Andy was stunned into silence after Bryn had finished explaining. ‘So, you are telling me that Rhona has a long history of insanity, and you have a whole secret life!’ she murmured eventually.
He inclined his head in a rueful nod. ‘’Fraid so.’
‘We should be grateful for Bryn’s knowledge,’ Meryn put in firmly. ‘So, does it help us?’
Bryn shoved his hands deep into his pockets. ‘It could go two ways. She’s either so fixated on Andy she will never give up, so we can expect her back here at some point – probably sooner rather than later – or she will decide to cut her losses, as she must have done in the States, and go to ground for a while. Of course you know where she lives, Andy, so we can make sure the police are waiting for her if she returns to Kew.’
‘My guess is she won’t do that,’ Meryn put in. ‘She seems to be a clever lady. She’s not going to walk into a trap. I am not happy with you staying here on your own, Andy. It’s too isolated and she’s too good at finding her way around. And my cottage is even more isolated, so I won’t offer to have you up there. She knows where I live and we already know she’s capable of cutting phone lines.’
‘I doubt if she’s learnt to intercept a mobile signal yet,’ Andy retorted.
‘The weather can do that all by itself,’ Meryn replied dryly. ‘As anyone round here knows. What about your place, Bryn? Does Rhona know where you live?’
‘No!’ Andy interrupted. ‘Don’t talk about me as if I’m not here! I am fine where I am. I can lock the doors. And I am not leaving Pepper.’ She paused. ‘Where is Pepper? I haven’t seen him for ages.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about him. He can look after himself.’ Bryn smiled tolerantly. ‘The offer is there if you change your mind. My place is only tiny; it’s in the town and easily defensible. You would be safe there.’ They looked at each other and Andy looked away first. She could feel herself blushing. ‘Thank you. I’ll bear it in mind.’
Meryn and Bryn exchanged glances. ‘If you won’t go there, Bryn will stay with you here,’ Meryn put in firmly. ‘It’s the obvious answer.’
It was amazing that people still hadn’t learnt to lock their cars. Rhona had tucked her own into a corner of the main car park in Hay, where it was partly hidden by a large camper van. To keep suspicion at bay if someone was checking, she purchased a ticket and stuck it to the windscreen then walked back towards the road, carrying her bag, trying to appear casual, which was hard when she was fizzing with adrenaline. There were a lot of cars parked here but very few people walking about. As she touched the occasional driver’s door handle she expected alarms to go off, but none did and the fifth car she tried allowed her entry. The driver of the neat silver Honda had even left the key in the ignition. The idiot had probably left it unlocked because he had only nipped into the public conveniences or to buy an ice cream or something and didn’t feel he was letting it out of his sight.
She climbed into the car, started the engine, engaged first gear and put her foot down. The car was nice and nippy. She drove up the car park, threading her way through the neat rows of vehicles, turned left at the exit and left again, heading back towards Brecon. She was surprisingly hungry after her early start and on her previous drives up and down the road she had noticed a pub which would allow her to park round the back, out of sight of the road while she had an all-day breakfast. She gave the man she had stabbed less than an hour ago no thought whatsoever.
‘I have to go to sleep!’ Andy was arguing with Bryn. Meryn had left half an hour before. He had borrowed Andy’s car. He and Bryn had quietly agreed to take turns in staying with her until Rhona was caught.
‘I’m exhausted,’ she went on crossly. ‘Are you expecting me to stay awake for the rest of my days?’
Bryn was exasperated. ‘No, of course not. But you’ve had enough sleep for now, Andy. Quite enough. And I don’t want you to sleep again in this house. Not for now. For goodness’ sake, you know why. Even Meryn couldn’t wake you last time. You were trapped, Andy.’
She was too tired to argue. She watched resentfully as Bryn heated a tin of soup on the Aga and came to sit at the table when he called her, realising she barely had the strength to stand.
He put a bowl of the soup in front of her and found a loaf of bread in the crock. ‘At least eat that. If you don’t you will probably pass out!’
