some leaves over it, then she turned back to the garden. Switching off the torch she wandered on down towards the orchard in the starlight. When she came home after speaking to Athena she had found the B & B guests were back. Cal had invited them to supper to cheer them up because of the rain. Abi had slunk past the kitchen and up to her own room. There was too much to think about to volunteer herself for social duties.

Justin the killer. Justin the druid. She felt absurdly cheated. Even betrayed. The whole family obviously knew about his history and yet Cal had mentioned nothing and Ben had thought it safe to bring Justin back to advise her.

She had sat for a long time on the end of her bed, staring into space before putting on her jacket and coming outside to look for the stone in its hiding place at the base of the old oak tree. And now she had a new worry to distract her: Flavius, who was forcing Romanus to betray his family and Mora. Surely the boy hadn’t believed that bit about sparing Mora’s life. But he was a child. This man was his uncle and he was dazzled by the brush with Imperial purple.

So, was Mora dead? Abi gave a rueful smile. Of course she was dead. But somehow she wanted her to have lived to a happy old age, not to have been murdered by the vengeful and vicious Flavius. She couldn’t bear that to have happened. She had become involved. And it mattered. Jesus. Her Jesus, her lord and saviour would not, could not, have allowed these innocent people to have died to save him. But then, over the millennia how many people had died for his cause? That was what he did. He inspired loyalty and love – to the death. She clenched her fists in her pockets.

Somewhere nearby a fox barked suddenly. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She turned round, staring into the darkness. Here under the apple trees the starlight wasn’t so bright. The orchard was full of shadows. She was looking for signs of movement. He could be here now. Justin. She knew he poked around Woodley in the dark. She had caught him at it before. What was more natural than that he would come here after their farcical meeting this morning? He had a key to the house. He had a right to be here. She moved quietly towards an old apple tree, reaching out her hand to the rough bark, feeling the reassuring touch of the cold lichen under her fingers. The night smelled cold and fresh, of moss and grass and flowers and suddenly the acrid tang of fox.

She ground her teeth together in frustration. She was not going to be terrorised by this man any more than she was going to let herself be terrorised by Kier. ‘Where are you? I know you’re there?’ Her voice rang through the silence and there was a panic-stricken squawk and flap of wings as roosting pheasants soared up into the darkness. She waited, listening to the fall of broken twigs as the birds disappeared out over the fields. Nothing. Silence slowly fell back across the orchard. She felt for her torch and defiantly she switched it on, following the narrow beam as she swung it round. Nothing but grass and trees and a small flash of white from the rapidly disappearing scut of a rabbit fleeing into the brambles.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back towards the gate, fighting the urge to run, forcing herself to move steadily across the long grass until she emerged back into the garden.

Cal had left the back door unlocked. She pushed it open quietly and heard a small enquiring bark. The two dogs were lying, head on paws, by the fire which had been banked up for the night behind a guard. Thiz climbed to her feet and came over, tail wagging.

‘Hello, girl,’ Abi whispered. Pym had lowered his head again and closed his eyes, bored. Abi reached for the light switch. The kettle had nearly boiled when the door opened and Mat appeared, swathed in a dressing gown, his grey hair on end.

‘Ah, I thought it might be you. Everything all right?’

‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

He shook his head. ‘Would you like to make me one of those?’ She had reached down the tea caddy from the lintel over the fire. ‘Ben rang. He said to give you a message. He said he had looked it up and,’ he scrabbled for a piece of paper by the phone, ‘Yeshua – is that how it’s pronounced? – is thought to have been a Hebrew short form of Yehoshua, or Joshua, and yes, you could be right.’ He glanced up. ‘Does that make sense?’

Abi smiled. ‘Oh yes. It makes sense.’

‘And he said to tell you he was worried about you.’

‘He told you what happened?’

‘He’s an idiot. He should have known better than to get in touch with that blasted brother of ours. I hope he didn’t frighten you.’

‘No, he didn’t frighten me. He made me cross. I’m afraid I left rather precipitously.’ She handed him a mug. He took it and lowered himself with a groan onto one of the chairs by the fire. Thiz went and sat next to him, leaning fondly against his knees. Abi took the chair on the far side of the fire. ‘Did he really kill someone once?’

‘Who?’ Mat took a sip of tea.

‘Justin. Athena told me he had killed someone.’

Mat shook his head. ‘No. I believe almost everything I hear about Just, but not that. Why on earth would she tell you that? He has a temper. He is still the same spoiled brat he was at seven years old in some ways, but he’s no killer. What a ludicrous suggestion.’

‘So, that’s not why you hate him.’

Mat gave a hollow laugh. ‘No. I hate him because he told me once that he could have Cal off me any time he wanted. I know he couldn’t. She wouldn’t. But – ’ He paused and shook his head, ‘There is always that lurking fear at the back of one’s mind that he could do it. Against her will. And the fact that he even threatened it…’ His voice trailed away. ‘He’s ten years younger than me. So is she.’

‘Oh Mat. She loves you so much. Even I, a stranger, could see that the first time I met you.’

He smiled. ‘I know. It’s not logical. But there is nothing I can do about it. The fear is always there.’ He reached down and fondled the dog’s ears. For a second she thought he was going to cry.

She looked away, giving him time to compose himself. ‘Is he really a druid?’ she asked after a moment.

Mat laughed. ‘Oh yes, I think that is what he would call himself, or something like it. He’s very knowledgeable about alternative beliefs and paganism and comparative theologies. I’m not sure what his own gods look like, but he’s very sincere about whatever it is. I gather there are people who think of him as some sort of priest. He’s conducted marriage ceremonies and funerals. He has written a couple of books and I understand he’s writing another. That’s why he comes here. Grandfather had a huge collection of books on folklore and stuff. He used to talk to Just about it when he was a little boy. Neither Ben nor I were interested, but baby brother lapped it all up.’

‘So he doesn’t believe all this just to spite Ben?’

