He turned to face her, smiling. ‘You make a formidable bodyguard, my Mora. With you beside me, how can we fail?’

She met his eye and for a moment they stood looking at each other. She reached out and put her hand on his chest. ‘I can’t bear it that you will be going soon.’

Gently he put his arms round her. ‘I shall remember you always, you know that.’

‘Couldn’t I come with you?’ She reached up to kiss him and for a second they stayed, lost in each other’s arms.

Then he pushed her away. ‘You know that’s not possible. What I have to do, I have to do alone. You have a duty here, Mora. It is your home and your destiny just as my destiny lies far away in Galilee. We have to do as God directs. Besides you have a good man here in Cynan. He loves you. He would die for you.’ For a moment he stood looking down at her, then he turned to the track. ‘Come, let us go and find young Romanus. You have your bag of herbs?’

Blinded by sudden tears she couldn’t move for a moment. He glanced back and held out his hand. ‘Be brave, my Mora. You are a strong woman. Think now about Petra and how we can help her.’

15

The hotel in Sadler Street still had a vacancy and Kier found himself in the same twin bedroom, looking out towards the towers of Wells Cathedral. The room was very quiet. He looked round with satisfaction, dumping his bag down on the bed nearest the window. Perfect timing. He would go to Evensong, then have a meal in a local pub.

The next morning he drove back to Woodley and parked several hundred yards away from the house in a lay-by on the road where it ran straight and flat across the drained fields with their deep rhynes, symmetrical ditches punctuated by pollarded willows, the route of the causeway between the Isle of Avalon and the mainland. He was heading for the hill upon which the little church was built. He had seen Abi from across the field, threading her way down through the orchard then climbing the steep track on the far side. He watched her pause in the churchyard, then let herself in, leaving the door open behind her. The bright sunlight and fresh cold wind had swirled in with her, tugging at her jacket and tangling her hair. He frowned. She seemed to wear her hair loose all the time now. It seemed too young and frivolous, to him. And wild. Not at all suitable for a woman of the cloth. She was wearing a bright skirt, too. He could see it blowing round her legs. He walked slowly towards the church, following a footpath along the field edge. When it got to the hedge around the churchyard he found a stile and climbed over. Sheltered by yews and ancient oaks the churchyard was an island in the wide flat landscape. From here he could see the other conical hills, once islands in the wetlands, rising up in the distance. Behind him the Mendips rose as a phalanx to the north-east. It was a starkly dramatic landscape.

He walked quietly towards the church door, still uncertain what he was going to say to her and paused in the porch to listen. No sound came from inside the church. Cautiously he stepped towards the inner door and peered round it. She was sitting, staring at the altar. She looked as though she was praying. He watched her for a few moments, his eyes lingering over the beam of sunlight which illuminated her wild halo of hair and brought out the soft greens and browns of her jacket, the swirling patterns of her skirt. He could see her profile, the long straight nose, the high cheekbones and the strong, determined mouth. He smiled and stepped back, tiptoeing outside once more, unwilling to interrupt her, hearing the murmur of her voice. He paused and almost turned back, but that was wrong. If she chose to speak out loud to the Almighty then who was he to interrupt. This was why she was here. To pray and meditate. To clear her conscience with God. He stood for a few minutes in the windy churchyard, watching the four ancient yew trees sway and dance in a stately quadrille, then he turned and made his way back towards the stile. He was halfway there when he stopped and looked back.

Then he began to retrace his steps.

Abi could see her now. She was still hazy and somehow hesitant but the expression in her eyes was clear. It was pleading, desperate. ‘Mora, speak to me. I can see you. What can I do to help?’ She spoke clearly but she didn’t dare move. Behind her the heavy door swung open in the wind, scraping on the ancient paving stones. She had the feeling that if she stood up or moved closer she would scare Mora away again. ‘Please, tell me what you want. I am listening to your story.’ She fell silent, trying to open herself to whatever came. The figure hadn’t moved. Shadows from the trees outside fell through the stained glass of the window and played across the altar. She frowned, afraid she would lose sight of the figure in the shifting beams of light. ‘Mora, speak to me.’

‘Who in the name of Our Lord Jesus Christ is Mora!’ Kier’s voice just behind her made her spin round, rigid with shock. ‘Just who are you praying to?’

She turned back to the altar but Mora had gone. With a mixture of rage and disappointment, she fell back onto the chair. ‘Get out, Kier.’ She spoke through clenched teeth.

