Time's Legacy (28 page)

He smiled and strode towards her. ‘So, there you are.’ She could hear him through the glass. She threw herself at the doors, groping for the key, but he was already there, effortlessly dragging them out of her hands. ‘I know the others are out. I saw them on the road. So there is nothing to stop us having a nice quiet talk.’ He turned and closed the doors behind him, turning the key and putting it in his pocket. He stopped suddenly, staring at her. ‘There is no need to be frightened, Abi. I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘Of course you’re not.’ Somehow she managed to keep her voice steady. ‘I just had no wish to speak to you. Not now. Not today. Not ever. And I don’t like the way you keep locking me in with you. You did that in church and it freaked me out. Anyway, I’m just going out.’

‘Then I won’t keep you long. Can we go and have a cup of the coffee you’re making? I can smell it from here. You always did make good coffee, Abi.’ He walked ahead of her to the door and opened it for her. She had no alternative but to precede him to the kitchen.

‘I don’t think there is anything else for you to say, Kier.’ She pulled down two mugs from the dresser.

‘Abi, whatever you think of me, you must agree that I have your best interests at heart,’ he said slowly. He sat down at the kitchen table. He was wearing a navy blue three-quarter-length coat with an open-necked shirt under it. No dog collar. Heavy silver cross plainly in view this time. ‘Please listen.’

She said nothing. She poured him some black coffee and pushed a mug towards him. ‘You’ve got five minutes.’

‘Did you know who that woman was who was in here last night?’

‘Of course. And before you say anything I should remind you that she is a friend.’

‘She is a witch.’

‘No she isn’t. She is a talented artist. A jewellery designer.’

‘And a goddess worshipper.’

Abi smiled thinly. ‘She may well be. That is her business. It doesn’t make her a witch. Not in the way you mean it.’

‘Associating with her is putting your immortal soul in danger.’

‘Rubbish.’

He linked his hands around the mug, his knuckles white. ‘It is not rubbish, Abi,’ he said gently. ‘And you know it. You must let me help you.’

‘I thought you were the one who needed help, Kier. I don’t. Not from you. I have told you that. Your five minutes are nearly up.’ She walked over to the fireplace and stood with her back to the cold ashes. ‘Two minutes more, then you go.’

‘No!’ Kier slammed his mug down on the table and stood up. ‘No, I will not be hounded out of here. I will not let you be endangered in this way, Abi. Can’t you see what danger you are in? For God’s sake listen! At least let me pray with you. Let me protect you. I can make you happy, Abi. I can look after you. Come away with me, now. Far away from this godforsaken place. We can pray together, we can beg God to forgive you. We can start again.’

‘No, Kier!’ Abi felt her stomach tighten as his voice grew more frantic.

‘I can’t go, Abi. Not without you.’

Abi eyed the telephone which was on the table behind him. No chance of grabbing it and ringing Ben or the police. He would take it from her before she even touched it. ‘Please, Kier. Just leave.’

Behind Kier the door into the hall suddenly opened. She spun round in astonished relief to see Justin standing there. ‘You heard the lady.’ He had obviously overheard at least the last part of the conversation. Abi had never been so pleased to see anyone in her entire life.

Kier’s mouth dropped open for a second. ‘Who are you?’ He backed away from the table.

‘I live here.’ Justin narrowed his eyes. ‘And I don’t remember asking you in. Neither, I suspect, did my brother. Please leave.’

‘Not without Abi.’

‘Abi stays.’ Justin stepped into the kitchen. ‘Quite apart from threatening her, I heard you making some very disparaging remarks about a friend of mine. That kind of thing makes me angry. I don’t think you would like to see me angry.’

Abi held her breath. She watched Kier’s face intently. His mouth was set with fury. He was, she was sure, trying to decide as he eyed Justin, whether or not he could take him on. Justin was taller than him, but slimmer, more lightly built. But he was younger and, Abi suspected, far lighter on his feet. Whatever the reality, Kier obviously decided that he would not chance his luck. He raised his hands in surrender. ‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. I’ll go.’ He turned to Abi. ‘But I will come back. I can’t leave you to this. My conscience won’t let me. You are too good a person at base, Abi, to lose you to the devil. Who knows, you might even come back to the church. Don’t throw that chance away, I beg you. Let me help you. Please.’ He was backing away from Justin, towards the door. ‘I’ll ring you. I promise. I won’t leave the area without you.’ He was walking down the passage now, with Justin right behind him.

