36

Macsen had summoned his wife to his private office. Winter had come and gone, and spring was giving way to summer. As Elen entered the room he walked across and closed the door behind her. ‘At last, we have news of Theodosius.' He spoke in a whisper. ‘He has marched out of his encampment. My spies tell me he has a huge army under his command. He has decided to try to oust me as emperor, to reinstate Valentinian in the west.' He clenched his jaw as he walked back to his desk and threw himself down in the seat. A narrow ray of sunshine lay across the floor, bringing a welcome warmth to the dull chill of the room. ‘So, at last, we know what he plans!' She could see anger in his face, and excitement. He had been chafing at the bit for months, waiting to see what Theodosius would do, postponing his plans to march on Roma itself, waiting endlessly for news, watching the men train, sending out spies in every direction to keep his network of informants intact, planning fresh campaigns with his senior generals, then -abandoning them for yet more ambitious ideas. But at last there was proper news. Decisions had been made and now he had no alternative but to meet Valentinian at a place of -Theodosius's choosing.

Elen felt cold fear in the pit of her stomach. She took a deep breath. She was an empress. She did not show fear. ‘So, the moment is coming. When you defeat him, you will be ruler of the world.' The alternative was not to be countenanced. Even so, she tried one last time. ‘If I take the children back to Britannia, they will be safe and you will not need to have the extra distraction of women in the baggage train.'

‘There are always women in a baggage train,' he snapped back at her. ‘And British women know how to fight. You have always told me so. You can have a sword and wear a cuirass or mail if you wish.' He gave a bitter smile. ‘You will look magni-ficent, my Elen. With you and my children at my side they will see I have royal heirs to my dynasty and that I have no fear of defeat. The smaller children can ride in the baggage train,' he conceded, ‘but Flavius Victor Augustus will be at my side.'

But Victor is still a child! She wanted to cry it out loud, but she knew there was no point. Her husband was emperor. His word was law.

That night in her lonely bed Elen found her thoughts going back yet again to her homeland, the mist-shrouded -mountains, the thick forests with their scents of oak trees and pine, andthe crashing waves of the wild western seas. Branwen was there. Branwen had foreseen the outcome of this campaign. Branwen who from the start had tried so hard to persuade her that Macsen's ambitions had little to do with Britannia and the tribes of Elen's ancestors and only served his greater ambition. -Branwen had begged her to grab her children and run. -Bran-wen had predicted disaster and every bone in her body told Elen that the time for disaster had come.

Macsen's mother, Flavia, refused to leave when her son told her it was time for her to return to Hispania. She planned to ride alongside her son into battle if such a gesture was called for. Nothing would deter her. Elen admired the old woman and was enormously impressed by her stubborn courage. After a spasmodic relationship over the last years while Flavia was still based at the family home in Cauca in Gallaecia, she had made several visits to them at Treverorum and now at last to Mediolanum where she had remained. The two had formed a firm friendship in those last months and Flavia, after growing to know and love her young grandchildren, supported Elen in her desire to keep them safe, but not Victor Augustus. There she drew the line. The boy was the heir. He was co-emperor. He must step up, however young he was, and be ready to fight at his father's side.

The long winding formation of fighting men set off at the end of June, the massed infantry cohorts and cavalry of Macsen's army stretching out along the road south to join the Via Postumia and on eastward to Cremona and Verona and then towards Aquileia to meet their destiny.

Elen saw nothing of her husband for days on end. He rode far away at the head of his troops with his brother Marcellinus on one side of him and Andragathius, his master of horse, on the other. The men were all in good heart despite the summer heat, which had grown intense. Lagging behind with the baggage and the chariots and the wagons that contained the children and their attendants there was an atmosphere of holi-day cheer about the excursion. There were plenty of stopping places to water the draught animals and the horses and for the men to rest and eat. Macsen was an experienced general. He wanted his men fit and rested for the battle which would inevitably come. Theodosius, backed by his powerful and experienced general in the East, Richomeres, had reinforced his troops with auxiliaries from Richomeres' own cohorts of Franks, and men from all over the empire. His army was vast.

Macsen's army crossed into Dalmatia. His spies informed him that Theodosius's force was moving northwards towards him at a steady rate. When he appeared at the doorway of Elen's tent she took one look at his face and dismissed the few ladies who had been attending her. The children were all intheir mobile nursery, a large canvas shelter which had become their home for the summer wherever they camped.

