‘That was his voice we heard. With Flavius and Mora. There. In the past,’ Greg said thoughtfully. ‘It was. Wasn’t it? I’m not imagining it?’
Both men turned towards Justin. He stood up. He moved over to Kier and took his wrist, also testing the pulse. ‘That is amazing,’ he said quietly. ‘You are right. We heard his voice from the past. He is a walker between the worlds. A natural shaman.’ The other men looked at him sharply, but to Abi’s surprise no-one said anything.
It was several seconds before the bishop rose to his feet and moved over to join the other men looking down at Kier. ‘We shouldn’t have allowed him to do this. Will he be all right?’
Justin nodded. ‘He should be.’ He looked troubled. ‘In theory he should sleep it off and wake naturally after a time, only…’ He paused and put his hand on Kier’s forehead.
‘Only?’ Bishop David prompted after a moment.
‘He is untrained.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning that he could get lost; not know how to return, am I right?’ Greg looked across at Justin.
Justin chewed his lip for a moment. ‘He used the crystal as a signpost, or an access point, but then he dropped it.’
‘Then give it back to him!’ Abi elbowed her way passed the bishop’s chaplain who seemed to be incapable of movement as he sat beside her, and pushing between the men, she scooped the crystal off the floor and put it between Kier’s hands, trying to fold his fingers around it. They were inert. The ball rolled off his lap again.
She stood back in horror. ‘Go after him!’ She looked across at Justin. ‘You can, can’t you?’
Justin nodded doubtfully.
‘Well then?’
‘It’s not that easy, Abi.’
‘Of course it is. You have to.’ Instinctively she had put her hands over Kier’s. She could feel the healing warmth flowing out of her. Closing her eyes, she pictured Yeshua. ‘Help me help him,’ she breathed silently. For a few seconds there was silence in the room then Greg reached forward and put his hand on her shoulder.
‘Leave it for now,’ he said. ‘I think Justin’s first idea was the best one, to let him sleep it off. With luck he will wake naturally and remember only that he has had a dream of the past. You, take the crystal again, Abi. We need to know what has happened.’
Abi hesitated. She was looking down at her hands. Justin stood up and came over to her. ‘You have the gift of healing Abi,’ he said quietly. ‘I sensed it. But this is not the right time. Kier has something to do, or somewhere to go. Over there, in the past.’
She met his eyes doubtfully, then quietly she nodded and turned away.
Bishop David shook his head. ‘I don’t believe any of this!’
‘Of course you do.’ Greg managed a quick grin. ‘Come on. You’re known for your broad-mindedness. Let us pray together, then Abi can look and see what has happened to Mora.’ He paused and looked at them thoughtfully. ‘And Kier.’
When Mora woke she was in her own bed. Her father was sitting on a stool at her side holding her hand in his. He saw her eyelids flicker and he leaned forward with a gentle smile. ‘At last. You have slept for a long time, my Mora.’
She moved uncomfortably and felt a tight restriction round her middle.
He nodded slowly. ‘Addedomaros has been looking after you. He has strapped your ribs and stitched the wound. You lost a lot of blood but you are on the mend.’
‘And Lydia?’
‘She is all right. She is staying here on Ynys yr Afalon. She has been helping us.’ His eyes sought hers. ‘There is nothing left for her on the mainland.’
Mora closed her eyes, feeling hot tears slipping out onto her cheeks. ‘Petra?’ There was a long silence.
‘Petra sleeps,’ he said at last. ‘Between life and death. We have tended her wounds and Addedomaros has dripped life-sustaining drinks between her lips, but her spirit has fled.’
‘But she is still alive?’ Mora struggled to sit up.
He shrugged. ‘She still breathes. Addedomaros says – ’
But Mora was not listening. Somehow she managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed. ‘Take me to her.’
‘You’re not strong enough.’
‘I am. I am strong enough. I know how to help her.’
Her father carried her. Petra was in a small cubicle near Addedomaros’ own room. Lydia was sitting with her in the flickering light of two beeswax candles. The whole room smelled of honey.