‘Is that your medical diagnosis?’ she snapped. ‘Fascinating that you have somehow metamorphosed into an expert psychologist! So, now I’m supposed to do what the gardener tells me!’ She pushed the soup away.
‘Yes.’ He was losing patience fast. Perhaps he should have told her the truth about himself earlier, but then again it was none of her business what he’d done in his former career. ‘Yes, you should.’
He sat down at the end of the table, tore himself a wedge of bread and buttered it vigorously. ‘If you want to sleep we’ll go back to my place in Hay. You can sleep there for as long as you want.’
‘What makes you think I won’t dream there?’
‘I don’t know. I’m not sure you won’t, but I never have. Not about Catrin, anyway.’
She stared at him, shocked. ‘You mean you’ve slept here? You’ve dreamt here too?’
‘I have done, yes.’
‘When?’
‘When I house-sat for Sue.’
‘You never said.’ She was still staring at him. ‘What did you dream about?’
‘Dafydd and Catrin. Quarrelling. Shouting.’
‘Why didn’t you say?’
‘I’ve grown used to keeping my counsel. And I rather hoped you would stay here. I was afraid you would be off the moment you realised there was something sinister about Sleeper’s Castle.’ He glanced up at her and then away again.
‘I assumed the last thing you wanted was for me to stay. You seemed to resent my presence here.’ She picked up her spoon, and then dropped it again.
‘I am by nature a bit of a grumpy sod, I’m afraid.’ He gave her an apologetic grin. ‘I didn’t want to get to like you and then find you were off at the first sign of trouble.’
She stared at him. ‘Well, you certainly convinced me that you didn’t like me!’
‘I’m a good actor.’
‘That too?’
‘Sorry.’
‘It would’ve been helpful if I had known. I could have talked to you.’ She looked up wearily. ‘You weren’t driven away by your dream?’
‘No, but I haven’t got involved. And I’m not afraid of the paranormal.’
‘Neither am I. I thought you would’ve understood that by now.’
He grinned. ‘You may not be afraid, Andy, but you’re unable to control it. You’re too susceptible; too sensitive.’
‘Then fix me so I can control it. I take it you can do that?’
He shook his head.
‘Why not, if you’re a shrink?’
‘Oh, Andy.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t practise any more; I’m not allowed to practise any more, my licence has expired. And even if I did, I couldn’t fix this. It’s not in your head. It’s not a disease or a mental condition. You’re not on some strange autistic spectrum. What you are doing is picking up on an ancient story which is somehow imbued in these walls. I’ve thought about it a lot and I’ve discussed it with Meryn. This house is as old as the ground it sits on. The echoes of the past are trapped here, as are, I suspect, the echoes of everything that ever happens here, including what we are saying now. All those echoes are trying to find expression. If anyone can cleanse this place of its past and its present – and for all I know, of its future – it’s Meryn, not me.’
‘Meryn! With his sprig of rosemary!’ Her voice was heavy with scorn.
‘Don’t knock it,’ he said sharply. ‘It worked!’
She sat forward. ‘The dreams will go on until the story is told,’ she said. ‘You realise that, don’t you. I may not know as much as you or Meryn, but I can work that much out. Even my father had worked that out. Catrin wants to tell
her story, and so does Dafydd. Their quarrel has soaked into the air here, the stones, the vegetation. They’re vying for attention, looking for someone to listen to them.’
He sat back. ‘I think you’re right there.’
‘So, if I listen, then maybe it will stop. I have to know what happened. I wasn’t here after Catrin left her cell. I couldn’t follow her. I was locked in, but now I’m free. I can come back, I can see where she went, see if she and Edmund ever got back together. See what happened to them all.’ She reached out and put her hand over his on the table. ‘You can help me, Bryn.’
He looked down at their hands and smiled, shaking his head. ‘It’s too dangerous.’
‘Why?’ She fixed him with a piercing gaze. ‘What could happen to me?’
