‘But he is the one you chose,’ Abi repeated. ‘It wasn’t too late. You could have changed your mind. You could have run away with Justin. You could have dumped Mat. But you didn’t. You might have fancied Justin, but it’s Mat you love.’

Cal nodded again.

Behind them there was a sudden hiss of overflowing water on the hotplate as the potatoes came to the boil. Cal stood up and went to turn down the heat. Then she sat down again. ‘He comes here so seldom. Sometimes he is away for literally years without a word. That is what has brought this all to a head again. He started coming to borrow books, trying to do it without being seen. I caught him, just as you did.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘After that I was somehow complicit. And now he is coming more openly. It’s bringing stuff out into the open again.’

‘So now is the time to lay the ghost,’ Abi said gently. ‘Talk to Mat. If you hide things he senses it. Blame me. Or even Ben. Reassure him that Justin has only come back because of me.’

Cal sighed. ‘I will. I’m a coward, that’s the trouble. I prefer to pretend things aren’t happening, hoping it will all go away. But it doesn’t of course.’ She paused. ‘What about a glass of wine while we wait for him to come in? I’ve a casserole in the oven, so supper is nearly ready.’

‘I’d love one.’ Abi stood up. ‘But first let me go and have a quick look outside. I know where I saw him last.’ She reached for her coat and for the torch which was kept beside the back door. ‘By the time you’ve poured one out for me, I’ll be back.’

She had a feeling she knew where he would be. She walked steadily, the torch beam on the ground ahead of her, through the garden, past the ruins, heading for the church.

It never seemed to be locked. Perhaps it was too far off the beaten track to be in danger from vandals or thieves but she knew when she turned the handle and heard the latch lift in the silence that he was there. He was sitting in the front row of chairs, the two dogs lying beside him in the aisle. They thumped their tails as she entered but made no move to greet her.

‘Mat?’

He didn’t move. She felt her throat tighten with fear. ‘Mat, are you all right?’

She walked towards him, the torch throwing a faint pool of light on the paving slabs. He was sitting staring at the altar. ‘Mat?’ She laid her hand gently on his shoulder.

‘I’m OK,’ he said at last. He sounded as if he was waking from a dream.

‘We were worried. Cal has been looking for you everywhere.’

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was husky. For a moment longer he sat without moving then he gave his head a slight shake. ‘I saw her. I was watching her. Your priestess. She was here looking for you.’

Abi sat down next to him. She switched off the torch and they sat side by side in the darkness.

‘I’ve never seen a ghost before, Abi. I’ve heard so much about them. Imagined what it would be like. Ridiculed Cal and Justin, even Ben, and then suddenly there she was standing looking at me. I could smell her. A sort of static electric smell. I’ve never smelled anything like it before.’

Abi frowned. ‘I’ve never smelled anything like that.’

He shook his head. ‘It was wonderful. There was no mistake. I wasn’t imagining it.’

‘Why do you think she was looking for me?’ Abi’s eyes were growing used to the dark now. She could make out the faint outline of the window against the stars, the black silhouette of the altar. She stared round, wondering if Mora was still there.

‘She was searching for something. Someone.’

‘Perhaps it was Cynan. He was the man – ’ she paused, ‘one of the men, she loved. This was his special place.’

‘This was certainly a sacred place long before the Christians came,’ he nodded. ‘It is in the guidebooks. You know Glastonbury,’ he grinned suddenly, ‘a place where the veils are thin. Technically we may be on the “mainland” now,’ he drew the inverted commas in the air with his fingers, ‘but we are on our own little island, and so is this church. We share those ancient Celts’ “mysticality”, their sense of mysticism.’

Abi smiled. ‘You are right, of course. I sensed it too, but I am distracted by the fact that it is a church. I was wrapping myself in prayer, not allowing her in.’

He glanced at her. In the darkness they were no more than two shadowy silhouettes. ‘Does it get in the way a lot?’

‘Being a priest?’

He nodded.

‘It shouldn’t. It is who I am.’ She paused. ‘But yes, I think that is one of my problems. I don’t seem to know how to integrate my belief in Jesus Christ with my knowledge that other things, things which are not officially compatible with Christianity, are out there. Things I find important. Things I can’t deny just because I am not supposed to see them.’

‘It sounds as if you need a concentrated seminar with both my brothers, one after the other.’

She gave a muted chuckle. ‘You are right.’ She sighed. ‘We must go back. Cal is opening the wine and supper is ready.’

‘And Mora has gone.’

