33

‘And neither can I.' Cadi found she was whispering to herself. ‘I know what is going to happen. I have to stop it.'

Daylight was filtering into the room around the blinds. She glanced at her watch. It was morning. Her head cushioned on her arms, she had fallen asleep over her notebook. Wearily she staggered to her feet and went over to the kitchen, pulling up the blind. The tiny front garden was full of sunlight, the puddles on the road beyond the gate sending glittering reflections into the hedges. Having filled the kettle, she watched it while it boiled.

‘Good morning, Cadi.' Meryn had come downstairs without her hearing him. ‘Any spare coffee going?'

She nodded. ‘I fell asleep at my desk. Too much going on in the story.'

He nodded without comment.

‘She was warned by a soothsayer that the end would be bad. But she doesn't take any notice. Or at least she knows that Macsen won't.'

‘Macsen can't.' Meryn watched as she reached for the coffee jar and spooned ground coffee into the jug. ‘It's not in his nature. Besides, what kind of emperor would he be if he turned tail.'

‘Julius Caesar didn't, did he, and look where that led.' Cadi gave a rueful smile. ‘And it wasn't Branwen this time. It was an old man with a long white beard.'

‘Splendid.' Meryn reached out for the mug she had poured for him. ‘I was beginning to think that all the soothsayers and wise people of old were women.'

‘She thought he was a Druid.' Cadi picked up her own mug and went over to her desk. Sitting down, she flipped back through the pages of scribbled writing. ‘See, here. I describe him. He had a white beard and a long staff and a satchel-type bag over his shoulder.'

‘Of course Druids had a fantastic reputation in those days and amongst other things they were known as fortune tellers.' Meryn took a gulp of coffee. ‘Once they had managed to convince the Romans they didn't do human sacrifice, or eat each other, they were perfectly acceptable, even welcome. Rich when you think about it, when the Romans themselves had thought up the most barbaric ways of putting people to death ever invented by man.'

‘I don't think Macsen trusted the Druids.'

‘It sounds as if he didn't trust anyone who tried to come between him and his ambition.'

‘So he wouldn't even listen to their warnings.'

‘All the more reason. Male logic, I'm afraid.' He grinned.

She sighed and stood up. ‘I'm glad you said that and not me. I'm going to go up and have a shower to wake me up properly.'

‘Can I look at your notes while you're upstairs?'

‘Of course. If you can read them. I'll print them up later.'

Walking over to the bathroom window to grab her toothbrush from the glass on the sill, she glanced down into the street. There was someone out there, walking away from the house. A man. She felt a prickle of alarm. He was too far away to see clearly, but there was something about the way he walked she recognised. It was Ifan, she was sure of it.

When she went back downstairs she found Charles had arrived. The men had made fresh coffee and were engaged in deep conversation.

‘Ifan has been out and about this morning,' Charles said without preamble. ‘I followed him down the road. He hung around outside here for a while, went to look at Meryn's car, obviously suspicious about who was staying here, and then he walked on up the road to the meadow gate. He didn't go in. He stood looking over it for a while then he turned back and I had to duck in to someone's front garden and hide behind their hedge till he had gone by.' He laughed. ‘If there are any reports of sinister goings on in the village, that will be my part in the activities, I'm afraid, though I don't think anyone saw me. I think it's one of the holiday homes and there's no one there right now. There was no car there, anyway. Thank God!'

Cadi sat down at the table with them and reached for the coffee pot. ‘What am I going to do about him?'

‘Nothing yet. We were discussing it just now,' Meryn said. ‘You were going to contact the police. Did you do it in the end?'

She shook her head. ‘I wasn't sure it was him then.'

‘Well, you need to be very careful, but he hasn't done anything actually threatening to you, has he.' Meryn took a sip of coffee. ‘I think you were right to hold back and I think we want to find out a bit more about what his motives are.'

‘And is that your official Druidic verdict?' She gave a faint smile.

‘It is.' He winked at her.

‘Right.' Charles sat forward, his elbows on the table. ‘We should decide what to do next. I was wondering if we might go to the local museum. Anything interesting from a Roman site will be there, or it should be. We might find stuff from this village.'

They did. To Cadi's amazement there were a great many finds, dug up in the village gardens over the years, some from the farm, one from the mill, and some from ‘the Roman marching camp' in the meadow. There were even several from ‘the gamekeeper's cottage'. She stared down at the exhibits in the glass case in amazement. ‘Do you think that's my house?' There were several blue pottery beads, various iron nails, some coins, a hair pin and a twisted metal brooch. She glanced at Meryn. ‘I wish I could touch them. I don't suppose they would let me.'