Macsen looked fit, bronzed by the fierce sun. With her pale skin she avoided it where possible, shading her head with a broad-brimmed hat and a veil, but his Hispanic colouring seemed to flourish in the burning rays of this midsummer heatwave. ‘You are well, my Elen?' It seemed a strange, almost distant greeting. He sat down on the edge of the camp bed and looked down at his clasped hands in thoughtful silence. ‘The time has come,' he said at last, ‘to think how I am going to deploy my troops. The vast baggage train slows us up. I am going to send it back to Aquileia and I want you and the children to go with it. I know you would have wished to fight at my side, in a knife-wheeled chariot as is the habit of your people's women, but I need you to take charge of the household.' He glanced up at her and there was a gleam of the old humour in his eyes. ‘I know you would rather fight, my Silurian queen, but on this campaign, I think it would be more expedient for you to remain behind the lines.'

Just as I have been saying for months . As often happened, she did not utter the words out loud. She came to sit down beside him and for a short moment they touched hands. ‘You don't need to meet him, Macsen.' She meant Theodosius. ‘You can demand to go back to the discussion table.'

He shook his head. ‘Our agreement left me as emperor of the West and I'm the one who has broken that agreement. I have crossed a border. He sees my ambition. Yes, Valentin-ian refused to meet me to discuss the agreement, but it was never going to work. This divided empire can never hold strong against the barbarian hordes. It has to be one entity again, however vast, united under an experienced, powerful general. I have the same royal blood in my veins as -Theodosius, but -Valentinian is a weak boy, and Theodosius has made a mistake in supporting him. The centre of his strength is -Constantinopolis. That will not protect that greater empire of the west.' He paused, as though thinking over his last few words, then nodded, satisfied. ‘Wait for me in Aquileia while I chase them back to the -Bosporus, then we'll celebrate our united empire together.' He stood up. ‘I am sending Flavius Victor Augustus back to -Aquileia with you and the other children. It seems to me that, brave as he is, his presence with me would only be a -hindrance at this stage in the proceedings.' There was a moment of silence between them. ‘His army seems to be somewhat larger than mine, Nel,' he said quietly, ‘but we're vastly better trained and experienced. We can trounce them.'

She stared after him as he ducked out of the tent, sitting for a long time without moving. After her initial relief and joy at the thought of having Victor back with her, only one part of what he had said stuck in her mind. His army seems to be somewhat larger than mine . Something had made him change his plan of attack. She closed her eyes and breathed a silent prayer.

Cadi stared unseeing at the wall in front of her desk. Poor Elen. It must have been appalling to have foreknowledge of what would happen, especially via Branwen and her terrifying gift of second sight. Cadi put down her pen with an exhausted sigh. Writing endlessly as she was, fast, without stopping, she was putting herself in Elen's shoes, under her skin even. She could feel her every emotion, her every sick lurch of fear, her determined bravery and her agonised terror for her eldest boy. Just how old was Victor? Six? Seven at most. In one source she had read he was referred to as an infant. Reading the accounts of Elen's life, the historical comments about the family, the information was so sparse, guesswork at best, the historians knew less than she did. Much less.

She stood up and went over to the kettle. Charles had gone back to his B as far as they knew, there had been no police involvement at that point. Dai has been in touch with your police down in South Wales, and they said they already had a warrant out for him on suspicion of committing various offences including threatening behaviour, and now they've added the knife to the equation, but by the time they all spoke to each other he had already vanished. Dai managed to keep a straight face when I told him about our time travellers and only just managed to tolerate the dagger being Roman when I showed it to him. Unfortunately, he took it away with him, but you might tell Steve tomorrow that it's possible it came from the site. I took a photo of it, so if you can get hold of Steve's email address I'll send it to him. Oh, and they're going to keep a special eye on you, so if you see any lurking policemen be nice to them. And keep your doors locked.'

So Ifan was free. No one knew where he was. She felt a surge of terror. Meryn hadn't mentioned coming back. Cadi put down the phone and walked over to the kitchen. The blind was already closed even though there was still light in the sky. After a moment's hesitation she rechecked all the downstairs doors were locked and bolted, then she ran upstairs and checked all the windows again. Meryn's bedroom still smelt faintly of incense. She sat down on the bed. ‘Branwen?' she said softly. ‘Please don't be cross with my uncle for trying to contact you. And if you did save him with a thunderbolt, thank you.' She shivered.

