‘Clairvoyant,’ Viv echoed with a hollow laugh. ‘Great! That’s all Hugh needs.’
‘Stuff Hugh!’ Lying back, Pat spoke from beneath the folded newspaper which she had spread over her face to protect her from the sun. ‘I’m beginning to think you’re obsessed with that man.’
‘He’s my boss.’
‘Are you sure that’s all he is?’ There was an earthy chuckle from under the paper.
‘Yes, I’m sure.’ Viv stood up. ‘I’m going to climb that rock. See you in ten minutes.’
Pat didn’t move.
Sitting on the top of the rock staring out towards the distant moors, Viv closed her eyes and tried to still her mind. It was very hot. The rock burned her hands and she found a patch of alpine flowers and grasses to sit on, aware of the sounds around her - a buzzard in the sky out of sight in the glare, a party of noisy children, all dressed in identical blue boiler suits and hard hats, practising their mountaineering skills in spite of the heat, a stonechat pinking monotonously in the background. Slowly they faded from her consciousness. But nothing replaced it. Just a pleasant emptiness. It was as though the shock and excitement at hearing her own voice at last the day before had switched off whatever facility she had acquired. And she needed it. She wanted badly to see if she could ask direct questions. Did you come here? Did your Druids use this place to commune with their gods? Was Dinas Dwr your capital? She closed her eyes again. ‘Carta?’ She tried to picture the township as she had seen it. Recall the sounds; the smells. They had gone.
‘Carta? Where are you?’
Suddenly she felt panicky. Supposing Carta had been scared off or neutralised in some way by Pat’s recording? Supposing it had all gone, this strange, wonderful, frightening contact with another world? Supposing Carta was furious that they had left the brooch at Stanwick buried once more in the depths of the stones. Supposing when they went back, if they went back, it had gone? What would she do?
She drew up her knees, hugging them thoughtfully and without warning she knew she was going to cry.
‘We’ve got to go back.’ When she returned to Pat she was dry-eyed again. ‘We can’t leave the brooch there. I don’t know what we were thinking about!’
Pat sat up and stared at her. ‘What do you mean. Of course we can leave it there. It’ll be perfectly safe.’
‘Not if someone else finds it.’
‘They won’t.’ Pat narrowed her eyes and her voice was suddenly hard. ‘Forget it, Viv. Just put it out of your mind. It is back where it belongs.’
Viv stared at her. Pat’s voice had changed. It was as though she had slipped into someone else’s skin. She was acting a part and it was not a part that Viv liked at all. It was Medb.
She stared at Pat, shocked and frightened. ‘If I say we should fetch it, we will,’ she said quietly.
The change in her tone pulled Pat up. She frowned uneasily. ‘Sorry. I just think it would be stupid. It is perfectly safe.’ Her voice was her own again. ‘So, which place is to be her capital in the play?’ she went on. ‘Stanwick makes sense. It’s accessible. It’s on a trade route between the south and Scotland. It is in gentle flat lands. Fertile. Civilised. Farmed.’
They were still discussing it when they climbed back into the car. Viv shrugged as she pulled onto the road. ‘Somehow I want it to be somewhere like Ingleborough. Wait till you see it.’ There were other contenders. Barwick in Elmet for instance, which was smaller, near the later Roman town, Isurium Brigantium. That too was beautiful and accessible and civilised.
‘Ask her.’ Pat sat back in her seat and fished in her pocket for a packet of gum. ‘It’s a straightforward question. Look her in the eye and ask. People claim to be able to direct the action in lucid dreams. Why not you?’ She sighed impatiently. ‘You’re being too reactive, Viv. You’re acting like a victim instead of a bus driver.’ She shifted the gum from one cheek to the other. ‘You spoke for Cartimandua on the recording. ‘‘This is my people. I am their queen’’.’ She mimicked Viv as Cartimandua in ringing tones. ‘‘‘Vivienne, my goddess, ask and I will reply. My city is at Stanwick St John, or as I call it, Dinas Dwr’’.’ She paused, coming out of character. ‘We don’t know the Celtic names for many of these places, do we? But we don’t need them for the play. They are too confusing. ‘‘This is my seat. My palace. My capital.’’.’ She was back in character. ‘We could hold a sÉance!’ she added thoughtfully. ‘Under controlled conditions. Invite Cartimandua to talk to us and record it just like yesterday afternoon.’
