He switched off his phone and put it down on the seat beside him, then he sat for several minutes in prayer. He was praying for the priest, an old man, struggling so bravely against cancer, for the man’s congregation, for the village that missed their pastor so much, for the world, so riven with evil on every side. Lowering the window, he closed his eyes as the scent of flowers and grass filled the car. The evening was completely silent, save for the cry of a lamb for its mother and the answering reassuring bleat, and in the distance the eerie call of a curlew from the hills above the village. This was all so far from the hatred of human beings for each other, the pollution of the land and sea, the carelessness with which humanity had treated the sacredness of the planet with which they had been entrusted. He sighed. ‘Please God,’ he murmured as an afterthought, ‘as well as having all that to keep you busy, help Sandra to mind her own business and please, please, keep a special eye on Bea.’ Bea, who was straying into such a dangerous place and who would never listen to him when he begged her to take care.
The service was beautiful, the congregation friendly and anxious to talk to him and it was nearly nine before he was able to leave at last, turning the car for home.
Putting his key in the door, he pushed it open and went in. ‘Bea?’
The lights downstairs were off except for the lamp on the hall table. ‘Bea, I’m back.’
He ran up the stairs two at a time and, turning on the light, looked quickly into their bedroom, wondering – hoping – she might have gone to bed early. There was no sign of her there. With only a second’s hesitation he ran up the second flight of stairs, hearing them creak beneath his feet as he knocked on the door of her study. There was no reply. He opened the door and looked in. There was no one there, only a faint smoky essence in the air from a recently extinguished candle.
His heart thudding with apprehension, he turned back downstairs, heading for the kitchen. Bea’s phone lay on the table where as so often she must have put it down and then forgotten it. He picked it up. The battery was almost dead. Plugging it in, he checked to see if she had picked up his message. The last message wasn’t from him, it was from Simon, sent less than an hour before. ‘Bea, I’m so sorry to call you at this hour but I’m worried sick. Emma’s disappeared. She heard the voice and got very upset. While Felix and I were in the kitchen she seems to have gone out – we found the front door open – and there is no sign of her. She can’t have gone far. The car is still here and anyway she doesn’t drive yet. We’ve called and called and searched the immediate fields. I’m not sure what to do next. The woman, the voice, can’t hurt her, can she? Or lure her somewhere? I can’t believe I’m saying this—’
‘Just ask Bea and Mark to come, Dad!’ Mark heard Felix’s voice in the distance. He sounded very young and very frightened.
Mark switched off the phone and turned for the front door.
Bea’s car was parked outside the cottage beside Simon’s; every light in the cottage was on as Mark grabbed a torch from his glove box and ran up the steep path to the front door where Simon was waiting. ‘I heard your car. Bea’s gone to look for Em,’ he called. ‘I don’t know where she went, but she seemed to know what to do.’
Mark saw Simon give him a sideways glance and belatedly realised he was still wearing his cassock after the service. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. ‘I’m sure there is no need to worry. They can’t have gone far.’
‘We should ring the police,’ Felix put in. He appeared in the doorway behind his father and Mark wondered if the boy had been crying.
‘And we will if we can’t find them,’ Mark said gently. ‘But first let’s have another look outside. Has Emma got a phone on her?’
‘No, she left it behind in her bedroom.’ Felix was shaking his head violently. ‘It was the first thing I checked.’
‘OK. How long has Emma been gone? You think Bea knew where to look for her? I don’t know this area I’m afraid. So, do you have an Ordnance Survey map? Perhaps we could look at the terrain and see where Emma could have got lost. Are there any hidden valleys and streams where she could slip and fall? Luckily it’s not raining and it’s not too cold. She couldn’t have gone far, surely?’
Already Felix was at the laptop, bringing up a map, focusing in on the contour lines. Simon sat down abruptly. ‘I’m behaving like an idiot,’ he said, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands. ‘I thought – I know it’s impossible and stupid and crazy but, with all this talk of ghosts, I thought somehow she might have disappeared through some portal into the past. I’m being an irrational fool. I panicked. I’m sorry.’
