Flavius smiled. ‘No. I’m a soldier, remember. Fit as a flea, me!’

Mora was outside her house, standing in front of a small table, which was laden with bags of herbs. She looked up as Romanus appeared and smiled at him in welcome. Her gaze moved beyond him to Flavius and her smile died on her lips. ‘Who is this, Romanus?’

‘My uncle, Flavius. He wanted to visit the island and we thought we could come and collect Mora’s medicine to save you the journey.’

Mora frowned. ‘But I went to see Petra yesterday, didn’t she tell you? I took the medicine with me.’

There was a moment’s silence. Romanus looked confused. ‘Petra never said.’

‘Indeed she didn’t,’ Flavius added after a moment. He scowled. ‘How very odd that no-one mentioned it. I take it you saw Lydia and my brother?’

Mora held his gaze. Her eyes were a deep grey-blue and he felt them probing his very soul. ‘I saw Lydia. Your brother wasn’t there.’

‘Did you go alone?’ He folded his arms.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘No reason. It seems to me a long way to paddle a canoe on your own.’ As if realising that he was alienating her with his confrontational questions he relaxed with a broad smile. ‘This young man ferried me over just now. I was very impressed with his stamina. I’m not sure many young Roman lads could paddle so swiftly and so strongly at his age.’

She turned back to her table and reached for a bag of herbs. ‘How strange. Our young people do it all the time. As do our womenfolk.’ She gave him a swift, cold smile.

He nodded graciously. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.’

Romanus looked from his uncle to Mora and back uncomfortably. He didn’t understand this sudden atmosphere of hostility between them. ‘I expect Cynan was with you, wasn’t he?’ he asked helpfully.

‘Cynan?’ Flavius was watching her hands as she pulled out a wad of dry green leaves.

‘My colleague. Yes, he did go with me, as it happened.’

‘And who is Cynan? Does he come from a local tribe?’

‘Oh yes, his father is one of the druids,’ Romanus put in helpfully. ‘Cynan taught me how to whistle up the shore birds.’

‘So, you know him as well as you know Mora here?’

‘You seem very interested in my companion?’ Mora said after a moment.

Flavius smiled. ‘Forgive me. I am interested in this whole place. It seems very special. I had heard about it long before I arrived here. I gather people come from all over the Empire to study here.’

‘The Empire, where to be a druid is an offence punishable by death?’ Mora said quietly. ‘Have you come to spy on us, sir?’

Just for a moment he looked taken aback but then he was smiling again, all honesty and directness. ‘Of course not. The ban, as you must know, is largely directed at the wild men of Gaul who plot and intrigue against the Emperor. They were given their chance to come into line but they refused. Here I gather the studies of your druid schools are directed towards peace and healing. Besides, this place is not part of the Empire yet.’

Mora gazed at him. Something was wrong; she could sense him veiling his mind from her as he studied her face with his wide eyes and his disingenuous expression.

‘You expect us to be a part of the Empire one day?’

He shrugged eloquently. ‘I think it likely. Why would a small group of isles on the edge of the world want to be independent of the Empire? We bring too many benefits to the peoples we rule. Wealth. Peace. Strength against the barbarian hoards.’

She gave a quiet laugh. ‘I fear we are the barbarian hoards.’ She turned to her herbs once more. ‘Since I have already delivered Petra’s medicine, Romanus, your journey was unnecessary, I’m sorry.’ She glanced up at the boy with a gentle smile.

He met her gaze anxiously, then glanced at Flavius, eager to help him. ‘My uncle wants to meet your student, Mora.’

‘Indeed.’ Her glance flashed back to Flavius. ‘Well, I’m afraid he is out of luck. My student is away on an errand on the mainland. I doubt if he will return for several days.’

Flavius drew his cloak around him as a cold breeze fingered its way through the woodland around her house. ‘I am sorry to hear that. It would have interested me to find out how far some of your students have come and why they chose this place. Perhaps I will have the chance to meet him another time.’

Mora inclined her head. She could sense danger here and she wasn’t sure why. Gaius was a friend. He and his wife were a part of the community. People liked and trusted them, but this man, Gaius’s brother, was a different matter. There was no transparency in his gaze. The wind blew again, a gentle cold warning, touching her cheek. The gods were whispering to her to beware.

Janet Cavendish showed Kier into the sitting room with a tight smile. ‘I’ll tell Ben you are here. He’s working on his sermon.’ She pulled the door closed behind her and made her way to Ben’s study. ‘The evil seducer is here,’ she whispered. ‘He’s rather good-looking.’

