Catrin and Joan took turns at nursing him and keeping a lookout for visitors. What they would have done if a stranger had been seen climbing up the track from the road they weren’t sure, but Catrin had lit a candle to St Winefride and prayed that they would be hidden from visitors, then secretly, away from Joan’s gaze, she recited the incantation to Llŷr, the ancient god of the sea to call down the Druid’s mist across the mountains to shroud them from prying eyes.
It was as Catrin was stirring more tincture into melted butter to make a new pot of ointment that Andy saw her wince and put her hand to her shoulder in pain. ‘Is it still bad?’ she asked.
Catrin dropped the spoon. She turned round slowly. Andy saw her eyes widen. She made the sign of the cross.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ Andy whispered. She took a step backwards, then pulled up her own sleeve and exposed the bandage still neatly bound across her forearm. ‘Mine is sore too. Where is your father now?’
As she spoke, she realised her question made no sense. Time had passed in Catrin’s world. Her shoulder, though clearly still painful, was mended. She had been making medicines, tending Edmund. The seasons had moved on and Dafydd was away, she had said as much. Catrin had seen her but she had not responded. Maybe it was time to leave. She took a deep breath, raised her hand and snapped her fingers together.
Meryn was dozing on the sofa with Pepper sprawled across his chest when Andy crept downstairs in the cold early morning light. Before she slept the night before she had taken off the Enchanter’s pouch and tucked it in the far corner of the room.
She stood for a second looking down at them, man and cat, and Meryn’s eyes opened at once. ‘So, you dreamt? Did it go well?’
‘How do you know I dreamt?’
He sat up slowly and pushed the reluctant cat onto the floor. ‘I guessed you would take off the pouch. Did you stay in charge of the dream?’
‘I did as you told me. I clicked my fingers.’ She smiled. ‘It was that easy.’ Then she frowned. ‘Catrin seems to be able to command the weather. I saw her reciting her spells. Is that really possible?’
Meryn laughed. ‘Have you never lain on the lawn on a summer’s afternoon and watched the clouds and willed one to move?’
Andy smiled. ‘Of course.’
‘And as a child did you recite, “Rain, rain go away. Come again another day!”’
‘Only when I was very small.’
‘Did it work?’
‘No.’
‘Ah, perhaps you didn’t have the technique right. It is an art as old as man himself. The weather can make or break a harvest; it can destroy with fearful power. To be able to harness it is magic indeed.’
He glanced at his watch and then climbed to his feet. ‘I’m going to call Rob Vaughan at the local garage and get him to collect my car. I think four flat tyres is beyond even my magic powers to fix. I’ll ask him to pick me up on his way by.’
‘I am so sorry. That was all my fault. If it hadn’t been for me, you would never have met Rhona.’
‘I haven’t actually met her yet.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘Let’s hope I don’t have that pleasure! Just make sure you don’t let her get near you.’ He looked stern. ‘I sense that her power is growing. I suspect she may have absorbed some of the energies of this house. I don’t know if she knows it, but there seems to be something in her psyche which is badly out of balance. So, I need you to surround yourself with protection. That will give you a head start over her schemes, whatever they are. You know the psychic techniques already, I’m sure you do. But beyond that, always check your car before you get in it, in case she’s played the same trick on you, and never ever forget to lock it. I know up here it’s probably something you don’t bother with, but for the time being, lock everything always.’
‘Have you told the police?’ Rob Vaughan from the garage whistled angrily through his teeth as he looked Meryn’s car over. They had found deep scratches on the doors, and a huge quantity of earth wedged into the exhaust pipe as well as the lacerated tyres. Rob phoned back to the garage for the low loader to come and take the car away and then joined Meryn in his kitchen. As he spooned sugar into his coffee he leant on the dresser. ‘You do know my brother is one of the cops down in Hay,’ he said conversationally.
Meryn shook his head. ‘I didn’t know.’ Rob was an old mate. His father, Gareth, owned one of the hill farms nearby. It had been Gareth who had come to Andy’s aid with his pony on the mountainside. Never a man for a quad bike, Gareth.
