Time's Legacy (23 page)

The table jerked slightly and she looked up. The couple Athena had greeted had edged in beside her with enquiring looks to see if the seats were free. They both smiled at her.

‘You’re a friend of Athena?’ the young man said. He was tall and thin and dressed in cargo pants and a cheesecloth shirt. ‘Lovely lady.’

Abi nodded. ‘I’m just a visitor. She’s been very hospitable.’

‘She said you were interested in crystals,’ the young woman said. She put her head on one side surveying Abi critically. Abi was immediately conscious of her own conservative clothes. At least her hair was loose and wild, but the grey slacks and dark blue sweatshirt were unadorned, stereotyped: the female vicar trying to look the part off duty and, she suddenly realised, unremittingly boring. She nodded. ‘I was given one which appears to be very powerful and I’m not sure how to interact with it. That was why I went into Athena’s shop. For advice.’

‘I’m Serena and this is Hal.’ The girl held out her hand with unexpected formality. Her accent, Abi realised, was more home counties than Somerset. ‘We come down here every year. Hal makes musical instruments.’

‘Drums,’ Hal said.

‘Have you been up to the Tor?’ Serena asked. Again she put her head slightly to one side, like a bird listening for a worm.

Abi nodded. ‘Not lately but I used to come here a lot as a child. My grandparents lived up near Priddy.’

Serena nodded. ‘You’re local then. Lucky you.’

Abi was thoughtful for a minute. How strange, just as she had been feeling so much an outsider she was complimented on being a local. She found she was smiling broadly. ‘This seems to be a welcoming place. Very special.’

It was obviously the right thing to say. Serena’s whole face lit up with excitement. ‘Isn’t it.’ Hal said nothing.

Abi grinned again. Then she levered herself to her feet. ‘I’m sorry, but I do need to get on. Perhaps I’ll see you around?’

By the time she had reached the door they had taken receipt of two plates overflowing with salad and were leaning over their food with rapt expressions. Abi grinned again.

Athena was right about the museum. As she walked round the two small rooms looking at the glass cases Abi felt a definite pull into the past. These objects had belonged to people who had lived in the Lake Villages around Glastonbury which were constructed in the watery landscape in the years before the Romans came. This was the scene through which Romanus had paddled his canoe. This was the view she had seen with her own eyes. For real. She bit her lip, looking round.
For real?
Those loom weights, spindles, weaving combs, dice. Those cooking utensils. That jewellery and glass. The tools and belongings of a long-gone people. Downstairs, she stood looking at the dugout canoe which had been excavated from its watery grave and she gave a wry smile. Athena had thought it might help, coming here. What it did was to was create a strange ache in her heart, as though she could feel the touch of the men and women who had made these things; hear their laughter. And their anguish. For real. She shook her head thoughtfully. Perhaps Athena was right. Perhaps it was a help.

Pools of mist in a landscape of shadows and milky waters and iridescent light. He smiled. This was a land of dreams and fleeting sunbeams, of numinous tides and dancing wind. A place where leaves fluttered from the trees and floated in patches of gold on silver reflections, where islands vanished into the distances and reappeared as songs on the lips of children…

10

Romanus was sharpening his old knife, honing the blade with intense concentration when Flavius sat down beside him on the fallen log overlooking the eel traps. ‘Good weapon that,’ he said with a friendly grin. ‘You are quite the hunter, I hear.’

Romanus blushed. ‘I enjoy it. I’m good at it.’

‘And you are a fisherman too, I would guess?’

Romanus shrugged.

‘Do you have your own boat?’

‘We have three dugout canoes. Down there. I can take any of them if I want.’

‘And you go across to the island quite often?’

Romanus nodded. ‘I like it there.’

‘That is where the healer lives, who treats your sister?’

‘Mora. She’s nice.’ The blushed deepened. Flavius noticed. He grinned. ‘She sounds a very special person. I look forward to meeting her. Your poor sister seems to suffer very badly. Do they know what it is that ails her?’

Romanus sighed. ‘Mora says it is quite common round here. The damp from the meres and fens and the lake gets into the bones. It’s old people who usually get it, but when someone young like Petra does it is ten times worse. Poor Petra suffers so badly in the winter she cries sometimes for days.’

Flavius looked concerned. ‘Would it not be wiser to move to a land where the sun shines all winter?’

Romanus stared at him. ‘I didn’t know such places existed.’

