Time's Legacy (57 page)

Justin smiled. ‘Back up with knobs on. Ben will be up for it and so I suppose will Greg as that is his job. What about your bishop?’

Abi shook her head slowly. ‘I have no idea. He’s a nice man, that’s all I can say. Of course, he was born in Priddy.’

‘Oh well, if he was born in Priddy!’ Justin laughed out loud. The sound seemed to percolate through to Kier’s brain. He opened his eyes. ‘You think this is funny?’

‘No, not funny. Very serious,’ Justin replied after a moment. ‘This is something world shaking, Kier. We are going to try and influence the course of history. We have to see to it that Petra is or was saved. We cannot allow that anything else happened.’

‘The space time continuum as they call it in sci fi books,’ Abi added dryly. ‘That kind of thing usually results in the end of the world.’

‘Not with Jesus on your side it doesn’t,’ Justin said.

‘Were you ever a Christian?’ Kier asked suddenly. He sat up and leaned forward, staring at the fire.

‘I was baptised.’ Justin nodded. ‘I gave up subscribing when I came face to face with some of Christianity’s greater inanities. Chiefly their bloodthirstiness. That had nothing to do with the Jesus of my bedtime stories.’

‘Or the Jesus of Mora’s crystal,’ Abi put in sadly.

Kier slumped back into his chair. ‘And I didn’t do anything to dispel your disillusion, did I,’ he said almost to himself. They weren’t sure who he was addressing. Perhaps both of them.

‘Are the spirits and energies still weaving around Abi?’ Justin asked after a moment.

Kier looked up, startled as Abi froze. He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. ‘I can’t see anything.’

‘No. Neither can I.’ Justin looked at Abi and smiled. ‘Don’t look so shocked. Nothing has changed. You can cope with whatever is there. You can, both of you, cope.’ He hesitated, then he walked over and put his arm round Abi’s shoulders. ‘What say we all have some soothing herb tea while we wait for reinforcements. Once they arrive we will summon the powers of darkness and see whether we can sort this whole mess out.’

‘You make it sound so simple, but you still haven’t said how,’ Abi said with some asperity.

He shrugged. ‘We’ll play it by ear.’

She gave him a quizzical smile. ‘And Kier?’ she added softly.

‘Kier is no longer a problem.’ The husky voice came from the chair near the fire. ‘I give up. I can’t fight this. I am so sorry, Abi.’

The bishop’s black Volvo rolled up to park alongside Kier’s Audi at about midday. The four clergymen, all in mufti, climbed out stiffly and stared round at the view of the hills and the valley and beyond to the distant mountains, lost now in a haze, then as one they turned towards the cottage.

Cal had sighed with relief when they left after breakfast. At last they had the house to themselves again. She wandered back into the kitchen and began to collect the plates for the dishwasher. She was standing at the sink, rinsing the last of the glasses by hand when the dogs began to bark. Mat had been glancing at the headlines in the paper. He put it down on the table and looked up enquiringly. ‘You don’t think they’ve come back? I didn’t hear a car.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ll go and see.’ As she reached for a towel and began to dry her hands there was a sound at the back door.

Cal turned and looked at it. ‘Did you hear that? Is there someone there?’ She put down the towel and moved towards it.

‘Cal, don’t open it!’ Mat’s voice was suddenly anxious. ‘Look.’

She turned to see him pointing at the dogs. They were huddling together, their tails clamped between their legs in uncharacteristic terror, the hair on the back of their necks on end. Side by side they backed away from the door, their eyes fixed on the knob which slowly began to turn.

Mat shot forward and slammed the bolt across. ‘Who is it?’ he shouted. There was no reply. He glanced at Cal. ‘Come away from the window. Are all the other doors locked?’

She tried to think clearly. ‘I think so. I don’t know.’ She could feel herself beginning to shiver. ‘It’s not Kier,’ she whispered. ‘He couldn’t have got back here so quickly.’

He shook his head. The dogs were cowering now behind the settle and the silence in the kitchen was intense.

Mat tiptoed towards the table and Cal saw him pick up the bread knife. She felt her stomach turn over with fear. The earlier mist over the levels had returned and spread silently up through the gardens to encircle the house. Thick and white, it was drifting eerily past the windows. She resisted the urge to go and draw the curtains against it, backing away towards Mat. ‘What’s happening?’

