Time's Legacy (51 page)

‘No.’ The denial was automatic but even as she said it she knew she was wrong and he was right.

They sat for a moment clasping hands, looking into each other’s eyes. He looked away first, back towards the fire. ‘Will you keep faith with me Mora?’

‘Of course.’ She gave a sad smile.

‘Even if I asked you to give up your gods for mine?’

She hesitated.

‘I need you to believe me, Mora. I need you to have faith in me.’ He looked anguished suddenly. ‘If you don’t, who will?’

She frowned. ‘You told me an angel foretold your birth. Your mother believes in you.’

‘My brothers don’t.’ He shook his head with a wry grin. ‘A prophet, as I am sure you know, is not without honour save in his own land and in his own house! And I have to convince the whole world as well as them.’

They were looking into one another’s faces. I have to remember him like this, she thought. After today he will be gone. I will never see him again. He smiled again, that melting, beautiful smile which went straight to her heart.

‘I believe in you,’ she whispered. ‘And I believe in your god.’

‘Bless you.’ He tightened his grip on her fingers.

‘We have to go.’

He nodded. Standing up suddenly he picked up the shovel by the fire and pushed the ashes over the flames. It was a symbolic gesture; without the light, the house grew dark.

Picking up his pack he led the way outside.

‘I’ll come with you, down to the boat,’ she whispered.

There was no-one there to say goodbye. His farewells had been made earlier to Fergus Mor and Addedomaros and his friends and fellow students. Only Mora followed him down the grassy path towards the water’s edge.

The mere was deserted. There was no sign yet of the boat. They stood side by side staring out across the dark water listening to its gentle lap amongst the reeds and sedge at their feet.

‘There is no moon yet,’ Mora said quietly. She stared out into the dark. A small kernel of worry had lodged somewhere deep in her chest. Cynan should be here. He was always early and he needed no moonlight to navigate across the peaceful waters of the mere. He could do it with his eyes shut. She could see the golden loom in the sky now behind the hills where the moon was climbing higher. Soon they would see it hanging over the black silhouette of the trees. ‘Where is he?’ she whispered.

Yeshua took a step forward to the water’s edge. Somewhere out there a duck quacked uneasily. They heard the splash as a fish jumped.

‘Something’s wrong,’ Mora murmured. She clutched his arm.

He grasped her hand and held it. They could see the tip of the moon now, the sharp crescent hauling itself higher into the sky, spilling pale gold light across the land. Waiting in silence, they watched the sickle turn from gold to silver as it climbed higher, and the light it spread across the summer country changed from warm to the cold of ice.

Mora shivered, clutching her cloak around her. ‘He’s not coming. Something has happened.’

Yeshua nodded. ‘The boy’s uncle?’

She dropped his hand and moved a few paces away, staring out, trying to listen. Somewhere in the distance a dog barked. ‘We have to go. We’ll take a boat from the landing stage. We can paddle it ourselves.’ She was hurrying him now, leading the way along the edge of the island back towards the small bay which in summer was a grassy meadow. This year with the early rains it was an inlet teaming with fish. They took the first boat they came to, untying it from the post near the water’s edge, throwing in his bundle. Mora jumped in and freed the paddles from the place they were wedged beneath the polished oak thwart while Yeshua pushed the boat out into the water and hauled himself in. For a moment the narrow craft wobbled violently then, as he reached for the second paddle it steadied. In seconds they were both paddling, driving the boat away from the island, towards the river which wound inland from the sea. ‘He’s coming after you,’ Mora murmured, already out of breath. ‘I can sense it. We have to get out of sight, into the river before he realises where you have gone.’

‘And Cynan?’ Yeshua was driving the boat forward with powerful strokes of the paddle from the stern.

‘Cynan will buy us time,’ she said firmly. She paused for a moment, raising her hand. He stopped, watching her narrow shoulders in the moonlight as the dugout drifted slowly and silently along the channel nosing in amongst some tall reeds as it lost momentum. Nearby an owl screeched. She turned towards the sound. Neither of them spoke. Only the water dripping from their paddles into the black water broke the silence. Yeshua didn’t take his eyes off her. She like all her race understood the speech of the birds. The owl had told her something. He caught sight of the white flash of its wings as it flew on silent feathers past them and disappeared behind a stand of willow on a low island to the north.

