Time's Legacy by Barbara Erskine
He was halfway across the orchard when he felt it. Suddenly the air was hot with pain. The shadows were screaming. Someone had died here. He groped in his pocket for the little cross he carried with him all the time, reeling back from the suddenness of it. He had been open, searching, listening. He had not protected himself and now he was suffocating under the overwhelming pall of fear and anger. He was seeing red. He could feel the blood, sticky and hot and thick, running over his hands and across his face. He couldn’t breathe. He reeled aside, and cannoned into the trunk of a tree. Clutching at the rough bark with desperate fingers he felt the rasp of lichen, he could smell the sharpness of sap mixed with the blood. He gasped, trying to find the right words. ‘In the name of Jesus!’ It was all round him. He could hear nothing but the thunder of blood in his ears. ‘In the name of Jesus Christ!’
And as suddenly as it had started it was over. The orchard was silent. He stood clutching the tree, his forehead against the trunk, his face pouring with sweat. He had lost his specs. For a long moment he didn’t move, then slowly he released the tree. His fingernails were broken and split; he had torn the knee of his jeans and he was shaking uncontrollably. He stared round, not daring to move his feet in case he stepped on his glasses, one hand now holding a branch as though his life depended on it. ‘Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me.’ He looked down at the grass and spotted the spectacles lying a few feet away from him. He reached for them frantically. They weren’t broken and he stuck them back on with relief. The orchard was growing dark. Somewhere an owl hooted. He took a deep breath, still clutching the cross. ‘Christ before me. Christ beside me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me.’ Somehow he had to get back to the house but before he left the orchard he had to pray for the soul in torment here. Someone had died in this place, violently. Someone had been murdered and their spirit was not at rest. Closing his eyes he clasped his hands together around the little cross. ‘Our Father, which art in heaven…’
‘Abi’s car is back so she must be here somewhere.’ Cal and Mat had searched the gardens with the dogs as soon as Greg had returned. It had still been light enough to see then, but even so Mat had taken a large torch with him. At the gate to the orchard they had hesitated, glancing at Greg, then all three had walked in under the trees, calling her. There was no sign.
Ben arrived as they filed back into the house. He glanced at Greg with a grimace. ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea things were this bad.’
‘I suspect I stirred it up.’ Greg threw himself down on one of the chairs by the fire, shaking his head. ‘Idiot! Rushing in without proper preparation. I should know better after all these years. The church was so peaceful. I let down my guard.’ He broke off as the phone rang.
Cal picked it up, listened for a second and passed it over to Ben. ‘It’s Janet.’
Ben took the phone and listened, his face growing grave as his wife spoke. ‘I’m on my way,’ he said at last and slammed the phone down on the table. ‘Kieran Scott is there. He is claiming he has kidnapped Abi. Dear God!’ Ben looked at Greg. ‘Can I ask you to come with me? He’s a bit intimidating, this guy. Mat, can you two wait by the phone?’
‘So what has he done with her?’ Cal whispered.
Ben shrugged. ‘We’ll see if we can make him tell us. He wants me to speak to the bishop for him, apparently.’
‘Sounds as though he’s lost it,’ Greg said succinctly. He hesitated. ‘Can I suggest that you both stay away from the orchard for the time being?’ he said hesitantly to Mat and Cal. ‘I’m aware that this is very much your patch, but I think I may have awoken some problematic influences. My fault and I should deal with them.’
Mat nodded. ‘I for one am certainly not going to go looking for trouble.’ He sighed. ‘Phone us as soon as you know anything, Ben.’
When he had closed the front door behind them he came back to the kitchen to find Cal standing in front of the fire. ‘Has it occurred to you it might not have been Greg who stirred things up? It might have been Kier. Or even Abi,’ she said.
Mat nodded. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘We are going to take the dogs out again to look for her.’
He gave a wan smile. ‘They are getting used to hunting for missing people!’
‘We don’t have to go near the orchard,’ she added doubtfully. ‘What could he have done with her?’ She shivered.
‘She could be anywhere, Cal, if he persuaded her to get into his car with him.’
She shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t have.’
‘Perhaps he drugged her or something.’
‘Surely not.’ She looked down at the floor. ‘Is he deranged, Mat?’
Mat shrugged. ‘Ring Justin, Cal.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Are you sure?’
He nodded. ‘We need his help. That chap Greg didn’t inspire me with confidence, to be honest. If he is the expert on the paranormal that Ben said, why is he making elementary mistakes? And Just might be able to locate Abi somehow.’
She glanced at him quizzically. ‘With his super magic powers?’
‘Something like that, yes.’ Mat didn’t smile.
Cal went to the phone. She did not have to look up the number, Mat noted. When she put the phone down she looked at him uncertainly as though she had read his mind. ‘He’s on his way,’ she said.
Mat nodded. ‘I’ll take the dogs out again.’
‘No. Wait. I’ll go with you.’
‘I’m not going near the orchard.’ Mat smiled at her. ‘That’s my brother’s job! No, I’ll just wander round a bit with the torch and see if these two little blighters can get a sense of where she went. ‘Abi, dogs! We really need you to find her.’
Pym and Thiz sat up. Neither seemed very enthusiastic. Cal frowned. ‘That’s not like them.’
Mat shrugged. He walked over to the door and reached for his jacket. At that the dogs leaped up, tails wagging. ‘Don’t leave this room, Cal. There has to be someone near the phone at all times.’
She nodded. ‘Have you got your mobile?’
He checked his pockets, held it up then headed for the door. Then he stopped. ‘Isn’t that Abi’s bag?’ He had spotted it on the counter half-hidden behind a pile of books.
Cal went over to it and after a second’s hesitation, picked it up. ‘She wouldn’t have gone anywhere without her bag,’ she said quietly. ‘Not voluntarily.’
‘Where is Mora?’ Cynan stopped to enter the house and looked round. Lydia was brushing Petra’s hair. She looked up at him and smiled. ‘Look. Petra is healed! Can you believe it, Cynan? Yeshua healed her.’
Petra smiled at the young man and rose to her feet. She stumbled slightly, still unsure of herself, but her smile told him all he needed to know as she slowly pirouetted in front of them. ‘The pain has gone, Cynan. It has gone!’
He forced himself to grin, genuinely pleased for her. ‘That is good news. Such good news. But where are they? Have they gone already?’ He tried to hide his anxiety.
Lydia nodded. ‘They went a while back. I’m afraid you’ve missed them.’ Her expression changed as she saw the young man stagger forward. ‘Cynan? What is it? Are you hurt?’ In the dim light she had not noticed the blood seeping through his hair.
He collapsed onto a stool near the fire and put his head in his hands. ‘I’m sorry. Someone hit me. I was in the trees looking for them…’
Lydia went white. ‘Who hit you?’
He shook his head painfully. ‘I didn’t see.’
‘Flavius?’ Lydia spoke through pursed lips. ‘Of course it was Flavius! He must have come back. We thought he had gone away for the day. I knew we shouldn’t trust him. He must have been waiting.’ She blinked back furious tears. ‘What if he has hurt them!’
‘I’ll go back down to the boats.’ Cynan staggered to his feet again. ‘If they have already gone they will be safe. He wouldn’t dare follow them across to Ynys yr Afalon. You take care of Petra.’ He forced another smile. ‘If any of the men a
‘Romanus!’ Lydia whispered. ‘Yeshua told him to stay here, but he followed them.’
Cynan shook his head. ‘He won’t hurt the boy either, lady. Don’t worry. It is Yeshua who is in danger.’ And Mora. He didn’t say her name out loud.
He ducked out of the door and stood for a moment as his head reeled in the bright sunlight. The compound was empty. There was no time to go and look for back up. Grabbing a staff which was leaning against the wall outside the house to replace his own which he must have dropped when he was hit he headed for the gate and the track back down across the fields and woods towards the water’s edge.