‘No. No, I don’t think so. He’s very sincere. Ben actually has a lot of respect for him. Why else would he have called him in to try and help you. I think Ben is a bit wary of the church’s teaching on some things. He’s not very happy about exorcism and hell and damnation. He’s a gentle soul, is Ben. He would prefer to ask nicely for ghosts to leave.’ He smiled. ‘He’s genuinely worried about the Kieran Scotts of this world and their approach. He sees that as very damaging, not just to you, but to the souls involved.’

Abi’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t realise he felt like that.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘But that leaves the question, has someone suggested that I be exorcised? Someone apart from Kier, I mean? I don’t want to be exorcised and I am sure you don’t want your resident ghosts to be moved on. We are all very happy as we are. Has the bishop suggested it?’

Mat shrugged. ‘I’ve no idea. We were only asked to give you bed and board.’ He gave her a weary grin. ‘Ben is in charge of the spiritual department.’

‘Is he furious with me for running out on him?’

‘No. He’s furious with Justin.’

‘And Justin has gone?’

‘I can’t help but say I hope so.’

Abi nodded. ‘I can see why he’s such a disruptive force around here.’

Mat stood up. ‘Well, it’s very late. I’m for my bed. Will you turn off the lights when you go up?’

She nodded. ‘Of course. I’ll sit here for a few minutes longer and finish my tea.’ Behind the wire mesh of the fireguard a lone flame flickered, throwing shadows up into the chimney.

Why had she said the ghosts were happy? Mora wasn’t happy. Mora was worried. Afraid. Frantically trying to contact her. And she, Abi, had seen off the one man who might be able to help. She sighed, picturing Justin for a moment. His eyes with their steady half-humorous gaze, his face with the same strong bones as his brothers, the long straight nose, the smile which like theirs could be so attractive and had, she had thought for a while, that extra something that makes a man irresistible to women. She bit her lip. He could have helped her feel her way through the enigma which was that small family, out there in the garden, trapped in some eternal cycle of fear and retribution. Were they trying to explain? To exonerate themselves for their actions? To tell the world what had happened? Or were they, whatever she had felt to the contrary, merely replaying an endless video, trapped somehow in the ether, shadows without souls who were doomed to re-enact forever some small part in what was arguably the most momentous piece of history ever.

She leaned forward to stroke Thiz as the dog came over to sit beside her, leaning against her legs. This animal at least recognised her as some sort of a healer. She smiled. She could feel it too, the warmth and reassurance flowing through her hands. So why could she not do it any more for people? For a while she sat in silence, enjoying the dog’s trust, then slowly her thoughts turned back to Justin. Why had Athena said he was a killer? She wouldn’t have made it up. But surely his own brother would have known about it if he was. Especially if he had reason to hate Justin so much.

But he had got away with it, hadn’t he. Otherwise he would be in prison.

The dog sensed Abi’s withdrawal of attention and with a huge sigh she climbed to her feet and went back to the fire. She lay down with a thump next to Pym and closed her eyes. It was a clear hint that all this thinking in the early hours was a bad thing. Abi gave a rueful smile and stood up. Tomorrow she would go and see Athena again. Force her to explain what it was exactly that Justin had done.

‘She’s gone away for a couple of days.’ Bella looked up as she went into the shop. ‘Her ex is being buried today and she’s gone to the funeral.’

Abi murmured a quick silent prayer for the deceased, who she had felt wandering so disconsolately around Athena’s flat. ‘Where has she gone, do you know?’ It was wrong to be indignant, to resent the poor man for being buried when she needed so badly to talk to his ex-wife. No, it wasn’t just wrong, it showed how completely skewed her values had become.

‘London somewhere.’

So, she was not going to find out from Athena what she meant, not today at any rate. That left Ben, to whom she owed a huge apology.

There were no cars parked outside the Rectory, and no reply when she rang the bell. She stood for a few moments looking out across the leaf-strewn lawn, bereft. The world moved on. Everyone was busy, going about their lives. At the manor the B & B guests had packed and paid and driven away; Cal and Mat had gone off on one of their trips to Taunton. That left the Serpent Stone and Mora.

‘You were weeping just now?’ Mora came and stood near Yeshua as he sat near the sacred spring. She had waited for him to notice her, studying his face. He was lost in a reverie, his attention far away in the spaces of time where she could never dream of following him. She sat down a few paces away from him, under one of the sacred yews.

He looked at her and nodded, his eyes still full of unhappiness. ‘So much cruelty, so much hatred in the world. Sometimes in my meditations, I see such terrible things. The suffering of my people. I want to help them, but they won’t listen. They will never listen.’

‘Your people?’ she said gently. ‘That Roman said you were a king.’

Yeshua raised his hands in a gesture of despair and confusion. ‘Sometimes I feel like a king. Other times,’ he shrugged, ‘I am no-one.’ He paused. ‘When I was born,’ he went on quietly after a while, ‘there were signs in the sky. Two planets came together to form a brilliant great star, a star that foretold the birth of a king in the town where I was born, over the house where I was born. My mother was visited – ’ He paused and shook his head. ‘No matter. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Suffice to say that my father wasn’t my father, although he too came from the royal house generations before. Wise men, astrologers from far away, came to speak to my parents and they brought me gifts. They too had heard the prophecy; they had followed my star. They explained the gifts were symbols of my destiny. It made my mother terribly afraid for me and for them. Gold for kingship and myrrh for death.’ He reached across and took her hand. ‘King Herod heard about me and decided I was a rival for his throne. He resolved to have me killed, toddler as I was, and when no-one would tell him where I was – I was protected, Mora, by everyone – he ordered that all the little boys of around my age in the area should be killed.’

Mora caught her breath.

‘Herod was a vicious and ruthless man, even with his own family.’ He withdrew his hand from hers and sat, his arms around his knees, gazing down into the water of the spring. ‘Even then, after he had done such terrible things, people cared for me. They hid me and helped us when my family decided to flee the country to get away from him.’ He looked at her, and for a moment she saw, still lurking below the surface, the restless unhappy boy he must have been as he fled with his family far away from his home. ‘Those children died, Mora, to save me. That man, Flavius, represents the Roman will to stamp out any threat to their power. Herod Antipas is one of King Herod’s sons. He now governs in my country. He is different from his father in many ways, but it appears he still maintains this secret band of men dedicated to finding me – or, perhaps not just me, but anyone who might be a threat to the stability of the countries around the eastern end of the great sea. I don’t know if Flavius was one of those who slaughtered those little boys all those years ago. He is old enough to have been there, but he is one of them in his heart. And now he works for Antipas or for Tiberius himself, and he has followed me across the world, always just behind me. Never before have I seen his face except in my nightmares.’ He paused thoughtfully. ‘Never before has he come this close to killing me.’