Mora slumped over the paddle and he heard a faint sob. He leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘What did it say?’

‘He’s not coming.’ She straightened and stared ahead of them up the narrow channel between the reeds. ‘We have to go on alone.’ She didn’t turn and he couldn’t see her face. ‘We must put as much distance as we can between ourselves and Ynys yr Afalon before it grows light.’

‘Flavius is following?’ he asked softly.

She nodded. ‘We can escape him. We are ahead.’

‘And Cynan?’

‘Cynan bought us time.’ She forced a smile as she glanced up at the moon but he didn’t see it. He already knew what must have happened. He heard her sniff, saw her brush her hand across her eyes, then she gripped the paddle again. The force of her first stroke slewed the dugout round and ran them back into the reeds. ‘Sorry.’ Her voice trembled slightly.

‘Mora.’ He put his hands on her shoulders and tightened his fingers. ‘I am so sorry.’

‘He will wait for me in the land of the ever young.’ She dug her paddle in again, and pulled straight this time. ‘We mustn’t let him have died in vain. I have to get you away.’

‘My father will reward him in heaven.’ His voice was unsteady. ‘You foretold this, Mora. You saw how many people will die for me. How can I bear it?’

This time when she stopped paddling she turned round and looked at him. Her face was intensely sad, her cheeks wet with tears. ‘You have to bear it. It is your destiny,’ she whispered. ‘But the people who die for you will be ever blessed.’

He nodded silently.

‘You are strong, Yeshua. Stronger than anyone I know,’ she said. She managed a smile. ‘You will be able to fulfil the prophecies. If your father is a god he will give you the strength.’

He nodded again. ‘You are right. Sometimes I feel so weak. I pray that this burden might be given to someone else.’

She shook her head. ‘This is what you were born for, my dearest. Now, let us get you back to your kinsman and allow him to take you home.’

They paddled all night and at dawn, as a skein of wild geese flew low overhead, sending their wild triumphant cries echoing across the sleeping countryside they pulled in under the shelter of some willow trees on the banks of the shallow winding river. They slept curled head to toe in the bottom of the dugout and when a herd of small fenland cattle wandered near them to drink at the river neither stirred. When they woke they resumed paddling, following the river as it merged with a larger swifter river which finally turned north towards the sea.

‘How far do you think?’ Yeshua rubbed his blistered hands on the cloth of his robe.

She shrugged. ‘I have never come this far by water. The sky tells me we are close. It reflects the sea.’ She gave an exhausted smile.

There were splashes of mud on her face and he leaned forward and wiped them off tenderly with a roughened forefinger. ‘We should stop to find food.’

She shook her head. ‘Not till we get there. Once you are on the ship you will be safe.’

‘You think he is still following us?’ He glanced behind them. She nodded. She could feel him; he had hired men to row him after them. To ride would take too long with the ground flooded as it was. He would be gaining on them all the time. She gave a rueful smile. This wonderful man with her was so special, so intuitive, so well educated and so holy and yet he could not read the signs. He could not hear the warnings the birds and animals brought them; he could not see the whipped white waves of the sea echoed in the storm-wracked clouds, he did not listen when the waters beneath their paddles murmured of the boat that followed them.

He was watching her and she saw with a pang of longing the affection in his gaze. ‘You think I don’t see enough of what is round me?’ he said gently.

She felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘You sometimes see too much.’

‘But not the danger. I don’t read the signs as you do.’

She smiled. ‘Though you read my every thought.’

‘I am learning.’ The boat had drifted against the bank. Cautiously, not wanting to tip them up, he stood up and jumped ashore. After a moment she followed him. ‘This is what I came to study with the druids for,’ he went on. ‘To understand their ways; to listen to their philosophies. This is why I have travelled so far, to the north and the south and the east, and here to the west. To understand the different peoples of the world. To see why they worship the gods they do and to understand how I can bring them to my father.’ Beside them an otter slid soundlessly into the water and set out away from the bank, its nose leaving a V of ripples in the water. He followed her gaze and smiled indulgently. ‘So, what does that gentleman say? “Hurry. There is a boat behind us,”.’