He shook his head. ‘Too much hassle to ask them, Cadi. Have you never found anything yourself?'

She shook her head. ‘I've found lots of bits of broken clay pipes but, to be honest, I'm not sure I would even have noticed a bit of iron or a blackened coin all covered in mud.'

‘Perhaps we should borrow a metal detector,' Charles put in, ‘especially as you have a fragment of the villa actually in your garden.'

‘There's nothing here about a mosaic floor,' Cadi pointed out when they had finished touring the museum. It was in the corner of the local library, about four miles from the village and consisted of one small room dominated by a few glass-fronted wall cupboards and a dusty mannequin of a woman dressed in a betgwn with apron, shawl and tall black hat. Beside her stood the ubiquitous spinning wheel.

Cadi stopped at another display case. ‘Look, this is from the oppidum. "Iron Age Fort on Bryndinas Hill. Partially excav-ated in 1938." I didn't realise anyone had ever found anything at those old hill forts. More beads, this time faded ochre in colour. No nails, in spite of it being Iron Age. Arrowheads, bits of decorated pottery. Such tiny reminders of a once-thriving town.'

The lady in charge of the library didn't know anything about the museum. ‘It's been here for years,' she said ruefully. ‘Hardly anyone comes to look at it. Sorry I can't tell you more than that.'

‘Not very helpful,' Charles said as they walked back down the road to the car. ‘When and if we find out more about the meadow site I think we should make a point of trying to improve things in there, especially for the local children. It was not overwhelmingly exciting.'

‘It was for me.' Cadi grinned.

‘Then perhaps you can do something to convey some of that excitement locally. Maybe give a talk to the children one day.' He laughed out loud at the expression of horror on her face. ‘Well, at least have a word with Sally. Isn't she the head teacher there?'

Cadi shook her head. ‘Different village, different school. ButI agree it must be worth talking to her about it. She's bound to know someone.'

She didn't. ‘It might be a bit uncomfortable to rush in criticising someone else's patch,' she pointed out when they asked her over that evening. ‘I will keep it in mind though, and if I think of a way of broaching the subject, I will. I might suggest I take my kids over to the museum when we're discussing the -meadow next term, assuming there are exciting Roman finds there. All the kids know about the skeleton. They were hugely excited when they heard about it. While you were all gallivanting round the museum I was at school, of course. Thank goodness it was the last day of term. Blessed holidays now. And I wanted to give you my spare key, Cadi. Please can you keep an eye on my house. I'll be away for a couple of weeks or so with my sister in France.'

‘I expect you'll be glad to get away for a bit.' Meryn was pouring out the wine. He passed her a glass. Gemma was asleep beside her on the sofa and he went to perch on the arm next to the little dog. He put out his hand to stroke her gently. Gemma looked up and wagged her tail.

Sally was looking expectantly round the room. ‘Is Charles joining us?'

Cadi shook her head. ‘He's had to go to another meeting at the university. His professor is planning a reorganisation of the department, hence all these meetings in the vacation.' Out of the corner of her eye she saw Meryn run his hand gently over Gemma's back. The dog looked up briefly, and then settled back to sleep. He left his hand resting lightly over her shoulders as Cadi and Sally chatted about Sally's forthcoming trip and Cadi endured a few gentle jibes about Charles's attentions.

‘So did you feel anything?' After Sally had gone home, Cadi turned to Meryn eagerly.

‘Her energy field is very depleted, but I couldn't sense anything particularly odd, I'm glad to say.' He reached for the wine bottle and tipped the remaining dregs into Cadi's glass. ‘I gave her some healing which will, I hope, help, but I suspect the best tonic of all will be going away for a bit and having Sally to -herself.' He threw himself down on the sofa. ‘Cadi, I want you to tell me honestly. Am I de trop here? Would you rather I went back home tomorrow?'

‘De trop?' She looked at him, confused.

‘Would you rather be alone with Charles? I take it there's something going on.'

‘No! No, there isn't.' Cadi gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Don't take any notice of Sal and her innuendoes. She's been teasing me about him since the first time I met him. I've only known him a few weeks. We met in the meadow that time when he was dowsing and we have, I suppose, become friends almost without realising it, because of the circumstances, and everything that's going on, but it's nothing more than that. -Absolutely not. No, you must stay. I need you. Please.'

‘Fair enough.'

