34

I

When he woke, Hugh was pouring with sweat. He could smell blood, terror, and in the background the sweet scent of the trampled grass and heather; he could hear shouts and groans and the screams of horses and above it all the fearful baying note of the carnyx. With a groan he staggered out of bed and went to stand in the shower under the cool clean water, trying to clear his head.

Towelling himself dry at last, he wiped the steam from the mirror and peered at himself, afraid of what he might see. His own face looked back at him, haggard, exhausted, but his own.

Silently he let himself out of the cottage into the dawn and climbed back into the car. He couldn’t feel Venutios any more. He couldn’t see him. As far as he could tell he was safe in the car. Somehow it protected him, but he couldn’t stay in there forever.

The hill was deserted as he climbed and for a while he was content and confident. It was exhilarating to be up so early. He could hear a skylark and in the distance the bubbling call of a curlew and for a few short minutes he allowed himself to feel happy. It didn’t last. Between one second and the next the terror returned as, in the distance, he heard it again, echoing across the hills, the deep war cry of the carnyx. He clenched his fists, sweat breaking out on his forehead. This could not happen again!

He turned back, running, frantically scanning the lane at the foot of the hill for the gateway where he had left his car. Slipping and sliding on the grass and stones he reached it at last, and throwing himself inside slammed down the locks, then he sat back, eyes closed, feeling his heart thudding in his chest. His first thought was for Viv. He groped in his pocket for his mobile. He had to warn her. The bastard had followed him. He was still trying to find the brooch. Venutios mustn’t get her; he mustn’t find her. Somehow he had to keep her safe.

The mobile was dead.

He glanced up at the great flank of hillside and with a curse chucked the phone into the footwell beside him. He had to get back to the cottage and ring her on a landline.

James was standing in the doorway, sipping from a mug of tea as he quietly watched the road for his guest. The honeysuckle near him was alive with bees.

He greeted him cheerfully as Hugh pushed open the gate. ‘I thought perhaps you’d gone for a walk. I hope you’re ready for breakfast. Margaret has decided to spend a few days in Lancaster, so you and I are on our own. I don’t suppose, as it’s Sunday, that you’d care to come to church later?’ He glanced at his guest and frowned. ‘Perhaps not. Something has happened, hasn’t it.’

‘Venutios was out there on the hill. I heard that damn trumpet again; his signature tune. What am I going to do?’

James paused as he led the way towards the kitchen and gave Hugh a long hard look, then he gave a sheepish grin. ‘I think I need to make a confession. When you rushed out last night I thought about what you told me and I consulted with the boss man.’ He pointed at the ceiling. When Hugh looked blank he explained. ‘I prayed for guidance. I thought in my unforgivably nosy way that you looked like a man who could do with some help. The boss suggested I talk to your friend, Meryn Jones.’

‘What?’ Hugh stared at him.

‘I wasn’t sure how to get in touch with him, but I rang a colleague in Edinburgh who I thought might know about the research you said Meryn was doing. To cut a long story short, he gave me his number and we talked.’

There was a long silence. Hugh subsided onto a kitchen chair. ‘I suppose I should be grateful.’

James nodded. ‘Meryn was worried. Apparently he’s been looking for you.’

‘He didn’t know I had come here.’

‘At Venutios’s instigation?’ James picked up the teapot and poured Hugh a cup of thick black tea.

‘Probably.’ Hugh shivered. ‘I wanted to warn Viv. To make sure she was safe.’

‘You care very much about Viv, don’t you,’ James said quietly. He smiled. ‘Meryn is coming here today. We thought it best.’

There was a long silence. Hugh took a gulp of tea and winced at the tannin on his tongue. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’d better ring her and warn her that Venutios is on the rampage again,’ he said at last. ‘I’ve seen inside his head. I know he will stop at nothing to get his revenge on Cartimandua; and he wants that brooch back so badly.’ He paused and gave a quick harsh laugh as he headed for the phone in the hall. ‘Listen to me! You’d think I believed all this stuff, wouldn’t you!’

