Abi was out of the house by nine, glancing up at the stormy sky. The old saw was right. It was going to rain. Already the wind was tearing at the leaves, whirling them into the air, and heavy clouds were racing in, piling up into threatening masses over the Mendips. The first heavy raindrops began to fall as she headed for the car.
Justin was already at the Rectory, closeted with Ben in his study. Janet let Abi in and took her coat from her. She had managed to get soaked in the short run from the car. She shook back her hair and ran her fingers through it in an attempt to restore it to some kind of order. She saw her hostess glance at it.
‘Wild weather!’ Janet said brightly. ‘Come in. They are waiting for you.’ Her sudden look of disapproval as she opened the door led Abi to suspect she was not one of Justin Cavendish’s fans either.
Justin was sprawled in one of the fireside chairs, Ben standing with his back to the hearth. Spits of rain were hissing on the logs behind him.
Justin climbed to his feet. ‘Come and get warm.’
‘I’ve been telling Justin a little about the background to your case, Abi,’ Ben said. He glanced at the window as a squall threw leaves against it from the lawn.
‘My case?’ Abi took Justin’s chair. She shivered.
‘Your situation would be a better way of describing it,’ Justin said thoughtfully. He was standing looking down at her.
‘And am I allowed to know what your exact qualifications are for being wheeled in as consultant to my “situation”?’ Abi asked. She was feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze. Her hair was dripping down her neck. What she wanted was a towel and a hot drink, not an instant launch into theological dispute.
‘My exact qualifications?’ Justin grinned. ‘I don’t know. What has my big brother told you about me? Both my big brothers, come to that. Mat, I can guarantee, would have had nothing good to contribute to my CV. I’d be interested to know how Ben described me.’
Ben grimaced. ‘I’m not sure that I did. Beyond saying that you were the expert on matters of an occult nature. What I do is sometimes called deliverance; maybe for you it is something similar?’
Justin moved back and sat down in the free armchair. ‘The word occult always has pejorative overtones I find. And deliverance implies that someone or something feels they need to be delivered. So, can we get our definitions straight before we start? To my mind, most Christians who think they are seeing Jesus Christ in a vision of some kind would be rejoicing and clamouring for more, not sending for the nearest druid to stop it happening.’
Abi stared at him. ‘Druid?’ she echoed blankly.
‘Ah. So you didn’t even tell her that, big brother?’ Justin looked at Ben.
Ben shrugged. ‘I hadn’t got round to it, no.’
‘So, you are a full-paid-up pagan,’ Abi said slowly.
Justin grinned. ‘Ah, now that would also be leaping to conclusions. In Christian circles pagan is a bit of an iffy term.’
‘In Cambridge where I was a curate there are a lot of pagans,’ she went on thoughtfully. ‘Some were viciously hostile to Christians, others were interested in talking, seeking for areas of mutual understanding.’
Justin inclined his head. ‘Then put me down as one of the latter.’ He sat forward on the edge of his chair. ‘I think in this case, though, it is my areas of expertise which are needed, not narrow definitions of what I may or may not believe. I am trained in various techniques, shall we call them, which are for whatever reason not often available to Christian ministers. Soul retrieval. Shamanic travelling. There are Christians who do these things. My brother is not one of them, bless his heart,’ he glanced at Ben, ‘and neither, obviously is the Reverend Scott. He and I met and had a little chat after our first encounter at Woodley, and since then I have been hearing about some more of his exploits. I gather it is his interference in your life which has caused you so much grief with his accusations that what you are experiencing is in some way evil.’
Abi smiled doubtfully. ‘I think you’ve put the case very succinctly.’ She frowned. ‘Where did you meet him?’
‘In Glastonbury. There is no need to worry. It was accidental and no blood was spilled.’ He smiled mischievously.
‘If he was rude, I’m sorry.’
‘He is not your responsibility, Abi. That much is clear.’ He paused. ‘Now, having heard my qualifications for helping you, you haven’t as yet run screaming for the door, crossing yourself in horror.’