‘Dai’s been away in Birmingham, so you might not have met him, but last month he finally managed to transfer to the Dyfed-Powys force and get a posting nearer home. He can be discreet,’ Rob went on, reading volumes into Meryn’s silence about how the vandalism had come about. ‘He could drop in on his way home tonight. Unofficially, if you’d prefer.’
‘Then I think that might be a good thing. If he doesn’t mind.’ Meryn picked up his own mug. ‘I have no proof who did this. I didn’t see her, that’s the trouble, so I can make no accusations. But I can guess. I’m not easy in my mind about this. It’s not my quarrel, but maybe this’ – he waved his arm towards the window and, beyond it, the car – ‘makes it my business.’
‘I should say so.’ Rob took a gulp of tea. ‘Do you want a lift down to Hay?’
‘No thanks. I’ve a lot of writing to do. I can wait till the car is sorted.’
Later he watched as his poor old car was carried off, then he turned back into the house.
Andy had fed Pepper. She opened the back door and stood on the doorstep for a few minutes, watching him wander off into the garden. A heavy mist hung round the trees and drifted over the herb beds and the small tabby shape was swiftly swallowed up. Was Catrin’s ability to influence the weather so powerful that the mist had lingered?
Abruptly she went back indoors, closed the door behind her and turning the key hung it on the hook before heading for the staircase and her bedroom. Her bed was unmade; it looked inviting, but more inviting still was the thought of going back into the past and seeing what was happening between Catrin and Edmund. Fully dressed though she was, she climbed in and pulled the covers over her head.
‘Joan has gone down to the market,’ Catrin said as she came in. Edmund was sitting at the kitchen table, chopping vegetables for the pot. He held the knife awkwardly because of the pain in his arm and chest, but he had made a good recovery. ‘I’ve given her some money and a list of things we need. She won’t be back until evening. It is a lovely day further down the hill.’ She gave a little smile.
They both looked out of the door where the mist drifted up the valley, winding round the trees.
Edmund grinned at her. ‘I won’t ask how come the clouds came down so conveniently low.’
‘Don’t.’
‘And Betsi and the other girl?’
‘Have gone with her.’
‘The Lord Owain has a magic stone,’ he said as he set aside his knife. ‘It gives him the gift of invisibility.’
She smiled. ‘Useful.’
‘Very.’ Pushing back his stool he stood up unsteadily. He held out his arms and Catrin went to them, clinging carefully, avoiding the right side of his chest where the wound was still painful. She looked up and gazed into his eyes. ‘It isn’t often we have the place to ourselves,’ she whispered.
She took his hand and led him towards the staircase.
He hesitated. ‘Cat?’
She put her finger to her lips. Together they crept up to her bedroom and went in. She pushed the door closed behind them and turned to him with a smile. ‘Rwy’n dy garu di, cariad. I love you, my darling,’ she whispered.
It was later, as they were dressing, that she pulled away from him distracted by something in the doorway.
‘What are you looking at?’ He caught her to him again.
‘The ghost.’ She laughed. ‘I am sure this house is haunted.’
Edmund smiled. ‘If it is, it doesn’t matter. The ghost
is hardly likely to tell your father or Joan.’
‘It’s a she. And no, she won’t.’
She reached up and kissed him again. ‘Where are you going to go when you are better, Edmund?’ They both knew he could not stay much longer. The risk of him being seen was too great. ‘You won’t go to your father’s, surely.’
‘I’m going back to Prince Owain.’ He held her close. ‘He needs me now more than ever. Things have not been going well for his cause. Support is falling away. The French and the Scots promised to help but the help didn’t come. Men are tired of war and he can’t give them what they need. And the king is sending in ever more powerful forces against him. You do understand?’
‘But not yet.’ She clung to him again. ‘Don’t go yet. You’re not strong enough, Edmund.’
He grinned at her. ‘That’s not what you said just now.’ He tightened his arms around her.
When she drew away again she looked up into his eyes and sighed. She would not try to dissuade him from leaving. He was a soldier. This was his life. She held his gaze fondly. ‘I want you to promise me one thing. If ever you need help you will come here. And if ever you change your mind and need to come into the king’s peace you will tell me. I will somehow find the money to pay your fine.’