Ben stared at her blankly.

‘You know!’ she went on. ‘Abi Rutherford’s lovelorn swain. Whichever way you think of him he is here in the sitting room and he wants to see you.’

Ben stood up. ‘How did he know about me? Who gave him this address?’

Janet shrugged. ‘I didn’t hang around to cross question him. That’s your job. Shall I bring tea?’

Ben sighed. ‘You may as well.’

The fire had not been lit. The room was warm enough but without the companionable crackle of logs in the grate it seemed to lack life and Ben wondered briefly why Janet hadn’t brought the man straight into his study as she would most visitors. He held out his hand to his guest and gestured him to a chair, then he went over to the log basket. He reached for a fire lighter, piled up a few birch logs and felt in his pocket for a box of matches. ‘So, Mr Scott, how can I help you?’

‘I’ve come to talk about Abi.’ Kier sat back in his chair; outwardly at least he seemed relaxed and calm. ‘How is she?’

‘She is well.’ Ben sat down opposite him. In this room Janet had chosen a predominantly pale yellow design for the furnishings. The curtains were flowered with stylised primroses and soft ferns, the chairs a corded light mustard. It was a comfortable room, designed to reassure and uplift. ‘May I ask who told you she was in Somerset, Mr Scott? This information was supposed to have been kept confidential.’ Flames were licking greedily over the logs now. There were one or two sharp cracks as they grew hot.

Kier looked him straight in the eye. ‘Her father told me. Professor Rutherford is as concerned as I am that the Church is not behaving in a responsible and open manner. In fact, I think the bishop’s actions in this case have been grossly reprehensible. He has used some remote family connection to give him the excuse for meddling in affairs which don’t concern him at all.’

Ben sat back and crossed his legs casually as he surveyed the other man. Kier was dressed in smart brown cords with a rust-coloured sweater over an open-necked checked shirt. There was a silver chain round his neck; Ben could not see what hung from it. Probably a cross, he supposed, but outwardly nothing about the man’s appearance betrayed the fact that he was a clergyman.

Aware of Ben’s scrutiny, Kier lifted his hand restlessly and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Then he sat forward in the chair, his elbows on his knees. ‘I expect you have been given some kind of garbled fabrication of what happened between Abi and myself?’

‘I have heard Abi’s version of the story, certainly,’ Ben said carefully. ‘But what happened between you and Abi, Mr Scott, only concerns me in that it has affected Abi’s spiritual wellbeing. I am her advisor and her counsellor in her role as a priest, I am not a repairer of relationships. And as such, I am sure you understand, I am not at liberty to discuss anything about her with a third party.’

He saw a muscle tighten in Kier’s cheek. There was a temper there, tightly under control. He had noted that Kier had not asked him to call him by his Christian name. Odd that, but in a sense welcome in that it kept them at arm’s length from one another.

The door opened behind them and Janet appeared with a tray. ‘I thought you might like some tea, Mr Scott,’ she said with a smile. She laid the tray down on the table near him. ‘Shall I leave you to pour out, Ben?’

Ben nodded. ‘Please, my dear.’ He had not taken his eyes off Kier’s face. The man had not even acknowledged Janet’s presence. He hadn’t risen to his feet as good manners might have indicated. He didn’t speak to her or thank her for the tea. His eyes were fixed on Ben’s face in some kind of test of strength. He sensed Janet hesitate and he relented. ‘In fact, perhaps you could do it for us, Janet. That would be kind.’ The man would have to acknowledge her presence if she was handing him a cup of tea. Ben waited curiously to see what would happen.

Kier ignored the proffered cup and after a moment’s hesitation Janet set it on the side table next to him. ‘I’ll leave some sugar here, shall I, Mr Scott?’ Her voice was slightly louder than before. Ben could sense her irritation.

And at last he looked up at her and nodded. ‘Thank you, Mrs Cavendish. No sugar.’ She was dismissed.

Ben looked at his wife. He could see the angry flush on her cheeks as she gave him his own cup and then turned towards the door. If he was any judge of his wife’s psychology Abi had just won a useful ally.

‘Because of Abi’s wild accusations and her more than strange behaviour over the last weeks of her curacy in my parish, she has secured my suspension,’ Kier said slowly. ‘I don’t know if she told you anything about that in your role as her confessor?’

Ben shook his head. ‘As I just told you, Mr Scott, I can’t discuss anything that I may or may not have talked about with Abi.’