A couple of minutes later he was back in the kitchen. ‘I spoke to Mrs Steadman. She was less than helpful.’ He shrugged. ‘She said Viv was out with Steve and wouldn’t be back all day.’

James rubbed his nose thoughtfully. ‘That would appear to remove her from any danger in the short-term.’

‘I suppose so.’ Hugh did not sound convinced.

‘Don’t you trust this young man?’

‘I don’t trust myself!’ Hugh stood up. ‘I’m going to go over there.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ James shook his head.

Hugh stared down at him. ‘Can you see him?’ He meant Venutios.

James looked up through half-closed eyes. ‘Not at the moment, no. But I wouldn’t take my word for it.’

Hugh shuddered. ‘It’s like having some foul disease lurking inside me. I can’t stand this! It’s insane. It’s not real. It can’t be.’ It was a desperate appeal.

James grimaced. ‘I do sincerely believe such things can happen, my friend. The survival of the soul is, of course, a given of my belief, and what most Christians believe, or want to believe, is that the departed trots happily off to a place called, for want of a better term, ‘‘heaven’’, where it is engaged in happy hobbies for all eternity. We tend to skip over the concept of hell these days, preferring to believe that is a self-inflicted punishment in this life. What I think actually happens is that the soul is remarkably like the living person. It carries on with its obsessions and its loves and hates as long as these are unresolved. And being a sociable sort of a thing it is happy from time to time to hitch a lift with someone who is still here with mortal coil intact.’

Hugh sat down again. ‘Scary.’ He gave a heartfelt shudder. ‘And our Celtic friends believed quite passionately in the continuation of the soul’s journey, of course.’

‘Of course.’ James was thoughtful. ‘Whether what happens is dependent on one’s beliefs – in other words one gets what one is expecting – or whether it is an objective end game for all, I don’t know. My bishop would have great difficulty with what I am saying, I suspect. But one can’t live up here and not get feelings about immortality which sink deep into the psyche.’ He smiled. ‘Your friend Mrs Steadman is one such. She believes passionately in the old gods, so I’ve heard.’

Hugh frowned. ‘Would Viv have told her what is happening?’

‘I’ve no idea. She is a moody lady.’ James chuckled. ‘I know those who are terrified of her; others who swear she is Florence Nightingale in person.’

II

At first Steve did not recognise the car bumping up the lane towards him. Only when it stopped did he realise it was Hugh. He walked towards the gate.

‘Viv is not here, if you are looking for her.’

Hugh, in shirtsleeves, was alone. He paused, looking suspiciously at Steve over the stone wall. ‘Your mother told me you were out together.’

‘We were earlier.’

‘When will Viv be back?’

Steve shrugged. ‘To be honest, I don’t think she wants to see you at the moment.’

‘Well, I need to see her.’ Hugh could feel Venutios’s unrest, sense his jealousy. There was a resonance here between the young, good-looking charioteer who had subverted the king’s affections and was trusted and loved by Cartimandua, and this handsome young man with his suntanned, freckled skin and untidy hair, standing so blatantly before him talking about Viv with such confidence. Hugh clenched his fists and glanced over his shoulder, looking up at the hill above them, listening intently. The heat haze had returned, shrouding its flat top, lapping down the soft mountain grasses, licking at the great limestone crags on the northern escarpment as the sun moved round the horizon and was lost at last in the banks of haze. This was Steve, not Vellocatus, he reminded himself firmly.

‘I need to see Viv urgently,’ he repeated, turning back. He caught his breath abruptly. ‘There it is again. Did you hear it?’

‘What?’ Steve eyed him uncomfortably.

‘Venutios. He’s out there. He’s looking for her.’ Hugh couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

Steve swallowed. ‘I’m not going to let you in. We don’t want you here, and we don’t want him here either.’

‘Don’t you?’ Hugh laughed bitterly. ‘And you’re going to stop him, are you?’ He stepped forward aggressively.