‘Kier!’ Abi called suddenly. ‘The key!’

Kier stopped and turned. For a moment she thought he was going to refuse, but he put his hand in his pocket and fished it out. It was Justin who put out his hand and after a second’s pause Kier gave it to him. Then they were both out of sight. Two minutes later Justin reappeared. He walked over to the table without speaking and sat down.

Abi left the hearth and came to sit opposite him. ‘Thank you.’ Her voice was husky.

‘You are a priest?’ Justin held her gaze. His whole demeanour had changed. He looked cold and angry.

She gave a tight, miserable smile. He was no longer the enigmatic, good-looking mystery man who she had, she had to admit, secretly found rather attractive. He looked suddenly frightening. ‘I was.’

‘In which church?’

‘The Church of England.’

He held her gaze for several seconds more without speaking, then unexpectedly he smiled. ‘Does Athena know?’

Abi nodded.

‘And that prick was a priest as well?’

She nodded again.

His smile broadened. ‘I take it my sainted brother and his wife know?’

‘Yes, of course they know.’

‘And you are some project of Ben’s?’

‘You could say so.’ She was beginning to feel angry in her turn. The shock of Kier’s arrival was wearing off, and she resented this supercilious line of cross-questioning. So Justin was another hater of the church. The knowledge didn’t surprise her but she was shocked to realise how much it upset her. ‘I’m glad you were still here,’ she said stiffly to change the subject. ‘I take it you knew Mat and Cal were going to be out for the day and changed your plans.’

Justin gave a barely perceptible nod. ‘Cal told me. Don’t worry, I have her permission to be here. I spoke to her before they left.’

‘It is none of my business why you are here,’ she retorted crisply. ‘I’m just glad you were. I don’t know how to get the message across to that man. I don’t like him. I don’t need him. I want him to leave me alone. What will it take to get through to him? Perhaps I need to scream at him a few times!’

He grinned. ‘I’d like to be there when you do.’

‘At this rate you will be!’ she replied grimly. She was not going to be placated by a smile now she knew how he really felt about her. She stood up abruptly. ‘Well, I think I will leave you to it. I don’t feel particularly safe here. I think I shall go into Glastonbury for the day.’

He stood up too. ‘May I ask why you don’t feel safe? Not because of me, I trust.’

She gave a small snort of laughter. ‘No, Justin, not because of you. It is because I suspect he is waiting round the corner to reappear when you go.’

‘Well, I won’t be going for quite a while, so feel free to be here safely.’ He surveyed her silently for a moment. ‘I can’t quite see you in a dog collar.’

She felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘I wouldn’t bother to waste your imaginative powers on me.’ She moved towards the door.

He folded his arms, watching her. ‘Actually I think it would be rather appealing.’ He paused. ‘You don’t like me, do you.’

‘Is there any reason why I should?’

‘Christian charity?’

She gave a wry smile. ‘That is in short supply today, I’m afraid.’

‘OK.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll be gone when you get back. Take care.’ He turned away from her back to the table and reached for the telephone. For a moment she didn’t move, then she headed for the door. It didn’t seem worth saying goodbye. He was already engrossed in his call.

Athena was serving a customer when she opened the door and let herself into the shop. Abi hovered for several minutes, studying a small table laden with incense burners and candlesticks, waiting until they had gone. ‘Kier turned up again this morning,’ she said as soon as the door was closed behind them.

Athena sighed. She pushed the drawer of the till closed and heaved herself onto the stool behind the counter. Leaning forward, her chin on her cupped hands, she surveyed Abi. ‘He’s persistent, isn’t he?’ This morning she was wearing a saffron-yellow low-necked blouse with multiple stranded filigree necklaces with brown agate and copper drops strung along the wires. ‘You could come and stay with me. He’d never dare follow you there.’

Abi smiled. ‘That’s true. He thinks you’re a witch and a goddess worshipper.’

‘He’s not necessarily wrong.’

‘No.’ Abi paused. ‘It’s kind of you Athena, but he is not going to chase me away and I do have a reason to stay where I am.’

‘The ghosts.’

Abi nodded. ‘It’s not that I haven’t seen them elsewhere, it’s just that that is the epicentre. I sort of feel it’s meant to be, that I am there.’

