‘Lady, I promise you he is not here. Elisedd, our father in Christ, left here two years since to go on a pilgrimage and he never returned. Please, you must believe me.’ He was looking at her, anguished. ‘I cannot help you.’
‘No. He’s here. He must be here. I’ve crossed the world to find him.’ Tears were beginning to pour down her cheeks.
‘He never returned,’ he repeated, his voice broken. ‘We heard he was killed on the orders of the Emperor Charlemagne.’ He dropped his gaze, visibly embarrassed.
So, he too knew the story. She shrank away from him. ‘And that is why you hide him. Even now, after all my travails, you dare to keep him from me. Tell him.’ She threw down her staff, watching as it rolled away with a rattling sound over the floor tiles. ‘Tell him I’m here. Let him decide.’
The old man let out a deep sigh. Behind him, one or two of the other monks had appeared, anxiously watching. One of them tiptoed away to return with two of the younger lay brothers. ‘Please leave our church. This is the house of God. No one tells lies here, Lady Eadburh. He is not here. He never returned from his …’ he hesitated over the word, ‘pilgrimage.’
‘Please, lady.’ Another man, this time not in holy orders, his head untonsured, stepped forward. ‘Please, lady, let me take you to our guest house. You can refresh yourself and rest. Father Abbot speaks the truth. Our beloved Abad Elisedd has not returned. If he had, you would be informed, I promise you.’
She looked wildly from one to the other, then let out an anguished scream of frustration. ‘I don’t believe you. A pox on you all! A curse on this place! I will not rest until you give him up!’ She spun round and stamped back towards the door, and out into the sunlight, leaving the men crossing themselves in horror.
‘So, are you still watching?’ Eadburh was looking straight at Bea. ‘You who haunt me and follow me half across the world with your evil eye. A pox on you as well. And you!’ She was looking at someone behind Bea. Someone who was wearing modern clothes. Someone who was smiling in utter triumph. Sandra. Bea let out a cry of fear. Her wall of protection wasn’t working. She could see no way out. She could feel the mud of the track beneath her feet, smell the dung of the cows in the byre, see the men and women approaching across the cloister garth, one of two of them clutching pitchforks to threaten the intruders.
Slowly Eadburh began to laugh. The sound was chillingly bitter.
Bea groped for her cross. ‘Christ be with me, Christ within me.’ The sun had disappeared and the sky was growing black. She could hear the wind in the trees on the hillside. And now another man, the reeve from the abbey farm, was approaching them with a sword in his hand. ‘Get you gone!’ He was shouting at Eadburh. ‘We offered hospitality. We offered you food and rest and you reply with curses. You are truly Offa of Mercia’s daughter.’ The man’s words were laden with scorn and hatred. ‘I remember the story well. You flouted God’s law; you are a murderer and a witch. How dare you come here to this peaceful sacred house of God and sully it with your curses. You and your women.’ His angry gaze took in Bea and then behind her, Sandra.
Bea froze. Desperately she was trying to break the trance that was holding her there, but she was trapped, unable to move.
She could hear Sandra laughing. ‘So, I have you where I wanted you,’ she crowed, ignoring Eadburh. ‘Beatrice, your powers are nothing compared to mine!’ Bea felt a band of pain tightening round her head. Why was this woman turning everything into some weird competition between them? Throughout her training she had been taught that revenge was out of the question. She must not fight back. She must call on her protectors. Call on the name of Jesus. And where in God’s name was Nesta?
More men were appearing out of the barn. The pitchforks were pointing directly at them and they were coming closer.
‘You wouldn’t dare touch me,’ Eadburh screamed. ‘I am Queen of Wessex. The king of your country would dismantle this place stone by stone if you laid a finger on a royal head, and the armies of my kinsman King Ceonwulf would destroy you all without a second thought.’
They hesitated, looking at each other. Bea could feel the first drops of rain. The wind was cold, from the north. ‘In the name of Jesus Christ!’ she called out. ‘Please, stop.’
They didn’t hear her. They were no longer looking at her. They were coming closer to Eadburh. Then the abbot was there beside the reeve. ‘Hold back!’ He called. ‘Don’t harm the queen, nor her followers.’
