The Sacrifice Stone (20 page)

‘There isn’t any more.’ Gemma had forced the second leg of the jeans inside and was leaning on the door to close it. ‘That’s everything — I needn’t do another wash till next month!’

Despite her annoyance, Beth almost laughed. I must take after my mother after all, she thought, to be so amazed at the thought of someone only washing their clothes once a month, and even then, presumably, only if they can borrow someone else’s machine.

And, thank God, I shall no longer be here when Gemma next does her laundry.

‘I’ll go in with Joe while it’s doing,’ Gemma said, reaching for the kettle. ‘Want a coffee?’

‘No thanks, I’m going out any minute.’

‘With your fella?’ Gemma winked. ‘Nice bloke.’

‘
I
think so.’ But he’s not actually my fella, she added silently. Although I must say I wouldn’t mind if he were.

Joe emerged from his room, and paused to look in through the open door of the study. Coming into the kitchen he leaned against the worktop scratching his chest. ‘Morning, Gemma. Is that coffee for me? Hello, Beth.’ She wondered why he was frowning at her.

‘It’s mine,’ Gemma said. ‘Kettle’s just boiled, you can make your own.’

Good for you, Beth thought.

Joe glared at her again. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ she asked.

‘Have you been at my notes?’

His choice of words threw her on the defensive; before it occurred to her to reply that of course she had, wasn’t that what she was there for? She found herself saying apologetically, ‘Yes. Sorry, have I muddled up your papers?’

‘Some of them are — private.’

‘Private? What are you talking about?’

He seemed ill at ease. ‘It’s — they’re — I’m working on something new. Someone — I’m going to look at the church of Our Lady of the Marshlands.’

She didn’t understand. ‘Where the girl had her vision? Fine, so what’s private about that? Half of Arles will probably be there too.’

He hesitated. ‘She’s had another vision.’

‘Is that so?’ She couldn’t help the cynicism showing. ‘More tears and drops of blood? You’d think —’

Then something struck her. ‘Who told you?’

‘Nobody,’ he answered defensively, ‘I — er, I heard it on the radio.’

She glanced across at the radio on the worktop, which to the best of her knowledge hadn’t been switched on since they’d arrived. It wasn’t even plugged in.

‘On the radio,’ she repeated.

Joe took a step towards her. ‘I don’t like your attitude,’ he said angrily. ‘You and that friend of yours,’ — he placed an unpleasant emphasis on ‘friend’ — ‘you’re cynical, destructive. You have no belief, he asks too many questions. He was giving me the third degree the very first time we met, when he was trying to find out what I was researching and you so eagerly told him!’

‘Nonsense!’ Her own anger flaring, she was aware of Gemma watching avidly. Sod Gemma, she thought. ‘He merely asked what anyone might have asked! I couldn’t see then what was so secret about it, and I’m damned if I can now!’ She pushed her face up to his. ‘What the hell’s got into you, Joe?’

‘I —’ For a moment she thought he was going to answer. Then, a disgusted expression on his face, he turned away. ‘Mind your own business,’ he muttered.

She leaned back against the worktop. Gemma flashed her a sympathetic smile.

‘What time are the others coming?’ Joe asked.

‘What others?’ Beth said warily.

‘I wasn’t talking to you,’ he said coldly. ‘Gemma and I are doing pasta for Nick and Trish later.’

‘But ...’ She stopped.

Is there any use in protesting? she wondered. Joe’s so used to getting his own way, and I’m outnumbered. I suppose, she thought fairly, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t entertain his friends here, since he’s paying half the rent. Just as long as they supply their own food.

The thought of coming back later and finding them all there again, music thumping, couples virtually making love in the kitchen, suddenly made her feel very weary. Without speaking, she went into her room and put her overnight things back in her shoulder bag. I don’t know where I want to be, she thought dejectedly, I just know I don’t want to be
here
. There must be plenty of reasonable hotels in the town, and they’re not likely to be full at this time of year. I’ll book into one — I can afford it.