Both canoes had gone. He studied the ground carefully, trying to read the footprints, but so many people had walked there it was hard to make head or tail of the tracks in the mud. In one place he saw the marks of a smaller boot. Perhaps that was Romanus. Then he saw a sandal print. Small and neat. That would be Mora, but it was difficult to see which way she was going. They might have made these marks when they arrived. ‘Lord Gwyn, watch over them and keep them safe,’ he breathed. He turned north alongside the mere and began to run. There were hidden ways across to the island, threading through the reeds. He could get back without a boat.
A hundred paces further on he stopped again, listening. Somewhere behind him he had heard a shrill sound. He spun round, scanning the track. The day was warm and still. His skin began to prickle a warning. Carefully he backed into the shelter of some osiers and gripped the staff tighter. Then it came again. A scream from the direction of the house. There was no mistaking the desperation in the sound. He crept off the path and began to thread his way back the way he had come, watching for any sign of movement, keeping to the shelter of the trees and bushes, hurrying as fast as he could go. He could hear it now. The shout had turned to a painful sobbing. It was the boy. He was almost certain of it. He crept on, keeping his eyes skinned and then suddenly he saw him. Romanus was leaning huddled against the trunk of a tree, clutching his stomach. Cynan stared round cautiously. Romanus seemed to be alone. Running on his toes to stay silent Cynan approached him. ‘Rom? Are you all right, lad?’
He gasped as Romanus looked up. His hands were running with blood as he tried to staunch the wound in his belly. Only a rope tied around the tree was preventing him from falling. ‘Flavius told me to call Yeshua back,’ Romanus sobbed. ‘He said if I didn’t call him he would kill me.’ His words came in tight, thready sobs. ‘He stabbed me with his sword to make me scream.’ His voice was fading. ‘No-one came.’
‘I came.’ Cynan groped at his belt for his knife. It wasn’t there. The bastard must have taken it from him when he hit him. Swearing, he reached for the rope, groping through the blood, trying to find the knot. ‘Hang on, Rom. You’ll be all right. Let me get you free.’ They couldn’t be more than five hundred paces from the house. He wondered if he dared call out, or was Flavius still within earshot?
‘Yeshua and Mora have gone back to the island or they would have come for you,’ he murmured. He found the knot and tried to pull it open. The boy was failing. He could see the gleam of sweat, the pallor on his skin. ‘Your bastard uncle must have gone after them. Both boats have gone.’ He tugged violently at the rope with both hands. Romanus’s struggles must have tightened it too far to loose it. He had to find something to cut it with. He gave up pulling and looked round desperately. Then he stooped and picked up an armful of dead leaves from the track. It was all he had. He wadded them together and pushed them between the boy’s fingers. ‘Here. Hold this against your stomach. Hard. Push!’ He stooped and picked up some more. ‘These are willow. They will help staunch the blood. I’m going to have to run to the house to find something to cut you free. I’ll bring help. Hang on, Rom, do you hear me? Hang on.’
The boy’s hands grasped feebly at the leaves, then they fell away. Cynan swore softly. ‘Yeshua, where are you? We need you now, man.’ He stepped away from the tree, his own hands scarlet to the elbow and found himself facing Flavius. He drew in his breath sharply, swept with impotent rage at the sight of the man’s apparent calm.
‘You are right. Where is Yeshua when he is so badly needed?’ Flavius gave a cold smile.
‘This is your own nephew!’ Cynan shook his head. He was beyond fear.
Flavius shrugged. ‘Indeed, my own nephew. The spawn of my brother.’ He reached to his waist for his sword. ‘And you are an interfering priest. You can accompany the boy to Hades, my friend. That will comfort him and ensure there are two less people to stand in my way.’
The sun glinted for a moment on the blade of the sword, then the world turned red.
18
Janet was lurking inside the front door as Ben and Greg hurried into the Rectory. ‘He went straight into your study,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve taken him some tea, but he’s pacing up and down like a caged animal.’
Ben glanced at Greg. ‘Stay within earshot,’ he whispered at his wife. ‘Just in case.’
She nodded and tiptoed towards the kitchen.
Ben led the way towards the back of the house. Outside the door of the study he paused. He glanced at his companion. ‘Ready?’
