‘What!’ Kim stared at her. ‘Of course we should. How else will Jess know what happened to her? Jess has been talking to this girl. So has Steph. They know her already. She has been communicating with them in Wales. What we want is for her to speak to us here in Rome. Can you do that?’
Carmella shrugged. She half-turned on her seat and reached for her glass from the bookshelf behind them and turning back to the centre, sipped thoughtfully. ‘To those in spirit all places and times are one. It does not matter where you are.’
‘Unless she is anchored to the house in Wales. Doesn’t that happen? A ghost hangs around in a spot where something special happened,’ Will put in. He raised an eyebrow.
Carmella caught the quizzical smile. ‘You do not believe. That does not matter. If she wants to speak, she will. Come.’ She put down her glass of wine and sat forward on the edge of the chair. ‘We hold hands like this.’ She spread her arms and reached for Kim’s hand. On the other side she beckoned Will to take her fingers. After a second’s hesitation he did so, then he in turn reached out to Jess.
They sat in silence for a full minute, then Carmella spoke. Her voice was low and husky. ‘Tell me her name again, this child from Wales.’
‘Eigon,’ Jess whispered.
Carmella nodded. ‘OK. Now, sit quietly. Close your eyes. I will call her.’
Jess held her breath. Beside her Will was sitting, eyes closed as instructed, a slight smile on his lips. His hand was warm and firm in hers. On her other side Steph’s palm was slightly damp. Jess opened one eye and peeped at her. Steph looked pale in the candlelight. Her face was composed; as still as marble.
‘Eigon. We wish to speak to you. Show yourself here before us and perhaps we can help you in your unhappiness.’ Carmella’s throaty Italian accent rang out in the shadows. ‘Eigon, I am asking you to appear before us here. Steph and Jess you know. You have asked their help before. Now we are here to try and answer your pleas.’
Carmella paused. The candles behind her guttered as a slight draught permeated the warm night air. There was someone else out there in the ether, listening, tuning in. She frowned. ‘Please come to us, Eigon. We are here for you.’ Her voice lifted as it grew stronger. She was no longer pleading. It was a command. ‘Come and tell us your story, Eigon from Wales!’
‘Wales didn’t exist then,’ Jess murmured. Her eyes were tightly closed.
Carmella shrugged. ‘So. Eigon, of the tribes, can you hear me? The cards speak of love and sorrow and fear. Tell us your story. We are listening.’
The distant sound of a siren, faraway towards the centre of the city only accentuated the silence of the room as the candles flickered again. One of the flames faded and with a slight hiss it went out. Jess’s mouth had gone dry. She was, she realised, clutching Will and Steph’s hands as tightly as she could.
‘Bene. She comes,’ Carmella breathed. Her eyes were closed, her face still. ‘Can you sense her in the room?’
The sudden jangle of the doorbell through the apartment jerked them out of the silence with frightening violence.
‘Dio!’ Carmella opened her eyes angrily. ‘That is so dangerous! What fool rings the doorbell at mezzanotte?’ She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘It is so late!’ They were all staring at each other, their link with one another broken.
Kim scrambled to her feet. She went to the door and flicked on the lights. ‘Oh God, I am so sorry. I don’t know who could be here so late. I’ll send them away, then we can go on.’
‘Too late! She is gone!’ Carmella reached for her glass and angrily downed the last of her wine. ‘The spell is broken. She will not come now.’
‘She will.’ Jess hadn’t moved. She was still staring down at the table, her eyes fixed on the discarded heap of cards. ‘I can feel her. She is still here.’
In the doorway Kim hesitated. ‘I’ll get rid of them, whoever they are. I am sure she will come back, Carmella. She wants to talk to Jess.’
The doorbell rang again. Kim disappeared into the hall. Will stood up and went over to the side table. He picked up the bottle of wine and brought it back to top up their glasses. ‘You really think she was about to appear?’ he asked softly.
Jess nodded. ‘I could feel her in the room.’
Carmella glanced at her over her glass. ‘Why do you need me? You can do this on your own. You ask. She comes.’
Jess bit her lip. ‘It can’t be that easy.’
‘Why not? The dead are always with us. Did not one of your English poets say that? You are an English teacher, you should know.’