‘Anyone would panic,’ Mark went to stand behind Felix, looking at the screen. ‘I think we can assume Bea and Em are still in the present day, Simon.’ He gave the man a quizzical look, then leaned closer to the screen. ‘You’re pretty much at the top of the ridge here and the hill seems to go down in every direction, but there are woods here ‘– he pointed at the screen – ‘and this part here looks like a narrow valley. If it’s rocky, it would be easy to slip over and turn one’s ankle.’
He looked up as Felix let out a small yelp of distress. ‘We have to be realistic, Felix,’ he said sternly. ‘Emma has not disappeared into thin air and she cannot have gone far. I’m sure Bea will find her, but if she doesn’t we’ll ring the police, who will probably call out the mountain rescue. Don’t worry. She’ll be OK.’
‘Your dad is looking for us, Em.’ Bea could see the torchlight moving in the trees in the distance. ‘I’m going to leave you for a minute while I go and call him.’
The girl was huddled, shivering, against the tumbled stone wall that bordered the wood. Bea had already wrapped her in her jacket and tucked her scarf round the girl’s shoulders, but Emma clutched at her with a cry of fear. ‘Don’t go.’
‘I have to go, Em. We can’t stay out here any longer.’
‘Can’t you phone?’
‘I’m afraid I left my phone at home. If I stand up on the bank there, I can shout. He’ll be outside looking for you and he’ll hear me.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I told you, your dad is coming.’
‘No, not Dad, Elise. I saw him. She was calling him and I came out and I saw him and I followed him. He was here.’ Tears were coursing down her face.
Bea froze. She didn’t know what to say, then she recovered herself. ‘He’s gone, sweetheart.’ How was it possible that Emma had seen Elisedd? Plenty of time to work that out later. Bea gave her a quick hug then she tore herself away. They were in a grassy hollow out of the wind. The track nearby was barely visible in the starlight, but Emma had followed it at a run, only stopping at last when her breath gave out and she had no choice but to pull up, gasping for air. When Bea had found her, she was sobbing desperately, not knowing which way to turn.
Bea set off towards the light she had seen in the trees. Someone out there was flashing a torch. She kept looking over her shoulder, terrified she would lose Emma in the dark. The girl was no more than a dark hump huddled at the base of the wall amongst the fallen stones, too exhausted and frightened to move.
‘Simon!’ Bea shouted. ‘Simon, we’re here!’ She waved her arms above her head, hoping he could see her silhouette against the stars. Her voice sounded thin and reedy in the darkness as she headed towards the torchlight.
The horse was on her without warning, the sudden thunder of hooves on the turf making the ground shake. She stopped with a cry of fright and faced it, her arms in front of her face to try and protect herself as it raced towards her. She threw herself sideways as with a furious scream the horse half reared. She glimpsed the rider wrenching the reins to pull it away from her, his face a blur in the starlight as he hesitated, looking down at her, then he kicked the animal on, missing her by inches, galloping away along the track towards the west.
‘Bea?’ She heard a man’s voice in the distance: Mark’s voice. ‘Bea, I’m coming!’ Frozen with shock, she couldn’t move. Then she saw them: th
ree figures running along the track towards her.
‘There!’ She was shaking so much she could hardly speak. ‘Emma’s there. By the wall. She’s OK.’
She watched as they ran across the grass and through the heather, following her pointing finger. She saw them stop then she saw the tallest figure, Simon, stoop and pull Emma to her feet, folding her in his arms. Already Felix, ever practical, was dragging off his fleece and tenderly wrapping it round his sister’s shoulders. With a sob, Bea subsided to her knees, shaking so much she couldn’t stand. The third figure with them was Mark.
‘Bea? Bea, darling, are you all right?’ He left the group and ran towards her.
‘Did you see the horseman? It was Elisedd. He nearly ran me down.’