The thought of the new job she’d be going to when she went home fizzed brightly across her mind like an exploding rocket: she hadn’t thought about it for some time, and the delight felt brand-new.

She felt like cheering.

When Adam arrived a short time later, she went out to meet him with that particular joy still making her glow. In addition, she thought as she ran down the steps, I’ve found a purpose for our travels today, and a head-full of things to tell him about Glanum. Not to mention a theory to test out.

Getting into the car, she dismissed the surprisingly attractive thought that Adam might well have a spare room she could borrow.

20

Adam had a map, and as they set off into the mid-morning traffic Beth opened it and started to look for Glanum. She found a mountain range marked the Alpilles, but Glanum didn’t seem to be there.

‘What are you searching for?’ he asked. He looked refreshed — sleeping on, she’d decided, had done him good. And he’d already apologized for being late.

‘I’ve been reading through some of Joe’s books and I found out there’s a Mithraeum at a place called Glanum. I thought we should go there, but I can’t find it on the map.’

He was changing lanes, indicating right. ‘No need — I know where it is.’ He smiled. ‘In the opposite direction from the one we were taking, so it’s just as well you said. Look for a place called St-Rémy-de-Provence — it’s near there. It’s probably not marked because it’s an archaeological site, not a modern town.’

Of course. She felt silly for having expected to see it. ‘St-Rémy?’ Then, after a few moments, ‘Got it!’

It wasn’t far; the journey took under half an hour, and they hadn’t been hurrying. Adam parked on a dusty patch of ground that did duty as a car park. Although it was still not yet noon, the day was getting hot, the sun casting dense black shadows from a majestic tower and triumphal arch in the field next to the car park.

The ancient town of Glanum lay in the fold between two low hills. Pausing to look at the informative notices placed by the path, she read that it had lain buried for centuries, under silt washed down the valley by the watercourse flowing from the mountains.

There were few people about. They went through the entrance hall, where some of the statuary unearthed on the site was displayed, then emerged again into the morning sun. And there, stretching away up the peaceful valley, were the very ruins she’d just been reading about.

Soon she noticed that she and Adam had become separated; he was some way behind her, gazing down at a fragment of mosaic floor. Deciding she’d like to look down on the whole site from above, she walked quickly up the track until she was well past the highest of the remains.

The view down the valley was magnificent, and gave a better impression of the town’s layout. Standing there, enjoying the absence of voices or traffic noise, she realized that the only sound, other than birdsong, was running water. Beside the track was a stream; she followed it back down into the valley, where, level with the first of the ancient buildings, it disappeared.

It’s gone underground, she thought; maybe it emerges again to feed the well I read about. Listening for the sound of the water, she crossed the site until she came to a partially covered construction with steps leading down: at the bottom of the steps was a large stone-lined cistern.

She could almost see robe-clad women bearing water jars, stooping to fill them from the sacred water to take them off to the temple.

She sat down on the steps, letting the atmosphere of the well work its spell. When Adam eventually came to find her, she almost felt she was entranced.

‘This place is magic,’ she murmured as he sat down beside her.

‘It’s a healing well,’ he said. ‘The waters were said to cure a range of ailments.’

‘Including severe mental fatigue brought on by arguing with one’s brother, it seems.’

‘Oh dear.’ He hesitated. ‘Something you want to talk about?’

She sighed. ‘Not really. Not at the moment, anyway — I’d rather enjoy the peace.’

‘Fine.’

They sat in companionable silence for some time, until they were disturbed by an insensitively loud group of sightseers. Then, vacating the steps, they strolled off back towards the entrance.

‘Where’s the Mithraeum?’ she said suddenly: the site had been so seductive, so absorbing, that she’d almost forgotten what they’d gone there for. ‘Did we miss it?’