‘The past. The past is always with us,’ Jess said. She smiled. ‘LP Hartley.’
‘Is that not the same?’
‘No. Not really.’
‘All right. Then what about, Il n’y a pas de morts. That was Maeterlinck, I think.’
Jess smiled. ‘“There are no dead”. That sounds a bit more like it. Did you see her, Carmella?’
Carmella shook her head. ‘I could sense her. Hovering. In the shadows.’
‘Does she really want to make contact –’ Jess broke off as Kim appeared in the doorway.
‘Guess who’s here! It makes our old teachers’ reunion complete!’ Kim stepped aside.
Dan was standing in the doorway.
Jess felt a lurch of blind fear as he smiled round at them. ‘I gather Kim forgot to tell you I rang. What a surprise to find you were all out here!’ He was carrying a smart leather haversack. Dropping it in the doorway he walked into the room. ‘Jess! How are you?’ Before she could move he stooped and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Steph. Will. A reunion indeed! And this must be –?’ He paused with a small bow in front of Carmella. She was staring at him, a small frown on her face.
‘My friend, Carmella Bianchi,’ Kim said. ‘I am sorry. I didn’t expect you quite so soon, Dan.’ She glanced at Jess apologetically. ‘We were having a séance. But I am sure we can stop for a bit to offer you some food after your journey.’
‘No need,’ Dan shook his head. ‘I ate something on the plane. Please don’t stop because of me. I’d hate to interrupt. And this sounds exciting.’ He sat down on the sofa arm, between Jess and Steph. ‘Go on, please.’
‘No!’ Carmella stood up. ‘No, the time is not right now. We will do it another day. The energies have changed. The child has gone.’
‘The child?’ Dan raised an eyebrow. ‘Let me guess. The child from Ty Bran?’
‘You’ve seen her?’ Carmella stared at him.
‘Indeed. When I was staying with Jess.’ Dan looked at Jess and smiled. His brown eyes were bright with malice; their colour seemed to have changed subtly. Now they seemed amber in the flickering candlelight. ‘Didn’t she tell you I was up there?’ He reached across and rested his hand lightly on her arm.
‘Yes,’ Jess said coldly. ‘I mentioned it.’ She was aware of Steph and Will watching her. Standing up she moved away from the table. ‘If Carmella is going, I think I might go to bed. I am very tired.’ She paused and glanced back at Carmella. ‘Can we try again some time?’
‘You do not need me,’ Carmella said softly. She went over to Jess and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Dorma bene, Jess. Stammi bene, OK.’ She glanced over Jess’s shoulder towards Dan. ‘The cards I read for you,’ she whispered. ‘Before. I saw him. Do not be alone, eh?’
Jess stared at her.
Carmella shrugged her shoulders and bent to pick up her bag off the floor. Gathering her cards and wrapping them in their silk scarf, she pushed them into a pocket in the bag and zipped it up. ‘Ciao! See you soon!’
Kim frowned as the door closed behind her. ‘I am sorry, Jess. That was so close! It was just getting exciting!’
‘Did I mess things up?’ Dan was contrite. ‘I should have rung from the airport, I managed to get a flight sooner than I expected, but I wanted to surprise you all.’ His glance brushed across Jess and went back to their hostess. ‘I come bearing gifts, Kim. Does that make it better? Outside, in my case. Whisky. Shortbread. Pretty
things.’
‘So, where is Natalie?’ Jess’s question cut across the room.
He stopped in his tracks. ‘In Shrewsbury with the children.’ His voice was cold. ‘We agreed that Rome in summer was not the ideal place for kids. Not when they have the chance to spend fun time with the grandparents.’
‘And what was it that you had to do so urgently in Rome?’ Jess asked harshly. Will and Steph were eyeing her speculatively.
He smiled. ‘Don’t you remember, Jess? I thought I told you exactly what I need to do. I told Nat I’ve come to attend an educational conference.’
‘I didn’t know there was one.’ She managed to keep her voice steady as she walked towards the door. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Jess,’ Will replied softly.
She flashed him a smile. For a moment she had forgotten he was there.
In the hall she stood for a second trying to gather her thoughts. Behind her she heard a burst of laughter from inside the room. What in God’s name was she going to do now?