Setting Mora gently on her feet Fergus Mor stepped back in the shadows as she stood for a moment, looking down at the unconscious figure in the bed. For several moments she didn’t move then painfully she sat down on the edge of the bed. Smiling sadly at Lydia who was seated on a stool at the far side, she reached for Petra’s hand. It was soft and supple but very cold.
‘Petra?’ she whispered. ‘Petra, can you hear me?’
There was no movement in the girl’s face. It was as still as carved stone.
‘Petra. I am going to make you better.’ Mora laid her hand on the cold forehead. ‘I want you to wake up.’ She hesitated, glancing up at Lydia, then at her father, her eyes for a moment full of doubt.
‘Do it!’ Abi whispered. ‘Do it, Mora. Heal her in Jesus’ name.’
She saw Mora turn and look back at Petra again. Had she heard her? Abi wasn’t sure. The hut was full of shadows as the candle flames danced.
‘Petra!’ Mora’s voice was stronger now. ‘In Yeshua’s name you are healed!’
There was a long pause. Lydia, Mora and her father were gazing at the child’s face. The whole world seemed to hold its breath. A sigh of wind from the doorway flattened the candle flames for an instant and, as they watched, Petra opened her eyes.
It was later, when Petra was once more asleep, this time in Lydia’s hut where she had been given a bed of her own after she had eaten and drunk for the first time in days, Mora went back to her father’s house.
He looked at her as she settled on her stool. ‘In Yeshua’s name?’ he repeated gently.
She nodded. ‘He is the greatest healer I have ever seen.’
Fergus Mor stared down into the fire. ‘I do believe he is,’ he said at last.
There was another long silence, then for the first time she remembered to ask. ‘What happened to Flavius?’
‘He disappeared.’ She heard the harsh note in her father’s voice.
‘He escaped unhurt?’
‘We don’t know.’
‘And the man who was outside?’
Her father did not reply and she gave him a glance from under her eyelashes. ‘I saw him. Or at least, his shadow.’
‘As did Lydia. He too has gone. There was no trace of him. The whole area has been searched, but both men have vanished. There were no footprints. No clues. No trace at all save this one thing.’ With a sigh her father heaved himself to his feet and walked across to the table. He picked up something and brought it back to her. It was a silver cross on a broken chain.
Dry-mouthed, Abi stood up and went back to Kier’s side. Reaching under his jacket she pulled his shirt open. ‘He wears that cross all the time – ’ She broke off, staring down at his throat. ‘Nothing,’ she whispered. ‘It’s gone.’
Greg moved over to her side. He pointed to Kier’s neck. ‘See that mark? And here, a raw tear in his skin, as though something has been pulled off.’
Abi looked up and they held each other’s gaze. ‘The cross is still there, in the past,’ she whispered. She threw a pleading look back at Justin who was still seated at the table. ‘Help him,’ she whispered.
Justin rose to his feet. He came over and stood looking down at Kier’s face then he reached for the man’s hand, his eyes full of compassion. ‘I will try and go after him,’ he said after a moment.
‘No!’ Bishop David’s voice was firm. ‘We don’t know what has happened or what is happening, but I do not want to risk anyone else’s safety.’
Justin narrowed his eyes. ‘Thank
you for your concern, but this is my job.’
‘And mine is the welfare of my clergy.’
‘Then let me help him. He is lost in another world. He doesn’t know where he is or how to return. He doesn’t know the byways between the worlds.’
‘And you do?’ Bishop David fixed him with a steely look.
Justin nodded. ‘I have been trained to do this, David.’
The bishop opened his mouth to retort and changed his mind. He shook his head. ‘I am uncomfortable with all this. You are a pagan – ’
‘And I am dealing with pagan times and with pagan people and with pagan concepts.’ Justin paused. ‘These people were the friends of Jesus Christ. They risked everything for him. Your colleague has gone into the past in Jesus’ name.’
‘And he saved Mora and Petra,’ Abi put in.
‘With your help.’ Justin turned back to her. ‘That was the moment when history was at a point of balance. Without your prompting Mora might not have used Yeshua’s name. In her father’s presence she might have felt too inhibited.’
Abi shook her head. ‘Rubbish. Mora was a strong woman.’
