meaning of his words were clear and he nodded sadly, reassured.
Behind them three small faces had appeared at the doorway. Yeshua turned. He walked over to them and in moments they had come trustingly into his arms. It was a long time before they let him depart. Mora gave an inner smile. Wherever they went he attracted children. They seemed to adore him unreservedly, begging for stories, queuing for the little models of animals and birds he whittled for them with his knife, reassured when they were sad, comforted when they were in pain.
‘It makes me so angry when we are too late!’ Yeshua shouldered his bag at last and led the way out of the compound. It would soon be dark, but the family in their distress had not thought to ask them to stay. ‘If we had been there days ago, perhaps we could have done something. The poverty! The exhaustion on that poor woman’s face! It is so wrong. If the children were only old enough to help her! Or her husband did more! If he had gone to the king and begged!’ His voice rose in anger. ‘I can’t bear it when I see so much suffering everywhere I go. Good people, in so much pain and so much misery and grief. How can God allow it?’
‘Her spirit was ready to leave,’ Mora replied as she ran to keep up with him. ‘One cannot always save people, you know that. She wanted to go.’
He stopped and turned to face her. ‘How do you know?’
‘I saw her.’
‘You saw her spirit?’
She nodded. ‘She was tired. Sad to leave him and the children, but she was exhausted; beyond life. Beyond recall.’
‘So, you are saying I couldn’t have saved her?’
Mora nodded. ‘You know we couldn’t.’
‘I get too angry!’ He shook his head after a moment.
‘Only because you care so much.’ There was a long pause. She stood looking down the track ahead of them towards the fen. The sun was setting, leaving a trail of gold in the waters. ‘Do your people believe as we do that there is somewhere wonderful that we go when we die?’
He nodded. ‘It is called Heaven.’
‘And is Heaven full of apple trees?’
He smiled at last, his anger subsiding. ‘Ah, there is a garden called Eden. It is a place of everlasting blessings.’
Mora nodded, reassured. ‘She will be happy there.’ She sighed.
He glanced at her. ‘But her spirit is lingering, watching over them all.’
Mora nodded again. ‘That house is full of the dead. I sometimes think we should teach people how to speak to their loved ones who linger, and help them on their way.’ She shrugged. ‘Trefor needs to let the sunlight and the air into that place. It courts illness. Three of his children have died. That is his third wife. The other two also died. One in childbirth, with the baby barely born, the other of an injury which went bad. I could do nothing for any of them, and yet still he asks me to come. He trusts me. He believes I can help him.’ Her voice rose in frustration.
Yeshua reached across and laid his hand on her arm. ‘Don’t punish yourself, Mora. You do what you can. There are many others you do help. I have watched you.’
She gave a sad little smile and shook her head. ‘Come. We must set out. It will be full dark soon.’ She sighed.
‘The nights come earlier and earlier,’ he said after a moment. ‘You know I am going to have to leave before the winter sets in.’
‘Not yet.’ She went cold at his words. ‘There is so much for us to talk about. So much to study together. There will be time for some more visits before you go?’ She heard the plea in her voice and despised herself for it.
‘Oh, yes.’ He smiled. ‘There will be time for a few more yet.’
She reached out her hand as if to touch his, then changed her mind. Already he was striding ahead of her into the trees. He hadn’t noticed the gesture.
Abi jerked away from the scene with a start. She had put the stone away. This was ridiculous. She had to take control of herself. She sat down on her bed. So, Mora, the healer, was away visiting her patients whilst the family out here in the garden were looking for her. She was a herbalist, but her skills were limited; a druid healer who was not all-powerful. She didn’t use a wand or magic or invoke the druid gods of healing. She did her best with the medicinal herbs she had collected from the countryside around. Like her companion, she was frustrated and angry and miserable because she couldn’t help. And her patient had died of what, breast cancer? Abi stood up and walked across to the window and stared out towards the Tor. Two thousand years later and they still hadn’t conquered it!
She found Cal in the kitchen. For once she wasn’t cooking. She was sitting at the scrubbed oak table surrounded by sheaves of bills. Abi grimaced. ‘Oh dear. Is this a bad time?’
Cal looked up. ‘It’s always a bad time when I have to try and sort this lot out. Come and sit down. Did you have a good day?’
Abi nodded. ‘I went into Glastonbury and wandered around. Went into some of the shops. Had coffee with a fascinating woman from a crystal shop. Athena.’
Cal shook her head. ‘My God! Boadicea herself! How on earth did you get talking to her?’ She shuffled several bills together and fixed them with a paperclip.
Abi shrugged. ‘I was in her shop. We talked about this and that. She designs jewellery.’ She paused. ‘She mentioned Justin.’ She hesitated. ‘He was here this morning. Did you know?’
Cal looked up. ‘Here? In the house?’
Abi nodded. ‘He said better not to mention it in front of Mat.’
‘Too right!’ Cal said fervently. ‘What did he want? He obviously knew Mat and I were out.’
‘I think he must have waited until he saw you leave. He was indoors – I didn’t let him in. He was in the library, looking for some books.’
Cal nodded. ‘He always thinks of the books as his own. I think their grandfather promised them to him at some point. It seems only fair as Mat and Ben got all the rest. Not because Justin was diddled out of it, he just didn’t want to be part of it. They were supposed to end up with third shares in the house, but it didn’t work out that way.’
‘Can I ask why they don’t get on?’
Cal let out a gusty breath, blowing the pepper and salt fringe up away from her eyes. ‘Chalk and cheese. Justin is a good ten years younger than Mat. Mat resented him when he was born, I think. He had been the baby for a long time. But they never had anything in common. Justin is a natural rebel. A bit of a free thinker. I am not surprised Athena knows him.’
Athena’s warning rang in Abi’s head for a moment.
Cal pushed back her chair and stood up with a groan. ‘Tea? I’m exhausted after a day in town. Too much traffic; too many people; too much noise. I’ve turned into a country bumpkin. But at least I got some shopping done. I needed a halfway decent coat for the winter.’ She paused frowning. ‘But at this moment I’ve got a splitting headache and I feel like death.’
‘Would you like me to massage your shoulders?’ Abi offered. ‘Something I’m quite good at,’ she added humbly. She didn’t call it healing any more. Not after Kier’s comments.
Cal gave a wan smile. ‘Thanks. I’d love it.’ She subsided back into the chair.
Abi stood behind her and rested her hands gently on Cal’s shoulders. She could feel her fingers tingling. Her hands were heating up. Then suddenly the sensation was gone. She stared down, devastated. She couldn’t do it. Not any more. She gave Cal’s neck a perfunctory massage, then stepped back. ‘Is that better?’ She could hear the huskiness in her voice.
Cal stood up. ‘Much. Thank you.’ She glanced at Abi, frowning, sensing that something was wrong, but not quite sure what. ‘Shall I make us that tea?’
She was holding the kettle under the tap as the phone rang. ‘Can you get that?’
Abi picked it up. ‘Hello?’
Silence.
‘Hello, Woodley Manor?’
There was a quiet laugh. ‘Hello Abi.’