A cold breath of wind strayed across the spring, throwing a line of ripples across the clear face of the water. He stared down into it silently. They both saw the shadows there, red, like blood. ‘When my kinsman Joseph returns with his ships I will go with him. I will meet Flavius and his like face to face, but in my own country. It is there I must confront my destiny.’ He glanced up at her. ‘Your cold, windy western winter will come soon and close the seas. I am in God’s hands. I’m so sorry, Mora, but I must be gone before then.’

She had realised long ago that there was no point in arguing. ‘How will we outwit Flavius and get you away safely?’

He shrugged. ‘I am sure we will think of something. I am sure God’s hand is over us. I will pray.’

She frowned. His single, all-powerful god was lord of all things and all men and women. It was a strange concept, and yet it wasn’t. To her, god was in the wind and the sea; he was in the trees and the waters and the clouds. God and goddess were everywhere; but maybe his idea was the right one. There was one great all-encompassing godhead and all the other gods were aspects of his power; angels and spirits that served him.

She bit her lip. ‘I shall miss you.’ Her voice cracked with misery.

He smiled and reached across to touch her face with a gentle hand. ‘And I you, Mora of the druids. And I you.’

Abi smiled to herself as she sat on the bench. The sun was shining and it was warm here in the shelter of the trees. Her fingers were stroking the crystal as it rested on her knee. There was so much affection between Yeshua and Mora, affection and genuine understanding each of the other. Affection, perhaps even love.

She closed her eyes against the sunlight, aware that she was back in the present day yet reluctant to open her eyes and return to the world. It was several seconds before she became aware that she was not alone. Her eyes flew open.

Justin was sitting on a rock close to the edge of the pool near her, watching her in silence. She felt herself grow tense. ‘How long have you been there?’

‘Not long.’

‘Are Cal and Mat back?’ She was, she realised suddenly, uncomfortable at being alone with him.

He shook his head. ‘I would hardly be here if they were. I came over on the off chance of catching you alone. We didn’t make a very good start yesterday, did we. As you know, I think it would be better if we talk by ourselves.’ He rose from his seat and came over to stand in front of her. ‘May I see it?’ He held his hand out for the crystal.

She hesitated.

‘I won’t harm it.’

She held it out reluctantly. Their hands brushed as he took it from her. He turned to face the sun, and scrutinised it carefully, turning it this way and that, watching the light reflect from the faces of the crystal. ‘This is a lovely thing.’ He cupped his hands around it and held it against his chest. ‘It has a nice feel. I can sense your mother. It has brought you close.’

‘What about the past?’ She felt very uncomfortable, seeing it in his hands like that, almost as though she was feeling him touching her. Getting up she went to stand near the ancient stone arch, leaving several feet between them.

He closed his eyes in silence. ‘When you want it to talk to you,’ he said at last, his voice very soft, ‘all you have to do is listen. It has much to tell.’

‘That much I already know.’ She couldn’t keep the tartness out of her voice. He opened his eyes and glanced at her. To her surprise she saw amusement there. ‘Then you have cracked the code on your own.’ He held it out to her and dropped it into her cupped hands. ‘You were right. You don’t need me.’

He turned and began to walk back towards the house. She stared after him. ‘I know how to listen,’ she said. ‘But I want to talk to her!’ The words erupted out of her without thought. ‘And I don’t know how.’

He stopped.

‘Please, show me how to get through to her.’

Mora walked slowly up the hill following the long serpentine route which generations of priests and priestesses, the servants of many gods, had trodden, her eyes on the grass below her sandals. She was thinking. About Yeshua and Cynan. Cynan, the young man to whom she had been betrothed almost since she was born, her companion and fellow student, and colleague. One day they would be arch druid and druidess of this school, and in years to come their children would succeed them. She pictured his kind, gentle face, his green, thoughtful eyes, the smile which hovered from time to time around his mouth, the calm serious expression he habitually wore. Then she thought about Yeshua. Taller than Cynan, with a darker, more olive skin, brown hair, deep brown eyes. His hands. Why was it she always thought about his hands; she was always watching them. His long strong fingers, gentle and artistic, always moving except when he was at prayer when at last they were still. He spent so much time at prayer; sometimes she watched him, seeing him go so far away from her where she could never follow and she had surprised herself at the occasional sudden resentment she felt at whatever, whoever, it was that took him so far from her. And now he was going. She had known the moment would come, but had hoped against hope that he would change his mind and stay. Just a while longer. Over winter, perhaps, and then perhaps another spring. But she knew he wouldn’t. Part of his charm was his certainty. And an equal part was his doubt. And now, when he looked deep into her eyes and told her he was going, she realised that more than anything or anyone she loved him and that if he asked her she would give up everything to follow him. She stopped in her tracks and looked up at the summit of the Tor above her in the sunlight. The great menhir which had stood there for thousands of years caught the light, white and almost luminous. It marked the place of greatest power, the concentration of the forces of earth and sky, of storm and wind, of star and sun. It was the place where one could speak directly to the gods. And the place, she sensed, where she could speak most easily to the woman who was following her around the island, trying so hard to contact her from another plane of existence beyond the mists. She looked round. She was there now. She could sense her reaching out. A priestess as she was, an initiate in all probability, somehow lost in the otherworld. On an impulse Mora stepped off the path and found herself a sheltered spot to sit down out of the wind. At once, in the silence, below the shoulder of the hill she heard her calling.

Mora! Mora? Are you there?

Mora closed her eyes and waited, opening herself to whatever came.

She was not expecting it to be a man.