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘I’ll think of a way.’ Steve stood his ground, arms folded. ‘Please go away, Hugh.’

‘I need that brooch.’ Hugh took another step forward. ‘Can’t you understand? If I get the brooch I will go back to Edinburgh and he will follow me. Until I do that, Viv is in danger. Venutios will kill to get it.’ He paused and the two men looked at each other in silence. ‘He is a soldier, Steve. He is completely unsentimental. He knows its power. Women’s power. He will do anything to keep it out of a woman’s grasp. He will kill,’ he repeated softly. ‘Please God, not with my hands.’ For a moment he held Steve’s gaze, then at last he turned and he climbed back into the car.

Steve stared after him as he drove off, cold with horror. For a moment he had been truly scared.

Something touched his hand and he glanced down fondly. One of the dogs was nuzzling him. It whined.

‘This is all going crazy, boy.’ Steve grimaced. At the sound of his voice both dogs sat in front of him expectantly. He turned and looked back at the house. There was still no sign of his mother or Pat.

When Viv came back from the well, tired and walking slowly across the garden to his side, he smiled and reached out his hand to hers. ‘Hugh was here looking for you. He was ranting on about Venutios.’

She bit her lip. ‘Even more reason to leave, Steve. I can’t cope with all this any more. I’m sorry. If Pat wants to stay, that’s upto her.’ She glanced at him. ‘I don’t suppose you’d come too?’ She paused, as if waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t she turned sadly, more pale and strained than ever after his news about Hugh’s visit, to go back into the house.

He looked down at the dogs. ‘I can’t go, can I, boys. Not till we’ve found my dad.’ He glanced at the old quad bike parked near the wall of the yard. He could cover a lot of ground on that. Slowly he walked towards it. ‘Where’s Gordon, dogs?’ It was what his mother always said. It was the signal to run out into the yard, barking with excitement, tails wagging, to find him. Steve repeated the command and the dogs turned as one and headed round the side of the house towards the fields. Climbing onto the bike, Steve gunned the engine and set out to follow them.

III

Vellocatus had raised himself on one elbow. He was staring down at the beautiful woman beside him, watching her as she slept.

Dawn light filtered through the doorway and the township was still silent. He could hear the breathing of the half-grown pup, Moon’s successor, lying near the foot of the bed. Head on paws, she was watching him. He could feel it. Just as every man, woman and child in the township was watching him.

To start with he had been popular. He had deserted his post and risked his honour by leaving Venutios, something no man would condone, but he had done it to serve his queen and to save her from a brutal husband and he had transferred his allegiance and his life to her service. That made him a hero with the women and more importantly with most of the bards who sang the story around the northern fires as the weather grew colder.

She had been without a man too long. Once he had come to her bed on that first long night, as cascades of shooting stars lit the skies, and she had made love to this strong, handsome, adoring man she could not stop. Once, twice, sometimes three times a day she would drag him away from the eyes of the men and women around them and pulling his tunic off his shoulders, and releasing his belt so his breeks fell about his ankles she would feast her eyes on his hard muscular body, groaning with ecstasy as he touched her, submitting with something like worship as he pushed her down and thrust again and again into her willing body.

Artgenos and Culann had tried to make her cool her ardour. ‘Beware. Your people are restless. You neglect your duties to them and to the gods. Not everyone is happy to see this man who was your husband’s servant, so high in your favour.’

Not since her bedding with Riach had she felt so completely overwhelmed by passion. Vellocatus had only to look at her for her breath to grow short. Her breasts would ache for his touch. She could feel herself dissolving with longing.

Then she had found she was pregnant. She had forgotten to count the phases of the moon. Forgotten everything in her need for this man. It did not matter. The goddess was giving her a son.

‘The child will have to be fostered away. The people will not approve of their queen giving birth to the child of a servant.’ Artgenos did not mince his words.