Once more downstairs she sat down at her desk and, -opening her laptop, she googled the Celtic god of thunder and lightning: Taranis. Had Branwen called on him to deal with Ifan? She would have felt safer if Ifan was still safely in -hospital; he would probably blame Meryn for the thunderbolt. But the thought did not displease her. She studied the pictures of -Taranis in the article. He appeared to be an athletic young man with a wheel in one hand and yes, a thunderbolt in the other which he was about to hurl like a javelin. She sat back in the chair thinking. Branwen paid allegiance to older, more secret gods, probably the goddess Branwen among them, after whom she must have been named. She was a woman of the woods and forests, the mountains and the mists, and obviously she knew how to make the secret magic work.

Cadi picked up her pen; the blank page was in front of her but, she realised, she was reluctant to go back to Elen's story. Elen and her children were far too real for her to be able to face their fate. She threw down the pen.

But surely what she was doing was no different to watching a thriller on TV. She was involved, yes, and she knew she would be holding her breath as the story grew more frightening and that she was emotionally so entangled with it that it hurt, but it was all in the past. The people she was watching were all beyond feeling pain. Nothing could change what happened to them. And she could switch off at any time. She stood up, pacing up and down the room. She needed to be outside. It was outrageous that she should be imprisoned like this in her own home. Besides, Ifan would hardly be in a fit state to drive back here tonight, wherever he had gone after leaving the hospital. Meryn hadn't even mentioned which hospital he was at. She walked over to the garden doors and after a second's hesitation she turned the key in the lock and pulled them open.

The darkness in the garden was warm and soft as she stepped outside. She walked slowly across the grass towards the apple tree, breathing the sweet smell of the grass from the meadow and the wild mountain greenery that surrounded the hill fort. It was almost disappointing not to smell the smoke from the cooking fires of the round houses which had been clustered inside the ramparts or hear the faint sound of distant music or children's voices. Everything was completely silent. Gratefully she felt herself relax. Seconds later she heard the soft click of the latch on the side gate.

She froze, straining her eyes in the darkness. She had left the door open and the lights from the house spilled out across the terrace. Silently she tiptoed further into the shadows, hiding behind the apple tree. The old trunk was rough under her fingers as she peered round. She groped in her pocket and was relieved to feel her phone. Hardly daring to breathe she took it out.

Her mouth had gone dry. Holding her breath she waited. A gust of wind stirred the leaves of the tree above her head and she heard the gate rattle again. It was the wind; the garden was empty. There was no one there.

When Cadi finally went to bed that night she found it impossible to sleep. The moment she closed her eyes she was back in the dark garden, her heart thudding with fright, and then she was running, running down the road with the sound of footsteps close behind her. Her eyes flew open each time she was on the verge of dozing off, her pulse racing. Reaching out she turned on the little bedside lamp so that she wouldn't have to lie in the dark.

When at last her eyes closed again, she found herself listening to the sound of shouts.

The sound of swords clashing.

The heartbroken crying of children.

The terrified screaming of a horse.

The reverberation of hoofbeats and then, outside the tramp of hobnailed boots, coming to the rescue. But too late...

Even a cold shower had failed to wake her up properly and at first, still half lost in the nightmare of war, she could only stare at Charles as he stood on the doorstep next morning. He followed her into the kitchen and set about making them coffee while he updated her on what had been happening overnight.

‘Ifan is back in hospital. They picked him up in London late last night. Meryn couldn't get an answer from your phone so he rang me first thing. He knows someone senior with Dyfed-Powys police and they've kept him informed. Things have become much more complicated. Ifan's wife has been found badly injured at their home in London. It seems that after he discharged himself yesterday he sweet-talked a young nurse into finding him details of a local taxi company. She said he had his phone and a wallet on him with presumably his cards and some cash. The man is obviously not short of money. He took the taxi all the way from the hospital in Wales back to his house in London, and it appears that his wife was there. Someone in the local CID has interviewed the cab -driver, who said Ifan slept most of the way back to London and didn't talk much. He didn't look well. They're used to collecting people from the hospital so he didn't make anything of it. Ifan tipped him generously and the man didn't wait to see him go into the house. A neighbour heard shouting and called the police. Ifan ran for it when the police showed up and it seems he was either still suffering from the lightning bolt or he tripped and fell. Either way, he knocked himself out and they've taken him to hospital in London. I think he's under arrest. His wife is badly hurt. They're not sure if she will live.'

