‘Shit!’ Nat sounded as though she was already in tears. ‘If I tell Dad, he will kill him, Cath. He’s never trusted Dan. Never.’
‘Sounds as though he’s a good judge of character,’ Catherine replied ruefully. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. Just take care, OK?’ She could hear footsteps on the stairs. Guiltily she dropped the receiver back on its base. When Brian opened the door she was glancing innocently through a magazine. ‘Have you finished in the bathroom?’ She looked up. ‘I was just trying to find an article I saw earlier. I wanted to tear it out to keep.’ She threw the magazine down on the table. ‘Never mind, I’ll look for it tomorrow. Now my clean and shiny husband has relinquished the shower it’s my turn.’ She smiled at him. Climbing to her feet she went over and put her arms round his neck. ‘We are so lucky, Brian, to have each other.’ She kissed him tenderly on the lips. ‘Some people have such an awful time.’
Brian drew her close and kissed her lovingly then he turned and led her towards the door. ‘Bath and bed,’ he whispered. ‘Not necessarily in that order!’ He knew she had been on the phone. He had heard the rattle as she dropped the receiver.
At any other time of the year it would have been impossible to find a parking space near Will’s flat. By this time of the night cars would have been jammed bumper to bumper down both sides of every single residential road, leaving one lane, barely passable, down the centre for people who actually wanted to go somewhere. In the summer, thank God, lots of people went away, desperate to get away from the crush and the heat and the stress of London and it meant there were one or two rare spaces to be had. Even so it took Jess several minutes to find one a couple of streets away from the flat. Climbing out and locking the door she walked slowly through the luminous darkness along pavements lined with cherry trees, stepping round building skips, recycling bins, groups of late-night diners returning home. The air was warm and fragrant with the scents of summer, lime tree flowers somewhere nearby and strangely in this so urban environment the smell of mown grass, the fresh cool smell from one or other of London’s lungs – a park or a heath or perhaps just a small garden square like her own. Turning the corner she followed the once familiar route to Will’s flat and with a strange poignant surge of affection looked at the windows. They were dark. She glanced at her watch. It was barely midnight. Would he mind if she woke him? He must be as tired as she was. Taking her courage in both hands she ran up the flight of steps to the front door and rang the bell. There was no reply. For the first time she bitterly regretted throwing his keys at him when she finally accepted that their affair was over. She tried once more then with a sigh of disappointment she turned and retraced her steps to the car. Perhaps he had gone down to Cornwall after all.
Having found the parking space she stayed where she was in the darkness, huddled down into the passenger seat softly playing her CDs as the hum of traffic from the main road two streets away grew slowly less. Some time in the early hours it had almost stopped save for the occasional car or motorbike determined to waken the world. Twice she played Caractacus, smiling softly as Rhodri’s baritone drifted round the car, the volume turned well down, only half-aware of how much the sound of his voice comforted her, then she switched to something more peaceful. As dawn broke a blackbird started its serenade to the morning from the top of a laburnum bush in the garden next to her and she stopped playing the CDs altogether. Lulled by the sound of the bird she drifted at last into an uneasy sleep.
Having reached Lugdunum Eigon, Drusilla and Commios had disembarked from the boat and were now following a straight well-made road cutting due north and east across the centre of Gaul. They had bought a mule and it cheerfully carried their possessions and whichever of the two women whose turn it was to ride. Commios laughed at them, saying he would rather walk now he had found his stride and seemed content to march at the mule’s head. Each night they found a taberna or at the very least a mansio where they could stop and find food and beds of varying squalidness. Once or twice they asked for shelter at a farmhouse or villa near the road, as by law they were entitled to. Their reception varied from generous and friendly to downright rude.
Twice they were overtaken on the road by a squadron of soldiers riding fast, leaving them choking in the dust. The second time it happened Commios stopped, rubbing the mule’s nose to comfort it and turned to Eigon who had been walking doggedly behind him, one hand on the mule’s rump. Above them Drusilla seemed asleep in the saddle. ‘You know, perhaps we should pull off when we hear them coming. Just in case. We don’t know how much influence your friend Titus has, do we? Would he be able to send messengers ahead to look for us?’
