37

The two armies met at Siscia in Pannonia. Elen listened to the breathless messenger, her fists clenched with fear, the sight of his face enough to tell her the news was bad. They had been back in Aquileia for barely a week. Theodosius must have turned his vast army round and marched it directly towards a confrontation with Macsen's troops, taking him by surprise before his forces had united and reformed. ‘It was a disaster,' the messenger said, shaking his head as though he couldn't believe his news himself. The man's clothes were bloodstained and his arm was in a sling. He looked near to collapse. ‘Andragathius, our emperor's master of horse, was in command. He had to retreat; he ordered his men to scatter and regroup so they could join the main body of the army. Andragathius was humiliated. There was nothing for it but to take his own life.'

Elen tried to steady her breathing. ‘He fell on his sword?'

‘He threw himself into the river.' The man stifled a sob. ‘He could not face our leader, not after letting him down so badly.' He took a deep shuddering breath. ‘Our emperor sent me to make sure you and his lady mother and the children were all safe here. He bid me greet you from him and to tell you that he had high hopes of absolute victory when the two armies next meet. The Emperor Theodosius wasn't leading the army at Siscia himself. Richomeres, his Frankish general of the eastern army was in overall charge of the men. Richomeres is known to be a phenomenal general.' He paused to draw breath. Elen saw the man's face and read real fear there. ‘The emperor of the East has called for a brief cessation in hostilities to amalgamate his armies,' he stammered at last, ‘and our leaders will take the chance to do the same.'

‘Then there will be a final battle,' Elen said softly.

He looked up and met her gaze squarely. ‘Then there will be a final battle.'

Elen had ordered their party into the city of Aquileia itself, basing the family in the imperial palace there. For several days there was no news and they breathed again. Elen oversaw the children's lessons, trying to establish a feeling of normality, but when she was alone, or with Macsen's mother, she could not hide her anxiety. ‘Magnus will win.' Flavia took Elen's hand and clasped it tightly. Elen nodded grimly. She still had -Bran-wen's letter in her correspondence box.

‘I have something I intended to give Magnus to keep him safe.' Flavia came into Elen's room two days later, carrying a small intricately-carved wooden casket. ‘When he sent us back here, I had no time to fetch it from my luggage to give it to him.' She gestured sharply at their attendants, who bowed and withdrew. ‘I wanted to be alone with you to give you this. You mustpass it on to him if—' She corrected herself: ‘When yousee him next.' She sat down opposite Elen and set the casket on her knee. She felt for the fine gold chain around her neck and produced a tiny golden key.

Elen moved forward slightly in her chair. ‘What is it?'

Flavia pushed back the lid of the box. Inside, cushioned in a bed of lambswool, lay a tiny clay dish. ‘When the -Virgin Mother of God appeared to her nephew John after he brought the story of the Christ to Hispania, she gave him this -little bowl, which had been used to catch a few drops of Our Lord's blood as he hung dying on the cross. John was not having much success converting the people of my country to become followers of Christ and he was dispirited. Just holding this gave him the strength he needed to continue with his mission.'

Elen stared at the little bowl. She reached out her hand and then withdrew it quickly, not daring to touch such a sacred object. ‘How did you come to have it?' she breathed.

‘It was given by a holy man to my father, the Count -Theodosius.' She sat in silence for a long time then heaved a sigh. Slowly she shut the lid and relocked it. ‘There was no chance to give it to Magnus. He came late to the Christian faith and perhaps he was not meant to have it. Perhaps it is for your little Victor to own it in due course. I give it into your care, my child. You have been faithful to Magnus. You have carried his children and you have always been a follower of Christ. I am old and I realise I may never go back to Hispania. I may never see my sons again. No'– she raised her hand as Elen started to protest– ‘I am a realist. Magnus is ambitious. He's a fine general and he made a fine emperor, but he was not the true heir and his supporters, though they represent a goodly portion of the western empire, are not going to be strong enough to win this war, especially now that, as Marcellinus told me, the Franks have invaded northern Gaul and our armies there are not going to be able to join his legions in time to reinforce them here. No one can fight on two fronts at once.' She sat staring down at the little box on her knee. ‘May God go with them. But this is for you, to use as you see fit, my dear.' She reached up to the chain around her neck and unfastened it. She handed the little key to Elen and then the casket itself. ‘A gift freely given should be as freely accepted.'