Athena straightened and looked at her watch. ‘Listen, I’m off duty at twelve. As soon as Bella comes in why don’t you and I have a spot of lunch, then this afternoon we’ll climb the Tor. How does that sound? We’ll see if your Mora follows you there. That is the true epicentre of power, the focal point. In every era, pagan and Christian it has been recognised as special. Let’s see what you make of it. Have you brought your stone?’

Abi shook her head. It was at Woodley, tucked back in the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers in her bedroom.

‘Doesn’t matter. You don’t need it. As I told you, you can do it without, whatever it is it does or doesn’t do. Go and buy yourself a pretty skirt, Abi Rutherford, and some low-necked sexy blouses and dump those churchy blue shirts. I’ll meet you at twelve thirty.’

‘Go and see what the situation is,’ Flavius whispered. He had dismounted several hundred paces from the woodman’s hut and tied his horse to a tree. Around them the grey limestone cliffs reared up out of the trees towards an intensely blue sky. ‘I’ll wait here.’ He frowned as in the distance something moved on the distant rocks. He recognised the outline of a wild goat and nodded, satisfied.

Romanus crept forward, russet leaves rustling under his feet. The hut seemed deserted. Listening intently he moved on a few more paces. The place was utterly quiet. No smoke seeped through the roof and the door was closed. He glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the horse or its rider any more; the forest seemed empty. He glanced up as a shadow flicked across the sunlit track at his feet. A bird had flown overhead to perch on a tree near him. A crow. He shivered. It was watching him intently and after a minute it called, the three raucous caws echoing across the trees. The door of the cottage was pushed open and a dog raced out, barking wildly. It came straight at him and he had no alternative but to stand up in the sunlight. He held out his hands soothingly. Dogs liked him as a rule and this one was no different. It stopped its headlong rush and began to lick his hand, its tail wagging.

‘Hello?’ A weak voice called from the cottage. ‘Who is there?’

Romanus glanced back over his shoulder in an agony of indecision. He was supposed to be spying out the land, but there was no hiding now. The dog had seen to that. Straightening his shoulders he walked up to the cottage and stooped in the doorway. ‘Hello, Sean.’

The man was lying on a pallet on the floor. In the light from the doorway Romanus saw a pale face, sweaty with pain, the big man propped uncomfortably against some rough pillows. There was a rug across his legs. He was alone, but someone had left him a cup of water and a plate of bannock with a chunk of sheep’s cheese. He didn’t appear to have touched the food. Romanus decided the truth was probably the best option. ‘I heard Mora the healer was on her way to see you,’ he said. ‘I thought I would bring you the message. Reassure you that you hadn’t been forgotten.’

Sean managed a smile. ‘That was kind. My daughter said she would try and send word to the island. She left yesterday to find someone to take a message.’

‘And she hasn’t come back?’ Romanus frowned.

The man shook his head.

There was a pause. The boy didn’t know what to say next. Why would she not return to her father when he was in such pain and all alone? He glanced round the shadowy hovel. The dog had followed him in and was lying at the foot of the pallet. The man’s tools were neatly stacked by the doorway. Axes, mattocks, hooks. His needs seemed to be simple. A small pot for cooking. The plate and cup by his side, his breeches and a leather jacket lying by the bed. Someone had taken his clothes off. He could see the bloodstains on the torn fabric. ‘Shall I fetch you some more water?’ he asked at last, noticing that the cup was empty. The man nodded gratefully. Romanus picked it up and looked round for a jug.

‘There is a spring. Behind the house.’ Sean was speaking through teeth gritted against the pain. Romanus nodded and ducked outside into the sunlight.

Behind the hut a narrow track showed where a clear spring trickled out of a rocky outcrop. High above a raven soared upwards from the cliffs. Romanus held the cup under the water and swilled it round before refilling it.

‘What the hell did you go in for?’ The whisper at his elbow nearly made him drop it.

He swung round. ‘I had no choice. The dog saw me.’

Flavius glared at him. ‘No harm done, I suppose. So, he’s alone?’

Romanus nodded.

‘And he’s expecting the healers?’

He nodded again.

‘Good. We’ll hide over there near the door. If we keep still long enough the dog will grow used to our presence. It seems to accept you. Come.’

‘I’ll just take him the water.’

‘No. We need to hide! Leave it.’ Impatiently Flavius struck the cup out of Romanus’s hand. It hit the rock and shattered. The boy stared at it in horror. ‘That was his only cup. He’s thirsty.’