Greg raised his eyebrows. ‘We have God on our side,’ he murmured.
Ben pushed open the door and they went in.
Kier was standing in front of the fire staring down at the smouldering logs. He swung round to face them. His face was drawn, his eyes red-rimmed. ‘I suppose you think I’m mad,’ he said harshly. ‘And perhaps I am, but if so it is her fault. She drove me to it. All I want is for you to put it all right.’ He was addressing Ben. He didn’t appear to have registered Greg’s presence.
Ben went slowly towards the windows and pulled the curtains closed against the night, then he turned and made his way across to his accustomed chair. He sat down with a sigh. ‘Tell me what has happened, Kier. I am not sure I have understood.’ He kept his voice carefully level.
Greg quietly moved towards the sofa where he eased himself into the corner, crossing his legs. Both men were focused on Kier’s face.
Kier took a deep breath. They saw him flex his hands, visibly trying to calm himself. The tea lay untouched on the low table in front of him ‘My career is over unless you can convince the bishop that she has lied.’
‘I can only convince him if you can convince me,’ Ben said firmly. ‘Sit down, Kier and tell me what has happened.’ He found it hard to keep an edge of irritation from his voice.
Kier perched on the edge of the chair opposite him, but only for a second, then he stood up again and went back to the fireplace. ‘I should have known. I should have seen it when I first met her, but I liked her so much.’ His voice rose in anguish. ‘I was blinded. I thought we could work together. I thought she would be so good for me. For the parish. She seemed just what was needed.’ He paused. ‘It took me a long time to see through her, but she wasn’t clever enough to keep it up forever. Her disguise wasn’t quite good enough.’ He paced over to the desk and back. ‘And I was too weak! It was too late. I had been snared. She bewitched me. She was working with the dark arts. She was conjuring devils. I love the woman, Ben!’ He perched back on the chair and put his face in his hands, running his fingers through his hair.
‘So where is she now?’ Ben asked softly.
Kier looked up. ‘I haven’t hurt her. She is safe where she is; as long as she is there she can harm no-one else.’
Ben nodded quietly. ‘The bishop will need to deal with her himself,’ he said after a moment. ‘This is too serious for any of us to cope with, you do realise that?’
Kier narrowed his eyes, but he nodded. ‘Once the bishop has realised it is not my fault.’
‘He knows that already, Kier,’ Greg said firmly. ‘I am the bishop’s envoy. I have come down especially to deal with this matter and report back to him. He is very concerned that he allowed Abi to come here. I do need,’ he paused
Kier looked up, seeming to realise there was someone else in the room for the first time. ‘I have told you, she is safe. And she can’t hurt anyone else.’ He clenched his fists.
‘If she has indeed been taken over by demonic forces,’ Greg said slowly, ‘where she is, is not relevant. She can manifest her curses non locally.’
There was a moment’s silence. Kier appeared to be trying to work out what he meant.
‘He is trying to tell you that she can cast her spells over you from wherever she is. She doesn’t need to be near you,’ Ben put in. ‘So keeping her a prisoner somewhere will do nothing but make her more angry, and therefore more powerful.’ He paused. ‘If she is as evil as you think.’
‘Oh she is!’ Kier rounded on him. ‘Believe me. She can conjure spirits. I have seen her do it.’
Greg nodded. ‘Then you need to leave her to me, my friend. For the sake of your own safety.’ He reached into his pocket for his cross and held it out. ‘I have special powers she would never have dreamed of. I have been trained for just this sort of eventuality, which is why the bishop sent me, so you must allow me to cope with her from now on. Ben will see to it that the bishop is informed what is happening, and make sure he understands that you have been the innocent victim here.’
Kier looked from one man to the other, his eyes like slits. ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said after a long pause. ‘You are just trying to find her. You’re on her side.’
Greg shook his head vehemently. He had not looked at Ben. ‘I can assure you I am not. I have never met the woman. If you doubt my qualifications you can look at our diocesan website under Deliverance. You will find me there.’
Kier was shaking his head. ‘You can’t save her, only God can do that,’ he muttered.