He was walking uncertainly up the serpent path, dressed in strange clothes, his hair, short like a Roman’s, blowing around his head. His eyes were fixed on the top of the Tor and he had walked right past her without seeing her when somehow he sensed her presence and stopped. She saw the look of puzzlement on his face, then fear, as he scanned the hillside. Then she saw him shiver. Crouching down she kept still, willing him not to see her, drawing down the cloak of mist which her father had taught her to use if ever she felt herself in danger, wrapping it around herself. All he would see now would be a patch of nothing on the hillside, a place where the morning mist had lingered in a hollow between the gorse bushes.

‘Hello?’ He was very near her, and she saw him shake his head as if clearing a buzzing in his ears. He was looking straight at her now. He had bright, searching brown eyes; not warm brown, like Yeshua, but hard, the colour of hazelnuts, his hair was reddish and his complexion florid. He could sense her there. She cowered down, not moving, like a small animal freezing before a weasel.

‘Bloody place!’ She heard his words clearly. They meant nothing to her. He turned away from her at last and looked back up towards the summit before him. It was a steep climb to the top from here and he was already out of breath. She could hear him panting, almost feel the beat of the blood in his ears. Then at last he was back on the path and once more following it towards the top. He had cut across the serpent path. He was following some track she hadn’t noticed before. There were steps in it, a well trodden way. She frowned, still not daring to move. Once he was out of sight she would retrace her steps towards the bottom of the hill. She had no desire to be up there with a stranger in that sacred place. Now her fear was receding and her senses were once more working, she could feel his anger and his fury as tangible streaks across the air around her. Why would he go up there if he was so afraid? She glanced up towards the menhir and frowned. For a fraction of a second she could see what he could see, the man from the other world. A tall square tower on the place where the ancient stone had stood. Then it was gone, a grey shimmer in the sunlight, no more.

Kier had driven back overnight. He shouldn’t have come. The bishop had expressly forbidden it but he couldn’t keep away. Ever since his interview he had tried to put Abi and her affairs out of his mind but his conscience wouldn’t rest. She was in danger. Of that he was sure. It wasn’t her fault, but her natural psychic ability had driven her into the arms of the worst possible situation. David Paxman still didn’t understand how stupid it was to send her down here, to Glastonbury! Of all the places on earth he could have sent her, this was the last he should have chosen.

He completed the final scramble to the top of the Tor and stood looking round, trying to regain his breath. After the interview with the bishop and then the long tiring drive through heavy traffic his head was spinning and he felt tense and unhappy. After he had parked the car he sat for a long time wondering what to do next. He wasn’t sure what had made him head for the Tor. It seemed the perfect place to clear his head. High. Windy. Full of sunlight. There were several people up there when he arrived on top. The usual eclectic mix. Dog walkers. Hippies. He turned down his mouth, glancing at three young women in white robes. They were giggling and he suspected it was out of extreme embarrassment as they realised how silly they looked. A couple of ramblers. He eyed their state of the art rambling poles and heavy laced boots with extreme disfavour. Did they think this was the Matterhorn? There were a couple of earnest men. He classified them as probably academic, but who could tell. They might be astrologers on a day out from Mars. He snorted to himself. The day was clear. He could see for miles. He went and stood, his back to the wall of the tower, hands in pockets, feeling his hair being swept back by the sharp cold wind, then he frowned. How strange that on a day like today, there were still patches of mist on the lower slopes of the hill. He moved round to look down at the path he had followed upwards, seeing small groups of people slowly wending their way up and down. No mist. Not anywhere. It must have dispersed in the wind.

He found himself a place where he could sit in the comparative shelter of the lee side of the tower, and began to think out his strategy. He had to get the wretched crystal ball away from Abi. He shuddered at the thought. And he had to get Abi away from Glastonbury. The bishop was not going to help; and nor obviously was Ben Cavendish. A fine spiritual adviser he was turning out to be. The rest of the Cavendish family were going to be no use either, and that third brother was especially dangerous. He had recognised the type. Absolute certainty was always dangerous; absolute certainty in a religious fanatic of whatever persuasion was lethal. He snorted again. Druid indeed. What in God’s name did the man think he was playing at? He was presumably educated. Of sound mind. Yet he was no better than those girls, who were now decorating themselves with little wreaths of ivy, giggling even more as the wind tugged playfully at their hair and wound green tendrils into their eyes.

What he had to do was persuade Abi to come with him back to Cambridge. But how? He began to gnaw the knuckle of his thumb. She wasn’t going to listen to him. He couldn’t threaten her. She was a strong woman. She knew her own mind. Could he lure her in some way? He shook his head slowly. What could he offer? She wasn’t interested in him romantically, that was for sure. Supposing he told her that David wanted her to go back? But that would be a lie. He closed his eyes. ‘Please, God, tell me what to do. Help me make the right decision here.’

The right decision was of course to do nothing. To leave well alone and go away.

They were sitting side by side on the bench in the sunshine. Abi threw a quick glance at Justin out of the corner of her eye. She had been careful once more to keep a safe distance between them. He was sitting absolutely still, eyes closed and she had the feeling that he was listening. She said nothing. The stone was resting in her lap. Was it her imagination or did she sense a change in it? Almost as if it too was listening. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. What was it Ben had said to her?

‘“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.”’

But surely sitting here, with this man, was not a sin. She couldn’t picture him as a killer. Or even as some kind of sorcerer. She didn’t sense anything evil about him at all. Arrogance, maybe. But Ben would not have summoned him if he was truly dangerous. She thought back to her first meeting with Ben as her religious advisor. He had given her the tools to keep her safe. It was up to her to use them. ‘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. Recite the Breastplate. “Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger”, remember?’

Abi opened her eyes to find Justin looking at her. There was a speculative glint in his eye. ‘If you are uncomfortable with this, Abi, stop now.’

It was an uncanny echo of her thoughts. She shrugged. ‘I don’t know much about druids.’

‘It’s a term, that’s all. A title that appeals to people.’

A title that you gave yourself, or did you train to be one?’

He grinned. ‘I have trained. But it takes a thousand lifetimes, so I’m not there yet. In ancient times the training of a druid was said to take twenty years and yes, by that measure I am, as it were, qualified.’ He smiled. ‘Your next question is going to be, do I practise human sacrifice. The answer is no.’

