Merry dug out the book from its hiding place. She sat cross-legged on the floor, holding it gently in her lap. She turned the beautiful pages carefully, gazing at the lavish images, then turning back to the riddle pool.

The dark pool reflecting clouds overhead, the sunlight arrowing through the water, the thicket of bushes, the nightingale watching from the oak . . . She didn’t need the book to find the riddle pool. The image was seared into her mind. When she went to sleep at night, she saw it there . . .

She shut the book, wrapped it away safely in its swaddling, placed it inside its chest.

‘Goodbye, beautiful book,’ she whispered. ‘I can’t help thinking I was meant to find you, that there’s something in you just for me, but I can’t keep you.’

She thought of her mother, of her baby brother. They weren’t safe. And, despite her exhibition with her longbow, she wasn’t either. Her father would obliterate anyone who threatened any of them, but he couldn’t be around 24-7.

She thought of the chieftain, hoped he’d be at peace with her decision. But really, she thought as she squeezed the chest into a plastic bag and let herself out, locking the door behind her, what choice did she have?

She set off through the thawing fields. No tunnel this time. She climbed the boundary wall, walked straight across the parkland, up to the massive stone face of the Black Castle.

James was waiting for her on the drawbridge. He looked pale, thought Merry, and she could feel a current of emotion running through him like electricity. Football, she guessed, and his parents’ threats.

They smiled at each other.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi.’ She punched his arm. ‘Congrats, superstar.’

‘I’m not there yet.’

‘My money’s on you.’

‘Thanks,’ he said softly. ‘But first things first. They’re all waiting for you. It’s a tad tense. Just had a bit of an argument, to put it mildly, but I interrupted Parks and Dr Philipps in their packing. They’ll help keep it civilized.’

‘Don’t leave me alone in there,’ Merry whispered, feeling suddenly nervous. She had to pull this off, and cleverly.

James gave a grim smile that puzzled her. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be there.’

‘What did they say about you, about Manchester United?’ Merry asked him as they walked across the cobbled courtyard.

‘They said we’ll talk about it in Bali. Annual family holiday in the sun,’ he said with unconcealed misery. He didn’t mention what they’d said about Merry. That was the last thing she needed to hear, and what she hadn’t heard wouldn’t hurt her.

Merry could imagine the scene. Suncream, coconuts, harsh words.

‘When are you off?’ she asked.

James glanced away. ‘Tomorrow,’ he mumbled. ‘As soon as Alicia’s school hols start. We’ll pick her up from boarding school on the way to Heathrow. But I might not go,’ he said, turning back to Merry.

‘What d’you mean? You’ll just refuse?’

‘Pretty much. I mean, I don’t actually want to go. I don’t want to have those endless discussions.’

‘What do you want, then?’

‘I want to move to Manchester. Carry on training. Try and get a contract.’

Merry blew out a breath. ‘Wow! When will you decide?’

‘Tonight. I’ll make up my mind, one way or another.’

‘Ring me when you do.’

James nodded. ‘I will. Keep your phone on you, then. You’re always off somewhere forgetting it.’

‘Promise,’ replied Merry.

*

In the muniments room, the earl and the countess, Merry and James, Professor Parks and Dr Philipps stood in a circle, peering down at her book. Merry wasn’t sure what the countess was doing there. She didn’t think James’s mother was remotely interested in books.

Merry turned to Dr Philipps. ‘I’ve been thinking, about what you said about my keeping the book, about it not being safe.’

He eyed her speculatively.

‘How about if I sell it to you?’ she asked. ‘Now.’

He blinked. ‘Well . . . goodness! The Museum of Wales would absolutely love to have it. A Welsh museum is where this book belongs, if I may say so.’

Merry beamed. ‘Yes,’ she only half fibbed. ‘That’s what I think too.’

‘But there’s a problem.’

‘What?’

‘Funds. Or rather, lack of funds. You see, if you can wait say, six months, we can launch a campaign, raise money for it, give you a fair price, but at the moment we’ve got very little in the kitty, I’m afraid.’