She nodded. ‘I don’t sense her here. I’ll come again in the morning, and work at stripping away the fabric of Christianity so that I can talk to her. Although – ’ She stopped. She had been about to say that Mora of all people would understand about Jesus Christ.

He was there ahead of her. ‘I don’t think it matters, Abi. She needs to talk to you and she has consistently followed you around. Just stop and listen.’

How many people was it now, who had told her the same thing? As she stood up and turned to follow the dogs to the door Abi glanced over her shoulder into the darkness. It wasn’t that she hadn’t tried. She had tried again and again. Perhaps tomorrow Mora would come to her and this time they would find a way to talk.

‘Please come, Mora.’ Romanus was standing in the doorway of her house, his hair blowing in the wind which had risen over the marshes. ‘Petra is so ill. And she needs Yeshua. He could cure her, couldn’t he? His God is so powerful.’

Mora looked at him thoughtfully. ‘And your uncle? Is he still there?’

The boy nodded miserably, unable to tell a direct lie. He looked away from her. ‘He won’t be there when we get there. He said he was going out. He will be out all day. I can go ahead to make sure. Please, Mora. She was crying all night. It was awful, Mama and Sorcha took turns to sit with her, but we could all hear her.’

Mora looked past him out of the door. The sun was shining but the wind was bringing with it a wrack of stormy cloud. She was torn between the suspicion that Flavius would be there somewhere waiting, and her desire to help Petra. That the girl was in intolerable pain she knew was true. With the wind in this direction it was always worse and she doubted if Petra would be able to bear the long winter of cold and damp. Yeshua was her only hope. And yet to visit Petra’s house would put him in immediate danger. She brought her attention back to the boy’s face. He was watching her in an agony of doubt, twisting his fingers together in the folds of his woollen tunic. She noted the serviceable knife in his belt. A man’s knife. But he was still in so many ways a boy.

She made up her mind suddenly. ‘I will talk to Yeshua,’ she said. ‘I will see if he thinks it would be safe to come.’

Watching him closely she saw the sudden shift of his eyes, the tightening of his knuckles. ‘Romanus,’ she said quietly, ‘I know you love Petra. I know you would do anything to help her. But to trap Yeshua would be so wrong. Petra would not want that.’

‘My uncle said he was going to be away today,’ he repeated stubbornly. ‘I am sure it will be safe. You – he – wouldn’t have to stay long.’

‘Very well. Go and wait by your canoe. I will speak to Yeshua and I will collect my medicines and bring the extra strong doses for her.’

She had told her father and Cynan about the Roman and his ambush up in the hills and both men had frowned in consternation. ‘You must not go onto the mainland alone with Yeshua again,’ her father had said sternly. ‘Take Cynan with you and some of the young druids. I want no violence, but their presence would probably be enough to protect you. Invoke the gods to wrap you with concealing mists so the man becomes lost. If he should wander into the mere, so much the better.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Don’t be led astray by Yeshua, Mora. Strange forces surround him. His god is very strong but so are his enemies.’

Yeshua was standing by the spring. Mora made her way along the track, feeling the wind drag at her hair, pulling the cloak back from her shoulders as she walked. The sacred yew trees were whispering to one another, the rattle and hiss of their agitated branches drowning the gentle bubbling of the waters. She stood there in silence, waiting for him to look up at her, aware of his thin shoulders in the woollen robe of a druid, his bent head, his neck so vulnerable beneath his blowing hair.

When he spoke it was without taking his eyes from the waters in front of him. ‘We are to go and see Petra?’

She felt herself tense. ‘You have seen it in the spring?’

He nodded.

‘And do you see if we are being tricked?’

He nodded again. ‘Don’t blame the boy. He is torn. His loyalties are pulled every way by the scheming of this man. But I want to go and see this child. It is not right that she should be left to suffer because we are afraid.’

‘We should take Cynan and some of the others with us,’ she said reluctantly. ‘My father is not happy for us to go across alone any more.’

Yeshua shook his head. ‘I don’t want druids to be involved in this. Rome fears and resents them. In Gaul they are proscribed. I don’t wish to bring trouble to people who have been my hosts and my teachers and whose way is peace. Don’t worry. My father will protect us.’

‘Your father?’ She raised an eyebrow. Then she understood. She could never get used to the familiar way he sometimes spoke of his god. ‘Even if we go alone, it won’t do any harm for us to protect ourselves as well,’ she put in sharply. ‘At least we know what to expect.’