‘No. Not yet. I’m finding my experience very positive.’
‘Good. Then we have a basis for proceeding.’ Justin turned to Ben. ‘If you could lever Janet’s ear from the far side of the door and get her to make Abi and me some coffee, then you and she can go out for the day. That will give us a chance to talk.’
Ben scowled. ‘There is no need to be offensive, Justin.’
‘No?’ Justin rose to his feet and in three strides he was across the room. He pulled open the door. Janet was outside in the hall, a duster in her hand. She looked flustered. ‘Is everything all right in there?’
‘Everything, my dear sister-in-law.’ Justin looked down at her coldly. ‘Coffee, if you please.’
‘Justin, you are being gratuitously unpleasant!’ Ben stood up too. ‘All you had to do was to ask me to leave you alone. If that is all right with Abi?’ He turned to her.
Abi looked from one brother to the other in dismay. The tension was crackling between them suddenly. ‘I think I would rather that Ben stayed,’ she said after a moment. ‘If you don’t mind.’
‘Ye gods!’ Justin looked skywards. ‘I can’t work like that. Do you want to learn or not?’
‘I don’t know what I want to learn,’ Abi retorted. ‘I don’t know what you are offering.’ She had been on the point of telling them about her dream; about the vision of the stigmata. Glad now that she hadn’t, she looked at the two men again. ‘All I want to know is how to control these visions I’m having. How to switch them on and off, and what significance my mother’s crystal rock has. Nothing else. I don’t want to learn shamanic drumming or druid rituals or whatever else it was you mentioned.’ She too stood up. She looked from one man to the other with a sudden surge of resentment. ‘In fact, I don’t want to learn anything. I am sick to death of men telling me what to believe and how to do it! First my father, then Kier and now you two. I think we’ll leave it now. I’m going.’ She made for the door.
Justin swung round. He caught her arm. ‘Wait, Abi –’
‘No!’ She wrenched her arm free. ‘No, I won’t wait. I want nothing more to do with this. It was a bad idea. I have no intention of getting involved in the Cavendish family row, whatever it may be. In fact I can see clearly what it is about. You seem to enjoy making a mockery of as many people as possible, Justin. Well, count me out. I’m going back to Woodley.’
She didn’t wait to see what they did. Grabbing her coat from the hall stand she opened the front door and stormed out into the rain.
The abbey car park was almost empty. Turning in, Abi parked and sat still. She was still shaking from head to foot with fury. She wasn’t sure why she had come straight here. Perhaps because she hadn’t wanted to go to Woodley and have to explain her sudden return to Cal; she hadn’t wanted to go to Athena’s either. There was nowhere else she could go. She sat back miserably and closed her eyes.
When at last she had calmed down she climbed out and headed in towards the ruins. The Lady Chapel was empty. Rain splattered down on the stone and dripped from the ancient walls all around her. She stood there shivering, staring up at the broken arches of the windows with their drooping adornment of late valerian. Jesus was here. He had to be. He was everywhere. So why couldn’t she feel him? Suddenly there were tears in her eyes.
‘You look a bit wet.’ The cheerful voice behind her shocked her out of her thoughts. She turned to see an elderly man standing a few feet from her. He was wearing a long stockman’s coat and a broad-brimmed hat. He had a neat white beard. She managed a sm
ile. ‘It suddenly didn’t seem such a good idea to come in here.’
‘It’s always a good idea to come here.’ He looked at her shrewdly. ‘Give it a few minutes and its peace will begin to work. Put the day behind you. Don’t try and sort it all out in your head, just let it happen by itself.’ He grinned and rather rakishly touched the brim of his hat. Then he turned and left, walking steadily through the rain up the steps which led out onto the grass and out of sight. Abi found herself smiling. That at least was good advice. The best yet today. She felt a shiver of excitement. The interruption, the comment of a stranger had indeed cleared her head. The lines of one of her favourite hymns were running through her head:
Be still for the presence of the Lord
The Holy one is here…
We stand on holy ground
‘We stand on holy ground,’ she whispered the words out loud. Suddenly, standing there in the rain, between one moment and the next, she could feel it all around her, the holiness and the magic of this place.