His knuckles whitened on the knife and she saw him gesture towards the back door in sudden fear. Slowly it was opening. Wisps of clammy fog drifted in, weaving round the kitchen, then they saw the figure. A man stood, outlined in the doorframe, looking round. He was tall, square-shouldered, bare-headed, but otherwise dressed in the military uniform of the Roman army. They could see the breastplate, the epaulettes, the sinewy arms, the short leather skirt, the thonged boots. In his right hand he carried a broad-bladed short sword. Cal felt herself freeze. She couldn’t look away. His eyes were dark and hard. They bored into her own and she knew she couldn’t run; she couldn’t move. Her heart was thudding dangerously. She couldn’t breathe.

His face was hard, the angle of his cheekbones harsh, his nose aquiline, his mouth set in a thin merciless line. ‘Lydia.’ Somehow she heard his voice, though his lips didn’t move. Oh God! He was going to kill her. He thought she was someone else.

‘Mat?’ Her voice came out thin and reedy, a whisper. Where was he? He had been standing near her with the bread knife. ‘Mat? Help me.’

Mora was sitting miserably by herself in her small house, her eyes closed. Her father was right. She must speak to no-one, tell no-one what had occurred here, replenish her energies and her healing skills and then and only then go out once more to visit the sick, this time alone. She sighed unhappily. She was missing him more than she could have believed possible. Both of them. Yeshua and Cynan, the two men she had loved. Cynan, who was dead, who had died to save her. She pictured his face, remembered the touch of his hand, the promises they had made in the past of unswerving devotion before Yeshua had come. She had still loved Cynan and she knew he had still loved her. Had she betrayed him? Yeshua’s influence had been so strong, his personality so overwhelming, her attraction to him so powerful, had she forgotten her first love, her loyalty to a man who was prepared to die for her and for Yeshua?

Hugging her knees she stared down into the flames. Before anything else she ought to go and see Petra. Yeshua had told her Petra still needed her. Petra, who was now healed. Petra who should be running about and dancing and laughing in the autumn sunlight, making up for the lost years of childhood. Petra who would one day, if her wish was granted, come to study here on the island with Mora. Her parents were probably still here somewhere, talking to Mora’s father about it, but she knew already he would welcome Petra with open arms to the community.

Standing up she went to the doorway, looking down the hill towards the landing stage where two or three canoes lay tied to a post on the still, reedy waters of the mere. She could paddle over to the mainland now and walk up to the house. Why not.

Automatically she threw her herb bag into the bottom of the boat. She smiled ruefully. Petra should have no need now of her potions and ointments. Thank God!

She paused, letting the canoe drift gently into a patch of sedge. Thank God. She had grown used to Yeshua’s god being the only god. She glanced behind her up at the Tor. The entrance to the otherworld, the kingdom of Gwyn ap Nudd was there somewhere near the great Menhir. She had grown up with him; now she was full of doubt. Was he just a helper of the one great god, an angel who held the keys of the underworld or a god in his own right, powerful and all seeing? She smiled sadly. She would never know. Yeshua, her Yeshua would one day return to Afalon, but in spirit not in body. She had always known that. Just as she had always known that he was returning home to face certain death. She felt a warm tear run down her cheek as nearby with a steady beat of its enormous wings a single white swan angled in over the water and came to land on the glassy surface near her. Picking up the paddle she began to head once more out into the still water.

The homestead was silent. She let herself in through the gate in the palisade and stared round, surprised. She had never known the place to be unattended. There was always someone around if not in the house then in the sheds and barns, or Sorcha’s house – a member of the family, a servant. Slaves. Farm workers. Peat cutters. She peered in at the door of the main house. The fire was out. The huge central room was deserted and shadowy. She frowned. Where was everyone? She shivered. She knew the death of Romanus had hit the entire household harder than anyone could ever imagine. The fact that almost certainly the boy had been killed by his own uncle was a blow few parents could recover from; it was almost as hard for the men and women who had known him since he was born. Her own loss, of the brave and patient Cynan was only made tolerable by the fact that the young man had been there with Romanus; neither of them had died alone.

She ducked inside and looked round the large room. She could see Lydia’s favourite shawl, lying across the back of the oak settle. And Petra’s gaming board, the game she had so often played with her brother. Mora blinked back her tears. ‘Hello?’ She glanced towards the sleeping quarters. The curtains had been looped back, the screens left open. The bowls and plates on the sideboard were washed and clean. The fire was out. There were no dogs running round the yard outside. Nothing. The place felt dead.