‘Not until you’ve told me. Who is Mora? Are you praying to some sort of goddess?’ He sputtered over the word as he stood over her.

She shook her head wearily. ‘No, Kier, I am not praying to a goddess.’

‘What then?’

‘It is none of your business. Please go away. I thought you had gone. I thought you had realised you had made a huge mistake coming down here.’

He shook his head wildly. ‘Please, don’t look so cross, Abi. I only want to talk to you for a few minutes, then I will go. I promise. I need to explain – ’ He paused and looked away, anguished. ‘I didn’t mean to come and hound you.’ He tried again. ‘I don’t want you to feel you’ve got to run away all the time. It’s only because I care so much that I have come here. It’s not your fault I’ve lost my job. I know that now. I went back to see the bishop. I handled everything appallingly but it will all come right. I know it will.’

Abi put her hands in her jacket pockets and waited in silence. He glanced at her, then looked down at the floor. ‘You are a sensitive woman, Abi,’ he said at last. ‘Exceptionally so and as an ordained priest you are a prime target. You know that as well as I do.’ He paused as though expecting her to say something.

She waited, looking at him, amazed that she could feel so much hostility towards a man who had once attracted her. ‘I don’t know how to get through to you,’ she said at last. ‘I don’t want to see you any more. I don’t want you interfering in my life.’

‘When I first came it was because your father asked me to,’ Kier went on. ‘He begged me to help you. He knows how dangerous that rock crystal is. He says it destroyed your mother. It has demonic powers.’

‘Rubbish!’ Abi felt a surge of anger. ‘Look, Kier. I am trying to be reasonable. I don’t care what my father asked you to do. My father hates anything that smacks of superstition to him, and that includes the Church of England, I may say. I left home because he and I do not agree on a great many important subjects. Our relationship is none of your business. Please go now.’ She saw him hesitate. ‘Now, Kier!’

‘I’m not going anywhere. I can’t leave you here like this. Your immortal soul is in danger – ’

‘No, not again!’ Suddenly she was so angry she couldn’t contain her rage. She stood up and turned on him. ‘My immortal soul is my affair, Kier. If I want to pray to the devil himself I will! Now I want you to go away and leave me alone and never, never come near me again. If you don’t I shall go to the police and charge you with harassment, do you understand me?’

He took a step back. ‘Abi! There’s no need for that. I want to help you.’

‘You are not helping me.’

‘Then explain. Who is Mora?’

‘All right. I’ll tell you.’ Her eyes were blazing with rage. ‘Mora is a ghost. She was a druid priestess and she has been trying to speak to me.’ His face had gone white, his eyes narrowed with shock. She didn’t notice. ‘She is a healer. Yes, a healer, Kier. And what is more she was a friend of Jesus. She loved him. He was a student here, on the Isle of Avalon. The legends are true. He came with Joseph of Arimathaea, a trader who came to pick up cargoes of tin and lead round the coast here, and he studied with the druids and he healed the sick and I have seen him. Watched him at work. And this church is one of the most sacred places in the whole of England and you have walked in here with your petty jealousy and anger and your puritan ignorance and you have spoiled everything!’

He was silent for a moment, staring at her. When at last he spoke it was just two words. ‘Oh, Abi.’

‘Yes, oh Abi!’ Ducking away from him she threw herself into the aisle near the pulpit, and turned to face him. ‘Go away, Kier.’

‘You poor child. You are completely deluded.’ He took a step back away from her. ‘It is far worse than I thought. Far worse.’ He paused again. ‘Have you told Ben about this delusion?’

‘It is not a delusion.’ She was so furious she could barely speak. ‘Yes, I’ve told Ben about Mora. She has been seen around here for hundreds of years by generations of his family. She has a story she needs to tell, about Jesus, Kier, and she has been trying to find someone who can understand her. Someone who will listen.’

‘And that person is you.’ His voice was flat.

‘Yes, that person is me.’

‘I see.’ He sighed. ‘OK. I can see why you were angry with me for interrupting you. I’m sorry.’ He glanced round the church with a shiver. ‘I take it she isn’t here any more.’

‘No, she’s gone.’

‘I saw the ghosts at St Hugh’s, you know.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve always seen ghosts. They terrify me. They are evil. They take you over. I wanted you to help me stop them, but you made them worse.’ His voice was shaking. ‘Can we pray together, Abi? Then I’ll go.’