‘Horseman?’ Mark crouched, his arm round her shoulders. ‘What horseman?’
She found she was sobbing. ‘Emma saw him. She tried to follow him.’ She looked up. ‘She’s terrified, Mark.’
‘She’ll be all right. Simon and Felix are taking her back to the cottage. It’s only a few hundred yards away.’ In the dark it was almost impossible to make out the building, sheltered below the ridge. Behind them the vast emptiness of the hills was part of the night. He helped her to her feet and hugged her to him. ‘Darling, I thought I’d lost you.’
She managed a smile. ‘Whisked into the past by Emma’s handsome prince.’
‘Something like that,’ he confirmed drily. ‘Can you walk? Let’s get you inside.’
He couldn’t quite explain even to himself the sudden extra apprehension that had gripped him, the cold breath that was nothing to do with the wind that touched his back.
Pulling the door closed behind them, Simon drew the bolt across and leaned back with a sigh of relief. Emma was unhurt. Apart from being very cold and frightened, she seemed remarkably unfazed by her ordeal. Wrapped in a rug by the fire, her colour had returned and she was beginning to talk. ‘I heard the voice like before, but it sounded even more sad this time. I didn’t mean to follow it, but it seemed to be so near. I couldn’t see her in the dark but I knew she was there, close to me. I opened the gate and walked out onto the hill, and she kept moving further and further away in front of me. And then I saw him; Elise. He’s the one she’s been calling. I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
Simon didn’t know whether to be angry or happy and opted instead for tight-lipped silence.
Felix had vanished into the kitchen to reappear with a tray of mugs. Hot chocolate for Emma. Tea for the rest of them. They all moved closer to the fire, Felix sitting on the rush matting of the floor and Mark perched on a stool. Bea was huddled in the chair opposite Emma. She was trying to conceal the fact that she was still shaking.
‘So, who was Elise?’ Felix asked at last.
‘He’s the one she’s been calling. She’s lost him, and I had to find him for her,’ Emma said. She broke into a fresh torrent of sobs.
‘I ought to ring your mum and tell her what happened,’ Simon said at last as the silence threatened to stretch out too long.
‘No!’ Emma looked up in horror. ‘You mustn’t tell her!’
‘She needs to know, Em.’
‘No, she doesn’t. She will only make us go back home.’ Felix’s expression echoed his sister’s. ‘She’s enjoying her stay in Worcester, Dad. Leave her be. Nothing has happened here. Emma is fine and she won’t do it again.’
‘No, I won’t,’ Emma echoed.
‘But what if you hear this voice again?’ Simon was still leaning against the closed front door as if holding the world at bay.
‘If I do, I will ignore it.’
‘How did you know where she had gone?’ Simon fired the question at Bea.
She swallowed. Clutching the hot mug between her hands more tightly, she held it against her chest. ‘It was guesswork. I followed the track towards the west. Always towards the west.’
‘Can’t you make all this go away?’ There was a touch of desperation in his voice.
‘I will try. I’m sorry I’ve not been much use so far. This is all part of a far larger story than I realised. There is so much going on here.’ She looked at Mark and he read a whole volume of messages in her eyes. Don’t tell them I saw a horse. Don’t mention anything. Say a prayer for them to bring peace to the cottage and allow them to sleep well and suggest we come back when it’s daylight. And then again: don’t mention the horse and rider, please …
Mark found he was shivering too. He could still feel that eerie tiptoe of the mountain wind across his shoulder blades. Clearing his throat, he stood up. ‘It’s late. I suggest we leave you three to get some sleep. I’m sure there’ll be no more disturbance tonight. If you will allow me, I will bless the cottage and then,’ he couldn’t believe he was about to say this, ‘Bea will set guardians at each corner, north, south, east and west. Angels to keep you safe. And tomorrow we will return and see if this can be sorted out once and for all.’
He glanced round. No one smiled or flinched or sniggered at the mention of angels, so, raising his right hand, he made the sign of the cross before giving his blessing. It was followed by a long silence. He sighed and, beckoning to Bea, he turned towards the door. Simon stood aside, leaving him to unbolt it.