‘Vellocatus is no servant!’ Her eyes blazed with anger. ‘He is a freeman. His family were farmers –’

‘And not warriors.’ Artgenos nodded. ‘Do not hope to rear this child as a prince of the ruling family, Carta. You are pushing people’s tolerance beyond all bearing. You will bring disaster upon yourself and your family.’

‘Then I will make sure that this child, my son, is the son of a king!’ She stared him down defiantly. ‘Did you hear me, Artgenos? Vellocatus will be my husband and I shall make him king!’

‘No!’

‘Yes!’ She was almost spitting with anger that he should deny her what she wanted above all else. ‘And you and your priests shall marry us. That is my command.’

‘And it is a command I will not obey. The portents already spell disaster. The skies are full of black birds reeling in from the west. The ravens scream of blood and death. Last night the wolves howled all night in the forest. Can you not see what you are doing, Carta? Send Vellocatus away. Keep him somewhere quietly for your pleasure. No one would grudge you that. But do not dare to try and rear this child as a prince. I repeat. You will bring death and destruction to this country.’

But she had not waited to hear the end of the sentence. She had turned in a swirl of skirts and cloaks and disappeared into the darkness outside, no doubt to find her lover yet again. Artgenos had frowned. He could smell the heat and musk on her. There would be no reasoning with her until this obsession had run its course.

In the township of Dun Righ they supported Cartimandua to a man, and it was here that Ban, the chief Druid of the township and senior Druid of the Setantii, under Artgenos and Culann, officiated at the rites of marriage and the legal processes that accompanied them, between Cartimandua of the Setantii and Vellocatus, formerly of the Carvetii. Her name meant Sleek Pony. His, Good Fighter. It had been given him by Venutios.

The ceremony heralded the outbreak of civil war and she sent another plea to Gaius for help.

Venutios attacked with a hand-picked army of warriors. The confederation of small tribes which had made up this the largest and strongest kingdom in the Pretannic Isles broke apart. Those who supported Cartimandua and believed in a peaceful relationship with Rome congregated around her in Elmet with the tacit support of the Votadini in the north. Those who supported Venutios, bent on removing Cartimandua as queen and pushing the Romans out of the island, rallied round Venutios at Dinas Dwr. His supporters far outnumbered hers.

Vellocatus reviewed the army of which he was now leader with a sinking heart. There would be no hope for them without the help she was so sure of from the south. No hope at all. The men had resented him from the start. A well-respected, brave and proven warrior at his king’s side, he was no king himself. Their allegiance was grudging. For Carta’s sake they would follow him, but for no other. The fact that she had declared him king at her side held no weight with their followers. Vellocatus, who was not of royal blood, could not be a king however much Cartimandua might wish it. And where were the Romans she promised? There had been no word.

She had written to Gaius, sent the letter by messenger, begging him to come. He had to pass the message on, of course. He couldn’t help on his own. The XX legion was in Wales, close enough to go to her aid but the governor sent instead to Lindum and the commander there sent an auxiliary cavalry unit to help. They fought Venutios. He couldn’t win against the experienced Roman army. Of course he couldn’t. He ran away.

Carta reclaimed the allegiance of her people as she knew she would. There had been a battle and a victory. They liked that. They celebrated. The Romans gave her even more gifts and money to reward the men who supported her. They were always generous, the Romans, to their client queen. Everyone was happy for the time being.

She wrote to Gaius and thanked him.

IV

Gordon was lying on his back at the foot of a small ravine at the edge of the wood. Someone had made an attempt to cover him with earth and then piled branches over him.

Steve stood staring down, a dog on either side of him, his eyes full of tears. It looked as though his father had slipped. The edge of the bank had fallen away and the bushes had been crushed and torn as he had crashed down into the undergrowth. Whoever had found him had made no attempt to go for help. They had gone to great pains to cover his body.

Peggy.

In sudden revulsion and shock Steve turned away and vomited into the nettles, then, sitting down on a fallen log, he put his head in his hands. He was shaking violently, tears pouring down his face.