She gave a shocked little laugh. ‘Actually, that hadn’t occurred to me, but I’m pleased to hear it.’

‘Is there anything else bothering you?’

She shook her head meekly. ‘Ben has vouched for you. That is enough.’

It was his turn to laugh out loud. ‘I fear his recommendation would be ringed with caveats, but we will find that out as we proceed. I don’t think there is much I can teach you, to be honest, as I take it you are not seeking training as a druid yourself. You obviously have a natural propensity to see beyond the normal range. You listen and you don’t panic. What is preventing you from being able to step fully into your experiences is your own in-built monitor. That comes from conditioning. No doubt at school you learned to keep quiet about any so-called psychic experiences you might have had as you would have been mocked. Sadly that is inevitable. I am sure it is the same at a training college. The less sensitive brethren in any community always trumpet their scorn of anything they don’t understand. Sadly they are also inevitably the majority, so they win by default unless you are exceptionally tough or learn to use your talents to entertain them in some way, which devalues the experience but usually gets them off your back. The threat of being more powerful than they are usually frightens bullies enough to stop them.’

‘That sounds as if you are speaking from experience,’ Abi said softly.

He grimaced. ‘Public school is not a place for the sensitive, to my mind.’ He leaned back with a sigh. ‘In your case, whatever your experiences as a child and as a student, they will have been more than reinforced by your training at theological college. I cannot understand why the church as a spiritual body, which has within its own creed the words “I believe in one God, maker of all things, visible and invisible,” then goes on to deny the existence of a huge portion of the so-called invisible world. Well, no, I lie. I can understand it only too well. It is a matter of control. They want to keep the masses battened down and in ignorance. But it is something you have to learn to put behind you if you want to explore the invisible world. You already know it is all too visible to people who can see a slightly wider than average spectrum. Your church acknowledges the existence of angels, as do Jews and Muslims. Hindus have Devas. Use that belief to give you permission to see and to believe. Otherwise you will never get beyond your own inhibitions. Do not fear any of this contradicts or conflicts with your beliefs. It doesn’t.’

‘Wow.’ Abi shook her head. ‘That is telling me.’ It was what Athena had said, after all.

‘You needed telling.’

‘So, where do I go from here?’

‘That’s up to you. You are on your own from here.’

‘You mean, that’s it. That’s the extent of your help?’

‘That’s it. You can do the rest yourself.’

‘And the stone?’ She held it out in her cupped hands.

‘The vibration of the crystal has been programmed, either by accident or deliberately – probably the latter – to hold a story. If you believe in computers, you can believe in crystals. Accessing information is marginally easier than with a computer in my experience. Suspend disbelief. Keep calm and quiet. Empty your mind and wait. It is unlikely to crash or slow down or pause while Windows updates.’

She laughed. ‘That does please me. I think I could feel more comfortable with prehistoric technology.’

‘And by prehistoric you mean?’

‘Its technical meaning. Pre-written history.’

He nodded. ‘OK. You pass the test. I think you can be left in charge of your stone. Which is something very beautiful and special. I would say magical if I didn’t think the word would freak you out.’

‘Magickal spelled with a k in the middle?’ She cocked her head to one side with a small grin.

‘Never!’ He stood up. ‘I spell my magic the right way. I don’t need whimsy. When your friend, Mora, tries to speak to you, allow it to happen and reply naturally. You will find there is a knack to it. It might not come at once, but keep trying. Be calm. Don’t be afraid. Maintain a degree of serenity. The rest will follow.’

He turned and walked away across the lawn. She sat still gazing down at the crystal and realised she was almost disappointed that he had left so abruptly. She was beginning to enjoy their verbal sparring. Looking up again she watched him surreptitiously as he walked around the side of the house and out of sight. Not once did he look back.

Romanus was sitting by the fire whittling a stick with his knife. He was listening to the sounds coming from behind the screens which separated off his sister’s sleeping room. Sorcha was sponging Petra with warm water, changing her bedgown and laying her back as gently as she could onto the sheets of the bed. Romanus put his hands over his ears as he heard Petra crying out with pain. She tried so hard to be brave. He could picture her biting back the sounds, clutching at Sorcha’s arm, desperate to keep her agony from her mother. He glanced at the doorway. Lydia was outside with Flavius. He could hear their raised voices. Again and again she was begging him to leave, to go back home, to abandon his stupid quest for this man, Yeshua. His attention was abruptly brought back into the room as Sorcha appeared, a bowl of warm water in her hand, a towel over her arm. She looked pale and upset. ‘Go and talk to your sister, Romanus. See if you can take her mind off her pain,’ she whispered. She went to the doorway and threw out the water. ‘I can’t bear to see her like this. I don’t know what to do. Your poor mother spent the whole night sitting up with her.’

Romanus climbed to his feet. He looked down at the piece of wood he had been carving and with a grimace tossed it into the fire. Ramming his knife back into the sheath at his belt he went through to Petra’s small room. ‘Hey. How are you?’ He sat down on the stool by her bed. ‘Do you want your gifted brother to sing for you?’ He grinned. It was a standing joke between them. She could sing. He couldn’t. Not a note. She shook her head, blinking back tears. He leaned forward and took her hands between his. Tending for his adored sister had given him surprising gentleness for a boy. ‘Poor you. I wish I could do something.’

‘Can you fetch Mora?’ Her voice was husky. ‘Mora and her healer friend. She said he would be able to help me.’ She tried to smile. ‘Please, Rom.’

He scowled. ‘I’m not sure I can.’ He had been thinking about Flavius’ command all night.

‘Why?’ Glancing up he saw the panic in her eyes.

He looked away. ‘I don’t know if she’s there.’

‘She is. I heard Uncle Flavius tell Mama. He told her to send for them, but Mama felt we should wait. She doesn’t want to ask too many favours at the druid school, I don’t know why.’ Her eyes filled with tears.