‘Stronger with you beside her.’ He winked, then he turned back to Kier. ‘This part of the action belongs to me.’
Abi nodded. She laid her hand on the bishop’s sleeve. ‘We owe him this. We can’t abandon him,’ she said firmly. ‘What if he dies?’
‘I don’t think he will die,’ Greg put in doubtfully, ‘At least…’ He paused. ‘You would be risking your life or at the least your sanity.’ He had been staring thoughtfully at Justin. ‘I know shamans do this in many cultures, but even so.’
Justin gave a wry smile. ‘They do it in our culture too. Now please, let’s not waste any more time. Can I suggest you all go out and leave me to get on with it. I find the overlay of scepticism in this room rather overwhelming. Why not go down to Hay for a few hours. Buy some books, drink coffee, walk by the River Wye, go to St Mary’s and pray. I will ring someone’s mobile when I have finished and call you back.’
Abi didn’t go with them. She watched the car drive away from the doorway then turned back inside. ‘Do you want me to go out too?’ She had refused to accompany the men, but she wasn’t sure Justin wanted her there. Behind them Kier lay back in the chair by the fire, eyes closed, unmoving. Justin shook his head. ‘I don’t want you to go. It depends. Can you sit in a corner in here and pray for me without interfering?’
‘You want my prayers?’ She scanned his face, searching for signs of mockery. He stepped towards her and put his hands on her arms, drawing her close. ‘Yes, Abi. I want your prayers. I want you to cover my back; to watch over me. To hold me in your heart and surround me with prayer. Because I don’t worship in your church doesn’t mean I don’t believe in prayer. My faith is too complicated to discuss now.’ He grinned suddenly, his boyish face lighting with mischief. ‘Suffice to say, I was brought up a Christian. I respect Christian values and your prayers are as good as anyone’s.’ He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
She pulled away. His touch had sent a bolt of electricity through her. She closed her eyes and tried to turn aside, aware of the blush creeping across her face. Not now. Don’t fall in love with the man now! She had been fighting it for so long, surely she could fend off her feelings while poor Kier was in such peril. Justin was studying her, a quizzical smile playing round his mouth. She suspected he could read her every thought as gently he released her. ‘Come and sit over here, on the far side of the table. You are going to watch me do things which will shock your puritan little soul.’ He grinned again. ‘They are just techniques. They work. They are ancient shortcuts into the other world. They are methods which the original Christians in this country would probably have known and utilised. Don’t be afraid whatever I say or do, or whatever Kier says or does and do not move. Do not interfere. Do not touch either of us. If we fall a sleep or seem to lose consciousness do not panic. Just go out for a walk and let us sleep. Understand?’
Abi nodded. She sat down obediently. ‘But I am allowed to pray.’
He smiled. ‘Quietly!’
‘Quietly.’
‘OK. Go for it.’
She put her hands together on the table in front of her, palm to palm, fingertip to fingertip and closed her eyes.
He followed the soft beat of the drum into the shadows, the Serpent Stone before him on the table. In the quiet room the smoke rose from the burning sage, to which he had added a grain or two of frankincense, dried mugwort and vervain, trailing up towards the ceiling. In his chair Kier hadn’t moved. Abi’s eyes were closed, but her lips moved in silent prayer; he could feel her calm strength. His fingers stroked the taut deerskin of the drum, the call growing softer, more persuasive. This was something he did rarely. Whatever he had said to the others, the way of the shaman was Meryn’s calling, not his. He was a scholar, not a traveller of the ways, but Meryn wasn’t here and Abi had asked him.
He could sense the atmosphere clearing and he stared round, trying to make out what he was seeing. There had been no rush, no swoop through time, just a gentle drift into the darkness. Then he heard it, the soft lap of water, the sibilant murmur of the wind in the reeds. He moved forward and felt the mist of cold rain on his face; under his feet the ground was soft and muddy. All was dark save for a small light in the distance. It flickered in the wind, beckoning him on.
Slowly he moved another few paces forward. He could see the outline of the house now, the doorway, the lamp on the floor just inside, out of draught. The place appeared deserted. He crept on, his eyes narrowed against the cold rain, aware that somewhere the slow drumbeat had stopped. He could no longer smell the burning herbs or sense Abi’s presence near him. He was alone.