Pulling her bedroom door closed after her, she discovered a huge ornate key in the lock. It turned easily and she paused with it in her hand, trying to calm herself. She was safe for now. Never in a million years could he break down this huge heavy door. What was he going to do here anyway with three other people in the apartment?
Walking over to the window she pulled open the casements and stood looking out. The other three sides of the palazzo were all in darkness. The central courtyard below, with its formal pots and statues and its fountain were invisible. Only the sound of the water floated through the night on the hot city air. Leaving the windows open, she turned towards her bed.
A figure was standing about ten feet from her on the faded Aubusson carpet.
‘Eigon?’ she whispered. Her whole body went cold.
There was no mistaking her. The child was small, delicate, her wild dark hair tied into a bundle at the nape of her neck. She was wearing some sort of pale long tunic. There were silver bangles at her wrists. Jess stared at her. ‘You came. You heard Carmella –’ But the figure was fading before her eyes. She could see the carpet through the fine gauze of the dress, then the bed. Then she had gone.
‘Eigon?’ Jess called sharply. ‘Wait! I want to help you!’
She sat down on the low velvet chair beside the window and suddenly she was shaking. She had seen the child; made eye contact. Eigon had come to find her.
Jess eyed the door. She wanted Steph. She needed to talk to Steph, but to do that she would have to unlock the door.
Getting up she tiptoed across to it and put her ear to the heavy panelling. What the fuck was Dan doing, following her here? A wave of anger shot through her fear. Did he intend to try and intimidate her into silence? Or did he still intend to kill her?
She paced away from the door, shaking her head. That was idiotic. Of course he didn’t. He never had. That was sheer melodramatic nonsense. He had managed to scare her and she had overreacted. All she had to do was reassure him that she wasn’t going to tell anyone what he had done. After all, she wasn’t. Was she? She shivered suddenly. A cold breeze strayed in through the windows, stirring the heavy curtains.
There was a creak on the landing on the far side of the door. She froze. There was someone out there. Pressing her ear closer to the wood she listened intently. Silence. She sensed someone had paused outside the door. ‘Dan?’ She mouthed the word soundlessly. Slowly the handle began to turn. The door creaked slightly as it was pushed from the outside. The lock held firm and she heard a quiet chuckle. A man’s voice. Dan or Will? Did she even need to ask?
She hurried to the window and looked out. As she had thought, there was no way up to her room that way. The wall was high and there were no creepers or drainpipes on the outside. The lower part of the casement had an ornate wrought iron grille across it, more of a container for pots than a protection. There was no way anyone could get in from there. And no way of escape either.
11
Miserably Eigon hugged the pillow to her, muffling the sound of her tears. Outside she could hear the sounds of the big city all around her. The rattle of wagon wheels in the early morning light, the shouts of street vendors and in the distance the deeper throaty sound of a huge crowd gathering. It was a day of festival and triumph. The Emperor was to process through the streets of Rome to celebrate his successes. Behind him would follow symbols of his glorious victories, treasures of gold and jewellery, richly caparisoned horses, ornately collared hunting dogs, weapons and above all, his captives from Gaul and from Britannia, and most important of those was the captive king, her father, with his wife and daughter. The outer door of the prison clanged open and she heard the shouts of the men outside with a shudder. They were coming for them. Bringing chains to hammer onto their wrists and ankles. And after the procession, they would be dragged out into the sandy arena and killed. Her mother and father had tried to prevent her hearing their fate, but she had listened. She had crept closer and strained her ears to hear their whispered conversations. She had heard the guards talking, heard their cruel chuckles, seen their lascivious glances as they discussed how long it would take the beautiful wife of the British leader to die.
‘We are proud and we are royal,’ her father had told her again the night before. ‘We will go to our deaths, if that is what the gods have ordained, with dignity and courage. Think of your next life, my child. This is just one of many. Our pain will be quickly over and there will be many lifetimes for you again. He had pulled her close to him and kissed her on the top of her head. ‘I shall be proud of you tomorrow, Eigon. You will hold your head high and you will show the people of Rome that we are not ignorant peasants as they believe. We are noble and educated and as good as they are. Better. They have lost touch with the gods of the land in their quest for conquest. This city may be vast, there may be hundreds of thousands of people here, but if their spirits languish and their souls are lost then they are nothing compared to us. Remember that, my daughter.’ He had glanced over her head at Cerys and smiled with sad resignation.