‘Because we can’t pay them back. Because I wanted to go there to study and I’ve told her I don’t want to any more.’ He looked away from her shamefacedly. He wanted more than anything to go with Flavius back to Rome and then on to Judea. He couldn’t tell them that though. Not any of them, not even Petra. And he was ashamed of wanting to go. Of wanting to go with a man who was planning to murder the one person who could help his sister. His hands tightened over her swollen fingers and he heard her gasp of pain. ‘I’m sorry.’ He released them guiltily. ‘Oh Petra, I don’t know what to do.’

He looked up and found her gazing at him. Her lovely eyes and long lashes were still full of tears, but he saw the love and trust there. He scrambled to his feet and turning away from her ducked out from behind the screens and ran across the main room. Outside he fled across the yard towards the gate in the palisade. In seconds he was running down the field as fast as he could go.

Lydia watched him in astonishment. ‘Petra?’ Suddenly frightened she ducked back into the house, leaving Flavius on his own. It was only seconds before he turned to follow Romanus out of the gate.

He caught up with him at the edge of the lake. ‘So? What happened? Why haven’t you gone to the island as I told you?’

Romanus shrugged. He kicked hard at an old willow stump, protruding from the reeds and was pleased when it hurt.

‘Your sister is in pain. She needs her medicine.’

‘She wants me to fetch the healer.’

‘So why don’t you?’ Flavius’s voice was suddenly persuasive.

‘Because if I do you will kill him.’

‘If you don’t, as I told you, I will kill Mora.’

There was a moment of silence. The boy’s knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists.

Flavius gave him a cold smile. ‘I tell you what. I will intercept him on his way back after his visit. That will give him time to look after your sister. Remember what I told you. It is up to you. If you can distract Mora and keep her back she will never find out what happened to him and I will spare her life. It is up to you, Romanus. Everything is in your hands.’

‘And if I do what you ask? You will take me with you?’

‘If you have proved yourself worthy, I will take you with me.’ His gaze was watchful, reading the conflicting emotions on the boy’s face. ‘You will have to convince them that it is safe to come here. That will be up to you. If you don’t do it I shall have to resort to other means. If that happens, I can’t guarantee that Mora won’t be hurt.’ He looked down thoughtfully at the dugout canoes pulled up on the mud. ‘Go now. The sooner the better. Think of poor Petra’s agony. She needn’t go through another night like last night. I could hear her crying even in my guesthouse. Think how pleased and relieved your mother would be.’

Romanus was standing looking down at the boats, a picture of indecision. His hand strayed to the mooring rope, looped round the willow stump. ‘You swear you won’t hurt Mora?’ He didn’t appear to be worrying about Yeshua, Flavius noted. In fact the boy was probably jealous of the man’s closeness to Mora. Perhaps secretly he would welcome the disappearance of a rival. It had obviously never occurred to him that his uncle might break his word and kill her too.

‘I swear.’ Flavius brought his right fist up to his heart with a thump. ‘The word of a soldier of Rome.’ He stooped and loosened the painter. ‘Go on. Hop in. I will give you a push off.’

Romanus hesitated for just one more second, then he nodded. He stooped and scrabbled under the seat for the paddle. ‘Will you tell Mama where I have gone?’

Flavius nodded. ‘I’ll tell her. And Petra. Be as quick as you can, for her sake.’

‘Silly boy!’ Abi came to with a start. ‘Can’t you see he doesn’t mean it! For God’s sake – ’ She stopped in mid-sentence, aware suddenly that Mat and the dogs were approaching across the lawn.

‘Hello there! You looked lost in thought. I’m sorry. I always seem to be interrupting.’ Mat grinned at her comfortably.

She stroked the two dogs. ‘No. I was thinking about coming in. It gets cold as the sun goes down.’ How long had she been sitting there, for heaven’s sake? Last time she had been aware of the sunlight it had been hot, shining across the lawn, sending the shadows slanting towards the house. Now the garden was dull and overcast and wisps of mist were trailing in across the hedges. From somewhere she could smell bonfires, rich with spicy apple smoke.

She hesitated. Mora. She had to see Mora. Had to try to speak to her. She had expected her to appear, but the story she had been watching was about that little fool, Romanus.

‘I’ll follow you in.’ She shrugged. ‘Just trying to think a few things through. I’ll wander about for a few minutes more if you don’t mind.’

Mat nodded. ‘Take as long as you like. See you later.’ He whistled the dogs and strode on past her down towards the orchard.

Abi turned round slowly and picked up the crystal which at some point had slipped from her hands onto the bench. It was ice-cold. Tucking it into the pocket of her jacket she glanced over her shoulder. She wanted to walk towards the orchard, but if Mat had strolled on that way her chance of solitude was gone. Instead she retraced her steps through the flowerbeds and back in a circuitous route which would take her round the far side of the house. From there she could cut across the paddock and down the steep hillside towards the churchyard wall, the churchyard which was, she now realised, Cynan’s island. The ancient church had been built on his hermitage, his private sanctuary, his druid shrine.

The grass was wet with dew and she shivered as the hems of her trousers grew rapidly cold and damp. ‘Mora? Can you see me?’ Her fingers closed over the crystal in her pocket. ‘Can you hear me? What happened when Romanus reached you? Can you tell me? Can I help?’

There was no answer.

‘Justin was here this afternoon.’

Cal was peeling potatoes when she walked back into the kitchen. Mat was still out with the dogs. Cal looked up sharply. ‘I thought Ben said it didn’t work out. He made a mistake asking him.’

Abi smiled. ‘He came over to give it another go. We talked. It was easier without Ben there.’

‘I can imagine.’ Cal selected another spud. ‘So, was he any help?’

‘I think so. He made me see things in a different light.’

‘Don’t tell Mat he came.’

Abi shook her head. ‘Of course not.’

‘Has he gone back to Wales?’

Abi shrugged. ‘He didn’t say. He just walked away.’ She picked up a knife and selected a potato. Digging out an eye she rinsed it and threw it into the bowl. ‘He’s a bit enigmatic, isn’t he?’

Cal smiled. ‘I suppose he is.’

‘Did you never really fancy him? Honestly?’

‘No.’ Cal stared at her. ‘No, of course not. That’s an outrageous thing to say.’