Cadi sat staring at the wall behind her desk then she looked down again at the words she had just written. It couldn't be, could it? A little bowl, used to catch a few drops of Our Lord's blood. Was this the actual Holy Grail? She had always pictured the grail as something studded with gems. A chalice, not a tiny clay dish. And it was a legend. Another Arthurian legend like the legend of the famous sword, the sword the Welsh called Caledfwlch. But here was another version of the story, linked, however tenuously, with the Emperor Magnus Maximus. And this one, as she had written down its origin with the daughter of Count Theodosius, this little bowl was a Spanish legend. She pictured it as she had just described it in Elen's hands. A dull reddish-grey clay. Had there been a stain in the bottom of the bowl, a bloodstain? She didn't think so, and anyway even if there had originally been a few drops of blood, surely the blood wouldn't have still been there after so long. If Christ died in about year 33, the year 388 was three hundred and fifty years later. The bowl was already ancient. No, she was being seduced by the story as people always were. She stood up and restlessly began to pace up and down the room. If only Meryn were here. Or the vicar! She had enjoyed the company of their elderly former vicar even though she wasn't a member of his congregation and not strictly speaking a believer– an agnostic, perhaps– but he had retired and his replacement was never around as far as she could see. The woman seemed to be in charge of about ten parishes. Cadi wasn't even sure she would recognise her; she was certainly not someone she would feel comfortable turning to with stories of ghosts and wormholes and a possible sighting of the Holy Grail. And if this was the Grail, then what about Excalibur? Caledfwlch? What had happened to the sacred sword hidden by the king of the Ordovices? But then of course the old man had made it clear that had never been intended for Macsen either, as he battled far away from Albion. The sword was one of the Hallows of this sacred isle.

‘Hello? Cadi? How are things?' It was Meryn! She wandered out into the garden with her phone, checked the gate was still closed and now firmly chained and padlocked, and went over to sit under the apple tree.

‘I gather Ifan is back in hospital and under guard.' She was reassuring herself as much as him. She told him about her visit from DI Gwen Pugh, then launched into her story about the Holy Grail. Meryn listened without comment. ‘Do you think it's real?' she said at last.

‘Unless it apports through the wormhole and we can see and touch it ourselves I don't see how we will ever know,' he commented at last. ‘Besides, its provenance is tricky. You say it came from Spain, via what was even then an apparition of the Virgin Mary, and Macsen's mother has brought it with her to Aquileia, which I see is near Venice. Now Elen has it. What we need to find out is, where does it go next? What did she do with it?'

‘We are very close to the time when all record of Elen stops,' Cadi said sadly.

‘But that doesn't apply to us, does it. You have a direct line to history.' She could hear the smile in his voice.

Not only to history, it seemed. Almost as soon as Meryn finished the call with a promise to come back as soon as he could be spared from his writing and an assurance that he would come instantly if she needed him urgently, she heard a knock at the front door. Her blood ran cold. She hurried inside, locking the French doors behind her and paused for a moment to summon up her courage before opening the front door. It should after all be safe with Ifan in hospital again. On the doorstep was a woman in a dog collar, presumably the famed local vicar. Cadi stared at her in astonishment.

‘Sorry, are you very busy? If so, I'll buzz off, but I thought you might like a bit of moral support.'

‘I would, but I'm afraid I'm not a member of your congregation.' Cadi found she was hanging on to the door handle as if she were on the point of collapse.