The sound of marching men rang through the stone walls and Eigon shrank further under her blanket. She heard the sharp bark of a command and the men came to a halt, the nails of their boots as they stamped to attention a crisp double report on the roadway somewhere nearby.
A shadow fell across the bed. ‘Eigon. It is time to get up.’ It was her mother. Cerys was pale, but resolute as she waited for Eigon to scramble miserably out of the bed. They had been brought fresh clothes. Cerys gave a wry smile. ‘The more glorious we look, the better it reflects upon the Emperor that he has defeated us,’ she said bitterly. ‘See, they have given us beautiful tunics and mantles and even bangles of gold. They are calling your father king.’
‘I don’t know how brave I can be, Mam,’ Eigon whispered as she pulled the tunic over her head. ‘I am trying very hard.’ She pulled the plaited girdle tight around her middle and held out her arms for her mantle. It was a smaller copy of her mother’s.
‘I know you are, sweetheart.’ Cerys pulled her close. ‘You will be a credit to us. Your father is certain of it.’ There was a shout outside. Somewhere a door banged. Eigon shrank closer to her mother. ‘Will it hurt? Being killed?’
Cerys shook her head firmly. ‘No. The gods will bring you strength and comfort.’
They brought the chains at the last moment. Manacles and neck rings like those of slaves. Then they were ushered outside to their places in the procession which was forming on the barracks parade ground. Eigon caught her breath and gripped her mother’s hand tightly. There was no sign of her father. There were hundreds of captives being ushered from the prison cells barefoot, emaciated, stinking from the filth of their imprisonment. Warriors. Farmers. Peasants who somehow had avoided being slaughtered, formed into ranks between the Roman guards who marshalled them into groups with swords and whips. There were noblemen from the tribes there too. Some smartly dressed like Eigon and Cerys. Others crippled with woun
ds or disease. All in chains. Somewhere at the front of the procession there were trumpeters, dignitaries in chariots, wagonloads of captured treasure, and interspersed with the prisoners were groups of horsemen and everywhere legionaries and auxiliaries of the Roman army. They heard the triumphant summons of the trumpet and knew the front of the long parade had started. It was a long time before it was their turn, walking hand in hand in their places as the procession wound its way through the baying crowds, towards the centre of Rome.
‘Where is Papa?’ Eigon looked up at her mother, clutching at her fingers.
Cerys shrugged. ‘I can’t see him.’ Her face was white, but she walked proudly, her shoulders back, her head held high. Eigon bit her lips as bravely as she could and tried to copy her mother’s stance. She would not let them down.
The procession wound its way through narrow streets lined with high buildings such as Eigon had never seen in her life before, some of wood, some of brick or stone, storey upon storey, some with balconies and windows and shutters, some just blank walls soaring up to tiled roofs, past temples and markets, through gardens and past villas and theatres and at last into the great forum where there were grander buildings than ever. The blinding light beat down on them and the heat was intense. The buildings here seemed to Eigon to reach to the sky; the temples were of glittering marble, their pillars like a shining forest of straight soaring trunks, the broad flights of steps banks of parallel formality, crowded now with the populace of Rome. She was awestruck. They came to a halt at last in front of the dais where the Emperor Claudius and his wife, Agrippina, were seated with their attendants beneath the arrayed standards of Rome. All around them the captives, surrounded by the crowded, baying audience of thousands, had fallen to their knees. Many of them were crying. Some were already begging for their lives, others, like her mother were standing proudly without bowing their heads as they were brought to the front of the crowd and halted before the Emperor. It was only then that Eigon saw her father. He had been escorted through the ranks of the prisoners by two men with drawn swords and brought immediately below the dais, where he was forced to look up at the Emperor. He was, as her mother had said, dressed as a king, and with his proud stance and calm, commanding face he surveyed the man before him with a quiet dignity which the neck ring and chains did nothing to diminish. If anything it was Claudius who looked uncertain.
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