‘Tell Mat. Then the quarrel can be over.’

Cal shook her head. ‘Is that what Justin thinks? That I fancy him! The conceited bastard!’

‘No, Cal, it’s what Mat thinks. He told me.’

For a moment Cal froze. She stood without moving, a potato in her hand, her eyes on the bowl of peelings in front of her. ‘He doesn’t. He can’t. Not still! That’s crazy.’

‘Of course it’s crazy. But who says love is logical.’

Cal looked up suddenly. ‘Is this with your little miss vicar counselling hat on?’

‘The very same.’ Abi nodded. ‘I’m sorry, I should mind my own business, but I can’t bear to see you all hurting so much.’

Cal threw down the potato. ‘Where is he?’

‘Mat? He was out with the dogs. In the orchard. He must be coming in soon.’

Alone in the kitchen after Cal had taken down her jacket from the peg and run outside, Abi finished the potatoes, left them on the side and threw some logs on the fire. Then she settled down to wait. It was half an hour before Cal reappeared. Her hair was rumpled by the wind, her face worried. ‘I can’t find him. I’ve called and called. Are you sure he was going to the orchard?’

Abi frowned. ‘That’s what he said.’

‘He must have decided to walk a bit more. The dogs have been cooped up all day in the car. They will have been egging him on.’ She smiled uncomfortably.

‘Don’t worry about him, Cal. I’m sure he’s OK. He seemed quite cheerful just now when I talked to him.’

Cal looked pensive. ‘I was lying just now,’ she said suddenly. ‘Mat’s right. I do find Justin attractive. But he never fancied me.’ Automatically she reached for the potatoes and put the pan on the cooker.

Abi said nothing.

‘Mat had already asked me to marry him. I had never met his brother. Justin is always away somewhere. Then suddenly he walked in one day and smiled.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I was lost. Mat knew it. It has always been like that. Justin arrives and everyone in the room looks at him. It’s as though the rest of the cast have walked into the shadows leaving just the one spotlight on the stage.’

‘But you chose Mat.’

She nodded. ‘I couldn’t bring myself to hurt him, not like that. Not when it was what he expected. And anyway, Justin wasn’t for me. One day he will find a priestess who will perform a sacred marriage with him up in the mountains or down in the forest, attended by fairies and spirits of old.’ She wiped her eyes with the back of her arm and cleared her throat. ‘You are right. Mat knows. He has always known. And he always will know.’

‘But he is the one you chose,’ Abi repeated. ‘It wasn’t too late. You could have changed your mind. You could have run away with Justin. You could have dumped Mat. But you didn’t. You might have fancied Justin, but it’s Mat you love.’

Cal nodded again.

Behind them there was a sudden hiss of overflowing water on the hotplate as the potatoes came to the boil. Cal stood up and went to turn down the heat. Then she sat down again. ‘He comes here so seldom. Sometimes he is away for literally years without a word. That is what has brought this all to a head again. He started coming to borrow books, trying to do it without being seen. I caught him, just as you did.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘After that I was somehow complicit. And now he is coming more openly. It’s bringing stuff out into the open again.’

‘So now is the time to lay the ghost,’ Abi said gently. ‘Talk to Mat. If you hide things he senses it. Blame me. Or even Ben. Reassure him that Justin has only come back because of me.’

Cal sighed. ‘I will. I’m a coward, that’s the trouble. I prefer to pretend things aren’t happening, hoping it will all go away. But it doesn’t of course.’ She paused. ‘What about a glass of wine while we wait for him to come in? I’ve a casserole in the oven, so supper is nearly ready.’

‘I’d love one.’ Abi stood up. ‘But first let me go and have a quick look outside. I know where I saw him last.’ She reached for her coat and for the torch which was kept beside the back door. ‘By the time you’ve poured one out for me, I’ll be back.’

She had a feeling she knew where he would be. She walked steadily, the torch beam on the ground ahead of her, through the garden, past the ruins, heading for the church.

It never seemed to be locked. Perhaps it was too far off the beaten track to be in danger from vandals or thieves but she knew when she turned the handle and heard the latch lift in the silence that he was there. He was sitting in the front row of chairs, the two dogs lying beside him in the aisle. They thumped their tails as she entered but made no move to greet her.

‘Mat?’

He didn’t move. She felt her throat tighten with fear. ‘Mat, are you all right?’

She walked towards him, the torch throwing a faint pool of light on the paving slabs. He was sitting staring at the altar. ‘Mat?’ She laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

‘I’m OK,’ he said at last. He sounded as if he was waking from a dream.

‘We were worried. Cal has been looking for you everywhere.’

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was husky. For a moment longer he sat without moving then he gave his head a slight shake. ‘I saw her. I was watching her. Your priestess. She was here looking for you.’

Abi sat down next to him. She switched off the torch and they sat side by side in the darkness.

‘I’ve never seen a ghost before, Abi. I’ve heard so much about them. Imagined what it would be like. Ridiculed Cal and Justin, even Ben, and then suddenly there she was standing looking at me. I could smell her. A sort of static electric smell. I’ve never smelled anything like it before.’

Abi frowned. ‘I’ve never smelled anything like that.’

He shook his head. ‘It was wonderful. There was no mistake. I wasn’t imagining it.’

‘Why do you think she was looking for me?’ Abi’s eyes were growing used to the dark now. She could make out the faint outline of the window against the stars, the black silhouette of the altar. She stared round, wondering if Mora was still there.

‘She was searching for something. Someone.’

‘Perhaps it was Cynan. He was the man – ’ she paused, ‘one of the men, she loved. This was his special place.’

‘This was certainly a sacred place long before the Christians came,’ he nodded. ‘It is in the guidebooks. You know Glastonbury,’ he grinned suddenly, ‘a place where the veils are thin. Technically we may be on the “mainland” now,’ he drew the inverted commas in the air with his fingers, ‘but we are on our own little island, and so is this church. We share those ancient Celts’ “mysticality”, their sense of mysticism.’

Abi smiled. ‘You are right, of course. I sensed it too, but I am distracted by the fact that it is a church. I was wrapping myself in prayer, not allowing her in.’