Her visitor gave a rueful grin. ‘My congregations are not so huge that I don't realise that. I'm Kate, by the way.

‘Come in.' Cadi stepped back and indicated the sofa by the window. ‘I'm sorry if I seemed a bit gobsmacked when I saw it was you. I was just thinking about you. Or not you personally, but the need to consult a vicar.'

‘Ah. Well, that's me. The emergency hotline.' Kate smiled. She was slim and pretty with short curly hair and a bright blue blouse which framed her dog collar. The blouse matched her eyes. ‘As I've been stalked myself, I know how you might be feeling. It's unutterably scary, and it must be worse if it's someone you once had feelings for. When I first went to my -previous benefice I was so full of optimism. But,' she sighed, ‘a gay woman priest who had just come out. What could possibly go wrong? Though most of my congregation were very supportive, I have to say, there was someone there, someone who liked me but refused to recognise that I didn't like him. And never would; or could. It all turned rather horrid for a while. I managed to convince him in the end, and anyway he was never -violent. In your case everything seems to be far more scary, and it's anchored around here, so you must feel totally trapped. Gwen mentioned that you were up against it and maybe you could do with a bit of company.' She paused. ‘Sorry, am I gabbling? Just say if you would rather I left.'

‘Gwen?' Cadi picked up on the name.

‘Ah, maybe I should have said. She and I are a couple.' She gave Cadi a quick glance as though trying to judge how the news would be received. ‘Gwen Pugh? The police inspector? In case you're thinking she broke some kind of confidence, like the confessional, your circumstances are pretty much general knowledge in the village, I'm afraid. I brought the matter up, not her, and I only asked her if she thought it would be all right if I called in.'

‘Yes of course it's all right. Sorry. I've only met her recently when I was a bit stressed, so I didn't register her name. I'm grateful for the company.' Cadi relented. ‘The stalker's in hospital under guard at the moment, but he managed to leave once before so I'm still a bit scared. He's violent and malicious and he has vandalised the car of a friend of mine, and the police seem to think he might have attacked his wife.' She shivered.

Kate nodded. ‘Men can get very possessive,' she said sadly.

‘When you and Gwen were talking, did she mention my uncle Meryn?' Cadi stood up again and went over to the kit-chen. She reached for the coffee jar.

‘No. I told you, she's very discreet. But Arwel has. Several times.' Kate stood up and followed her.

Cadi looked up from the coffee to see she was smiling. ‘Ah.'

‘I won't say I believe all of it, but I have looked your uncle up online and he seems a very interesting guy.'

‘I expect you think he's on the side of the devil.'

‘Certainly not! I don't believe in the devil. Evil yes, but I don't see Meryn Jones as evil. Far from it. If anything, he's obviously on the side of the angels. We may differ in our approach to all things spiritual, but at least we agree that there are such things, which is rare enough in itself these days.' Kate gave a hearty sniff. ‘That coffee smells good. I get the real thing all too seldom. Once in a while I give myself a treat and go and see Chris and Mel in the mill. I have several parishes, as you probably gather, so I'm most often on the road with a thermos.' Taking the mug Cadi proffered, she went back to the sofa and sat down. ‘I sense there are a lot of unhappy energies in this village,' she said thoughtfully. ‘I'm on my way to the church to light some candles and pray. I'm afraid I've been neglecting my duties here. A service once a month hasn't beenenough.'

‘When you talk about energies you sound like Meryn.' Cadi sat down opposite her. ‘He prays.' She put her head on one side. ‘But I'm not entirely sure who to.'

Kate threw back her head and laughed. ‘I'm sure the message gets through to the right department.' She sobered abruptly. ‘Do you ever pray?'

‘Only when I was little. God bless Mummy and Daddy, that sort of thing. It didn't work Mummy died.'

‘Ah. Tough.'

‘Didn't seem any point after that.'

‘No.'

‘I've never told anyone that before. You must be a good vicar.'