‘Carta has been talking to me for months,’ Viv put in. ‘I haven’t needed a sÉance.’
‘But this way I can be part of it.’ Pat gave up on the gum and reached for her cigarettes. ‘And the best part is we can invite other people in as well. Imagine Medb on line! What a performer she would be!’
‘No!’ Viv shook her head. ‘Absolutely not! Leave it alone, Pat. Let Carta come if and when she wants and to whom she wants.’ She frowned. ‘But not Medb. For God’s sake!’
‘OK.’ Pat sighed. ‘Back to the site of the action: ‘‘It is here I sit in state and show the Romans what a great queen I am. I rule on my terms, not theirs, because I am the greatest queen there has ever been in Britain.’’.’ She paused. ‘Well?’
Viv smiled. ‘Pretty good. Very good, actually.’
‘Good. Perhaps I should play Cartimandua. I’d be fantastic in the part.’ Pat raised an eyebrow and waited for the response.
‘I don’t know. You are good, but Carta is younger -’
‘So, I talk younger.’ Pat raised her voice a tone. Immediately it was lighter. Less mature. ‘As long as they can’t see me they can’t count the wrinkles.’ She laughed. ‘I’d be wonderful, Viv. With you as the narrator.’
‘That would give the right balance, I suppose,’ Viv said thoughtfully. ‘Me the author and narrator. You the lead actress and co-script writer. We need some men, of course. Strong male actors.’
Pat nodded. ‘No problem. I’ve already got ideas about who can play the parts.’
Medb. She wanted to play Medb, not Cartimandua.
Dangerous, fascinating Medb.
II
‘Still no word from Viv?’
Hugh was standing in Meryn’s garden staring down at the rows of herbs and vegetables with a worried frown. ‘She’s got the brooch because I gave it back to her; because I’m a coward. She’s in danger. I don’t know where she is. She doesn’t answer the phone or return any messages and I’m sitting here doing nothing about it.’
He felt safe in here. There had been no massive confrontation with Venutios. No shadowy visitors from another world, no brazen sounds echoing on the wind.
Meryn stooped to pull some spinach. ‘Do you sense danger?’
Hugh frowned. ‘Isn’t that your department? Can’t you look into your crystal ball and see what she’s done with it? See if she’s all right.’ He glanced over the hedge and shivered. ‘He’s still lurking out there somewhere, isn’t he.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Is he frightened of you? Because you’re a Druid?’ Hugh cocked an eyebrow in Meryn’s direction.
‘Possibly.’ Meryn gave an enigmatic smile.
‘What happens if I go out there?’ He nodded towards the fence.
Meryn straightened his back and stood, the bowl of fresh green spinach leaves in his hand. ‘Probably nothing.’
‘Meaning there is a possibility that something could?’
Meryn smiled again. Turning towards the door he shrugged. ‘We won’t know until you try, Hugh. When you feel ready you will have to leave.’
Hugh stared at his retreating back. ‘You’re telling me to go?’ he called after him. He stood for a moment considering the glorious crop of dandelions which flourished around the edge of the spinach patch, then he hurried after Meryn into the kitchen. ‘Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Unless you want to live here forever.’ Meryn put the bowl in the sink. ‘There are things I can show you. Techniqu
es to use to protect yourself.’
Hugh sat down at the kitchen table. ‘Hocus pocus?’
‘Undoubtedly.’
Hugh groaned.
Meryn picked a slug off the spinach. ‘It’s your call, Hugh. I can’t do anything unless you want me to. You believe in the hocus pocus enough to stay here, so why not stick a small amulet round your neck on a piece of thread and forget it’s there.’
‘And that would save me?’
Meryn went over to the door and threw the slug out into the flower bed. ‘You believe in Venutios?’ He had not answered the question.
‘I couldn’t very well not believe that something is happening, but it could just be in my own head.’