Charles appeared later that evening. ‘While I was in Cardiff I dropped in at the lab again and Steve gave me a copy of the report.'

Cadi and Meryn looked at each other and then waited in silence.

‘To be exact,' he reached into his pocket and produced a sheaf of folded papers, ‘they retested various samples from his skull, pelvis, femur and footbones and separately tested scraps of leather from what it was assumed were his shoes. Basically, most of him was 1930s. Pre 1950s is important, apparently, because for ten years or so they were doing -atomic testing and it lingered in the atmosphere. Shotgun pellets are inorganic, of course, and no one knows the exact age and provenance of the shotgun so there was no point sending them for analysis. The shoe leather from both shoes was, interestingly, dated at CE 300–400 and appeared to have been on his feet. The foot bones have been sent for retesting. They don't seem to be consistent. They seem to match the shoes rather than the leg bones they were assumed to have been attached to. The other extra bones are also from around the years 300–400 and are almost certainly from the Roman burial pit, so a theory is being posited that there must have been some cross-contamination as far as the feet go. But the osteoarchaeologist seems to think that would be impossible. Not within a single bone.'

He sat back on the sofa and looked at them expectantly.

‘Steve knows our theory, I presume?' Meryn asked.

Charles nodded. ‘We talked it over. We had to really. I made sure I came over as a bit sceptical in the way I discussed what we suspected, as you can imagine. "I know this sounds crazy" and all that guff. I have my academic reputation to think of.'

‘And his reaction to the results?'

‘We went for a beer. He started quoting Shakespeare at me. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio"– that sort of thing. Oh, yes, and "knowledge is limited, imagination encircles the world". I don't know who said that.'

‘Einstein.' Meryn filled in for him. ‘I think that's right. We can and must sidestep science here. We must agree there are times when only poets and philosophers can answer these questions.' He glanced across at Cadi. ‘I'm glad to say we have one of each present. I would class myself as halfway to being a philosopher and Cadi is definitely a poet. And you, my friend, are a historian, a perfect member for our triumvirate and possibly the only sane one amongst us, so, between us we ought to be able to provide some plausible theory as to what happened here.'

‘Not one that will satisfy the police,' Charles put in.

‘Why not? They will surely be happy with the science lab theory that the victim was buried in a pre-existing grave. Once all the bones have been tested and none are found to be modern enough to be of interest to them, my guess is they'll shelve it. As for how our poor victim happened to pop up in front of a man who had taken aim at a rabbit, I have no idea how these things work. I've been looking this up and I gather the carbon-14 tests will date the samples from the moment of burial, so where the specimen actually originated won't show up.'

‘I suppose we could suggest the vet takes blood and tissue samples from the little dog,' Charles suggested. ‘That might be interesting. But I don't think Sally would go for that, do you?'

‘No way,' Cadi spluttered. She glanced a Meryn, who shook his head. ‘Anyway, she and Gemma are off to France, so whatever happens next they will be safely out of the way.'

The next step was revealed when Charles received a text message from Steve the next morning as he sat at breakfast in Annabel's dining room.

My team and I have been asked to do a thorough forensic dig. Starting with the grave site. Looking for the Roman burial pit initially. Starting today. I'm already here. I'll leave your name at the gate so you can come in as a consultant.

Charles called in at Sarnelen Cottage on his way to the meadow. ‘I'm sure I can get Meryn in by uttering the magic word "professor".'

‘I'm beginning to regret not pursuing an academic career,' Cadi put in ruefully, ‘it seems to get you in everywhere, but for now I'm quite happy to stay at home and write. I'm sure you two will fill me in if anything exciting happens.'

It was only an hour later that there was a knock at the front door. Cadi threw down her pen and hurried over to open it, expecting to see Meryn or Charles or both of them. ‘Have they found something—'

She broke off in horror. Ifan was standing on the doorstep. She tried to push the door closed but he stepped forward and was inside before she could stop him. ‘So, Cadi, how are you?' He was dressed in a formal business suit, and had a leather portfolio under his arm. ‘I thought it only polite to call in as we are to be neighbours.'

He hadn't changed much over the years, she realised. He was still a good-looking man, straight-backed and athletic, but his hair was greying and his face more lined. ‘You've heard about the unfortunate discovery of a body in the meadow, I take it? It's a damn nuisance. The police seem to be completely baffled, but what can you expect from woodentops in the depths of the countryside? I'm glad to say they've concluded the whole thing is a problem for the archaeologists rather than the coroner. The council have brought in forensic teams to check if there are any other bodies lying about and that will also dispense with this stupid theory that there is a Roman villa there. I don't suppose it was you who started that rumour?'