‘No. I'm a good listener, that's all.' Kate put down her mug and sat forward, elbows on knees. ‘Cadi, I want to go into that meadow next door to your house and say some prayers. Will you come with me? If you're embarrassed, you can wander off and pretend you don't know what I'm doing.'

‘You're going to pray for the poor man who was shot? Of course, I'll come.'

‘And I'll pray for peace as well for all the poor souls who seem to have suffered so much there. I heard there were the remains of several people. A burial pit.'

Cadi nodded thoughtfully, then suddenly she made up her mind. ‘Before we go, can I tell you something. It was what I was thinking about before you arrived. A story. It might interest you. It's about the Holy Grail.'

After Cadi had finished, Kate sat for a long time without speaking.

‘It's a bit far-fetched, isn't it,' Cadi said at last.

Kate frowned. ‘Traditionally the Holy Grail was the cup used at the Last Supper. At least I believe it was in the Arthurian legends.'

Cadi nodded. ‘I thought that too. But as I have gone on writing Elen's story, it's checked out as far as is possible. -Martin of Tours. He was a real man, a bishop and a saint. Macsen is real in his alter ego as Magnus Maximus. The -Theodosius family were real in Roman history, even if historians don't seem to be sure where Macsen fitted into it. But here we have his mother. In Spain. A devout Christian. Arriving at her son's court with a holy relic. Arwel would say I had been at the magic mushrooms. For goodness' sake don't tell him any of this! I'm trusting you as though this really was the confessional.'

‘Don't worry. My lips are sealed. Gosh, this is exciting. So what happened to it? That's the exciting bit. How did it come back to Britain?'

Cadi gave a rueful smile. ‘I haven't written that bit yet.'

‘So, will you tell me what happens next.' Kate finished her coffee and stood up. ‘Come on. In the meantime, let's go into your meadow.'

‘We'll probably have to climb over the gate.'

‘It doesn't matter. And if the police or security guards are there, I'll just show them this.' Kate touched her dog collar. ‘I find this gets me into most places.'

In the event the whole area was empty. No police, no archaeologists and no cars. The gate was still padlocked and they had to scramble over it, but having done that the meadow was its old peaceful self, apart from the tent still in place over the lonely grave; the police tape had gone and the only sound came from a skylark hovering high overhead.

Cadi glanced at her companion. She half expected her to hold out her hands as Meryn had done in order to sense where the areas of unrest were. She had never seen a Christian in action before in these circumstances. She was about to ask whether Kate was in the business of exorcism when she turned. ‘Do you know where they found the body?'

‘The excavated body was under the tent. That is regarded as an archaeological site. I don't think anyone has thought of giving a blessing. They bagged him up and took him away for forensic examination with a whole lot of other bones. Although,' she hesitated, ‘Meryn might have blessed them in his own way.'

Kate smiled. ‘All blessings are valid, Cadi. Show me.'

Cadi set off towards the tent. Halfway there she stopped. ‘Kate, what happens to bones after all the scientific stuff is done, do you know?'

‘You mean how are they disposed of?'

Cadi nodded.

‘There are strict rules. If they're from a Christian burial they're re-interred in sanctified ground.'

‘And if they're older? Much older?'

‘Roman, you mean? Funnily enough I had to deal with that situation at my previous parish. It was decided that as the bones dated to the early fifth century, which was post the Council of Nicaea, I think it was, when the whole Roman Empire became Christian, he could be buried in a Christian cemetery. That was what my parishioners wanted. They felt very protective towards him.'

‘As we do towards our body. His name was Marius.'

Kate's eyebrow shot up. ‘I'm not sure I want to know how you know that.'

Cadi smiled. ‘Let's say an ancient document.'

Kate nodded. ‘Then I shall pray for Marius by name. Shall we go to the site of the grave?' She took a few steps forward, following the path which was still just visible in the grass and Cadi grabbed her arm.