So he too could see Bea and Sandra.
‘Open the gates. Let them depart in peace.’ His was the voice of authority. The men lowered their pitchforks and the man with the sword stood still. Eadburh turned towards the gate. Her face was stony, her eyes like flint. She walked past the two women from another time without glancing at either of them and set off up the track towards the woods.
The scene changed. Bea and Sandra were outside on the track as well. The gates had closed and the night was all around them. Bea turned towards Sandra, who was close to her now, her eyes slits of malice, and suddenly she knew what to do. A mirror. She needed a mirror. She had a mirror. In her bag. In her hand. Somehow she managed to hold it up, let Sandra see her own face as with a final shaft of light the sun set behind the hill.
Sandra let out a scream. And then she was gone.
Mark’s mobile was ringing again. He picked it up eagerly, desperate to hear from Bea, but it was Heather. With a sigh he rejected the call. He would call her back later.
The phone rang again. This time it was Simon. ‘Mark? We’re in trouble. I’m driving Bea home. She’s been taken ill. I’m heading back to Hereford now.’
46
Emma knew she should not take lifts from strangers. Every girl in the world must know that by now; she had had it drummed into her since she was about four, but the old man with two huge black-wrapped rolls of hay in the back of his ancient pickup had a kind face. He drew up a few yards in front of her, his indicator blinking. ‘Are you going up to the farm?’ he asked as he leaned across and wound down the window.
The first part of her journey had been easy. She had bought her train ticket online several days before leaving, using the details from her mother’s credit card, memorised one evening when Val had gone up to bed with a headache, leaving her handbag on the table in the kitchen. By the time the school had rung Val, Emma had been well on her way to Wales. She had carefully planned every stage of her journey and knew she would have to walk once she got to the station the other end, but that didn’t matter. That way, her journey would feel more like a pilgrimage. She would start at Eliseg’s Pillar.
Ringing her father had been part of her plan. From her study of the map it had seemed a good place to meet. Iconic. Central. Near the royal palace at Dinas Bran. Then he could take her home to the cottage. She hadn’t thought it through. She was in the wrong place. The distances were far greater than she had expected. And there was no trace of Elisedd.
At first it was fun; a great adventure. She had worn her boots and had her rucksack with her. Stocking up with sandwiches and water from a shop near the station at Llangollen, she was on her way. She had her phone but she kept it switched off. She had no intention of letting Felix track her down. It never occurred to her that her mother might call the police. She only wished she hadn’t rung her father. It had been too soon. She wasn’t ready.
She knew where to go next. The man at Valle Crucis had been helpful. She was lucky enough to pick up a bus for part of the way, but otherwise, she walked. Her feet were covered in blisters by the time she arrived at Meifod.
Elisedd wasn’t at the church of St Tysilio. He had never returned there. A kind woman had directed her to a B & B and there with the help of her host she had found a book that mentioned Mathrafal as the seat of the kings of Powys.
He wasn’t there either.
She was almost in tears, exhausted and hungry, when the pickup pulled in beside her. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘I’d love a lift.’
‘Hop in then.’ The driver
pushed the door open. ‘Chuck your rucksack in there. Don’t mind the dogs.’
The footwell was full of rubbish and the seat was covered in notebooks and leaflets and sheets of old instructions covered in oily finger marks. She manoeuvred her way in beside him.
He gave her a quick glance as he engaged gear. ‘You look just about done in. I reckon my wife can find you something to eat.’
‘Thank you.’
‘So, where were you really going?’
The tears came at last. ‘I don’t know. I was going to meet someone, but he wasn’t there.’
‘Boyfriend, is it?’ He turned off the road and they bumped up a track for some half a mile before pulling up outside a long low stone-built house covered in ivy. He climbed out and went round to the side to pull her rucksack out as the dogs raced away round the back of the house.
‘What’s going on, Dai?’ A woman appeared at the door. Small and plump, with a rosy-faced smile, she was wearing an apron and her hands were covered in flour. ‘Who is this?’
‘Young lady in need of some TLC, Annie.’ The old man smiled kindly. ‘I reckon she’s had a bit of a disappointment. A cup of tea wouldn’t come amiss. I’ll leave you to it while I go and feed the dogs.’