‘No. While you were daydreaming by the well, I went to ask that rather supercilious woman who sold us our tickets, and she said it’s not here. It’s down the road, back towards Arles — you have to take a little road that goes steeply up into the hills. Madame says there’s a signpost. We shouldn’t have any trouble finding it.’ He sounded as if that were a matter for regret.

‘Come on,’ she said encouragingly. ‘Let’s go for it.’ She put out of her mind thoughts of the last time they’d been looking for somewhere. This is quite different, she told herself. There’s nothing to be afraid of!

But Adam’s set expression belied her determined optimism.

And, at the very worst moment, she heard in her head what he’d said about that other vision he’d been shown. A dark place lit by flame. Eerie dancing figures. A stone covered in blood. Involuntarily, she shuddered. Still, she reminded herself, there’s absolutely no reason to suspect this is the place — even if what the Roman has been showing Adam so persistently really is a Mithraeum, which I admit is only a hunch based on the slimmest of evidence, then it’s one hell of a long shot to suggest it has to be
this
one.

They returned to the car, and Adam drove off down the road. They found the turning, off which another, narrower, track led on up into the hills. The terrain became increasingly rocky, and eventually Adam pulled into a grassy space beside it.

‘We’d better walk from here,’ he said. He sounded as reluctant as if he were being marched to the scaffold.

She wanted to ask him what was the matter, but she thought she already knew.

A flat slab of stone, from which the blood dripped: she could almost see the vision herself.

She reached for his hand. Side by side, they set off up the track.

*

It was further than she’d imagined. Or, she acknowledged, trying not to pant too obviously, it might just seem a long way because the going’s so rough.

At first the path had wound its way between stands of juniper, pine and cypress trees, and the spiky grass underfoot had been springy with decades of pine needles. But as they’d climbed higher and the ground had grown sandier and rockier, the trees had thinned to nothing. What remained of the grass seemed to be struggling for existence in the dry soil. She felt they’d wandered off into a wilderness, that they were encroaching on a place where nature ruled alone, where mankind was not welcome.

Don’t be fanciful, she told herself. There was a sign, back down there in the trees where the path forked. It said
Temple
de
Mithras
, and clearly pointed this way.

Still ...

Adam was obviously fitter than she was, and unaffected by the steep ascent. He would wait for her at regular intervals to let her catch up and regain her breath, and she was just thinking how considerate he was being when it struck her that there might be another reason, nothing to do with her: he might just be dreading the moment when they found the temple.

He might even be making sure he didn’t reach the place alone.

The path had all but disappeared now; not enough footsteps pass along it, she thought, to keep it well trodden.

A shudder ran through her, so violent that Adam must surely have noticed. They were resting again, perched uncomfortably on the sharp backbone of a great flattish slab of rock that lay across what remained of the track.

A big rectangle of stone ...

Stop it!

She got up. ‘I’m ready for the final assault now,’ she said, ‘so, as soon as the sherpas have packed up ...’

It hadn’t been much of a joke anyway, and she wasn’t really surprised that Adam took no notice. He strode on ahead, and she hurried to catch up. Then abruptly he stopped, waited for her, and took her hand.

‘The track opens out enough for us to walk side by side,’ he said. Then, almost apologetically: ‘Do you mind?’ He held up their joined hands.

‘Of course not. I’m feeling a bit —’ She broke off. ‘Good idea.’

The comfort of a warm hand holding hers was surprisingly strong: she hadn’t realized how the place was affecting her, how strangely lonely and isolated she’d been feeling, until the reassuring contact had taken her fears away.

Some of them.

It was very quiet. As they strode up the last hundred yards to what seemed to be the summit, the only sound was Beth’s harsh panting.

It seemed to echo against the rocks, giving the strange illusion that other people — other creatures — were hidden there, their breath coming fast in their apprehension.

It’s only the echo, she told herself. To test it out, momentarily she held her breath.

The sounds from the rocks continued unaffected.