‘Of course they do. Where do you think your sister was born?’

Romanus bit his lip. ‘They don’t talk much about where they lived before we came here.’ He sighed. ‘I’d like to travel like my father used to. It sounds exciting.’

‘It is exciting.’ Flavius gave the boy an appraising look. Climbing to his feet he looked down at him. ‘Right, so would this be a good time for you to take me across to Afalon in your boat? Perhaps if Mora is there you can introduce me. I would like to see a girl who can bring such a sparkle to a young man’s eyes.’ He slapped Romanus on the back playfully. ‘Then tonight perhaps I can tell you some stories about life in the hot countries of the world. It might surprise Petra to know they even exist. She was much too young when your parents left Damascus to remember it. And they don’t appear to have told you anything. My guess is that it is because she was born in a different country to a different life, that Petra is so susceptible to the mists and damp of this godforsaken land.’

The smallest of the dugout canoes was a two-seater, narrow and unstable, but fast. Pushing it out onto the shallow waters of the mere Romanus hopped in and took the paddle. Flavius was seated in front of him, staring ahead at the island with its cluster of small hills, the tallest and strangest a cone shape reaching up towards the racing clouds.

Romanus steered deftly between the shallow patches of reed and mud, following the course of a deeper channel all but invisible to the untrained eye. The waters were rich in birdlife and Flavius noted ripples where fish swam in shoals beneath the surface. Two men fishing in the distance raised their hands as they went past; a beaver swam swiftly away from them, its nose cleaving the water leaving a sharp V-shaped ripple on the water.

Romanus aimed for a landing stage where several other boats lay pulled up on the mud and they climbed out aware of the freshening wind tugging at their hair. ‘How many people live here?’ Flavius asked as he stared round. There was a fair-sized settlement here on the lower slopes of the nearest hill. He could see signs of other habitations above the trees as smoke rose and streamed in torn white wisps towards the east. Everywhere there were apple trees and he could smell the sweet-sour scent of cider presses.

Romanus shrugged. ‘There are a lot of people here. There’s a village further along the shore called Treglas. Then the druids have many students; this is a sacred island. Up there,’ he pointed towards the highest point, ‘that’s the Tor. There is a sanctuary there where no-one can go but the highest of the initiates. The healers live in a village about a mile from here, along this track.’ He waved his arm towards the west. Already he was setting off but Flavius caught his shoulder. ‘Wait. How do you know Mora will be there?’

‘I don’t. I go to her house. If she’s not there someone usually knows where she is.’

Flavius was thoughtful for a moment, then he shrugged. ‘Lead the way.’

They passed several men and women who greeted them in a friendly manner. No-one seemed surprised to see Romanus or queried his companion. Presumably they knew the boy, and knew he was of Roman descent, not least because of his stupid presumptuous name. Because of that, presumably, any stranger with him was accepted without question. Flavius snorted to himself. The place was populated. He was not going to be able to walk in and despatch his victim openly. First find him, make sure he had the right man, then he could decide what to do once he had located him and spied out the land. After all the young man had no way of knowing that anyone was after him. Romanus had set off up a hillside track. Light-footed and fit, the boy was drawing away. Flavius swore quietly under his breath and hurried to catch up with him.

A blackbird flew out of the bushes, uttering a sharp alarm call. Romanus stopped and looked back. He frowned. ‘Am I going too fast?’

Flavius smiled. ‘No. I’m a soldier, remember. Fit as a flea, me!’

Mora was outside her house, standing in front of a small table, which was laden with bags of herbs. She looked up as Romanus appeared and smiled at him in welcome. Her gaze moved beyond him to Flavius and her smile died on her lips. ‘Who is this, Romanus?’

‘My uncle, Flavius. He wanted to visit the island and we thought we could come and collect Mora’s medicine to save you the journey.’

Mora frowned. ‘But I went to see Petra yesterday, didn’t she tell you? I took the medicine with me.’

There was a moment’s silence. Romanus looked confused. ‘Petra never said.’

‘Indeed she didn’t,’ Flavius added after a moment. He scowled. ‘How very odd that no-one mentioned it. I take it you saw Lydia and my brother?’

Mora held his gaze. Her eyes were a deep grey-blue and he felt them probing his very soul. ‘I saw Lydia. Your brother wasn’t there.’