Athena was in the shop. She had a set of small tools spread out on the counter in front of her and seemed to be working on an amber brooch, twisting silver wire into an intricate knot. ‘Hello.’ She looked up.
Abi stopped in her tracks. ‘You’re busy.’
‘No, I’ve nearly finished.’ Athena laid down the pair of narrow pliers. ‘You look like a drowned rat. I take it you were hoping for a hot drink and somewhere warm?’
Abi shrugged. ‘That would be nice. Maybe I am. But above all I want to know about Justin Cavendish.’
‘Why?’
Abi told her what had happened.
Ten minutes later Athena tucked her tools into their soft suede roll, locked away the piece she was working on and closed the shop – ‘No-one is coming in this afternoon anyway in this weather – ’ and they were once again on the green sofa in the cafe two doors up.
‘Are you sure you want to know?’ Athena ventured.
Abi nodded. It was warm and comfortable in the café, pleasantly noisy, the overlay of quiet chatter backed by a soundtrack of some sort of Celtic harp music. She warmed her hands on the mug of hot tea in front of her. ‘I need to know. It’s not just curiosity. Not now. It may be that he can help me.’
‘You don’t need help, Abi. Not his nor anyone else’s,’ Athena repeated firmly. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’
‘I do need help. I haven’t the courage to do it alone.’
‘Do what?’ Athena pushed herself forward to the edge of the seat. ‘What is it you need to do so badly, Abi?’
‘Find out what it is that Mora is trying to tell me. She is trying to say something to me. And before you ask, yes, I have tried to talk to her. I have tried to have some kind of to and fro with her. She sees me and she wants me to listen. I’m not afraid of her or of what I am seeing. I’m prepared to try anything. I don’t think it’s evil. I don’t think I’m dealing with demons. We are just in two different places and there is some sort of barrier in between us.’ She put down her mug. ‘This is not just a ghost story, Athena.’
Athena was sitting back on the sofa now, her cup cradled between her hands. She was studying the reflection of the lights on the surface of her green tea. She sighed. ‘Don’t trust Justin, Abi.’
Abi studied her face. ‘Why?’ she said at last.
‘Just don’t.’
‘I know you don’t like him now, but he must have been a friend of yours once.’
Athena shook her head. ‘Once perhaps.’
‘So, what happened?’
‘Let’s say he can be dangerous.’ Athena sat back and folded her arms.
‘I think you need to tell me,’ Abi said quietly. ‘After all, Ben seems to trust him.’
There was another pause, then Athena sat forward. ‘OK.’ She held Abi’s gaze. ‘Justin caused the death of someone very close to me. Not deliberately. He was trying to help her, but he was in way over his head and he killed her.’
Abi stared at her. She felt a shiver pass right through her body. For a moment she was incapable of speech. It was several seconds before she could ask, ‘How?’
Athena looked up. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry. Just keep away from him, Abi.’
14
Bishop David looked up from his notes and waited while Kier took the chair in front of him. The younger man looked tired and he had lost a lot of weight. ‘I know I shouldn’t have gone after her,’ Kier said.
The bishop laid down his pen. He stifled a sigh.
Kier glanced up under his eyebrows and flinched as he saw the flash of anger cross the bishop’s face. David Paxman’s summons back to Cambridge had been peremptory, his fury barely controlled. Kier had obeyed the command at once. ‘I’m sorry I went against your orders and I’m sorry if I’ve made things worse, but I had to go.’ He rushed on before the other man had a chance to interrupt. ‘I had been to see Abi Rutherford’s father. I though it would help me get over her,’ he shrugged with what appeared to be genuine embarrassment, ‘if her father told me to sod off! It would have made it easier somehow, but he didn’t. He begged me to go and find her. He begged me to help her. He seemed genuinely distraught.’
‘So you made that an excuse to disobey my orders.’ David Paxman was finding it hard to curb the surge of anger and impatience which was rising inside him.