‘We’re nearly there.’ Adam sounded strained. Nevertheless, a human voice was a welcome distraction. ‘This must be the top,’ — they stopped, looking around, and it seemed that the track petered out against a sheer rock face — ‘so where’s the temple?’

He removed his hand from hers and began a slow prowl around the open space of the hilltop, repeatedly pausing to crouch down and examine the ground. Being left on her own with nothing to occupy her mind allowed too many disturbing thoughts; she said nervously, ‘What exactly are you looking for? Can I help?’

He was brushing earth away from an outcrop of stone. ‘I don’t really know. Anything that might suggest a manmade structure, I suppose — the remains of a wall, or something.’

She started to do the same, beginning on the opposite side of the hilltop. It wasn’t very wide — she was only about ten paces away from him — but she felt increasingly frightened as the distance between them widened.

He was standing in front of an outcrop of rock that jutted out from a cliff face at the back of the clearing, swishing at the thorny, densely growing undergrowth with a stick. Breaking the silence, making her jump out of her skin, suddenly he shouted,
‘Beth
! Come here!’

‘Don’t
do
that!’ She hurried across to him. ‘You —’

She stopped. He was holding back the dry shrubbery with his stick, and behind its dusty leaves and rope-like stems she saw what had made him shout. It was a column, standing on a flat slab of smooth stone — marble? — and supporting what looked like the end of a lintel.

She waited till her heart wasn’t beating quite so wildly. ‘It’s well hidden,’ she said. ‘You wouldn’t find it unless you were determined — most of the people who come up here must turn away disappointed.’

Her words seemed to be absorbed by the silence, leaving no resonance on the still air.

‘No one can have looked at this for ages.’ He sounded hushed. ‘This bush is as dense and tangled as the forest round the Sleeping Beauty’s castle.’

She was surprised at his choice of simile, but it was accurate. ‘Can we get inside? Assuming it’s the temple, and
has
an inside.’

‘I think it is.’ He was pushing at the undergrowth around the pillar. ‘There’s an opening — look — but it doesn’t seem to be too safe. There’s been a rock fall — several, probably — and bits of dressed stone are all mixed up with chunks that have fallen off the hillside.’

She peered over his shoulder. She could see another pillar, which presumably had held up the other side of the lintel to form an entrance. Now it lay at an angle against the other pillar, as if someone had put a barrier across the threshold.

‘Could it have been deliberately destroyed?’ she asked.

He shrugged. ‘It could. Lots of Mithraea were desecrated and ransacked by the Christians. They could have come up here and had a go at this one.’

‘Let’s go in.’

He turned and stared at her. ‘You’re sure you want to?’

‘Yes! It looks as if it’s been like this for centuries, it won’t fall down on us if we’re careful.’

‘I wish I shared your confidence. But that wasn’t exactly what I meant.’

She caught her breath. Then said anxiously, ‘What
did
you mean?’

He smiled briefly. ‘Never mind.’

He means can I brave the atmosphere, she thought. But it’s all right, it’s not as oppressive in here under the cliff as it was out in the open. I wonder if that means —

‘Come on, then.’

He shouldered aside a thick clump of greenery — judging from the way he winced, at least one thorn must have stuck into his skin — and bent down to get beneath the fallen pillar.

She followed. Stepping carefully round sloping heaps of sandy earth and large chunks of rock, they found themselves peering into what looked like a cave.

‘Do we go on?’ he whispered.

‘I don’t know.’ She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. ‘It doesn’t look very deep. I wish we’d brought a torch!’

He made an exasperated sound, reaching in his jeans pocket. He held up an object that rattled.

‘Matches! You hero!’

‘I don’t usually carry them — I used them this morning to light the gas ring and for some reason put them in my pocket instead of back on the shelf. Fate, do you think?’

He said it lightly, but she wasn’t so sure he hadn’t got it spot-on. Equally lightly she replied, ‘No doubt.’

The noise of the match striking the side of the box was surprisingly loud. Then, leaning forward, simultaneously they moved further into the cave.