Eigon stood still, her shoulders slumped. She was exhausted. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past him.’
‘But you haven’t sensed him nearby?’ He looked intently into her face. He had enormous admiration, almost awe, for Eigon’s mysterious insights, but for the last four days she had seemed more and more depressed and withdrawn. He reached out gently and touched her hand.
She drew away a little and shook her head. ‘I haven’t had the chance. Last night was awful.’ She and Drusilla had paid for beds in a mansio but had been driven out by the filth and the fleas. The insolent barman, the only person there who seemed to be in charge, had pocketed their denarii, refused a refund and sworn at them obscenely when they complained. Commios had slept better sharing a stall with the mule. The previous nights had not been much better. The roads were more overgrown here; whoever was in charge of cutting back the undergrowth and keeping them maintained had given up the effort. Once or twice they sensed that they were being watched from the trees. The eyes spying on them did not seem friendly. The mule, normally a placid animal, had grown jumpy and spooked at the slightest sound from the woods which crowded near them from the surrounding hills. At night they could hear the howling of wolves.
‘I vote we stop soon. When we find somewhere nice,’ Commios said cheerfully. ‘Take a few days to rest the animal. And our feet.’ He glanced down ruefully at his sandals. His feet were covered in blisters and sores. ‘Did anyone notice what the last milestone said? A chap in the stables last night said that Lutetia is not a bad place. Maybe we can stretch the finances a bit and find ourselves somewhere decent to stay.’
He glanced up at Drusilla. She had opened her eyes and was staring round. Even her endless cheerfulness had waned. She smiled down at them wearily. ‘That sounds good to me. Have we enough money left?’ Commios was in charge of the purse.
He nodded. ‘If we resist the urge to buy luxuries beyond our dreams!’ he said brightly. ‘I calculate we still have fourteen days until we reach the coast. More if we stop. Maybe I can earn some money while we’re here.’
‘Earn some?’ Eigon looked at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘What can you do?’
He laughed. ‘Ah. So, you don’t rate my earning power! I’ll show you when we get there.’
He was as good as his word. That evening to their delight they found a reasonable-sized township on the banks of a broad slow flowing river. They were directed to a pleasant boarding house with clean sheets and even better, clean water. While Drusilla and Eigon sat down to talk to their hostess and accepted her offer of a meal, Commios slipped away. When he returned he poured out a bag of coins onto the table with a look of triumph.
Eigon stared at him. ‘How on earth did you get that?’ They looked at the money, a mixture of Roman asses and sestertii, a couple of denarii and a handful of Gallic bronze and silver coins, most clipped almost out of recognition.
Their hostess smiled. ‘Your fame has preceded you home, sir. Don’t you know what he was doing?’ She laughed at Eigon’s startled face.
‘Nothing bad!’ he put in hastily. ‘I sang for my supper.’
‘Sang?’ Drusilla looked at him. ‘I didn’t know you could sing!’
He shrugged modestly. ‘I’ve never done it for money before. It’s too much like begging.’
‘But you haven’t sung for us. You didn’t sing for our b
rothers and sisters at home.’ She was reproachful.
Again he shrugged. He looked abashed. ‘I didn’t want to push myself forward. I only knew songs of my homeland my mother taught me. No one would have liked them in Rome but I thought they might go down well once we came back to Gaul. It was worth a try.’
‘It was certainly worth a try.’ Eigon reached forward and put her hand over his. ‘You are what my father used to call a dark horse.’ She did not admit that she sang herself or that she had wondered if in the end she would resort to singing for money to tide them over.
That night when everyone was asleep Eigon crept from her bed out into the garden. Autumn had wreaked havoc with the neatly tended flowerbeds, but she could still smell the herbs above the cloying blanket of damp leaves and the scent of the sodden fields of stubble behind the town wall. Woodsmoke drifted across the garden. Staring up she could see Cassiopeia, which Melinus had called Llys Don. She tried to remember some of the other stars from her childhood. The morning star, which Peter called Christos Helios, the star of Christ, and the Romans called Venus was called by her mother Berlewen, the blessed light of the God Lugh. The sky was hazy now, slowly being veiled by a drift of smoke.