‘No. I didn't.' She kept her reply short. She folded her arms. ‘You look well, Ifan.'

He gave a little bow. ‘As do you, although I see you're still not bothered as to what you wear.' She was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, her hair, still damp from the shower, tied back with a green scarf. She opened her mouth to retort, but already he was glancing round the room and she saw his gaze linger over her desk where the lamp floodlit her notebook and pen and various open textbooks. ‘Still writing your little poems, I hear.'

‘Indeed.' She spoke through clenched teeth.

‘Nothing seems to have changed in here.'

‘There is no reason why it should.'

‘No ambition. That was always one of your problems. I would've expected you to achieve far more with your life.'

‘Ifan, if you've come here to insult me, I see no point in this visit lasting another moment. Would you please leave.' She turned towards the front door.

‘Aren't you going to offer me a cup of coffee?'

‘No.'

‘You never guessed I bought that meadow, did you. It was four years ago now, soon after I left your charming abode.' He glanced disdainfully round the room. The shock in her face was obvious and he smiled. ‘I offered them a price they couldn't refuse. I told them it was a gift for my girlfriend, so they let me have it in the end. It made no difference to the people who owned it. It was just another field on the edge of their property.' He was watching her closely for her reaction. ‘Of course it could have been a gift. But you chose otherwise. Just think, Cadi. You could have owned it. But no. You wanted nothing to do with me. It gave me so much pleasure to think how upset you'd be if you knew it was mine, down to the last blade of grass.' He folded his arms, studying her face. ‘I have enjoyed wondering what to do with it. For a while it was a bit of a white elephant in my portfolio, then of course the answer became obvious. It gave me an idea. I've bought several more such sites over the years. Sleepers, I call them. All of them ripe for development. And now your turn has come.' He paused, waiting for a reaction, then he went on, ‘I thought it was time I showed you the plans I have for Meadow Heights. That's what I'm calling the development, by the way. Suitably bland and unpoetic. They're going to impinge on you and your pathetic little life very -closely.' He gave her a cold smile.

‘I believe I know about the plans you have for the meadow,' Cadi retorted. She took a deep breath, determined not to show any reaction to his obvious glee. ‘This village is not so lost in rural ineptitude that we can't use the internet. And there are people who are very competently keeping an eye on what you are trying to do.'

‘Ah yes, Christopher Chatto and his village committee. I suppose you're a member of that cabal?'

‘I know what they're doing, of course I do. Chris keeps me informed.'

‘He's an interfering little man, isn't he. I gather he runs the Mill Café. There's always someone like him in a village, itching to take over and stick their nose in where it isn't wanted.'

‘Which is just as well, if you ask me. Otherwise inter-lopers would get away with far more than they do. And for the record, Chris is not a little man. He can give you a few -inches any day.' She managed a scathing glance which ran from his head down to his feet and was rewarded by the fleeting look of discomfort that crossed Ifan's face. She managed to keep her voice steady. ‘So tell me, Ifan, have you seen much of your father while you've been here? I expect he's one of your investors. I would've thought you'd have been staying with him.'

‘You really have forgotten a lot about me,' he snapped back. ‘My father and I never got on. But then no one gets on with my father. He's a grumpy old goat and we cordially loathe each other. No, he isn't one of my investors. He has enough money already and I wouldn't dream of allowing him to make another penny out of me.'

‘Watch out, Ifan, your vicious streak is beginning to show.' Cadi opened the front door. ‘I would like you to leave, please.'

‘What, no farewell kiss?'

She didn't bother to reply, and to her relief he turned towards the door and went out. She watched him stride down the path and out into the road where he turned right towards the -meadow. He left her gate wide open.

She closed the door and walked back to her desk. It was only when she was sitting down that she realised she was shaking. She banged her fist on her notebook. ‘The bastard,' she cried out loud. ‘The utter bastard!' Unable to concentrate anymore she stood up. Perhaps she should ring Charles and warn him and Meryn that Ifan was on his way. But it was already too late. He would be there by now. It was no use trying to write, she was far too agitated. There was only one thing she could do. While the complete and utter bastard was in the meadow, she would walk down to the village and talk to Chris.

Arwel was standing outside his front door. ‘I saw him go into your house.'

Cadi stopped. ‘Indeed.'

‘You know he's the one behind the meadow development.'