Later, while he slept, she crept into Dafydd’s study and closed the door behind her. It would do no harm to check how much there was in her father’s secret hoard. She managed to push the coffer aside and knelt to lift the stone. There was nothing there. She stared down into the empty hole in dismay. But of course he hadn’t trusted her. He had probably moved the money the same day she had first seen his hiding place. She sat back on her heels in despair. Where would he have hidden it, and where had he gone? She had heard nothing of him since he had left in the spring and Edmund had brought no news of him. Was he in South Wales with Prince Owain? Had he heard of the terrible losses at Usk and Grosmont?
Wearily she stood up and dragged the coffer back into place. When she went back into the hall Edmund was asleep on his pallet by the fire. She put another log on, gently, so as not to wake him, then went through into the kitchen and out into the garden. It was a long time since she had gone into the cave. It smelt as always damp and fusty, of bat droppings and rotting leaf mould. She made her way to the back where it was almost dark and sat down on the tree stump she had rolled there long ago to act as a seat. It took no time at all to shut out the rustlings of the small animals, the sound of the wind in the dried leaves as they stirred in the draught, the thoughts of Edmund or Joan. She needed to find her father.
Andy crept closer, watching the narrow entrance, holding her breath in case Catrin heard her. The garden was wet with mist. She reached out to the ivy which hung over the opening and eased it back. She was concentrating so hard she did not hear the footsteps behind her.
‘Who are you!’ Edmund’s voice was harsh in her ear. She felt his hand on her shoulder as he swung her round. ‘Why are you spying on us? Answer me!’ He shook her arm. She screamed at the pain as his hand closed over her bandaged wound.
Catrin appeared at once, her eyes huge with fright. ‘What is it? What is happening?’
‘This woman was spying on you.’ Edmund turned to Andy.
He stepped back in obvious confusion. ‘Where is she?’
‘What woman?’ Catrin peered past him. The mist hanging over them eddied back and forth but it revealed only the empty garden.
‘The one you talked about. The one you called a ghost.’ He was staring round wildly. ‘She was no more a ghost than I am. She was solid. Real.’
‘She’s not real, Ed,’ Catrin said softly. ‘She is from another time.’
‘She is real. She was following you. She was peering into the cave.’ The colour was fading from his cheeks and he clutched at the cliff wall as he began to sway.
‘Oh, Edmund, you shouldn’t have come outside.’ Catrin took his arm. ‘Come back into the kitchen and sit down. You will make yourself ill again.’
‘She was here.’
Catrin sighed. ‘Well, she’s not here now.’
‘I am,’ Andy whispered. ‘I am here.’
She took a deep breath and clicked her fingers. Her fingers were wet with moisture from the misty garden, the dripping plants and trees all round her, and nothing happened. She was still there, standing outside the cave as Catrin and Edmund made their way past her and back towards the house. ‘Wait!’ Andy cried. They didn’t hear her. The wind whisked a vortex of leaves up into the air and it whirled past her. The mist was clearing. Behind her the brook was cascading over its rocks with an angry roar. She watched as they disappeared inside and closed the door behind them.
Trying to ignore the pain in her arm she raised her hand and brought finger and thumb together again. There was blood on them now, as well as moisture from the dripping plants and trees. She still couldn’t make her fingers click.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she muttered to herself. ‘They don’t want me here. I need to go home. Wake up. Please wake up!’
Bryn had parked beside Andy’s car. He shivered. The sun had gone in and a thick white mist had drifted up the valley to hang around the house, wrapping everything in damp heavy moisture. He climbed the steps and walked round into the gardens. He wouldn’t have come if he had known the weather was going to close in like this. He went round to the kitchen door and knocked. There was no reply so he reached for the handle. The door was locked. He stood still and stared round the garden. She must have gone for a walk.
Slowly he walked up the path towards his shed. He might as well do a bit of pruning while he was here. He opened the door and went in, selecting a pair of shears from the row of hooks on the wall.