‘Oh no.' Cadi sat down abruptly.

‘Meryn thinks it's possible that whatever has been happening between them over the past months might have -triggered this whole episode of trying to contact you.' He held her gaze.‘I'm so sorry, Cadi. This must all be a complete nightmare foryou.'

She flinched. The word nightmare had been hovering at the back of her mind since she woke up.

Nightmare. It was only a nightmare.

‘The thing is,' he went on. ‘You have nothing to be afraid of now. Ifan is in custody and will stay there at least for the time being.' He brought the coffee pot over. ‘Try and drink something. You'll feel better.'

She nodded, and reached for her phone. ‘Meryn hasn't left a message.'

‘No. He was worried when he couldn't reach you.' He sat down opposite her. ‘I've had a text from Steve as well. They have been told to suspend all the excavations indefinitely. None of his guys are being allowed back on site.'

‘But why?'

‘He doesn't know. He's pretty pissed off. I suppose it might be something to do with the dagger Ifan threatened Meryn with.' He sighed.

‘So we can't go into the meadow either?' It felt like the last straw.

‘I'm afraid not.' He cleared his throat. ‘Cadi, I need to go home this morning. I'm sorry. I feel bad leaving you, but with Ifan back in hospital you've nothing to worry about, at least for now. I've got to look out insurance documents for my car and my stuff. They brought me a new phone and laptop last night, and the hire car was delivered this morning, so I must get it all sorted quickly.'

‘Of course.' With the horror of what was going on all round her, she was forgetting the scale of his predicament. She felt suddenly awkward, ‘I'm so sorry, Charles, all this is my fault. It's wrecked your life!'

‘Hardly that,' he returned with a smile. ‘I'm just so pleased I was here to support you. You know where I am, so if you want me for anything at all, please get in touch. Cardiff is less than an hour away if you need me.'

But I do need you. I want you to stay.

She nearly said it. She might have said it had there not been a knock on the door. A woman was standing on the doorstep. Dressed in a formal skirt and blouse, she showed them a police ID. ‘Is this a good moment for us to have a quick chat?' She followed Cadi in and gave Charles a friendly smile.

‘Perfect timing,' he responded with a little bow. ‘I was just leaving. Your colleagues have my details if you need anything else from me.' He turned to Cadi and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘I'll ring you later to see how things are going, if I may.' And with that he was gone.

Cadi stared after him with an overwhelming sense of loss. He hadn't said a word about coming back.

‘Nice man.' Detective Inspector Gwen Pugh accepted her offerof a cup of tea and sat down opposite her at the little kit-chentable. She was an attractive woman in her mid--forties withwhom Cadifelt immediately safe. ‘Now, I've been in touchwith the Met in London and, as I expect you know, Ifan Davies is in hospital and he's got a burly policeman watching over him so you've no need to worry that he's going to walk out again, not for a while anyway. We're holding him on various charges now, one of which is on suspicion that he attacked his wife.' She took another sip of tea. ‘Did you ever meet her?'

Cadi shook her head. ‘Until recently, I hadn't seen him for several years.'

‘And was he ever violent towards you?'

She nodded. ‘Mainly his unpleasantness was more subtle than that. Watching me, criticising, following me when I went out, threatening my friends so they stopped coming over and I felt more and more isolated, and when we quarrelled he would shout at me and get verbally nasty. But...'

‘But?'

‘There was always that sense of underlying controlled threat, I have to say, I was frightened of him at the end. We weren't married, so I felt entitled to ask him to leave as it was my house– and that really, really infuriated him. That was when he hit me and I told him I was going to call the police. At that point he finally left. He bombarded me with unpleasant emails and threatening letters for months, then overnight it all stopped. I was incredibly relieved when he disappeared from my life. I heard later he had met someone else, and that took a huge weight off my shoulders.'

‘You didn't worry about her?'

Cadi grimaced. ‘I'm afraid not. I assumed his aggression towards me was because I had asked him to leave. He couldn't take rejection.'

