‘And you really think it could switch on my higher powers?’ Abi tried to keep the ironical inverted commas out of her voice. ‘Would it have told me the same story if I was still in Cambridge? Or would it have picked up something else over there?’ She was still trying to rationalise – she couldn’t help herself.

‘Ask it. But remember to listen for the answer with an open mind.’

‘Mummy did come from near here. She was born in Priddy.’ Abi was still trying to pursue the rational approach.

‘Remember there is no such thing as coincidence. Perhaps the crystal led you here.’

No, it was the bishop. Abi bit the words back in time. But of course, Athena was right. Her mother’s mother had given Laura the crystal. And her mother’s mother before that, judging by the note. The bishop too had been born in the Mendips. She was here because he knew these people; because the Cavendishes too had lived here for generations. It was all wheels within wheels.

Her coffee was finished. Suddenly she realised that they were going to have to leave and she didn’t want the conversation to be over. Athena was in some strange way a kindred spirit. She liked her.

‘Would it affect the crystal if someone else touched it?’

Athena shrugged. ‘You said your father threw it out of the window.’

Abi nodded sadly. ‘I was wondering whether I could show it to you.’

‘You are looking for someone to make sense of it for you, Abi,’ Athena said gently. ‘It is better if you do that yourself. You have to have the courage of your own convictions. There may be more to this quest than just looking at a story. You may be drawn in. There may be a job for you to do.’

Abi grimaced. She gave a deep sigh. Athena frowned. ‘I’m always here if you want a chat. Where did you say you were staying?’

‘With a family called Cavendish. At Woodley Manor on the Wells Road.’

Athena nodded. ‘I know Justin.’

Abi’s eyes widened. ‘He dropped in this morning.’

‘Really?’ Athena seemed astonished.

‘Mat and Cal were out.’ Abi rubbed her forehead. She was feeling her way. She didn’t want to gossip but on the other hand perhaps Athena was a friend of the family. She hoped so.

Athena laughed. It was a deep throaty chuckle. ‘Justin and Mat have never got on. They come from two different planets.’ She hesitated. ‘A word to the wise. Be careful of Justin.’ She leaned forward on her elbows, cupping her chin in her hands. ‘So, Abi, how do you fit in with the family? You didn’t say.’

‘I was having man problems. A…’ She hesitated. ‘A friend suggested I come down to stay for a few weeks while I got my head together.’

‘I see.’ Athena glanced up at her face thoughtfully. ‘And what did you say you do for a living?’

‘I didn’t.’ Abi bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t lie to this woman, but on the other hand if she told her Athena would probably get up and walk out. Almost certainly she was a pagan if she was anything at all and pagans in her experience did not like Christian priests. There were several students who called themselves pagan on her beat in the parish at home. They had made their feelings abundantly clear. Her church was to blame for witch burnings, for the crusades, for the Inquisition, for the persecution of women in general, for every real and perceived iniquity which had been enforced against the feminist cause, for destroying the planet, for burning the rain forest, for exploiting animals. The list went on and on. And most of the accusations, she had to admit, were to some extent based on real attitudes and real stances which from time to time various elements within the Christian church had embraced with so much misguided fervour. Not all, she wanted to say. Not today. Not me. It was not what Jesus wanted. It never mattered. She was tarred with the Christian brush. They never let her go any further with her self-justification. She looked at Athena and shrugged. ‘I resigned from my last job. I’m unemployed at the moment.’ That at least was true. Athena nodded. Abi had a feeling she knew that this was not the whole story but for now she was prepared to let it lie. ‘I hope we meet again. I will come into the shop next time I come to Glastonbury,’ she went on quickly. ‘I’ve so much enjoyed our talk.’

Athena smiled. ‘Me too.’ She stood up, and to Abi’s surprise leaned across to give her a warm hug. ‘Relax, Abi. Listen to your heart. Stop worrying about what everyone else thinks.’ Again she seemed to have read Abi’s thoughts. ‘Be your own woman!’