‘True. It’s upto you. You need to leave soon anyway. Didn’t you say you had an interview with someone on the radio?’ Meryn put his hands on the table and leaned forward, studying Hugh’s face. ‘One of the things I do is to make amulets for people who need them. I can make one which will strengthen you should you encounter Venutios again out there in the big wide world or inside your head in a nightmare, whichever it may be. Pretend you are trendy enough to wear some jewellery.’ He chuckled.
Hugh shook his head. ‘It just doesn’t do it for me. I’m sorry. It’s not rational. How could a charm possibly work? It’s just superstition.’
Meryn sighed. He dried his hands on a towel. ‘Fair enough.’
‘You don’t really believe all this, in your heart of hearts, do you.’ Hugh went on after a moment. ‘It’s all very romantic and beautiful and touchy feely, but you must have reservations. You’re an intelligent man.’
Meryn held up his hands. ‘Enough, Hugh. We’ve agreed to differ on this one so many times it’s not worth pursuing it again. I believe completely and wholly in what I do. It’s because of that you called me in such a panic, remember? And I’ll be there for you should you need me again.’
‘But that’s it.’
‘That’s it.’
Hugh shrugged. He stood up. ‘OK. I’ll go home this afternoon. You’re right. I’m a coward. I had a nightmare or two and then I let my imagination run away with me. A helping or two of spinach quiche,’ he paused, gazing at the sink with a wry grin, ‘will bolster my will power enough to get me out of here.’
Meryn laughed. ‘It did it for Popeye, my friend.’ As he watched Hugh wander back into the garden the worried frown returned. For an equally intelligent and educated man, Hugh could be a complete fool at times. He sighed. How often had he encountered rational ‘scientifically’ literate men and women who had shared Hugh’s blinkered opinions and lived to regret it? If only they could be made to see what was all around them. If only they could be brought to believe in the evidence of their own eyes and ears. But no. The hocus pocus factor kicked in and sometimes a man would rather die than admit that something paranormal was at work near him. He frowned again. That was an unfortunate choice of words; he hoped it wouldn’t prove prophetic.
III
I’ve just spoken to Maddie.’ It was Pat who, barely an hour earlier Viv had dropped off at Abercromby Place. ‘I wanted her to know what’s going on. She is fantastically keen on the idea of the second programme!’
‘Pat!’ Viv was livid. ‘I asked you not to say anything yet! I’m not at all sure I want anyone to know about this.’
‘Don’t worry, she’ll keepit quiet. We don’t want anything to spoil it.’ Pat was breezy and enthusiastic. ‘I’ll be over tomorrow to go on with the script, OK?’
Slamming down the phone, Viv sighed. She went to pick up a pile of mail off the mat and threw it down on the desk. There was a letter with Australian stamps on top. Turning it over in her hands she felt an overwhelming pang of loneliness at the sight of her mother’s writing. Her mother still prefered letters to e-mail. Turning to the answer machine she punched the button as she stared cautiously round the room. The atmosphere was peaceful. In spite of the missing mirror, the room felt ordinary. It smelled as it usually did when she had been away, of musty books and coffee and the jasmine plant which scrambled around the wall towards the window.
There were three messages from Hugh asking her to call urgently, but when she tried there was no reply from his phone or from the department. There were two messages from Maddie asking how she was and for news of progress on the play, one from Sandy about a talk she had been asked to give to the WI in Taunton and one from Cathy. When she called them back she heard answer-phone messages from them all.
With a sigh she glanced round the room again. The emptiness was back. Suddenly she began to panic. Carta wasn’t there. Supposing it had all been spoiled by Pat’s recording; by leaving the brooch?
Sitting down she closed her eyes. ‘Carta?’
The room was very quiet.
‘Carta? I’m sorry.’ She was overwhelmed with misery.
Nothing happened. Outside, the sky was grey and the wynd below was for once silent. There were no gulls to call out the messages of the gods.
IV
Medb was furious. Venutios had sent her away from Dinas Dwr as soon as he heard that Carta was approaching, giving her a pony and a servant and an escort for the four-day ride to Caer Lugus. With her he sent a letter to his brother, Brucetos. He was under no illusions about Medb’s talents. He knew she would read it. Take care of this lady who is very dear to me. Give her anything she needs and see that she is content until I come. He had also given her a necklace of carved jet and amber beads and a tunic of the softest doeskin which he had bought for her from the best tanner at Dinas Dwr.
