16

Cadi was working outside in the shade of the apple tree, her history books and printouts from the internet strewn around her laptop. As she sat there reading through her notes, her attention kept returning to the one word, almost illegible on the page, Caledfwlch. It was not a word she recognised and idly she had turned to the internet. To her amazement it was there. The sword, presented to Elen by the king of one of the ancient tribes of Britain, was none other than Caliburn– Excalibur. Ynys Enlli, Bardsey Island, off the end of the Lleyn Peninsula, was thought by many to be the real Avalon. The Lleyn Peninsula, just round the corner from the old fort of Dinas Dinlle, which was itself less than five miles from Segontium. She sat back, staring up at the lichen-encrusted boughs of the old tree above her, her head reeling with excitement. It was then she heard the tentative knock at her front door. Reluctantly closing the laptop, she hurried back indoors.

‘I hope you don't mind me dropping by.' Charles Ford followed her inside. ‘I wanted to do some more dowsing in the meadow, but when I arrived the gate was padlocked. I -wondered what had been happening. Have they granted them planning permission?'

Putting all thoughts of magic swords aside, Cadi made coffee and he followed her out into the garden. He had a shabby briefcase with him this time, although she could see his famous hazel twig sticking out of the top. ‘Can I put something to you?' He glanced at her quickly as if he didn't quite like to broach the subject. ‘I don't know if you have ever come across this technique before but I've been doing some dowsing over a map. Before you say anything, I know it sounds a bit wacky, but it does work.' He was anxious again now, reaching for his mug to cover his confusion. ‘If we can't go into the meadow anymore, it might help. I'm not sure how, but– let me show you. Do you remember when we met, you very kindly gave me a large whisky?' This time his smile was less tentative, the memory clearly pleasurable.

Cadi nodded. ‘You were in quite a state. You had seen something odd in the meadow.'

‘Exactly.' He pulled a sheaf of papers out of his briefcase. ‘I couldn't get what happened out of my head. It kind of haunted me. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get back at once– pressures of work– but I could sit at home with a large-scale map.'

He was spreading out what looked like an old plan of the district. ‘I tuned in, in the same way one does in the actual field, and using a pendulum I began to quarter the area.' He glanced up for the first time, taking in her garden and the long hedge down one side of it. ‘We were looking for a villa. It is right there, isn't it.' He pointed at the hedge. ‘In which case, I think I've found it, and at least some of it is here, in your garden.'

‘Before you go on...' Trying to control her growing excitement, Cadi was leaning forward to see the map more closely. ‘I think I told you about my uncle who is a dowser?'

He nodded. ‘You mentioned him, yes.'

‘Well, after you and I met, it reminded me that I should ask him over to do just as you did. To dowse the field. He managed to get here before they locked the gate, but afterwards he did it over a map as well. I have his findings here, in the house.' With her finger she began to trace the lines he had marked on his map in red ink. ‘Oh, Charles.' It was all she said. She felt a shiver run across her back. ‘Wait here. I'll fetch it.'

They laid the two maps out on the grass, side by side, weighed down by stones, and, crouching down on their hands and knees, gazed at them. ‘Oh my God!' Cadi whispered after a long silence. ‘They are almost identical.' She glanced up. He had gone white. He sat back on his heels and reached for his coffee cup. ‘You said he was an expert,' he whispered.

She nodded. ‘And so are you, it seems. We have to get hold of that ground radar survey.' She leaned forward again, studying his map. ‘Meryn says it was a palace. He thinks it would have been too big to be just an ordinary villa, if there is such a thing.'

‘Meryn?' He looked at her sharply. ‘Not Meryn Jones, by any chance?'

She nodded. ‘You've heard of him?'

‘Of course. He's one of my heroes. I've read all his books.' He stared at his map again and set his mug down on the grass beside him. ‘I nearly didn't come.' He laughed, obviously relieved. ‘I felt a bit of a fool. You know, so many people think this is all rubbish. That's why I wanted to have another go in the actual meadow.'

