Time's Legacy by Barbara Erskine

He folded his arms, watching her. ‘Actually I think it would be rather appealing.’ He paused. ‘You don’t like me, do you.’

  ‘Is there any reason why I should?’

  ‘Christian charity?’

  She gave a wry smile. ‘That is in short supply today, I’m afraid.’

  ‘OK.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll be gone when you get back. Take care.’ He turned away from her back to the table and reached for the telephone. For a moment she didn’t move, then she headed for the door. It didn’t seem worth saying goodbye. He was already engrossed in his call.

  Athena was serving a customer when she opened the door and let herself into the shop. Abi hovered for several minutes, studying a small table laden with incense burners and candlesticks, waiting until they had gone. ‘Kier turned up again this morning,’ she said as soon as the door was closed behind them.

  Athena sighed. She pushed the drawer of the till closed and heaved herself onto the stool behind the counter. Leaning forward, her chin on her cupped hands, she surveyed Abi. ‘He’s persistent, isn’t he?’ This morning she was wearing a saffron-yellow low-necked blouse with multiple stranded filigree necklaces with brown agate and copper drops strung along the wires. ‘You could come and stay with me. He’d never dare follow you there.’

  Abi smiled. ‘That’s true. He thinks you’re a witch and a goddess worshipper.’

  ‘He’s not necessarily wrong.’

  ‘No.’ Abi paused. ‘It’s kind of you Athena, but he is not going to chase me away and I do have a reason to stay where I am.’

  ‘The ghosts.’

  Abi nodded. ‘It’s not that I haven’t seen them elsewhere, it’s just that that is the epicentre. I sort of feel it’s meant to be, that I am there.’

  Athena straightened and looked at her watch. ‘Listen, I’m off duty at twelve. As soon as Bella comes in why don’t you and I have a spot of lunch, then this afternoon we’ll climb the Tor. How does that sound? We’ll see if your Mora follows you there. That is the true epicentre of power, the focal point. In every era, pagan and Christian it has been recognised as special. Let’s see what you make of it. Have you brought your stone?’

  Abi shook her head. It was at Woodley, tucked back in the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers in her bedroom.

  ‘Doesn’t matter. You don’t need it. As I told you, you can do it without, whatever it is it does or doesn’t do. Go and buy yourself a pretty skirt, Abi Rutherford, and some low-necked sexy blouses and dump those churchy blue shirts. I’ll meet you at twelve thirty.’

  ‘Go and see what the situation is,’ Flavius whispered. He had dismounted several hundred paces from the woodman’s hut and tied his horse to a tree. Around them the grey limestone cliffs reared up out of the trees towards an intensely blue sky. ‘I’ll wait here.’ He frowned as in the distance something moved on the distant rocks. He recognised the outline of a wild goat and nodded, satisfied.

  Romanus crept forward, russet leaves rustling under his feet. The hut seemed deserted. Listening intently he moved on a few more paces. The place was utterly quiet. No smoke seeped through the roof and the door was closed. He glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t see the horse or its rider any more; the forest seemed empty. He glanced up as a shadow flicked across the sunlit track at his feet. A bird had flown overhead to perch on a tree near him. A crow. He shivered. It was watching him intently and after a minute it called, the three raucous caws echoing across the trees. The door of the cottage was pushed open and a dog raced out, barking wildly. It came straight at him and he had no alternative but to stand up in the sunlight. He held out his hands soothingly. Dogs liked him as a rule and this one was no different. It stopped its headlong rush and began to lick his hand, its tail wagging.

  ‘Hello?’ A weak voice called from the cottage. ‘Who is there?’

  Romanus glanced back over his shoulder in an agony of indecision. He was supposed to be spying out the land, but there was no hiding now. The dog had seen to that. Straightening his shoulders he walked up to the cottage and stooped in the doorway. ‘Hello, Sean.’

  The man was lying on a pallet on the floor. In the light from the doorway Romanus saw a pale face, sweaty with pain, the big man propped uncomfortably against some rough pillows. There was a rug across his legs. He was alone, but someone had left him a cup of water and a plate of bannock with a chunk of sheep’s cheese. He didn’t appear to have touched the food. Romanus decided the truth was probably the best option. ‘I heard Mora the healer was on her way to see you,’ he said. ‘I thought I would bring you the message. Reassure you that you hadn’t been forgotten.’

  Sean managed a smile. ‘That was kind. My daughter said she would try and send word to the island. She left yesterday to find someone to take a message.’

  ‘And she hasn’t come back?’ Romanus frowned.