‘Steve?’ For a moment he thought the voice was in his head, but he saw the dogs leap up and go to greet her and he turned. Peggy was standing a few feet away.

‘I knew they’d find him. That’s why I wanted them to stay at Dave’s.’ She was matter-of-fact.

‘What happened?’ He could hardly speak.

‘We were arguing. He slipped and fell.’

‘And you didn’t get help?’

She shrugged. ‘There was no point. He was dead.’

‘So you don’t just leave him there, Ma. You go for help! You bring him home!’ Steve stood up. He was staring at her with blind incredulity.

She sighed. ‘It was his fault, Steve. He was going to destroy the well. You do see, he couldn’t be allowed to do that.’

Steve froze. ‘You did it on purpose? You killed him?’

‘No. He fell.’

‘But you didn’t bring help.’

She shook her head. ‘He would have desecrated it. I couldn’t let him do that. I left it to the goddess.’ She pursed her lips.

‘He was still alive? You left him to die?’

She nodded. ‘When I went back, he’d gone. He would have died anyway, Steve. He was too badly hurt. I couldn’t have saved him. No one could.’

‘An air ambulance might have. First aid might have!’ Steve clenched his fists. ‘So, were you going to leave him here forever?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. It’s what he would have wanted. To be on the farm.’ She sounded completely detached.

‘Picked clean by birds and foxes, I suppose!’ Steve was beside himself. He scrambled to his feet. ‘I’m going to ring the police!’

‘No, Steve. You can’t!’

‘I can. I can’t leave it like this.’ He was sobbing out loud. ‘Even if we say it was an accident – but how can we? No normal person would leave someone – their husband – to rot in the fields!’ He turned and began to climb up the bank.

‘Steve!’ His mother reached out, clutching at him as he pushed past her. ‘Steve! You can’t tell anyone!’

‘I can. And I will.’ He was already walking blindly across the field. The two dogs turned and with a glance back at the ravine where their master lay, followed him.

V

‘Steve? What on earth’s the matter?’ Pat threw down her cigarette as Steve ran towards her. She had been sitting in the garden, deep in thought.

‘My dad’s dead.’ Steve stopped. His face was ravaged with grief. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. ‘Down there, in the ravine. He fell.’

‘Oh God, I’m so sorry. Oh, Steve, how awful.’ She leaped to her feet, numb with shock, reaching for his hand in an instinctive gesture of comfort.

They both turned at a shout from the orchard behind them. Peggy was hurrying after him. ‘Steve, wait!’

‘She killed him! She killed my dad!’ Steve shouted wildly, snatching his hand away. He pointed at his mother.

Pat stared from one to the other in horror as he rushed on. ‘I’m calling the police!’ He ran to the house and went in through the kitchen door.

Peggy shook her head. She was panting hard as she ran after him. ‘He doesn’t understand.’ She caught Pat’s arm. ‘Tell him! Tell him I had to do it. For the goddess!’

Steve had gone straight to the phone.

‘No!’ Peggy rushed after him. Wrenching it out of his hand, she pulled the cord out of the wall. ‘No, you can’t ring the police. Steve! Please! Don’t be so stupid!’

Steve pushed her aside and headed to the front door. ‘If I can’t phone, then I’ll go and fetch them.’ Grabbing his car keys off the hall table, he disappeared outside.

Seconds later they heard the sound of a car engine. Peggy thumped her fist down on the table. ‘Stupid! So stupid! He doesn’t understand! Why didn’t you stop him?’

‘Peggy, I don’t know what’s going on.’ Pat was immobile with shock.

‘You do. Medb knows. Medb knows everything.’ Peggy narrowed her eyes and suddenly she smiled. ‘We need Medb now. She is a powerful woman; a Druidess. Trained in the arts. She can help me. Where is she? I need Medb!’ She reached over and put her hand on Pat’s forehead. Her fingers were ice cold.

Pat shrank back. ‘Don’t touch me!’