‘I don't think you need to.' Scrambling up, she stood looking down at him. ‘You look as though you need another Scotch.'

‘No, thank you.' He climbed to his feet. ‘I was just so shocked by my own accuracy. So many of these things can never be proved. They could as easily be wishful thinking or guesswork.' He was silent for a moment. ‘Did you realise that on both our maps there is a bit of the building, whatever it is, right here in your own garden?'

‘Yes, I saw that.' They studied the maps in silence. ‘Are you suggesting we dig here?' Cadi grinned. ‘Shall I fetch a spade?'

He laughed out loud. ‘No. No, no it's not something one can rush into. Neither of us would know what we are doing. One needs an expert, a proper archaeologist with a trowel and paintbrush.'

Her attention was fixed on her lawn. ‘I can't see anything. You would expect there to be something there. A shadow, a line of dead grass. I've seen photos of crop marks where ancient sites have shown up after droughts, but we've had a lot of rain and I'm afraid I've been watering that flowerbed. I put some new shrubs in. Wait a minute.' She was back on her knees, poring over the maps. ‘Look here.' She pointed at the tiny mark on Meryn's version of the plan. ‘Do you see what my uncle wrote here?'

He leaned forward beside her and their heads touched. Both drew back, embarrassed. ‘Sorry.' Charles laughed. ‘What am I looking for?'

‘There.'

‘It says wormhole.'

‘And you know what that is?'

He frowned. ‘Well, I've heard of them, of course. In science fiction. A place where time and space interlink. I never considered they might be real—' He never finished the sentence. He leaned forward again, running his finger slowly over the paper. ‘It's where I saw the strange lights.'

‘I saw them too. Or at least, I saw figures. Charles, we can't go there, at least not openly in daylight– and Meryn said not to go near it at all; he thinks it could be dangerous– but I could see it from up on the hill fort. Do you fancy a walk?'

‘This is the most beautiful place. I'm so glad I came back,' Charles said cheerfully as they wandered down the street later. They had had lunch together at the mill after a leisurely stroll up the hill where they had seen nothing more unusual than a wary fox. Taking care to lower their voices when they spotted two village gossips at a neighbouring table, they had given Chris a summary of what had been happening.

Charles glanced across at her as they walked. ‘Christopher can't quite bring himself to believe any of our theories, can he.'

‘To be fair, do we believe it totally ourselves? It still seems far-fetched even to me.' They came to a halt outside Cadi's front door.

Charles glanced at his watch. ‘I have to go, I'm afraid, Cadi. I had only planned a short visit to walk the meadow again and see if my findings were consistent.'

He was, she had discovered over lunch, a university lecturer; his partner had died five years before of breast cancer, he lived alone in a flat in Cardiff and although term had ended officially he still had people to see, tutorials to debrief, essays to mark and lectures to prepare for the next semester. ‘But,' he went on happily, ‘as soon as I've got things organised, I can be here to help in any way I can. If you want me to, that is.'

She nodded. ‘You and Meryn should meet.'

‘I'd like that very much.' He beamed at her. ‘Dowsing has been my secret hobby. I wouldn't like my students to hear about it, but to meet someone else who does it, and such an expert—'

Ten minutes after he left, Sally was at the door. ‘So, I hear your admirer has been back.' She smiled.

Cadi let her in. ‘I suppose that was the village mafia. I saw Maggie Powell at the mill. She didn't waste any time spreading the news. And for your information, he is not my admirer, he just wanted to know about the meadow. He had hoped to do some more exploring and he found the gate padlocked.' She didn't mention the maps. She glanced across the lawn to where they had left all the papers and books stacked on the table under the apple tree and instead of heading over the grass, she led the way to the two chairs on the terrace outside the French doors.

‘So, what brought him here in the first place?' Sally threw herself down. She looked exhausted.

‘Actually I did wonder that the first time I met him. I never got round to asking. He lives in Cardiff.'

‘Has he got friends round here? Arwel, perhaps?'

Cadi stared at her. ‘No. No, surely not. We talked about Arwel. He would have said.'

‘Not if he's a spy.'