‘I do. Yes.'

‘I hear he's staying with that fashion designer woman the other end of the village.'

‘I believe so. But I don't think she's there. I heard she's in Italy at the moment.'

‘Women can never resist him.' Arwel managed to get the maximum of unpleasant innuendo into the phrase. ‘I cannot imagine what they see in him.'

‘For once I agree with you,' she said. ‘I can't think why I tolerated him for a single minute. Thank goodness I managed to see sense in the end. I pity the poor woman he married.'

‘Be careful, Chris, he has you in his sights,' she said as he filled her bag with goodies for lunch. ‘You're obviously his chief opponent in the village. I wouldn't trust him further than I can throw him.'

Chris gave her a cheerful grin. ‘I've met far worse than him before now,' he retorted. ‘Don't you worry about me and Mel. For a few miserable years in the dim and distant past she and I ran a pub in a disreputable part of London, and if we could deal with the clientele there, believe me, we can deal with Mr Davies.'

‘Yes, but he's not the sort of customer you need to throw out physically. He's a subtle schemer. He bought that meadow four years ago!' That last sentence came out as a cry of pain.

‘Even better.' Chris gave her back her card and pushed the bag over the counter to her. ‘I like a challenge. Subtle schemers are not going to present insurmountable mysteries as far as I'm concerned. But it's good to know he's declared himself. I shall be ready.'

‘Many a true word is spoken in jest.' Meryn liked the term ‘insurmountable mysteries'. She had told them what had happened. Neither man seemed all that surprised by the news that Ifan had owned the meadow all along. She was the one who was shattered by the revelation, just as he had intended. He had appeared in the meadow, but one of his minions, a man who had been watching the careful initial cuts into the turf near the grave, had headed over to speak to him and he had walked away without coming over to the dig.

‘So, how is the dig going?' Cadi was concentrating on setting out the food on the table.

‘Carefully.' Charles had picked up a bottle of wine at the deli on his way down that morning. He poured out three glasses then he glanced at Meryn. ‘While the experts were distracted, your uncle and I had a bit of a wander around the meadow.'

‘Charles has been doing some dowsing for the pavement,' Meryn added. ‘And I think he's remarkably good at it. We've found it.'

‘Or we think we have,' Charles put in quickly. He put his hand in his pocket. ‘I filched a bit of evidence. I can't take any credit. It was a rabbit.'

‘A rabbit?' Cadi put the salad bowl on the table and wiped her hands on a dishcloth. ‘Show me.'

It was a small square of dull blue stone with a faint sheen on one side.

‘A tessera.' Charles dropped it into her palm. ‘Just lying there in a scrape of earth.'

‘A scrape of earth we walked straight up to, thanks to Charles's efforts over a sketch map last night.' Meryn grinned. ‘As I said, he's good at this.'

‘And the rest of it is still there?'

‘Who knows. There's no sign of it and of course we can't make any trial digs for it ourselves, but we can suggest one of the exploratory trenches heads that way.'

‘Did you show it to Steve?' Cadi closed her fist over the fragment and shut her eyes.

‘Not yet. But we will. We needed to do exactly that first.'

She opened her eyes again. ‘Exactly what?'

Meryn had been watching her. ‘Feel its vibe. Tell me.'

She frowned, then closed her eyes again.

‘Don't take time to think about it,' he commanded. ‘Just speak.'

‘Someone is running across it. As fast as they can. Fear. Panic. Oh!' She dropped it on the table.

‘See. You can do it.' Meryn looked extraordinarily pleased with himself. ‘I knew you could.'

‘Impressive. Between us we could go far,' Charles com-mented. He handed Cadi a wine glass.

She shivered. ‘That was my imagination, yes?'

‘Probably.' Meryn glanced at the kitchen window. ‘Uh-oh. I think we have a visitor.'

As he spoke there was a brisk knock at the door. It was Charles who opened it.

‘Who the hell are you?' Ifan walked in, pushing him out of the way with a sharp thrust into the chest. He didn't wait for an answer as he transferred his attention to Meryn. ‘I might have known you would be here, interfering as usual. Are you still casting your pathetic little spells over Cadi, putting her off me, telling her lies about me, trying to destroy my life?'

‘Whoa! What are you talking about?' It was Cadi who interrupted him as the two men stared at him in astonishment. She was overwhelmed with rage. ‘How dare you push your way back in here like this?'

‘I saw you both in the meadow, poking about, trying to find things to interfere with the planning applications.'