‘Are you certain it’s yours to sell?’ the countess asked Merry.

‘Ma!’ exclaimed James, glaring at his mother.

‘It’s all right,’ Merry said to him. She needed to fight this battle on her own. She turned to the countess, stood straight and tall. The countess wore high heels, but Merry could still look down on her. ‘Yes, actually, I am certain,’ she said, her voice level but vibrating with quiet fury inside. ‘My father and I checked and made sure that the land where we found it is on our side of the boundary.’

‘And is it?’ continued the countess. ‘I mean, you two would say that, wouldn’t you?’

‘Mother, you are just—’ started James.

‘And even if that were the case,’ the countess continued, voice rising high. ‘What if the book were placed there while we owned that land? Then it would be ours, wouldn’t it?’

‘Well, you cannot prove that! Can you?’ countered Merry. ‘And we can prove the land is on our side. Any independent surveyor would confirm that!’

‘Miss Owen is correct, I’m afraid, Lady de Courcy,’ said Professor Parks smoothly. ‘The date of the book need not by any means tally with the date it was buried. What you are suggesting is hypothesis. Not fact.’

Merry felt a surge of approval for Professor Parks, an unexpected ally.

‘Well, in that case,’ replied the countess archly, ‘perhaps the Black Castle can buy the book.’

Merry gazed at the countess in amazement. The woman was determined not to let this go. This had turned into a battle, and one she clearly intended to win.

‘Sorry,’ said Merry with as insincere a smile as she could muster. ‘It really does belong in a museum.’

The de Courcys’ buying the book was the last thing she wanted. First because she felt there was something about it; it wasn’t cursed exactly but freighted with bad luck. She’d felt that straight off, from the time she first unwrapped it as she sat on the chieftain’s grave. She didn’t want it anywhere near James. And second, her father would detest the idea of the de Courcys bailing them out. He would never allow it.

‘A museum really would be the most appropriate home for a treasure such as this,’ said Professor Parks.

‘Hmph!’ declared the countess, sending Merry a poisonous look before pretending to examine her red-painted nails.

‘Well, that seems to have settled that,’ Merry managed to say. She waited a few long, agonizing moments to see if there would be another challenge. But the countess, face tight with anger, said nothing, and the earl, the Stone Man, just stood there, unreadable but mercifully silent.

Merry turned back to Dr Philipps. ‘So how much do you have in the kitty?’

‘Well, I’d have to talk to the bursar, but from memory, we have only a matter of seven thousand pounds in our acquisitions budget. Like I said, we could raise more, but it would take time.’

‘I don’t have time,’ Merry said aloud, earning a quizzical look from James.

She needed the mortgage paid off, but even more importantly, she needed to get rid of this book and keep her family safe.

‘How about this?’ she said. ‘You’re leaving later today, aren’t you?’

‘I am.’

Merry picked up the book, thrust it at him. ‘Take it. Take it with you. Sign a piece of paper saying that I am selling it to the National Museum of Wales for a down payment of seven thousand pounds. As soon as you get into your office, your bursar can write out a cheque and then another payment of . . .’ Merry thought wildly, wondered what it would be worth, ‘. . . sixty thousand pounds.’ That would pay off their mortgage with a small margin to spare and she didn’t want to be greedy. ‘Which is to be paid over the next twelve months,’ she finished.

Dr Philipps spluttered, but held on to the book. ‘It’s a bit unorthodox.’

‘Bonkers!’ was the countess’s verdict. ‘What would your parents say? You can’t simply go and decide this for them. You’re just a schoolgirl!’

‘I can promise you,’ lied Merry, ‘that my parents will have no problem with this. In fact, they agree with me! We’ve discussed it.’

‘That is quite true,’ cut in Professor Parks. ‘We did have that exact discussion a few days ago. Caradoc Owen was quite clear. The family wants the book to go to a museum.’