The crystal was still there on the window sill. Abi gazed at it for a few minutes, then she picked it up. Carefully rewrapping it in its cotton bag she laid it in a drawer hidden under some jerseys. Then she knelt down by her bed and began to pray.

Mora lay back on her elbows and stared up at the sky. She had fair skin and red-gold hair, bound into a heavy plait which she wore twisted round her head. Her eyes were slate-blue. Wearing a brown woollen cloak, she gave the impression of a slender flower emerging from the dead leaves of winter. ‘Was it ever this beautiful in your country?’ She threw a glance at her companion.

Yeshua was sitting a few yards away from her, staring down from the hillside across the glittering sunlit waters of the reedy mere spread out beneath them. He smiled. ‘Every country I have visited has its own beauty.’ He reached for the jug at his feet and drank a few sips of the sweet local cider. ‘Some are hot with desert sands; some are green and full of forests or grassy plains. Some have mountains so high you cannot see the top. They have snows all the year round. But here, yes, there is a special beauty. The water is everywhere. Your sunlight is soft, your mists beguiling, the smell of apple blossom enchanting.’ His eyes were deep warm brown. She could see he was laughing at her.

‘Pass me the jug.’

Standing up, he brought it over. He was a tall, slim man with light olive skin and dark brown wavy hair. Between them lay two woven bags, full of packets of dried herbs, their pharmacopoeia and medicine chest. ‘We must get on.’ Drinking her fill, Mora rammed the stopper back into the jug. ‘We need to be at the fisherman’s house before the sun begins to drop. I need good light to examine his wife. She has a canker in her breast.’ She shook her head. ‘I have tried everything. I’m afraid all I can do is relieve her pain. Maybe you can do something.’ She was beginning to have great faith in this young man’s powers of healing. He was a student and a teacher, who had travelled far across the seas to study with the druid priests of the Pretannic Islands and on arrival in Afalon had been assigned to her care by her father, Fergus, the archdruid, to watch and help her as she carried out her duties as a healer. More often than not however, their roles had been reversed. She it was who was watching and learning from him. He had not studied medicine. He did not use herbs as she did. He worked through instinct and through prayer. He examined a patient, and considered the nature of the illness, and sometimes he held his hands over the wound, or he ran his fingers across a sore stomach or laid his palms gently on an aching head and bade the illness go. She had tried it secretly. It didn’t seem to work for her.

The message from the fishing village had come as they were setting off towards home after several days moving sometimes in rain, sometimes in sunlight, amongst the homesteads and farms in the foothills to the east of their watery home. They would barely make it before dark.

Trefor was waiting for them at the door to his house, his face lined with sorrow. ‘It is too late, Mora. She’s gone.’

He turned and led the way inside, gesturing towards the bed by the fire. His wife lay there, her eyes closed, her face white as marble.

Mora sighed. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She had already guessed as much. The lonely call of the curlew across the marshes had signalled a death. She knelt at the bedside and touched the woman’s face. It was ice cold. ‘At least she is free of pain, now,’ she said sadly. ‘And she is with the ancestors where there is no fear or anguish. You will see her again.’ She looked up at him.

Trefor nodded. He shrugged his great shoulders miserably. ‘Who will look after the children?’

‘You will find yourself a new wife, my friend.’ She rose to her feet and laid a hand on his arm. Behind her Yeshua stepped forward and bent over the cold body. He laid a hand on the woman’s forehead for a moment, then he too shook his head sadly.

‘Who are you?’ Trefor had swung round suddenly as he saw the stranger stoop over his wife. ‘Don’t you touch her.’ He looked afraid.

Mora stepped forward. ‘Peace, Trefor. This is Yeshua, one of the students at the college. He is a healer like me.’ She frowned at Yeshua. ‘There is nothing we can do.’

Yeshua nodded and stood away from the woman’s body. ‘I’m sorry. I had no intention of upsetting you.’ He smiled regretfully. ‘She was a beautiful woman.’ Mora saw the older man frown, hearing the strange accent. But the

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