She nodded wistfully. ‘That is exactly what he says.’

‘And you think it is Flavius?’

She nodded again. ‘He is gaining on us fast. I suspect he has several men to paddle him in a larger boat than ours.’ She paused, staring round. Now that they were on the bank she saw how open the countryside was here once they were beyond the reedbeds. ‘When he appears around the bend in the river we will have nowhere to hide.’

‘So what should we do?’

‘Leave the water and cut across the land.’

He frowned. ‘Are you sure?’

‘It will take longer, but it will be safer. He knows where you are going. He is going to try and cut you off so you can’t reach your uncle’s ships.’

He nodded thoughtfully.

‘The next time we see signs of boats along the bank, signs of where people have been fishing perhaps, or traps or decoys, we’ll pull the boat up there and leave it. One dugout looks much like another. He won’t know if it is ours. Then we will strike off to the north on foot. We can’t be far from the coast now. It will be much easier to outwit him once we are in open country.’

‘You are a resourceful guide, my Mora,’ he said with a smile.

She blushed again. ‘My part in your story is to see you safely out of the Summerlands.’

‘Your part in my story,’ he repeated softly. ‘Is that how you see it?’ He studied her face thoughtfully. This time she met his gaze and held it. After a moment he put out his arms and drew her to him, holding her close. She nestled against his chest, feeling the strong beat of his heart.

‘I could come with you, Yeshua,’ she whispered. ‘Back to your own country.’ Rising on her toes she kissed him gently on the lips.

For a moment he held her tightly, his eyes closed, lost in the beauty of this woman who had attracted him as no other, then gently he pushed her away ‘That is not part of my story, my little love,’ he said softly.

She nodded. She had always known that she would lose him. She smiled bravely and turned back to the boat to hide the sudden rush of stupid tears. ‘Come, a few more miles, then we will strike out across the woods. We might even reach Axiom by dark.’

Even as she said the words she knew they were not going to get there. The sky in the west was slowly growing prematurely dark. Flashes of lightning were lighting the horizon and the wind was rising. Flavius was drawing ever closer. The gods of the storm – or Yeshua’s angel guardians – were going to have to help them now, otherwise they were lost. She could feel it in the tension in the air. She could see it the way the birds were flying fast and close to the ground away from the sea. She could sense it as they climbed once more into their boat, in the way the waters stirred uneasily beneath the hollowed oak of the hull and this time she could see that he felt it as well.

He grinned at her and unexpectedly she noticed excitement in his eyes. ‘I shall see if I have learned properly how to command a storm and still the waves,’ he said.

She nodded as she picked up her paddle. ‘You have the power to do anything you wish,’ she said quietly. He didn’t hear her. Beside them the willow whips of a pollard tree had begun to thresh and flail in front of the wind. It masked the sound of paddles in the water as a large four-man canoe shot round a distant bend in the river and drew swiftly towards them.

‘The police will be here in ten minutes.’ Ben walked back into his study, his face grey with fatigue.

Greg was putting his mobile back in his pocket. ‘I have just spoken to David. He is coming down himself. Someone is going to drive him tonight. He’ll be here in a few hours.’

Ben nodded. He reached for the phone on his desk. ‘I’ll call Cal and Mat and let them know what’s happening. Do you think we should go over there?’

‘The trouble is we don’t know where he is keeping her.’ Greg frowned. ‘My guess is she isn’t somewhere we would think of.’ He shook his head. ‘He doesn’t know the area as far as I know.’ He sighed. ‘If only we had managed to follow him!’

‘He would have lost us as soon as he reached the main road,’ Ben put in sadly. ‘He could have her anywhere. An old warehouse, an industrial estate round Wells or Glastonbury, somewhere in the hills, out on the levels. Even further away.’

The two men slumped into the chairs by the fire. Within minutes they heard the siren of a police car in the distance.

Mat was gasping as he caught up with the dogs, clasping his side as a stitch bit through under his ribs. The old barn was dark and silent, but the dogs were barking ecstatically and seconds after he arrived he heard her voice. ‘Thiz? Pym? Is that you? Fetch help, dogs, please.’