Medb was not happy but she was prepared to bide her time. The road was mountainous and rough but on this occasion she was travelling in some style with a good pony and servants to guard her. She saw to it that they were terrified of her. All she needed to do was to let it be known that she spoke nightly with her gods, and that the gods were prepared to act on her every whim.
In the water of the burns and becks of the north, in the lakes and in the bowls which had been brought for her to wash in, she watched Venutios’s every move. He was still wearing the brooch; she saw the gold glitter on his shoulder and she smiled. She saw him talking with the warriors and Druids; she saw his encounter with Cartimandua and she saw the new queen throw his advances back into his face. In her fury she whipped her pony until the blood ran while she watched him walk away from Carta’s house and she saw the anger in his eyes. It was then that he set off after her, so she knew to the very hour when he would arrive at Caer Lugus and claim her in his bed.
Running her hands across his body she kissed his throat, his shoulders, his belly. Then she snatched up the brooch which had been holding his cloak in place and ran the pin across his chest, leaving a line of blood welling into the dark chest hair. When he protested, wrenching it out of her hand, she laughed and stopped his mouth with her lips.
‘That was to show you what would happen if you betray me,’ she whispered. ‘No one plays double with Medb of the White Hands. No one. Remember, you will keep that brooch forever, to remind you that you and I are joined as one in our desires and our plans to bring down Cartimandua.’
‘Jesus!’ Pat woke with a jolt of fear. Her room was dark and she could smell burning. Leaping out of bed, she scrabbled for the light switch and stared round. She couldn’t have left a cigarette burning somewhere. Searching, she found nothing. The smell of burning had come from the fire in the bedchamber in Caer Lugus.
Cathy heard her as she fumbled with the tap in the kitchen, her hands shaking. ‘Pat, this is stupid. You can’t go on like this!’ She yawned, drawing the belt of her dressing gown more tightly round her. ‘Every time you go and see Viv you come back and have a nightmare. It’s ludicrous.’
Pat shook her head. Her heart was still hammering with fear ‘No. You don’t understand. It all makes sense. It’s about the brooch. It was real. What they are doing. Carta and Medb were practising something called remote viewing. The CIA trains people how to do that, for goodness’ sake.’ She was gabbling. ‘It w
asn’t magic or imagination! It is a real skill. I produced a programme once about the subject for Channel 4. That’s how she watched what Carta was doing. That’s how she knew what had happened to the brooch.’
‘I don’t want to hear about the brooch!’ Cathy was exhausted. ‘I have never heard such a load of nonsense in my life. You are winding each other up, Pat. Stop it! As for leaving that thing buried in the middle of nowhere, I have never heard such idiocy. The museum or the professor or someone will probably sue you both if it’s lost!’
‘It’s not lost. Medb will find it.’
‘Medb?’ Cathy stared at her. ‘Stop it, Pat. You’re scaring me.’
‘I’m scaring myself!’ Pat drained her water. ‘If I could stop this, I would. But it has to be settled.’ She slammed the glass down on the draining board. ‘I can’t sleep.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘I’m scared shitless, if you want to know.’
‘Then stop doing this!’
‘I’m not doing it on purpose!’ Pat stood for a moment, then she shrugged. ‘I’m going back to bed.’ As she headed for the door she stopped abruptly. Medb was standing in the corner of the kitchen. ‘Cathy?’ Pat whispered. Chilled to the marrow, paralysed with fear, she pointed her finger. ‘Look.’
‘What?’ Cathy gave an irritated sigh. ‘Look at what, Pat?’
‘There,’ Pat gasped. ‘There.’ Why couldn’t Cathy see her?
‘What’s going on?’ Tasha appeared in the doorway, yawning. The child stared for several seconds where Pat was pointing, her eyes growing enormous in her pale face, then she let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Medb vanished.
Cathy ran to the child and scooped her into her arms. ‘Tasha, Tasha, be quiet, love. It’s all right.’ Hugging her, Cathy stared up helplessly at Pete as he ran into the room. ‘It’s OK. She had a bit of a fright. It’s all over.’
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