‘We were just looking for clues,' Charles put in mildly.

Ifan sneered at him. ‘Oh yes, I'm sure you were. And who are you, Sherlock Holmes or the latest boyfriend?'

‘Ifan. Leave. Now.' Cadi lowered her voice threateningly.

He walked over to the table and sat down. ‘I don't think so.'

‘Call the police,' Meryn put in quietly.

‘Don't even think about it.' Ifan folded his arms.

‘Are you going to stop me?' Cadi was fizzing with anger. She could barely contain the urge to smack him in the mouth, and he could see it, she realised, recognising the smug expression on his face. She walked past him and pulled the front door open. ‘You have two minutes.'

‘Don't worry, Cadi,' Charles said quietly. ‘I've already called them.' He had his phone in his hand.

Ifan stood up. ‘Don't bother them. I'll go. But don't think you've heard the last of me. You'll be sorry that you crossed me, Cadi– very sorry. And you.' That last remark was addressed to Charles.

They watched as he strode out of the house and out to the gate. He came to a brief halt, looked up the road, then half turned. ‘The police don't seem to be in any hurry,' he called, then strode off.

Cadi slammed the door behind him. ‘Did you really call them?'

Charles shook his head.

Steve dropped in before he drove home that evening. ‘As you know, the police have officially given us the all-clear to go ahead with a dig and we've already found some interesting Roman artefacts below the level of the more recently disturbed soils. There are quite a few silver coins. They look black and are very small, so wouldn't have caught the attention of anyone in a hurry, and there were some more black lumps of what may have been leather. Possibly the coins were in a bag. And we found a few buckles, possibly from some aspects of a uniform. I've sent it all back to the lab with one of my assistants. Nothing from the twentieth century that I've seen.'

Charles walked over to the table and picked up the square tessera which Cadi had placed in a little bowl to keep it safe. ‘Take a look at this.'

Steve held it in his palm and squinted at it. ‘Where did you find it?' He groped in his pocket for a magnifying lens.

‘About ten metres from your tent. Just the far side of Cadi's hedge.'

‘You know what it is, of course.' Steve glanced up.

Charles nodded. ‘It was lying on the surface, in a rabbit scrape.'

‘Rabbits are great excavators!' Steve put the little piece back in the bowl. ‘Most pavements in the UK were made of local stone and I'm pretty well up on our own most usual var-ieties. This is Lias limestone, I'm fairly sure. They got it from the Severn Valley. Show me where it was tomorrow and we'll get some technology over to see if the rest of the floor is around there. If so, the villa extended much further east than we -originally thought. We've all been too distracted by the barn -theory and then finding the bones.' He put the bowl back on the table. ‘One piece of good news– at least, I assume it's good. That wretched man John Davies called in this afternoon. He cast an evil eye over the proceedings, then he announced he was going back to London. He'll send a minion down to keep an eye on things and in the meantime his site manager, Pete Williams, is going to be here. Davies is obviously bored and impatient in equal measure at the pace at which this is all going.'

‘I can't say we're sorry,' Charles said after a few moments' silence. ‘Unpleasant man. Not keen on the niceties.'

Steve nodded. Declining the offer of refreshment, he headed for the door. ‘I'll be back tomorrow. The forecast is good. See you in the meadow.'

Charles followed him out a few minutes later. ‘I have reading to catch up on and I might just take a stroll past the said John Davies's lair. Annabel has told me where it is. I'll see if his car has really gone. I'll see you both in the field tomorrow.'

Cadi rebolted the door after him. ‘I won't feel safe until we're sure he's really gone.'

Meryn nodded. ‘Now at last we can talk.' He walked across to the garden door and looked out. The sun had gone round and the shadows were growing longer. ‘Tell me what you felt when you held that little bit of stone.'

‘I think I know where it came from. Elen's bedroom. There was a lovely blue floor in the new wing of the villa when she came back from Segontium. I think it showed an urn of some sort, laden with fruit and flowers, with a swirling border and little waves. The room was warm and she was so pleased they had extended the hypocaust. Would they have put a floor like that over a hypocaust?'

Meryn shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not my area of expertise.' He screwed up his eyes as he stared across the grass, seeing walls that were no longer there, flower beds and formal avenues of trees. Pale figures flitted in and out of the shadows and he could hear the faintest sounds of life going on as if there had been no interlude; no span of more than a thousand years. No fire. He gave himself a slight shake. ‘We will no doubt find out tomorrow whether there is anything left to see,' he said at last.