Emma followed Annie into her kitchen and sat down at the large scrubbed table watching miserably as the woman rolled out the dough from her mixing bowl, cut it into rounds and put them deftly onto the greased bakestone on top of the old black range. Annie washed her hands and filled the kettle, sliding it onto the hotplate. ‘So,’ she sat down. ‘Do you want to tell me what’s happened, cariad? How can we help?’
Her kindness was the last straw. Emma burst into tears again. She poured out her story, or most of it. She didn’t tell Annie that her parents would be looking for her frantically, she didn’t mention the missed exams and she didn’t mention the fact that her boyfriend had died 1200 years ago. None of that made sense, even to her. All she knew was that she had to find him.
‘What made you think he’d be at Meifod?’
By now Annie had poured the tea and, retrieving the hot Welsh cakes straight from the griddle, sugared and buttered a couple, put them on a plate and pushed it in front of Emma. The kitchen was full of the sweet, spicy smell.
‘That was where he came from originally.’
‘And he agreed to meet you there?’
Emma sipped her tea gratefully and reached out to her plate. ‘Yes. No. We planned it long ago. He didn’t know I was coming today. It was a surprise.’
‘Have you rung him?’
Emma shook her head. She groped for a believable excuse. ‘My battery is flat.’
‘Then you plug your phone in right now and charge it up.’ The woman climbed to her feet. ‘We may look a bit old fashioned here, but we do know about mobile telephones. Our son made sure we had all the technology – and sometimes we even know how to use it.’ She smiled.
Emma could hardly refuse. She produced her phone and the charging cable from her rucksack, ignoring all the missed calls that flashed up as she plugged it in. ‘He used to tell me all about his land of Wales and how beautiful it was. He said one day he would take me to see a place where there were dragons and the shrine of a saint who loved hares.’
‘Ah.’ The old lady nodded gravely. ‘I’m not sure I can help you with dragons. One never knows where they will be found these days, if at all. They’re quite rare you know,’ she gave another gentle smile, ‘but the shrine to the patron saint of hares, there I can help you. That’s not too far away.’
Emma felt a huge surge of hope. ‘Do you think he might be there? We talked about it so often. The King of Powys who gave the princess the land for the shrine was an ancestor of his.’
‘My goodness. Proper Welsh he is then, this boyfriend of yours.’ She pushed the plate in Emma’s direction. ‘Well, you finish up your tea and have another of those Welsh cakes and I’ll get Dai to drive you up there and see if the boy’s there. How about that?’
‘Mum!’ Felix burst into the sitting room where his mother was sitting alone, staring into space. ‘Emma’s just popped up on my phone.’ He held it out to her.
‘Oh thank God!’ Val burst into tears. ‘Where is she?’
‘Exactly where Dad rang from. A place called Meifod. I’ve looked it up. It’s in what was Montgomeryshire. That’s in Wales,’ he added. ‘It’s an hour and forty minutes from Hereford, I checked.’
‘Did you speak to her?’
He shook his head. ‘She’s switched it off again. She must have plugged it in to charge it up.’
‘When your father rang me, he said a local woman had seen her there, in the church, but by the time he got there, she had gone.’
‘Well, she hasn’t gone far then. I’m going to look up the coordinates, then I’ll know exactly. She’ll be OK, Mum.’ He sat down on the arm of the sofa, touched by the extent of his mother’s distress. Up to now she had been mostly angry, but now he could see the strain this whole thing was having on her.
‘You’re so good, Felix. If you hadn’t known how to track her phone we wouldn’t know where she was.’
‘Are you going to tell the police?’ A small part of him felt a bit guilty at spying on his sister; but the other part was furious with her for being so bloody selfish.
His mother nodded. ‘I must. They’ve been looking for her all over the country. Your dad said someone had seen her in Llangollen and I told them that, but since then, nothing. I have to tell them we think we know where she is.’
‘And you’ll call them off?’ He had been horrified when she had first involved the police. None of what was happening to Emma would be explainable in their terms. Or anyone else’s.
‘I will when your father finds her. Did you ring him back to tell him you’d heard from her phone?’