He clasped her hand gently and turned it over, then he spread out her fingers, exposing the torn nails and the bruising on her fingertips. ‘You tried to claw your way out of a cell in the castle. You got stuck in the past, you could get stuck again, and in your dream you could come to harm,’ he said patiently. ‘This is dangerous, Andy. You are identifying with your dream, you are entering so completely into it that you are manifesting indications of the events about which you are dreaming. Maybe it is some sort of self-hypnosis. You’re exhibiting sympathetic wounds as people do in spiritual trance who develop the stigmata, the wounds of the nails from Christ’s cross on their own hands and feet.’
She shuddered. She pulled her hand away and hugged herself deeper into her sweater. ‘That’s creepy.’
‘Even now people don’t know how it happens, but it does.’
‘But I’m not identifying with Catrin. She hasn’t been hurt. It was me! I was locked in and I couldn’t dream myself out of that cold stone cell. The guard locked the door with a key. I heard it close. I heard him turn away and stamp down the stairs until the sound died away. I couldn’t get out. The stone was solid.’
‘Exactly!’
‘But then I did escape. The door didn’t open. Someone didn’t come and rescue me. I woke up.’ She glared at him.
Bryn sighed. ‘All I know is that this could damage you emotionally and psychologically, not to mention physically. Try to use a bit of common sense, Andy. It must be obvious to you that this is extremely dangerous.’
He stood and picked up her soup bowl. ‘Let me warm this for you again. I don’t want to quarrel with you. I just want you to be safe.’
She managed to eat the soup without any further argument, casting the occasional malevolent look at him across the table. He ignored them.
‘If you want me to stay awake,’ she said as she pushed the bowl aside, ‘you’ll have to walk me up and down for the rest of the time you’re here. I can’t keep my eyes open.’
He laughed. ‘Perhaps we should go for a walk outside.’
‘And risk Rhona finding us?’ She stood up. ‘I need the loo. Are you going to follow me in there?’
‘No.’ He smiled. ‘I will have to trust you.’
She snorted derisively.
He sat where he was as she walked out of the room. A few seconds later he heard the cat flap. He turned to see Pepper peering at him. His tail was twitching nervously. Bryn smiled. ‘So, where have you been, old chap? Do you want food? You missed your breakfast, so I hear.’ He walked over to the dresser and poured a handful of biscuits into a saucer. Pepper stalked over to it and sniffed them critically. He gave Bryn a pained look as though to point out the standard of service was not up to scratch, but he sat down in front of the bowl and began to pick at the biscuits nevertheless.
He had crunched his way through the first dozen or so when Bryn glanced at his watch. ‘Andy?’ he called. He went out into the hall and stood outside the cloakroom. ‘Andy?’ he tapped on the door. There was no answer. He pushed the door open a crack. There was no one in there.
He let out a furious oath and ran to the bottom of the stairs. He glanced up. ‘Andy?’
There was no reply.
She was in her bedroom, asleep on the bed, the cover pulled up over her head. He shook her by the shoulder. ‘Andy!’
There was no response.
Catrin couldn’t see the identity of the man who guided her across the darkened bailey. It was pouring with rain as he pushed open the postern gate and gestured her through, then he closed it softly behind her. She stood still, confused. There was a movement beside her and she felt an arm go round her. ‘Cat, thank God! I thought I had lost you forever.’ Edmund hugged her, then he released her, caught her hand and dragged her forward. They ran down the ramp from the main gate towards the market place. It was deserted at this hour and they hurried, splashing through puddles and mud, until they could duck between houses into the narrow empty streets.
He had two horses waiting in an alley nearby. Without a word he boosted her onto one of them, leapt on the other and, grabbing the rein to keep her close to him, he set off at a canter. They had not gone far when he pulled to a rearing halt and slid from the saddle: someone was waiting for them in the shadow of the town wall. There was a chink of coins as he passed the man a small bag. The gate opened and they rode through.
They galloped without stopping for a couple of miles on the potholed, muddy road, before he allowed the blowing horses to slow down. ‘Are you all right?’ he called softly as he saw her swaying in the saddle. The shock of being outside, of riding again after so long in a confined space, was hitting her now.