He had been working for twenty minutes when he turned to look back at the house. He had begun to feel strangely uneasy. Surely Andy wouldn’t go for a walk in this mist? She wasn’t in the garden as far as he could see, but he searched again in case he had missed her, glancing into the cave, the greenhouse, the drying shed, going down to stand by the brook. ‘Andy?’ he shouted.
There was no reply. The garden was silent, his voice muffled by the mist. Slowly he walked back towards the house. Pepper was standing on the windowsill inside the kitchen, meowing frantically. Bryn looked at him for several moments then he reached a decision. He stooped to find the spare key, inserted it in the lock and, kicking off his boots, he stepped inside. ‘Andy?’ he called. Pepper leapt off the sill and came to wind himself round Bryn’s legs, still meowing. There was an untouched cup of tea on the table. A cold milky skim lay on the surface. Really worried now, Bryn walked over to the door into the hall and opened it. ‘Andy? Are you there?’
Pepper ran past him into the living room, then on up the stairs. Bryn hesitated then he followed him.
He found Andy in her bedroom. She was lying fully clothed in bed, one of her pillows clasped in her arms. Her right arm had been bandaged, but the dressing had been torn off and the wound under it was seeping blood onto the sheets.
‘Andy?’ Bryn shook her shoulder gently. ‘Andy? Can you hear me?’
She lay without stirring. She was breathing evenly, her face relaxed, but something about the depth of the sleep worried him. ‘Andy!’ He shook her harder this time. ‘Come on. Wake up!’ He turned and walked through into her bathroom. Grabbing the flannel which was hanging with the towels on the rail he wrung it out in cold water and took it back into the bedroom. Carefully he sponged her face. She still did not wake. He hesitated, wondering what to do, then he put the cold flannel over the wound on her arm and pressed it firmly in place.
Downstairs in the kitchen he rummaged in the cupboard. Sue always used cayenne pepper for closing wounds. One of the best herbal first aid tricks he knew. He found the jar, grabbed it and ran back upstairs. Once the bleeding had stopped he retied the bandage over the wound, then went down to the kitchen again and grabbed the phone. ‘Sian? Thank goodness you’re there. I need you. I’m at Sleeper’s Castle.’
&n
bsp; Sian arrived twenty minutes later. ‘How long has she been like this?’ she asked after she had examined Andy.
‘I arrived about an hour ago I suppose.’
‘Did you ring Meryn?’
‘There’s no reply. I’m sorry to call you, but I thought it better if there was someone else here.’
Sian sighed. ‘Do you think she’s there? In the past?’
‘I would assume so.’
‘What happened to her arm?’
‘It looks as though she’s been stabbed. Someone has done a good job of tidying it up. There were even steri strips, but she seems to have torn them all off in her sleep. It was bleeding badly when I came up.’
‘You’ve done a good job then. Do you think we should ring the doctor?’
‘No.’ Bryn was adamant. ‘She will sleep it off in the end and wake naturally.’ He sounded authoritative. ‘This is Sleeper’s Castle stuff, Sian. I expect she will wake herself when the time is right in her dream, but it does seem odd that she can’t hear us.’
Sian glanced up at him. ‘This is spooky. She’s genuinely somewhere else.’
‘But she’s breathing normally.’ Bryn reached for her wrist. ‘And her pulse is steady.’
‘If she was dreaming you would expect her to be moving about, and maybe talking, maybe flinging her arms around. I mean, if something awful was happening, she would be screaming, like a nightmare. Wouldn’t she?’ Sian murmured.
They both stood watching her closely. ‘There’s no rapid eye movement,’ Bryn commented after a while. ‘That’s interesting. If she was dreaming, there should be.’
‘It feels intrusive, watching her like this,’ Sian said after a moment. ‘As if we were spying on her.’
‘Well, we can go downstairs. She seems calm enough and I’m pretty sure she’s not in any immediate danger.’
Sian glanced up at him. ‘As long as she lies there and doesn’t decide to get up and walk about or drive the car or something.’
Sleeper’s Castle Page 42