Cadi gave an uneasy little laugh. ‘That hadn't even occurred to me.'

‘No. Overwhelmed by his good looks, were you?'

‘Sal! What's the matter with you? He's not that good--looking. He's just a nice man who's interested in the fate of the meadow. There's probably stuff online about it and that's why he wanted to see it. He's a historian. He loves early history.'

‘All the more likely that he knows Arwel.'

Cadi stood up. ‘I'll get us a drink.' She sighed. ‘You've worried me now. I did think of him as an ally, certainly. But surely,' she added as she walked into the house, turning back on the doorstep with a frown. ‘Surely, if he's a friend of Arwel's, he'd have gone across to see him.'

‘Not if he's a spy!' Sally laughed.

Cadi brought out a jug of Chris's home-made lemonade. She had added ice cubes that chinked cheerfully as she put the tray down on the little circular table. ‘I remember now, when I first met Charles, he said he had heard about the possibility of there being a villa in the field. I don't think I ever asked him where he had heard about it.' She poured the lemonade, thoroughly unsettled.

‘Ask him.'

‘I don't know how to get in touch with him.'

Sally shook her head in mock despair. ‘Look him up online. You said he's a historian? He must be there somewhere. What's his actual job?'

‘He was there, contactable through the university. Reader in Ancient History.'

‘That's no use,' Sally sniffed. ‘Unless you can sweet-talk someone in the department. Of course, you could go straight to the horse's mouth and ask Arwel.'

‘Absolutely not!'

‘No, I don't blame you.' Sally leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes against the evening sunshine. ‘Ah well, we'll have to live in suspense.' She sighed, and then asked suddenly, ‘Do you still hear from Ifan?'

‘No.' Cadi was appalled by the question. ‘He was the biggest mistake of my life! Even Arwel has had the grace not to mention him in my presence. You know as well as anyone what a vicious shit the man turned out to be! Chris Chatto told me a couple of years ago that he's running some sort of high--powered -businessin London and he married a rich heiress. Well, good luck to her, I say.'

There was a long silence.

‘Not long to go now till the end of term,' Sally put in at last, changing the subject. ‘I can't tell you how I'm looking forward to the holidays. I might go away somewhere just so I don't miss Gemma so much.'

Cadi sighed. She could still hear in her head the sharp little bark of recognition Gemma had given in her vision of the meadow as it had looked in the fourth century. It had all been so real, so lifelike, and she and the dog had exchanged a look that had been so profound, it had to have been genuine. But she was not going to mention it again. It had been far too upsetting for Sally. They continued to sit in silence for a while, watching a blackbird pecking around in the flower border, and Cadi found herself wondering whether the bird could sense if there was something there under the soil. She knew in that moment there was no way she could wait for Meryn or Charles or anyone else to turn up before she started digging. As soon as Sally had gone she would find her garden fork and, very gently, begin to probe the edge of the lawn.

The fork went in easily. She took that as being a bad sign and withdrew it, moving a few steps to her right. That was in the absolute centre of where she estimated a wall should be. Still nothing there. Disappointed, she moved on. The light was going. Shadows stretched across the grass and between one moment and the next she realised she could see it, a slight line, sharp and distinct, throwing a shadow on the lawn. There was nothing specific to show why the line was there, no visible change in level or colour of the grass, just a slightly different quality of growth. She felt a sharp pang of excitement and reached for the fork again. Nothing.

‘It's probably deeper than a fork can reach.' Meryn was indoors this time when she phoned him and she found she was almost sad at not hearing the usual symphony of mountain birds. ‘I'd leave it, Cadi. You don't want to damage the site. And you don't want to let on you have inside information.' He chuckled. ‘I could come over the day after tomorrow if you like. Go back to your writing, my dear. Did your Elen come back to the palace? It might be worth asking.'

Asking? Was it that easy? She put the fork away, gathered all her books and papers together and carried them back indoors before the dew-damp of the evening could reach them. There was not a trace now of where she had been poking about in the soil, nothing to betray her failed excavation.