She was clinging to the horse’s mane. ‘How did you do that? How did you make them let me go?’ She was crying and laughing, her cold hands slippery and wet on the leather reins.
‘I’ll explain when we are safe.’
‘Where are we going? I must go home? Where is Tad? Is he all right?’ Her teeth were chattering.
‘Sweetheart, don’t you understand?’ He edged his horse closer so he could lean across and put an arm round her shoulders. ‘It was your father who betrayed you.’
She pulled away from him. ‘No. That is not true.’
‘It is true. I have been making enquiries. Your father betrayed you to the constable. He bought his own peace and told them you were a witch!’
‘No! No, I don’t believe you!’
‘It is true, Cat. I swear it.’
She straightened in her saddle and kicked her horse on. ‘I am going home. I am going to see him for myself!’
‘Cat, don’t.’ He urged his own mount after her. ‘You will only put yourself in danger again. He is a vindictive old man. He was jealous of you, don’t you understand? Don’t go back there!’
He bent across to catch her rein, but she hit out at him desperately. Tears were pouring down her face. ‘I don’t believe you! I have to see him. I have to ask him myself!’
He gave up. He followed her along the road, more slowly now, and turned after her up the track towards Sleeper’s Castle. As the shock of what had happened sank in, she was growing less certain. She was slumped in her saddle, clinging on.
He came up beside her again. ‘Sweetheart, please. He’s not there. I don’t know where he has gone.’
‘No!’ She pushed his hand aside. ‘Why would you say such awful things about him?’
‘Because it’s true.’ They were shouting at each other as the wind grew stronger. The horses slowed to a walk in the lashing rain as the lane began to climb.
Sleeper’s Castle lay in darkness. They pulled up near the paddock and Catrin half slid, half fell from the saddle. ‘Where is Joan?’
He dismounted and came to stand beside her. ‘Joan has gone home to my father,’ he said gently. He put his arm round her. ‘Betsi is there with her and Peter and the animals. There is no one here now. I have been trying to tell you. Last time I came, the house was empty.’
‘He’s not here?’ Finally it was dawning on her what he was saying.
‘No. The place is deserted.’
‘And his money?’
‘I found his money, Cat, hidden in the cave. That is how I managed to get you free. I bribed
one of the guards.’
‘All of it?’ Her eyes were wide.
He smiled. ‘All of it. You were a valuable prize. And I must get you away. When the constable finds out you have gone, there will be a hue and cry.’
She walked forward towards the house and he followed her. A thin line of watery daylight was beginning to show behind the hills to the east. Even in the wind and the splashing of the rain the place was very quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Catrin paused and shivered. She could smell it now. Fire and the stench of death. She reached out her hand and Edmund took it. He squeezed her fingers tightly. ‘Wait here, Cat. Let me go first.’
She shook her head. ‘I have to see.’
There was enough light now to see their way across the herb beds towards the house. The kitchen door hung off its hinges.
Catrin crept inside, Edmund close behind her, still holding her hand.
They found Dafydd, or what was left of him, lying in front of the hearth. The rooms were all in ruins. Someone had lit fires in several places, the front door too was hanging open, the ceiling beams charred beyond recognition, the roof in places gone.
They stood side by side, looking down at Dafydd’s body.
Catrin let out a whimper. ‘Blood, fire, death,’ she whispered. ‘It was his own end he foretold, not Owain’s.’ She looked up at him piteously. ‘Who did this?’
Edmund pulled her away. ‘We will find out. Come outside, let me sort this out.’
‘How?’ She stared at him, her eyes huge in the semi-darkness, her cheeks sodden with tears. ‘How can you sort it out? How can anyone?’
He didn’t know. ‘People will be looking for you, Catrin,’ he said at last. He gazed at her in confusion. His heart was aching for her. However evil Dafydd had been, even though he had betrayed her, his own daughter, he was still her father and she had loved him. ‘We should go,’ he said gently. ‘We haven’t got long. They will have discovered that you have gone when they find the cell empty.’