He glanced at her. In the darkness they were no more than two shadowy silhouettes. ‘Does it get in the way a lot?’

‘Being a priest?’

He nodded.

‘It shouldn’t. It is who I am.’ She paused. ‘But yes, I think that is one of my problems. I don’t seem to know how to integrate my belief in Jesus Christ with my knowledge that other things, things which are not officially compatible with Christianity, are out there. Things I find important. Things I can’t deny just because I am not supposed to see them.’

‘It sounds as if you need a concentrated seminar with both my brothers, one after the other.’

She gave a muted chuckle. ‘You are right.’ She sighed. ‘We must go back. Cal is opening the wine and supper is ready.’

‘And Mora has gone.’

She nodded. ‘I don’t sense her here. I’ll come again in the morning, and work at stripping away the fabric of Christianity so that I can talk to her. Although – ’ She stopped. She had been about to say that Mora of all people would understand about Jesus Christ.

He was there ahead of her. ‘I don’t think it matters, Abi. She needs to talk to you and she has consistently followed you around. Just stop and listen.’

How many people was it now, who had told her the same thing? As she stood up and turned to follow the dogs to the door Abi glanced over her shoulder into the darkness. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried. She had tried again and again. Perhaps tomorrow Mora would come to her and this time they would find a way to talk.

‘Please come, Mora.’ Romanus was standing in the doorway of her house, his hair blowing in the wind which had risen over the marshes. ‘Petra is so ill. And she needs Yeshua. He could cure her, couldn’t he? His God is so powerful.’

Mora looked at him thoughtfully. ‘And your uncle? Is he still there?’

The boy nodded miserably, unable to tell a direct lie. He looked away from her. ‘He won’t be there when we get there. He said he was going out. He will be out all day. I can go ahead to make sure. Please, Mora. She was crying all night. It was awful, Mama and Sorcha took turns to sit with her, but we could all hear her.’

Mora looked past him out of the door. The sun was shining but the wind was bringing with it a wrack of stormy cloud. She was torn between the suspicion that Flavius would be there somewhere waiting, and her desire to help Petra. That the girl was in intolerable pain she knew was true. With the wind in this direction it was always worse and she doubted if Petra would be able to bear the long winter of cold and damp. Yeshua was her only hope. And yet to visit Petra’s house would put him in immediate danger. She brought her attention back to the boy’s face. He was watching her in an agony of doubt, twisting his fingers together in the folds of his woollen tunic. She noted the serviceable knife in his belt. A man’s knife. But he was still in so many ways a boy.

She made up her mind suddenly. ‘I will talk to Yeshua,’ she said. ‘I will see if he thinks it would be safe to come.’

Watching him closely she saw the sudden shift of his eyes, the tightening of his knuckles. ‘Romanus,’ she said quietly, ‘I know you love Petra. I know you would do anything to help her. But to trap Yeshua would be so wrong. Petra would not want that.’

‘My uncle said he was going to be away today,’ he repeated stubbornly. ‘I am sure it will be safe. You – he – wouldn’t have to stay long.’

‘Very well. Go and wait by your canoe. I will speak to Yeshua and I will collect my medicines and bring the extra strong doses for her.’

She had told her father and Cynan about the Roman and his ambush up in the hills and both men had frowned in consternation. ‘You must not go onto the mainland alone with Yeshua again,’ her father had said sternly. ‘Take Cynan with you and some of the young druids. I want no violence, but their presence would probably be enough to protect you. Invoke the gods to wrap you with concealing mists so the man becomes lost. If he should wander into the mere, so much the better.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Don’t be led astray by Yeshua, Mora. Strange forces surround him. His god is very strong but so are his enemies.’

Yeshua was standing by the spring. Mora made her way along the track, feeling the wind drag at her hair, pulling the cloak back from her shoulders as she walked. The sacred yew trees were whispering to one another, the rattle and hiss of their agitated branches drowning the gentle bubbling of the waters. She stood there in silence, waiting for him to look up at her, aware of his thin shoulders in the woollen robe of a druid, his bent head, his neck so vulnerable beneath his blowing hair.

When he spoke it was without taking his eyes from the waters in front of him. ‘We are to go and see Petra?’

She felt herself tense. ‘You have seen it in the spring?’

He nodded.

‘And do you see if we are being tricked?’

He nodded again. ‘Don’t blame the boy. He is torn. His loyalties are pulled every way by the scheming of this man. But I want to go and see this child. It is not right that she should be left to suffer because we are afraid.’

‘We should take Cynan and some of the others with us,’ she said reluctantly. ‘My father is not happy for us to go across alone any more.’

Yeshua shook his head. ‘I don’t want druids to be involved in this. Rome fears and resents them. In Gaul they are proscribed. I don’t wish to bring trouble to people who have been my hosts and my teachers and whose way is peace. Don’t worry. My father will protect us.’

‘Your father?’ She raised an eyebrow. Then she understood. She could never get used to the familiar way he sometimes spoke of his god. ‘Even if we go alone, it won’t do any harm for us to protect ourselves as well,’ she put in sharply. ‘At least we know what to expect.’

He turned to face her, smiling. ‘You make a formidable bodyguard, my Mora. With you beside me, how can we fail?’

She met his eye and for a moment they stood looking at each other. She reached out and put her hand on his chest. ‘I can’t bear it that you will be going soon.’

Gently he put his arms round her. ‘I shall remember you always, you know that.’

‘Couldn’t I come with you?’ She reached up to kiss him and for a second they stayed, lost in each other’s arms.

Then he pushed her away. ‘You know that’s not possible. What I have to do, I have to do alone. You have a duty here, Mora. It is your home and your destiny just as my destiny lies far away in Galilee. We have to do as God directs. Besides you have a good man here in Cynan. He loves you. He would die for you.’ For a moment he stood looking down at her, then he turned to the track. ‘Come, let us go and find young Romanus. You have your bag of herbs?’

Blinded by sudden tears she couldn’t move for a moment. He glanced back and held out his hand. ‘Be brave, my Mora. You are a strong woman. Think now about Petra and how we can help her.’