‘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.’
‘I’m sure the ever competent Mora will bring something with her. He can wait,’ Flavius said curtly. ‘Come.’
Romanus looked from his uncle to the ground where the shards of broken pottery lay scattered. ‘You shouldn’t have done that,’ he said stubbornly. Then he thought of something else. ‘What happens if his daughter comes back? You’re not going to hurt her, are you?’
Flavius glared at him ‘She won’t come back. She’s had a message telling her that the healers have taken her father back to their island. By the time she finds out that’s not true this will all be over.’
‘But -’ Romanus began.
‘But nothing!’ Flavius glared at him. ‘You are beginning to annoy me. Has no-one ever taught you obedience? If you want one day to serve the Emperor, that is something you are going to have to learn, and learn fast. Sentiment has no place to play in my world, Romanus. You obey or you fail.’
Romanus stared at him, terrified. ‘I do want to serve the Emperor.’
‘Then obey me.’
Romanus followed him without a further word. They skirted the hut at a safe distance and found a hiding place from which they could watch the entrance. As they settled down out of sight amongst the bracken Romanus saw his uncle loosen his sword in its sheath. He bit his lip. ‘You won’t hurt Mora, will you? You promised.’
‘Be silent!’ Flavius narrowed his eyes. He had seen a movement on the path in the distance.
Mora glanced up at the tall pine on the edge of the forest. The crow launched itself into flight as she watched and again the three caws echoed over the treetops. She frowned, stopping in her tracks. Yeshua stopped beside her. ‘What is it?’
‘Something is wrong.’
He looked up at the bird. ‘We have disturbed it.’
‘It’s more than that.’ She looked round, narrowing her eyes against the sunlight. They had travelled more quickly than they had expected, hitching a ride on an ox cart through the lower slopes of the hills, setting off on foot across the heathland on the edge of the forest as the sun began to settle into the west. Even from here as they followed the track they could see the sharp silhouette of the Tor against the pearly western sky far away through the trees. Below it the marshy levels and the water of the mere were shrouded in mist.’
‘We must go back,’ she said suddenly. ‘There is danger here.’
He shook his head. ‘There is an injured man here, Mora. We need to help him.’
‘But the bird has spoken.’
‘Even so, we need to give help where it is requested. If we have been warned of something, then we can be on our guard.’ He threw a glance over his shoulder. ‘You are right. I sense all is not well, but there is a sick man out here somewhere, that is true and he needs our aid.’ He smiled at her. ‘Come.’ He held out his hand.
She gave in. ‘It isn’t far.’ She looked up at the tree. There was no sign of the crow now. ‘Thank you, brother bird,’ she said, ‘wherever you are. We will be careful.’
It was not long afterwards that Yeshua stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. He pointed up ahead to the spot where the hovel lay in the shadow. ‘Is that the place?’ he whispered.
She nodded. ‘Where is the woodman’s daughter? Why isn’t there a fire?’
He eased his pack off his shoulders and gestured her to do the same. Then he pushed her gently out of sight into the bushes. ‘Wait here. I will go and see.’
‘No!’ She caught at him. ‘No, it is you who is in danger.’
He shook his head. ‘Why me?’
‘I don’t know. I just sense it. Something is wrong.’ She looked round wildly. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘Leave it to me.’ Yeshua took a firm grip on his staff and stepped back onto the track. ‘Wait here.’
Cautiously he approached the door to the hut. Seconds later the woodman’s dog began to bark.
Mora watched as he pushed open the door and stooped to go in. She saw the dog jumping around him, its tail wagging, then she saw the movement in the bushes beside the hut. A tall figure emerged into the clearing, followed by a boy. She froze. The man was carrying a drawn sword.
‘Abi, are you OK?’ Athena’s voice in her ear woke Abi with a start. ‘You called out. You sounded terrified.’ They were sitting side by side on the grassy slope below the old tower of St Michael’s on the summit of the Tor. Around them the view stretched away on every side into the hazy distance. Abi shook her head, trying to rid herself of the image of the woodman’s hut and the clearing in the forest. Yeshua had gone inside to heal the man and outside Flavius was waiting to kill him. She groaned with frustration.
‘I’m sorry.’ Athena stared at her. ‘I shouldn’t have interrupted.’
‘No!’ Abi rubbed her eyes fiercely. ‘I was watching someone. He was in danger. I wanted to stop it. To be there. To be able to do something.’ Scrambling to her feet she walked across to the tower – all that remained of St Michael’s church which once stood on top of the Tor. The tower stood four square, the entrances on each of the four sides open to wind and rain and sun.
As she ducked inside and stood looking up at the sky Athena followed her. ‘But you couldn’t?’
‘No.’
Behind them two strangers walked into the space beneath the tower, looking round. ‘I can feel the power of this place,’ Abi said suddenly. ‘Rising up through me. It’s amazing.’ She held out her arms, pivoting round in a circle. She smiled, and stood still shading her eyes with her hand as she looked towards the east. ‘Somewhere up there in the Mendips, there is a woodcutter’s hut, near some limestone cliffs. It might even have been in Cheddar Gorge. Mora went there to heal him after a tree fell on him.’
‘And did she?’ Athena held her gaze steadily.
‘I don’t know.’
‘She went there alone?’
Abi hesitated. Why did she not want to mention Mora’s apprentice? Because who he was, or might be, was still such a huge deal. Because, she realised, she wanted so much for it to be true. Because she still couldn’t believe it herself. Because she couldn’t bring herself to put her vision into words. ‘Romanus was there,’ she said at last, ‘with the wicked uncle, Flavius, lying in wait.’
‘I see. And I interrupted at the wrong moment?’
Abi nodded ruefully.
‘Do you want to try again?’
But it didn’t work. However hard Abi tried to summon her vision of the past nothing happened.
After a while she shrugged. ‘It’s gone.’ She stood staring out across the levels towards the distant Bristol Channel with beyond it a faint haze which shrouded the hills of Wales.
Retrieving the crystal from the drawer where it was stowed, Abi made her way slowly to the bench by the ruined arch. There was still no sign of the Cavendishes when she got home. The house was very quiet. The afternoon was drawing in fast and already she could see the mist beginning to form over the flat fields. She went to sit down, pulling her jacket close around her. ‘OK, Mora. What happened next?’ she whispered.
She turned the stone over and over in her hands. She could feel nothing. No warmth, no vibration, no tingling in her fingers. A shot of panic went through her. Supposing she couldn’t do it again? Supposing she never found out what happened?
‘Mora?’
She stared round at the ruined arch, the old crumbling remnants of the walls, the fragment of pillar poking up through the flowerbed. In the light of the low sun all she could see was the shroud of ivy which protected it. The air was full of the smell of damp moss. Shivering she tried to still her thoughts, concentrating on letting her mind stay blank. Allow it to come. Don’t try and force it. She cradled the stone on her lap, touching it gently with her fingertips. ‘Mora, where are you? What happened next?’
The shadow of the arch stretched across the grass at her feet, its shape elongated, irregular as it crawled across the flowerbed and onto the grass.