‘Did you go alone?’ He folded his arms.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘No reason. It seems to me a long way to paddle a canoe on your own.’ As if realising that he was alienating her with his confrontational questions he relaxed with a broad smile. ‘This young man ferried me over just now. I was very impressed with his stamina. I’m not sure many young Roman lads could paddle so swiftly and so strongly at his age.’

She turned back to her table and reached for a bag of herbs. ‘How strange. Our young people do it all the time. As do our womenfolk.’ She gave him a swift, cold smile.

He nodded graciously. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

Romanus looked from his uncle to Mora and back uncomfortably. He didn’t understand this sudden atmosphere of hostility between them. ‘I expect Cynan was with you, wasn’t he?’ he asked helpfully.

‘Cynan?’ Flavius was watching her hands as she pulled out a wad of dry green leaves.

‘My colleague. Yes, he did go with me, as it happened.’

‘And who is Cynan? Does he come from a local tribe?’

‘Oh yes, his father is one of the druids,’ Romanus put in helpfully. ‘Cynan taught me how to whistle up the shore birds.’

‘So, you know him as well as you know Mora here?’

‘You seem very interested in my companion?’ Mora said after a moment.

Flavius smiled. ‘Forgive me. I am interested in this whole place. It seems very special. I had heard about it long before I arrived here. I gather people come from all over the Empire to study here.’

‘The Empire, where to be a druid is an offence punishable by death?’ Mora said quietly. ‘Have you come to spy on us, sir?’

Just for a moment he looked taken aback but then he was smiling again, all honesty and directness. ‘Of course not. The ban, as you must know, is largely directed at the wild men of Gaul who plot and intrigue against the Emperor. They were given their chance to come into line but they refused. Here I gather the studies of your druid schools are directed towards peace and healing. Besides, this place is not part of the Empire yet.’

Mora gazed at him. Something was wrong; she could sense him veiling his mind from her as he studied her face with his wide eyes and his disingenuous expression.

‘You expect us to be a part of the Empire one day?’

He shrugged eloquently. ‘I think it likely. Why would a small group of isles on the edge of the world want to be independent of the Empire? We bring too many benefits to the peoples we rule. Wealth. Peace. Strength against the barbarian hoards.’

She gave a quiet laugh. ‘I fear we are the barbarian hoards.’ She turned to her herbs once more. ‘Since I have already delivered Petra’s medicine, Romanus, your journey was unnecessary, I’m sorry.’ She glanced up at the boy with a gentle smile.

He met her gaze anxiously, then glanced at Flavius, eager to help him. ‘My uncle wants to meet your student, Mora.’

‘Indeed.’ Her glance flashed back to Flavius. ‘Well, I’m afraid he is out of luck. My student is away on an errand on the mainland. I doubt if he will return for several days.’

Flavius drew his cloak around him as a cold breeze fingered its way through the woodland around her house. ‘I am sorry to hear that. It would have interested me to find out how far some of your students have come and why they chose this place. Perhaps I will have the chance to meet him another time.’

Mora inclined her head. She could sense danger here and she wasn’t sure why. Gaius was a friend. He and his wife were a part of the community. People liked and trusted them, but this man, Gaius’s brother, was a different matter. There was no transparency in his gaze. The wind blew again, a gentle cold warning, touching her cheek. The gods were whispering to her to beware.

Janet Cavendish showed Kier into the sitting room with a tight smile. ‘I’ll tell Ben you are here. He’s working on his sermon.’ She pulled the door closed behind her and made her way to Ben’s study. ‘The evil seducer is here,’ she whispered. ‘He’s rather good-looking.’

Ben stared at her blankly.

‘You know!’ she went on. ‘Abi Rutherford’s lovelorn swain. Whichever way you think of him he is here in the sitting room and he wants to see you.’

Ben stood up. ‘How did he know about me? Who gave him this address?’

Janet shrugged. ‘I didn’t hang around to cross question him. That’s your job. Shall I bring tea?’

Ben sighed. ‘You may as well.’

The fire had not been lit. The room was warm enough but without the companionable crackle of logs in the grate it seemed to lack life and Ben wondered briefly why Janet hadn’t brought the man straight into his study as she would most visitors. He held out his hand to his guest and gestured him to a chair, then he went over to the log basket. He reached for a fire lighter, piled up a few birch logs and felt in his pocket for a box of matches. ‘So, Mr Scott, how can I help you?’