Kier nodded. He kept looking at his hands, folded on his knee. He no longer seemed able to meet the bishop’s eye.
‘And what happened when you got there?’
‘I saw her. She is staying – ’ He paused and gave his head a small shake, as if trying to keep himself awake. ‘But of course you know where she is staying. Professor Rutherford gave me her address and I went to try and persuade her to give up a piece of rock that her mother had left her when she died. The rock is some kind of pagan talisman. The professor felt it was having an evil influence on her and I agreed with him.’
‘You agreed with him.’ The bishop repeated the words without emphasis as if to make sure.
The flat delivery made Kier even more nervous. ‘Yes. I wanted to find it and dispose of it. Throw it away somewhere where it could never be found. I had planned to throw it in the moat at Wells Cathedral.’ He gave a rueful grimace.
‘But you failed to find it.’
Kier nodded. ‘Abi was very angry. I thought she would have complained by now. She was angry and rebellious. She seems to have forgotten all her vows as a priest of the church.’
‘She has offered her resignation as a priest of the church, Kier.’ The bishop leaned back in his chair and recapped his pen slowly.
Kier’s eyes were riveted to the action. ‘She mustn’t be allowed to resign. She is far too good a priest.’
‘I seem to remember that you told me she was quite the opposite. That she was practising witchcraft in your church.’
‘She was being influenced in a way she could not control, but that was because of her inexperience. I want you to take her back. Help her.’
‘She has all the help she needs down at Woodley, Kieran. She has a spiritual supervisor there, and she was supposed to have peace and quiet to allow her to spend some time in contemplation.’
‘But she isn’t.’ Kier was becoming agitated. ‘Don’t you see? She is using this stone as some kind of key to access a supernatural world. There are ghosts everywhere down there.’
‘Ghosts which you too have seen?’ David looked up and fixed Kier’s face with an intense glare.
Kier shifted uncomfortably. Then he nodded. ‘I know she’s telling the truth. I watched her. She didn’t know I was there. I saw figures. I saw people around her. Sort of swirling, misty lights and shapes and shadows.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do.’
‘What did you do at the time?’
Kier shook his head. ‘Nothing. I was so afraid. I couldn’t move or speak or even call out to her. I watched it all happen and then I fled.’
Flavius was back at the house, and had shoulde
red the entire blame for taking Romanus with him without informing his mother, and for their late return. He had explained away his injured hand by saying he had fallen from his horse and landed on it. Sorcha had cleaned the wound and bound it up for him with a warm poultice. Romanus, shaken and silent, watched his uncle grit his teeth against the pain, and felt an overwhelming wave of relief that his mother’s wrath at his all-day disappearance without a word had been directed at someone else. When their supper of mutton stew and bread and beans was over, Lydia and Sorcha reached for their sewing, whilst Rhiannon brought her small harp to the fire and gently began to strum a slow melodious tune. Lydia glanced at Flavius. He was sitting in silence, the shadow of the flames playing across his face as he nursed his bandaged hand. She caught the thoughtful look her son threw at him from time to time and wondered what had really happened up there in the hills. With a sigh she laid aside her sewing. She found it harder to see these days in the dim light of the flames. ‘Petra was worse today, Rom,’ she said quietly. ‘I think I am going to have to ask Mora to come back with the stronger medicine she promised.’
Romanus froze. He looked up at his mother with an expression of utter horror.
‘It’s all right. She stayed in bed today, and she has eaten some supper.’ She had interpreted his look as concern for his sister. ‘We’ve wrapped some hot stones for her and put them in her bed to keep her warm.’
‘Perhaps you should volunteer to go and ask Mora to come to see your sister tomorrow, Romanus,’ Flavius said suddenly, raising his voice over the sound of the harp. ‘And to bring her colleague with her. He can perform miracles, so we heard today. He seems to be more successful than she is at curing people.’ He eased himself back on the bench with a groan, flexing the fingers of his injured hand. ‘He can take a look at this while he is at it.’ He gave a strange harsh laugh which made Romanus flinch with terror.