‘Ah, and now his wife has in her turn tried to leave him.' Gwen nodded slowly. ‘Did you ever see him violent to anyone else?'

There was a brief pause. ‘If I'm honest, I'd have to say he had a short fuse. He would shout at people, other drivers, you know the sort of thing. But I never saw him actually hit anyone.'

‘You don't need to feel you're being disloyal, you know.'

Cadi laughed. ‘It does feel a bit like that. But it's true. Although I never saw him actually carry out any threats until that last time, I was very scared of him towards the end. I did think he could be capable of serious violence if he was pushed too far. Is his wife going to be OK, do you know?'

‘As far as I know, she's still unconscious. Did you never think of reporting his attack on you to the police?'

Cadi shook her head again. ‘He would have denied it. It would have been my word against his. Besides, I just wanted to be shot of him. I never wanted to see him again.'

Gwen sighed. ‘Which brings me to the threat he made to your uncle. My colleague Dai Vaughan from Dyfed-Powys has been in touch. He's been telling me all about Professor Meryn Jones.'

‘Oh.' Cadi didn't know what else to say.

Gwen laughed. ‘Oh, indeed. Don't worry. I gather they've known each other for a long time. He's a family friend of theirs, it seems.' She leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea. She hadn't produced a notebook, somewhat to Cadi's relief. ‘We seem to have Ifan Davies walking round your uncle's property in a furious temper, possibly in possession of a knife from the Roman dig, which he might have picked up in the meadow next door to you, possibly intending grievous bodily harm or even murder. At which point he was, I gather, stopped in his tracks by a thunderbolt, hurled by a Druidess who lived some sixteen hundred years ago. Have I got that right?'

Cadi laughed. ‘I take it my uncle put that theory to your colleague in complete confidence.'

Gwen gave a slow nod.

‘And you've come to ask me if my uncle is off his rocker?'

‘No. Far from it. Between ourselves, my granny had second sight. Not that that means I can believe any of this in my official capacity, you understand.' Gwen grinned. ‘But it might make me less inclined to look elsewhere for a perpetrator. Inciden-tally, I understand that my colleagues are still somewhat -puzzled by the identity of the body in the grave.'

‘Ifan's not guilty of that murder. We know who did that; it was Joyce Blackden's uncle.'

‘But there were, I understand, other remains?'

‘Ah.' Cadi stood up and went to switch on the kettle. ‘More than one body, I think. Very much older bodies from a burial pit that doesn't seem to have much connection with the murder apart from a sad coincidence. That is, I gather, one theory from the archaeology department trying to make sense of the incomprehensible. Beyond that, I couldn't possibly comment.'

‘Fair enough.' Gwen sighed. ‘It's a bit of a tangle, isn't it.'

‘Do you buy the theory that dowsing works?' Cadi's voice was almost drowned by the sound of the kettle coming to the boil.

Gwen nodded. ‘For underground water, anyway. I won't have any more tea, thank you, I'd better go.' She stood up. ‘Thank you for your help. I might need to come and speak to you again, if I may. I think for now we're all waiting to see if this poor lady in London wakes up. Then we'll know a lot more about what has happened and Ifan's state of mind.'

‘Have you spoken to Ifan's father?' Cadi asked as an afterthought as she showed Gwen to the door.

‘I didn't know he had a father.' Gwen frowned. ‘At least, not round here. No one mentioned him to me.'

‘He lives just across the road. I gather they don't get on, but he might know a bit more about Ifan's state of mind.'

Cadi stood in the doorway, watching as Gwen walked towards Arwel's house, then she turned back indoors. There was a missed message on her phone. Although she didn't recognise the number, Ifan's voice, though husky, was easily -recognisable.‘Don't think this is the end of it.' That was it. Nothing else.

Cadi turned and ran back to her gate just as Gwen walked back towards her car. ‘Mr Davies isn't in. I'll ring him later and make an appointment to come and interview him another time,' she called. ‘What is it?' she asked, realising that Cadi was waving her phone in the air. She listened to the message and frowned. ‘OK, he's obviously regained consciousness. That was sent within the last half hour. I'll send someone over to the -hospital and we'll make sure the phone is removed and the -constable there is reminded he's not allowed to have one. He really is a nasty piece of work, isn't he.' She gave Cadi a -reassuring smile. ‘Try not to worry.'