Underneath were perfectly preserved mediaeval floor tiles still in situ where they had been unearthed by archaeologists. 'This is `where feet in ancient times walked,' right?'
Shavi smiled at the difference in their approach, then ducked down to examine the tiles. Although they had faded with time and the pressure of numerous soles, the intricate design was still clear and the colours shone, but there seemed nothing out of the ordinary.
Ruth knelt down next to Shavi. 'Perhaps there's something hidden in the pattern.'
'Or perhaps it's nothing to do with this at all,' Laura added. 'Why don't we talk about needles and haystacks instead.'
For the next fifteen minutes they looked at the tiles from every angle, so close their noses were almost brushing the surface, then far away, much to the irritation of the tourists who jostled to see. Eventually Laura wandered off in boredom to throw stones at the fish in the abbey pool while Shavi and Ruth lay on their backs on the grass, desperately trying to solve the conundrum.
'We must be looking in the wrong place,' Ruth said.
Shavi disagreed. 'I feel instinctively that this is it. We simply need to look at it in the correct way.'
'But can you trust the information you were given?'
'According to tradition, sometimes the spirits lie, dissemble, obscure the truth. Again, I intuitively believe that it was the correct guidance. The problem lies with us and our vision.'
'Okay,' Ruth sighed, 'lateral thinking time.'
As they lay in silence, Ruth's mind gradually turned to her surroundings. Even in ruins there was a majesty to the abbey, the cumulative power of centuries of faith and worship; she felt dwarfed in its presence, and at the same time, adrift in her inability to feel what generations had obviously found so comforting.
'I wish I had something to believe in,' she said, almost to herself.
'You are not alone.' Shavi's voice floated to her dreamily. 'That is the only true quest that we all find ourselves on.'
'When my father died I wished … I wished like a child … that there was a God to give some reason to his passing. And at the same time I hated myself for being so weak that I needed a crutch to help me through life. It's all so pointless.' There was a note of self-loathing in her voice. She looked over at him. 'What is your religion, anyway?'
There was a faint smile on his lips. 'My religion? Spirituality. A belief that there are foundations and walls and a roof encapsulating this life of ours. A belief in a reason. In a force for overwhelming good that all religions touch.'
'Why should there be some higher power? There's no sign when you look around. Just people fooling themselves.'
'It is important to-' He paused, then sat up suddenly and stared at the tiles. 'To ignore the noise of everyday life and focus on the signal that lies behind it.' He scrambled on his hands and knees to the tiles excitedly.
'What is it? What have you thought of?'
Ruth crawled next to him; she still couldn't see anything in the patterns. Shavi leaned forward and gently traced his finger on the glass that covered the tiles. 'Here,' he said triumphantly.
'I can't see anything,' she said in frustration.
'It is all a matter of perspective. Look past the colour and design. Look past all the noise to find the signal. It is a lesson. For life.'
Ruth followed the tracing of his finger. There was a faint indentation in the baked clay of the tile, partially obscured by the design painted over it. It was an arrow. They both looked up to follow its direction. It pointed straight at the remains of the wall in the choir and through it to the tor rising high up above the town with the remaining tower of St. Michael's Chapel perched on top.
'The tor,' she said. 'Of course. With all the legends tied to it, it had to be the key.'
'Not just the tor,' Shavi corrected. 'The wall too. Both of them.'
'What do you mean?'
He wandered forward, his eyes fixed on the crumbling stonework. 'So much of this new age seems to be about duality-the light and the dark, the two forces opposing each other. And there have been dual meanings so far today. The link to `Jerusalem,' Joseph and the Grail and to the tiles. Now this dual meaningthe wall and the tor. It makes sense.'
'What can the wall have to do with it?' Then she realised what he had said. 'You think this is about the Grail!'
'I do not know.' He turned and smiled so she wouldn't be offended by his words. 'Let me concentrate.'
She backed away and sat down; Laura joined her a moment later. After she had watched Shavi staring up at the stonework for five minutes, she said, 'He's done too many drugs, hasn't he?'
'He's a smart guy,' Ruth replied. 'I wish he'd been with us from the start.'
'Don't tell me you've got damp knickers for him as well.'
'I admire him, that's all,' Ruth said tartly. 'And what do you mean as well?'
Laura smiled and looked away, her sunglasses somehow adding to her supercilious expression. Ruth bit her tongue and simmered silently.
Half an hour later he called them over excitedly. 'Look! The sun is in the right position now. You can see it clearly.'
'Yeah, right,' Laura said sarcastically. It says, `Shavi, you are a big dickhead.'
'No, he's right,' Ruth corrected, adding in as superior manner as she could muster, 'You have to look for the signal, not the noise, Laura.'
'Do not look at the stonework,' Shavi explained. 'Look at the shadows cast by the lumps and indentations in the stone.'
And then, when they squinted and focused, they could both see exactly what he meant: the shadows spelled out words in thin, spidery writing that would not have been visible to the casual observer, nor from any other perspective. Some of it, however, seemed to be missing where the wall had crumbled.
'Aqua something,' Ruth said.
'Aqua fortis,' Laura corrected sharply. 'That's nitric acid.'
'Nitric acid?' Ruth asked.
'I know my chemistry-'
'I do not think that is the context here,' Shavi corrected gently. 'The literal translation is something like strong water.'
'That's right,' Ruth said.
'Oh, yeah, that really makes sense,' Laura huffed.
They continued to study the wall intently and eventually they decided the rest of the remaining message read sic itur ad astra.
'Astra is `stars,'' Ruth said. 'I studied Latin before I did my law degree, but I can't remember much …' She paused thoughtfully. 'Something like `such is the way to the stars.' That's it.'
'It doesn't make much sense without the rest of the message,' Laura complained.
'There doesn't seem to be a great deal missing,' Shavi said.
'Perhaps, then,' Ruth said quietly, 'we just have to make a leap of faith.'
The wind somehow seemed to find its way through their jackets and shirts as Church, Witch and Tom worked their way across the moor. Although the sky regularly threatened rain, the gale managed to keep the clouds scudding along so that patches of blue and bursts of sunshine occasionally broke through. Away from the main road however, the atmosphere became almost as bleak as the landscape. Strange shapes moved ominously across the scrubland in the distance and every now and then flocks of birds would soar up into the sky, suddenly disturbed by something none of them could see. The sense of threat was palpable and growing.
'It's getting worse, isn't it?' Church said, shielding his eyes to peer at the horizon.
Tom nodded. 'These places where man has a feeble hold were always going to be the first to go. The old things can re-establish themselves without much confrontation. I think it will not be long before they move in towards the centres of population.'
'And then the shit really hits the fan,' Veitch said morosely.
In the late afternoon, they wearily mounted a ridge to look down on a wide expanse of water, grey and