Outside the cloud had blown away and the sky was ablaze with stars.
21
They drove back in convoy in their separate cars. It was after two when they at last got home, parking side by side in their allotted spaces outside the school and tiptoed past the sleeping cathedral across the grass towards their front door.
‘You called him Elisedd.’ Mark sat down at the kitchen table, exhausted. ‘The man on the horse. You knew Elise was a man.’
Sitting opposite him she nodded slowly. ‘I’ve seen him before, in my dreams.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I think the voice up there at the cottage belongs to Eadburh. She fell in love with a Welsh prince and they made love up there on the ridge in a sheepfold which I assume was later incorporated into the cottage. Her father banished him and had him murdered, and Eadburh was forced to marry someone else. I believe her spirit is searching for him still.’ There was a long pause. ‘And perhaps he is looking for her. That horseman. It was Elisedd, I’m sure it was.’ The black horse, the flying cloak, the wild-eyed rider. ‘I’m afraid for Emma. She’s sensitive and she’s picked up on the story.’
‘Presumably you’ve told Simon your theory?’
‘I didn’t think he would believe me.’
‘No. I don’t suppose he would.’ Mark sighed. ‘Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that one of Offa’s daughters – Offa, the King of Mercia, Offa of Offa’s Dyke, Offa who died over a thousand years ago – his daughter, is roaming the hills out there, wailing for her lost lover?’
‘You’ve seen her, Mark. You’re the only other person who has!’
‘I saw a nun! A nun, Bea. Not a wailing Anglo-Saxon!’
‘And who’s to say she didn’t become a nun?’ She looked up at him defiantly. ‘You’re the one who told me they were Christians.’
With another sigh he stood up, went over to the window and raised the blind to look out into the darkness of the garden. ‘You know, I’m too tired to think about all this now, but you have to tell Simon. I think he needs to get Emma out of that house. Whatever you think is happening, whatever you believe, a child is in danger. If she rushes off into the dark again they might not find her so easily next time. All this talk of ghosts and the murder of St Ethelbert, galloping horses and knocking on doors, and the fact that her father is quite obviously scared stiff, has got to her, and we can’t risk anything happening to her, Bea.’
She nodded. ‘We’ll talk to Simon tomorrow.’
Mark slept at once; she used to tease him about the sleep of the righteous as night after night he was snoring almost as soon as his head hit the pillow while she would lie awake, worrying about the day gone by and the day to come, Anna and Petra, the parish and, from time to time, the people who had come to her with
their problems from another world and another time. And now, as she lay beside him, she couldn’t get the vision of the horse rearing above her out of her head, the man in the saddle, leaning forward, dragging the horse’s head sideways so it would avoid hitting her with its hooves. He wore no head covering, she realised now as she pictured him behind her closing eyes, his hair blowing across his face, dressed in dark clothes, a cloak of some kind streaming behind him, caught at the shoulder with a round silver disc. The horse was black but there was the echoing glint of metal on the headband of its bridle. She could smell the horse even now, feel its hot breath on her face, and again she was aware of the ground shaking beneath the thunder of its hooves.
She slept and the scene changed. She was once more at the court of Offa at Sutton. It was daylight. Eadburh’s confidante, Hilde, had slipped outside and in the queen’s herb garden the flowers were alive with bees. There was a basket on her arm, pruning shears lying amidst a scatter of cuttings, but she wasn’t looking at the plants, her eyes were fixed on the gate in the palisade which opened onto a path through the orchard that led to the river. She had to hurry. There were bees everywhere, their hum urgent beneath the song of the blackbird high in the apple blossom behind the hedge. There was no one else in sight. The bell had rung for the meal in the hall and everyone from the king down to the lowest serf was there awaiting the feast. Almost everyone. She had seen Grimbert slip out of the hall after a barely perceptible nod from the queen. She had seen his secret smile,
The Dream Weavers Page 21