At first he hadn’t seen the woman sitting by the fire, swathed in a dark cloak. He hadn’t realised the fire was lit, albeit sunk to embers, barely warm. He stood looking at her, then he stepped forward, wondering if she would be able to see him. Her face was thin, weary, patrician, the long nose, the high cheekbones betraying her Roman origins, her face aged beyond its years with sorrow.
‘Lydia?’ He spoke very softly, not wanting to scare her.
She looked up and he saw the despair and lack of hope in her face. ‘Who is it?’
She couldn’t see him then, although she had heard him call her name.
‘I am a friend, come from far away to try and help you.
‘How can you help? Gaius wanted us all to go when Flavius came. He knew the danger. It was me who insisted on staying. It is all my fault.’ She showed no interest in locating the source of his voice, turning back to stare into the fire. A stray breath of wind fanned the embers for a moment and the charred, cold end of a branch caught, flaring suddenly, throwing highlights on her face. She had once been very beautiful but her face was ravaged by grief.
‘A man came here to try and help. I think he was the one who chased Flavius away.’ Justin moved closer but she still didn’t look round. ‘The man with the cross. I have come to try and find him.’
‘The man with the cross? When he spoke the words, Jesus Christ, my child’s hands were whole again. Her hands were perfect, her face serene. She was smiling.’ Tears spilled over again. ‘He followed Flavius. He said he would not return until Flavius was dead.’ She sounded distant. Uninterested.
‘Do you know where they went?’
She shrugged. ‘Flavius said he was going back to Judea. He said he would wait for Yeshua there. He killed my son and my husband, he all but destroyed my daughter then he laughed in my face. I wanted to kill him but I’m not strong enough. I was never strong enough.’ She sighed. ‘Then the man with the cross came. He knew Yeshua. He knew what had happened.’ She inclined her face slightly as though looking towards him. ‘They are long gone.’
‘You still have Mora,’ Justin said gently. ‘She will be another daughter to you.’
Lydia nodded sadly. ‘And Mora’s child.’
‘She’s expecting a baby?’ Just
in was shocked into speaking loudly and he saw her jerk backwards, fear in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know,’ he said more quietly. He was searching his memory to try and fill in the story Abi had told him. ‘Cynan’s child?’
Lydia nodded slowly. ‘Or Yeshua’s. It matters not. It will be loved and cherished in the sanctuary of Ynys yr Afalon.’
Justin stood in silence for a moment, then he nodded. ‘Indeed it will,’ he said quietly. He took a step backwards towards the doorway, then another.
She heard him. ‘You are leaving me?’
He nodded. ‘I have to try and find my friend.’
She raised her head and for the first time stared straight at him. ‘I doubt if you will find him.’
He felt his stomach tighten. ‘Why?’
‘He doesn’t mean to be found. That was why he took off the cross and threw it down. He said without it he would be free to travel anywhere. Without it no-one would find him.’
23
‘He’s still in a coma.’ Abi looked at Athena hopelessly. It was four days later and Kier had been transferred from Hereford Hospital back to Addenbrookes, in Cambridge. ‘I wanted to go with him but they said there was no point. Bishop David said I should stay here with Cal and Mat. He says I have more thinking to do!’ She gave a way smile. ‘David has even been to see my father. I sense there might have been a small rapprochement.’
Athena grinned. ‘And what about Justin? Before you left, did he tell you any more of what happened when he did his shamanic thing?’
She shrugged. ‘Not much more than before. Just that he has spoken to Lydia. She told him that Kier had followed Flavius to Judea and didn’t want to be found. He said there was no point in him trying. Kier had thrown off his cross as a symbol of his intention. Now it is up to the medics to try and bring him back.’ She shook her head miserably. ‘He might die, Athena, and it’s all my fault.’
‘And how do you work that out?’ They were sitting on the stools in Athena’s kitchen, watching rain streaming down the window. Before them were two mugs of coffee and two large Danish pastries, courtesy of Bella who had come in to do an extra morning at the shop so that Abi and Athena could talk.
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