There was an old wooden seat at the end of the garden. She made her way there and sat down, pulling her cloak around her with a shiver. The winds were growing colder as they made their way north and soon the first storms of winter would make themselves felt. She sighed. She had almost lost track of the days but at supper her hostess had mentioned that the festival of Samhain was upon them. It appeared that she had been baking and making preserves for weeks. Eigon had glanced at Drusilla who was looking blank. ‘It is the same time as the games of Sulla in Rome,’ she explained. ‘But it is a major festival to bid goodbye to the old year and welcome in the new, it is a time when the gods and the ancestors speak to us.’
‘Are we allowed to celebrate it?’ Drusilla had asked. She glanced at Commios. There was so much to remember about Christ’s teaching. What Peter had taught them, his sermons, had been heard and reheard and absorbed and his letters read and reread, as had the letters of Paul which had been circulated amongst the Christian community and read avidly by them all, but sometimes they were left wondering. And now there was no one to ask. They were left with nothing but their prayers.
Carrying their message was a responsibility they could not forget, but they had all agreed that it would be foolish to draw attention to themselves too soon. Better to travel quietly and to travel fast. Once they reached their destination then was the time to start to tell people their exciting news.
Their hostess had watched them curiously. ‘Why would you not celebrate?’ she asked, astonished.
Eigon shook her head. ‘Of course we are going to celebrate,’ she said with a smile. ‘And Commios is going to sing to us all.’
Drusilla and Commios had nodded in agreement, both relieved she had taken a lead and made the decision for them.
As she gazed up a shooting star streaked out of Taurus across the sky. She smiled at the sign. Then she bit her lip. She could no longer assume such things were messages from the gods. Her God, Jesus Christ, hadn’t said anything about shooting stars, had he? Sadly she shook her head. Yet another certainty she had had to give up. She wondered yet again if she was truly the right person for this mission. She felt so under-prepared, so ignorant. ‘Pray, child, if you have doubts. Pray. Ask Jesus to help you. He will tell you what to do.’ Peter’s voice rang in her ears.
‘Our Father which art in heaven.’ She paused. She was still looking up in wonder but the mist and smoke had crept back across the heavens and she could no longer see the stars. ‘Am I doing the right thing? And please, tell me if Titus is still a risk to us. Dear Lord, I’m not sure if I am doing this right. Help me. Speak to me. Amen.’
She closed her eyes and waited. She shivered. The night was suddenly colder. Her happiness had gone.
And there he was behind her eyes, inside her head waiting, hunting, searching. She felt herself tense with fright. He was with the soothsayer, Marcia Maximilla, the best fortune teller in Rome. He had piled gold into her greedy hands and she was hunting the byways for her prey. Eigon could see her face, her eyes like cold flint, peering into her scrying dish. As Eigon watched she grew more tense. She looked up straight into Eigon’s startled gaze and she smiled. ‘So, there you are, little princess. I have been looking for you. There is someone here who needs to know where you are. You have unfinished business together, I hear.’ Her eyes were bright with malice.
Eigon couldn’t move. She was pinned to the spot with horror and fear. ‘Do you want me to tell him?’ The icy gaze hardened. ‘You are so afraid, little princess. Why? Doesn’t your Jesus protect you any more? Do his arms not stretch as far as Gaul?’
‘How do you know where I am?’ Eigon whispered soundlessly.
The thin mouth stretched into something like a smile. ‘I know everything. My sight is infinite. I see the limitless distances.’
‘And you sell your talent for gold?’ As so often happened Eigon’s fear was evaporating as her anger built. ‘To men like Titus Marcus Olivinus! Do you have no pride, Marcia Maximilla?’
Surprise flared in the eyes. ‘You know who I am?’
‘Of course.’
‘You see the back ways of time yourself.’
Eigon smiled. ‘When I choose.’