‘Just relax, sweetheart, and let Medb in. I’ve told you before not to fight her. Let her come.’ She was pushing Pat towards the wall. ‘I can see her. She is there all over you. She knows I want her here.’

‘Peggy –!’ Pat was paralysed with horror.

‘I need her.’ Peggy didn’t move. ‘I need that brooch and I need that power.’

‘Steve!’ Suddenly Pat was screaming. Desperately she pushed at Peggy, her hands flat against the woman’s chest. ‘Viv! Where are you? Help me!’

There was no reply.

Medb was smiling.

The brooch was almost in sight.

VI

Shaking hands with James Oakley, Meryn stood for a second on the threshold of the cottage, then with a slight nod of satisfaction followed him inside. It felt good. Safe. Hugh was waiting in the snug and greeted Meryn with a handshake and a slap on the back. ‘Am I glad to see you! I don’t know why I ran. I’m sorry.’

Meryn scrutinised him briefly. ‘I doubt if you had control of your actions.’ The three men seated themselves in the three armchairs around the fire, then Meryn turned to James. ‘There is a matter of protocol here, I feel. A clergyman could deal with these matters, surely.’

‘I’m not sure I could,’ James put in hastily. ‘This would seem to be way beyond my competence. That’s why I rang you. Quite apart from the fact that, should it be necessary, an old codger like me can’t get upto the fort any more owing to my arthritis.’ He liked the look of this man; he exuded warmth and humanity and a reassuring sense of calm confidence. ‘I’ll cheer from the sidelines, whatever needs to be done.’

Meryn smiled, his facing creasing into deep lines as he did so. ‘I am sure I shall be very glad of your support. Venutios is a powerful adversary; and if he combines his efforts with Medb of the White Hands, it will probably take both of us to defeat them. This is a battle for people’s souls. Something of which you have experience, I suspect.’

Hugh swallowed. He stared from one man to the other, trying to feel reassured and aware only of a deepening sense of panic. ‘Wouldn’t it be better if I just went away?’

Meryn shook his head. ‘They would follow you, my friend. This has to be sorted out, once and for all.’

‘And the brooch?’

‘Is being used as a focus and a power source to fuel an ancient quarrel. It needs to be cleansed of the curses and charms and bitterness which have impregnated it. Where is it now?’

‘Viv hid it somewhere up there.’ Hugh nodded towards the window and all three men turned to stare up at the hill. From this far away they could see no sign of life upon the distant plateau which was once more bathed in sunshine, wisps of mist still clinging around some of the steeper ramparts. ‘I don’t dare go near her, Meryn,’ Hugh said suddenly. ‘I’m afraid of what he’ll make me do.’

Meryn studied him. ‘In the story, in your head, they are at war?’

Hugh nodded. ‘And once the war started, there was – is – no going back.’ He frowned.

Meryn stood up. ‘I think we should go and see Cartimandua.’

Hugh blanched. ‘We can’t.’

‘I shall be with you. Neither you nor Venutios are going to do anything with me there. And James, if he would accompany us.’

‘No.’ Hugh stood up agitatedly. ‘No, I really don’t want to. You two go, but not me. I’ve been thinking about this. I did go back to see her and thank God she wasn’t there because Venutios is too strong for me!’ Both men were watching him in silence. He paused, glancing from one to the other. ‘You can see him, can’t you! Shit!’ He slammed his fist down on the table next to him. ‘I will not risk hurting Viv! You have no idea how strong he is!’

Meryn and James stared after him as he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. In the silence that followed they heard his footsteps retreating up the stairs.

Meryn stood up. ‘He is being forced to believe in the possession, but he still can’t bring himself to believe there is a remedy.’ He sighed. ‘Poor Hugh.’

‘What do we do?’ James took off his spectacles and cleaned them anxiously.

‘How far away is our Cartimandua?’

‘Not far. A few miles.’

‘Then maybe we should go there and assess the situation.’ Meryn glanced up at the ceiling. ‘My only hope is that Hugh stays put. We don’t want him rampaging round the countryside without us.’