  The man shook his head.

  There was a pause. The boy didn’t know what to say next. Why would she not return to her father when he was in such pain and all alone? He glanced round the shadowy hovel. The dog had followed him in and was lying at the foot of the pallet. The man’s tools were neatly stacked by the doorway. Axes, mattocks, hooks. His needs seemed to be simple. A small pot for cooking. The plate and cup by his side, his breeches and a leather jacket lying by the bed. Someone had taken his clothes off. He could see the bloodstains on the torn fabric. ‘Shall I fetch you some more water?’ he asked at last, noticing that the cup was empty. The man nodded gratefully. Romanus picked it up and looked round for a jug.

  ‘There is a spring. Behind the house.’ Sean was speaking through teeth gritted against the pain. Romanus nodded and ducked outside into the sunlight.

  Behind the hut a narrow track showed where a clear spring trickled out of a rocky outcrop. High above a raven soared upwards from the cliffs. Romanus held the cup under the water and swilled it round before refilling it.

  ‘What the hell did you go in for?’ The whisper at his elbow nearly made him drop it.

  He swung round. ‘I had no choice. The dog saw me.’

  Flavius glared at him. ‘No harm done, I suppose. So, he’s alone?’

  Romanus nodded.

  ‘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.

  ‘Mora? What happened? I know Flavius didn’t hurt him.’ She held her breath, listening. ‘He didn’t attack you, or Romanus?’ The words were no more than a whisper. ‘Mora?’

  Supposing he had killed her? Supposing in his rage and frustration at somehow missing his target, he had struck out at the druid priestess. Perhaps that was why she felt the need to haunt the place where her story had unfolded. Clutching the stone, Abi rose to her feet. ‘Mora? Where are you? What happened?’ She stepped forward onto the flowerbed and rested her hand against the arch as though somehow it would connect her to the past. In the orchard a blackbird shrieked its warning and flew past her. She stared round, desperately trying to see into the shadows, trying to sense the past which must be there, just out of sight, but nothing came. She looked down at the stone in her hands. ‘Was it Kier? Has he frightened you away?’ She gave a bitter smile. Or was it the priestess of the goddess with her pretty skirts and lovely necklaces? She turned slowly looking towards the house. If Cal and Mat were home the lights would have come on in the kitchen by now and the dogs would be rushing across the lawn towards her. All was silence. The place was still deserted. With a sigh she rammed the stone into the pocket of her jacket and began to walk down through the orchard at the end of the garden.

  Opening the door she made her way inside the little church and closed the door behind her. Silence enfolded her. That was why it kept drawing her back. H
er own church. Her own sacred space. It was a novelty, this special feeling, this certainty that she had to come back here constantly to be safe, and that here everything would in the end begin to make sense. It was just possible to make out the aisle in the gloom and she made her way towards the chancel as for the first time she registered that there didn’t appear to be any electricity in the church. That explained the proliferation of candles. Besides those on the altar there were more on the window sills, a candelabra hanging from the ceiling on a heavy black chain, another standing at the back near the font. All the candles looked well used, half burned down, decorated with patterns of waxy drips. She sat down in one of the chairs at the front. The east window was in total darkness with no light from the eastern sky outside to illuminate the figure of Christ. It was as though he wasn’t there. Behind her a faint rosy light flooded low onto the floor as the setting sun found a momentary gap in the racing clouds. The church was cold. As was the stone in her pocket. She reached in to touch it briefly, her fingers stroking the rough surface, then she withdrew them. Perhaps she shouldn’t have brought it with her.

  Slipping to her knees she folded her hands together in prayer. ‘What happened?’ she whispered. ‘Is it true? Were you here? Did what happened here become a part of your teaching?’

  Somewhere in the body of the church a timber creaked as the temperature outside dropped. She shivered again. ‘Our Father…’ She paused. She could sense someone behind her. Not Kier. Surely he hadn’t followed her here. Swallowing hard she levered herself into a sitting position, straining every nerve to hear any movements in the nave behind her. There was nothing. Whoever it was, if there was anyone at all, must be holding their breath just as she was. After a minute she began to turn round, staring into the shadowy spaces of the church. Nothing moved. If there was someone there he must be deliberately hiding, down amongst the rows of chairs. Another small sound echoed into the silence. Something had dropped and rolled a little way before coming to a stop. She could feel her heart banging against her ribs. ‘Who is it? Who’s there?’ She could hear the fear in her own voice. ‘Come on. Show yourself.’ She paused for a second. There was no reply. ‘Kier, is that you?’