‘Petra?’ She turned back to the doorway. ‘Is there anyone there?’ And then she saw it. The huddled figure lying against the wall.

‘No!’ Abi was holding the stone in her hands, the tears running down her cheeks. ‘Please, don’t make me go on.’

‘I think you have to, Abi,’ Justin said firmly. He was sitting across the table from her. He reached out and clasped his hands over hers.

She glanced round the room, aware of the men seated around her, all silent, all watching. Only Kier was looking away, staring down into the fire, his hands twisting together on his lap.

‘Try, Abi. Just a bit more,’ Justin went on. ‘We’re nearly there. Please. You and Mora. Two priestesses, two women who heal in Jesus’ name.’

She looked round pleadingly. They were all waiting, engrossed in the story, totally involved in their different ways with what she was telling them. She looked back into the crystal.

‘The house is full of shadows. She could be wrong. It could just be a bundle of rags,’ she went on, her voice shaking. ‘There is nothing to see with; no flaming torches, no candles or lamps, no firelight and it is a dark corner. She creeps closer, her heart hammering in her chest, bile rising in her throat.’ She paused and took a deep shuddering breath.

‘Petra?’ The voice was Mora’s now. Echoing strangely round the room, disembodied. Ghostly. ‘Petra darling, is that you?’

Mora took another step towards the bundle. ‘Petra? Speak to me.’

‘Petra is speaking to no-one ever again!’ The harsh male voice behind her made her cry out in fear as she spun round. ‘Why, if it isn’t the druid healer.’ Flavius sounded surprised. ‘Yeshua’s little helper! The one, so I hear, who whisked him out from under my nose.’

‘You can’t have killed Petra.’ Mora’s voice was husky, barely audible. ‘No! Why?’

‘Why? Because she was a witness of his healing powers, that’s why. She was cured. But not very well, as it turned out. Before she died her hands were turning back to claws!’ He gave a short harsh laugh. ‘She was so suggestible, that child, so malleable!’

She gave a cry of horror. ‘How can you be so evil?’

‘Easily. It is in my nature.’ He stared at her, his face devoid of expression.

Mora’s mouth had gone dry. She felt her stomach clench with fear. He was going to kill her as well. Her gaze slipped down a fraction and she saw there was indeed a sword in his hand, half hidden in the fold of his tunic. The blade glinted in a stray ray of light from the doorway. She could see the dried smears on it which must be blood.

‘Why are you so afraid of Yeshua?’ she asked softly, somehow finding the courage to speak now she knew she had nothing to lose. He was going to kill her anyway. ‘Why is your Emperor so afraid of him that you have to slaughter all his friends and hide all signs of his passing?’

He gave an infinitesimal shrug. ‘I do not question my orders. I obey them.’

‘And this is what makes your Empire so strong? Mindless obedience?’ She was playing for time, she didn’t know why. Who would come? No-one knew she was here. ‘But of course it is.’ A thought struck her and she felt her blood freeze. Had Lydia and Gaius returned to find him waiting for them? She met his gaze and held it. ‘And Lydia and Gaius?’ she whispered. ‘Have you killed them too? And Sorcha and the rest?’

He smirked. ‘Most of them ran away, but not Gaius. Fool that he is. He walked in here, calling for his daughter. Happy!’ He gave a snort of derision. ‘He really thought I would not kill him because I was his brother! All these years and he had failed to realise that I was put on Earth to kill him. There was no room for two of us in my mother’s womb, and not enough air for us both to breathe when we were born. Only now, at last, am I free of him!’

She shuddered at the sheer venom in his voice. ‘And Lydia?’ she asked bleakly. Her fear for herself seemed to have retreated onto some distant unregistered plane.

‘Lydia spurned me.’ His face darkened and for a moment she thought he was going to spit on the ground.

‘So, you have killed them all.’ She paused, unable to speak. When at last she could find the words they were barely audible. ‘But at least they are free and together. They will not be afraid of you ever again.’ She was biting back her tears.

Behind him she caught sight of a shadow in the doorway. He must have heard something for she saw him raise the sword. He stepped sideways out of the light, then he spun on his feet and when he lunged with his sword, it was towards her.