The countess gave a huffy little shrug.

‘Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,’ said James. He leant over his father’s desk and picked up a fountain pen. ‘I can write out a contract now,’ he said, glancing between Dr Philipps and Merry. ‘You, Professor Parks, can witness it, and Dr Philipps and Merry can sign it.’

‘That,’ declared Merry, beaming in approval at James, ‘is the most wonderful idea!’

James smiled back at her. His parents said nothing, but Merry could feel the annoyance radiating from them. They’d been outmanoeuvred, in public.

‘Well,’ declared Professor Parks, ‘it seems that this way we keep everyone happy.’

Merry nodded. Apart from James’s parents. And the thief, who would find it considerably more difficult breaking into the Museum of Wales than into Nanteos Farm.

‘One more condition,’ she said. Everyone looked at her expectantly. Merry the hard-driving businesswoman was not a side of her that anyone had ever seen. Least of all Merry herself.

‘And?’ queried Dr Philipps.

‘You put out a press announcement. Now. I don’t want to be named. It needs to say this: “The Lost Tale of the Mabinogion”,’ began Merry as Dr Philipps pulled out his phone and began to tap, ‘“has been sold today, to the National Museum of Wales with immediate effect. The museum is delighted to be in possession of this beautiful and historically important book. As from—”’

‘Hold on a minute would you please, Merry? I’m not a trained stenographer.’

‘“As from today’s date”,’ Merry continued after a suitable pause, ‘“the book shall reside safely at the Museum of Wales.”’

Merry waited for Dr Philipps to finish inputting her words.

‘Any more?’ he asked with a smile.

‘No, thank you. That covers it.’

‘Not very press-release-type language, if you’ll forgive me for observing,’ murmured the earl, exchanging a look with his wife, who clearly agreed.

‘Well, I’m terribly sorry,’ replied Merry, ‘but I’m just a farm girl, not a PR supremo.’

She caught James’s eye. He was struggling not to laugh. At least she had improved his mood.

‘That’s the way the language has to be,’ said Merry, serious now. ‘Word for word.’

Dr Philipps nodded. ‘Word for word,’ he agreed.

James wrote out the rest of the contract at his father’s desk, conferring with Merry as he did so. ‘That do?’ he asked at last.

She nodded. ‘Mhm. Very much so.’

Dr Philipps and Professor Parks read it and signed it, Parks as witness. James walked over to a large machine and made a photocopy of it.

‘Keep this safe,’ he said, handing it to Merry. She wanted to hug him, to thank him for so coolly and smoothly helping her plan along, but she felt his parents’ eyes boring into her the whole time. She’d only get him into trouble. All she could do was take the piece of paper and smile.

The deal was done. Dr Philipps got up to leave with the book in its chest, tucked under his arm.

‘Could you email me with the translation as you go through it, please?’ Merry asked. ‘I’m still interested in the book, in what it says.’

He beamed at Merry, clearly delighted to be in possession of the book.

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Happy to.’

‘Thanks,’ she replied. ‘Oh, and one more thing,’ she added, putting her hand on his arm. He looked up at her in surprise. ‘Don’t, for any reason, be tempted to take it home. Go straight to the museum.’

The man looked at her for a while, deep brown eyes shifting as he seemed to be trying to figure her out.

‘That’s a little melodramatic, isn’t it?’ intoned Professor Parks.

‘A little rude, I thought,’ murmured the countess just loud enough to be heard.

‘I am happy to oblige,’ replied Dr Philipps, eyes still locked on Merry. ‘It was I, after all, who warned you against keeping it at your home.’

Merry’s whole body flushed. Could it have been him? Had she entrusted the book to the one person who had tried to steal it? She felt a sense of horror, but then another thought hit her. If it had been, she’d now made it much harder for him to steal it.

‘You did,’ she replied. ‘So you’d better keep it safe,’ she added. ‘If anything happened to it, you’d be the number one suspect, wouldn’t you?’ she added with a smile, as if she were joking.