Merry spent two more days in bed. Trapped by exhaustion, she could only lie there and try not to hear her father on the phone, pleading with the bank manager for more time, trying to disguise his desperation as he negotiated a sale price for the mare, asking the antiques dealer if he couldn’t do more to shift their heirlooms . . . She could also hear Professor Parks calling in, could hear the veiled desperation in her mother’s questions: Found anything yet? Anything valuable? And Parks’s clipped answers: Nothing yet. Takes time. Digs are painstaking, Mrs Owen. Then a heavy pause and in a different tone: How is your daughter? I hear she was in a bad way. What was she doing? And her mother’s answer: Thank you, Professor Parks. On the mend.

Lying in her bed, Merry frowned. She’d bet Parks was curious. Had he made the connection between the Roman legions and Sarn Helen? She could only hope and pray that he had not.

May I pop in to see her, say hello? Parks had asked.

Merry froze but her mother sailed quickly to her rescue. Oh, no, I don’t think so, Professor Parks. She needs her rest. That was followed soon after by the sound of the firm closing of the back door.

Seren also came to visit. Unlike Parks, she was allowed to see the patient. Her patient.

Merry was sitting up in bed, reading, when there was a knock on her door.

‘It’s me, Seren. Your mother sent me up.’

‘Come in,’ called Merry.

The old lady shut the door behind her, came to stand by the bed. Seren was short, no more than five foot two, but her straight-backed posture and her quiet power always made her seem bigger. She wore her usual uniform of tight grey bun, tweed skirt, warm jumper and stern face.

‘How are you?’ she asked, peering down.

‘Getting better,’ replied Merry with a smile. ‘Thanks to you and Mam.’

The healer snorted. ‘No thanks to your own stupidity.’

Merry blinked. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’

‘No, it’s not. What on earth were you up to?’ she asked with a flash of anger.

Merry looked away.

‘You can’t lie to me,’ snapped Seren. ‘It’s something to do with that book, isn’t it?’

Glancing at her, Merry wondered what the healer saw.

‘You don’t know anything about the book,’ she snapped back, going on the offensive. ‘You haven’t even seen it!’

‘Quite. Might have been nice if you’d shown it to me. Neighbourly.’

Merry winced. ‘I’m sorry, I . . .’ Her words tailed off. She couldn’t lie, but she couldn’t tell the truth either.

‘Got rid of it with what one might call indecent haste . . .’ continued Seren. ‘Only sensible thing you’ve done.’

‘Oh, thanks. Glad I got something right.’

‘Would have been better still if you’d never found it.’

‘You can’t blame all this on a book!’

‘Oh yes I can! Why d’you think it was buried?’

‘Because somebody loved it? Wanted it with them in the afterlife?’

‘Maybe. Or maybe they just wanted to keep it out of harm’s way, far from those they loved.’

Merry jolted. That’s what part of her thought too, but she wasn’t going to admit it. ‘It’s just a book, Seren. You talk about it as if it’s got some kind of awful power.’

‘You know it has!’ blazed the healer, bending down so that her weathered face was close to Merry’s. ‘You’ve already acted on it. I know you have and look what happened. It nearly cost you your life!’

Twice over, thought Merry.

‘But I survived,’ she replied, suppressing a shudder.

‘This time,’ retorted Seren. ‘Thanks to James. You might not be so lucky the next.’