‘I tried, but his phone is off too. They may just be out of reach of a signal up there. There are some quite remote areas. I looked it up.’
She gave a little moan. ‘I don’t know what to do, Felix.’
‘Leave it, Mum.’ Her helplessness made him feel very responsible. ‘I’ve messaged him. He’ll ring as soon as he gets the text. I’m sure everything will be OK. Em is sensible. She won’t do anything silly.’
Apart from running away, missing her exams and trying to find a man who died over a thousand years ago. He kept those thoughts to himself.
Val was blowing her nose hard, pretending not to cry. She looked up at him, her eyes shiny with tears. ‘I’m so sorry, Felix. I forgot to ask. How did the exams go today?’
He gave a theatrical shrug. ‘Not bad. I think I did OK.’
Dai dropped Emma off in the village of Llangynog, at the foot of the Berwyn Mountains. They were outside an Edwardian house with a carved B & B sign hanging by the gate. He had shown her where the shrine to the patron saint of hares was on her map. It was still a couple of miles away, he said, in a little church up a long deep valley, but she had the impression that unless he knew she was safe, he wasn’t going to leave her on her own, so as he drove away she waved goodbye and began to climb the front steps to the front door of the house. Within seconds he was out of sight. Immediately she stopped, ran back down the steps and hurried back up the main street. She was heading for the trail he had pointed out to her.
Mark had the front door open before Simon had even pulled the car up opposite the gate. Between them, he and Simon managed to extricate Bea and carry her in and through into the snug where they laid her carefully on the sofa.
‘Shut the front door, Simon,’ Mark whispered urgently. ‘That wretched woman Sandra’s probably out there somewhere. I really don’t want her barging in.’ He took Bea’s hand in his and rubbed it gently. ‘Sweetheart? Bea? Wake up.’
‘She was muttering something about Sandra in the car. It sounded as though she had followed us there, I couldn’t make it out and I didn’t want to stop.’ Having slammed the front door and slid the chain in place for good measure, Simon went over to peer out of the
window. ‘I can’t see anyone. Do you want me to go out and look?’
Mark shook his head. ‘Let’s keep all the doors locked.’ He bent to kiss Bea’s forehead. ‘Bea, please wake up.’
‘Should we call a doctor?’ Simon was still standing by the window.
‘Not yet. Let’s see how she is when she’s warmed up. She’s so cold.’
‘The car wasn’t cold.’ Simon was chewing his lip in anguish.
‘What about Emma? I’m sorry. I should have asked at once.’ Mark glanced up at him.
‘You have more pressing things to worry about.’ Simon stared helplessly at Bea. She looked so pale and so vulnerable lying there on the sofa, he felt a sudden terrible pang of anguish. He turned away. ‘Em visited the church at Meifod yesterday evening and spent the night in a B & B nearby. Since then, as far as we know, there’s been no sign of her.’
‘So, how did this happen?’ Mark gestured down at his wife.
‘Bea was in the church. I’d gone to the pub across the road from the church to organise some sandwiches for us and ask them if they’d seen Emma. Bea and I had a bite to eat and a cup of coffee, then she said there was something else she needed to check in the church. There’s an ancient cross in there that’s rather special. She went over ahead of me and she was sitting in a pew when I went in. I thought she had fallen asleep, but then she sat bolt upright and let out a cry. I don’t know if it was surprise or pain, or what. I grabbed her arm and, and,’ he swallowed hard trying to find the words, ‘it was as if she was in a different place, with different people. She was looking straight past me, talking, but so fast and so softly I couldn’t hear her. And she looked afraid. So terribly afraid. I didn’t know what to do, but I had to get her out of there. I tried to wake her, and I managed to get her back to the car and pushed her into the passenger seat, then I realised I would have to get the keys off her to drive. I assumed they were in her bag and opened it. She’d been clutching it on her knees and she let out a shriek and I thought she was trying to stop me looking inside it, but she started rummaging around in it frantically and she pulled out a little make-up mirror. She held it out in front of her, pointing away from herself at something, someone I couldn’t see.’ He took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Someone screamed, someone else, Mark, someone who wasn’t there, couldn’t see, the most awful agonised sound, and then Bea fainted.’
The Dream Weavers Page 47