‘And your God allows this? Have you been initiated as a priestess of his cult?’
Eigon paused. Perspiration was standing out on her brow as she struggled to hold the link. The cool breeze stroked her face and she felt a gentle sense of peace envelop her. ‘If you mean, have I been baptised, yes, I have,’ she said quietly. ‘And you are right, I have no reason to be afraid. Titus cannot touch me now.’
Marcia smiled. ‘He can if I tell him where you are.’
‘You haven’t told him?’ Eigon was surprised. She didn’t allow herself to feel any relief. She guessed the woman would sell her if she chose, and enjoy doing it. ‘You should be careful. If he finds out you have withheld information he will be angry.’
‘I too can be angry.’
Eigon raised an eyebrow. ‘So, lady, is he there with you now?’
Marcia’s eyes narrowed. ‘He is here.’
‘And he can see nothing?’
‘Nothing! The fool sits and pants in the corner like a dog, slavering over a promised bone.’
Eigon grimaced. She was the bone. ‘Sweet Jesus, blessed Lord, protect me. Veil my presence from them. Keep me safe to do Thy work. And keep Drusilla and Commios safe too. Do not let them suffer for being my friends, I beg you.’ As she murmured the prayer she saw Marcia’s face grow hazy. Smoke from the bonfire was drifting over her, swirling round the bench.
‘Wait –’ She saw Marcia’s hand, clawed, grabbing at the air, dissolving, trying to hold the image, then she was gone. Eigon was left with a sense of peace and safety and warmth which had nothing to do with the increasing cold of the night.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured into the darkness.
A loud knocking on the window woke Jess abruptly. She stared round, her heart thudding with fright. She was in the car and a traffic warden was bending down to stare at her. ‘Oh shit!’ She pushed herself up in the seat and wound down the window.
The woman studied her suspiciously. ‘How long you been here? You been drinking?’
‘No!’ Jess tried desperately to gather her woolly thoughts together. One moment she had been in a dark garden two thousand years ago with Eigon and suddenly she was confronting a furious black face swathed in spite of the heat in an authoritative grey jacket and cap. ‘I’m sorry. I was waiting for someone. I must have dozed off. What time is it?’
‘It’s nearly nine and this is a residential parking area.’ The woman started pressing buttons on her electronic pad.
‘Oh please, no.’ Jess felt an overwhelming urge to cry. ‘Look, I’ll go. I wasn’t parked. I was still with the car. I haven’t left it
.’
‘I been watching you. You been here a long time.’ The woman stood back from the window, presumably content she couldn’t smell drink on Jess’s breath. She walked round to the front of the car, punching in the registration number.
‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Jess muttered under her breath. This was all she needed.
‘You said something?’ The woman was back. Her face was smooth and shiny and full of aggression under her peaked hat as she put the ticket in a polythene bag and tucked it under Jess’s windscreen wiper.
Jess shook her head. ‘Not a word,’ she sighed. Meekly she waited until the woman had gone, opened the door, reached for the parking ticket, then climbed back in and started the engine. She had been planning to walk back and try Will’s house again but she changed her mind abruptly. If she left the car now the warden would be bound to return. No, it was time to get out of London and go back to Wales.
She stopped twice, once for a breakfast of black coffee and a toasted teacake at the Reading Services on the M4 and then again in Abergavenny where she found a coffee shop for lunch. Before she went in she had rummaged in her bag for her mobile and her credit cards and paid the fine. It was her way of washing her hands of London and the traffic warden, and of Dan too. Even if he ended up back at Ty Bran, here at this moment she was safe from him. He had no idea where she was.
It was late afternoon when she pulled at last in through the gate and parked next to Steph’s old four-wheel-drive. She sat still for several seconds listening to the sounds of the car engine cooling down, staring at the house as it dozed in the sunlight. The front door was open, a robin was singing sadly and sweetly from the lilac bush near the studio and a clump of meadowsweet was blossoming in a patch of long damp grass near the door. Behind her on the wall she could see valerian and hedge parsley hanging from cracks amongst the moss.
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