‘Kate!' she called. ‘Stop.'

Kate froze. She turned round. ‘Am I going the wrong way?'

Cadi hesitated, then she nodded. She pointed towards the tent. Kate moved forward, more slowly this time and coming to a standstill just outside it. It was full of shadows. She bent her head and stood in silence for several minutes. The lark stopped singing and Cadi looked up. Had it flown away or was it sensing the power of the prayer. She could feel it herself, a gentle warmth, a caring loving energy that seemed to engulf the place. She bent her own head and whispered the blessing Meryn had taught her when she was little. Strangely she had never forgotten it.

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you,

Deep peace of the shining stars to you...

When she opened her eyes, she found Kate was watching her. ‘This is a very special place, isn't it,' Kate said. ‘Wherever the bones of the dead end up, I trust their souls found comfort here as they left this world.'

Cadi nodded. ‘I was reciting the Celtic blessing Meryn taught me. My family were never churchgoers, but I've always felt he's very spiritual in the broadest of senses.'

Kate nodded. ‘I'm beginning to realise that.' She walked back to stand beside Cadi. ‘When you called me back just now, you sounded as though you were afraid of something. -Something near the path?' She scrutinised Cadi's face. ‘I felt it. Some-thing beckoning, almost compelling me to go forward. Not evil, more a form of vertigo as though, if I went on, I would pitch over a cliff face.'

Cadi stared at her incredulously, then she found herself nodding. ‘That's it exactly. I'm not sure how to describe it to you. Several people have felt it. People, horses, dogs'– she paused, thinking of little Gemma– ‘have been enticed through it. It's a hole in the fabric of time.' She waited for Kate to laugh and instead, to her astonishment, saw her grow visibly pale. ‘You believe me?'

‘I don't know what to believe.' Kate turned to face out into the meadow. ‘There's nothing to see, but I could feel it. No question.' She shook her head slowly. ‘No, it's not possible.'

‘That's why we don't really talk about it. Especially to the coroner, or the police'– Cadi cast a meaningful glance in Kate's direction– ‘or anyone with a solid rational mindset.'

‘Which luckily clergy people often don't have, or so people suspect.' Kate had recovered herself enough to laugh. She shivered. ‘Can we leave now.' She looked round a little wildly as if wondering which way was safe.

Cadi headed back across the grass towards the gate. ‘Your prayers keep you safe, don't they?'

‘To be honest, I'm not sure. If this is a physical thing... And I'm not sure if that's what you're describing. Is it a geological occurrence like an earthquake or a whirlwind, or is it an opening up of the pathway between heaven and hell? If the former, no, prayers won't help unless God feels a need to intervene, which sadly it appears he seldom does. But if it is the latter, then...' Her voice trailed away.

‘But aren't heaven and hell a concept for humans?' Cadi put in. ‘You can't tell me that a horse or a dog are so evil they would go to hell.'

‘Not everyone believes they go to heaven either,' Kate replied softly.

‘Oh, surely!'

They both laughed. ‘Much as I'm enjoying this discussion,' Kate said with renewed determination, ‘I need to go and see someone later and I want to call in at the church here first, so can I come back another day to go on with our conversation?'

They exchanged a quick hug outside Cadi's gate and Cadi waved goodbye to Kate as she turned indoors with the comforting thought that she had found an unexpected new friend and the overwhelming feeling, that stayed with her as she wandered through the house and out into the back garden, that, if Kate felt the wormhole, if she knew it was there, it couldn't be her and Meryn's and Charles's imagination.

Meryn agreed when she rang him later. ‘She sounds like a good ally. Very few men and women of her calling are as -bigoted and closed as you fear, Cadi, as you will find as life goes on. Far from it. But these things can be problematic for them. That goes without saying. She's obviously sensitive. And she sounds very sincere. You're lucky that you seem to have some very good support down there, but always remember, I can be with you in a couple of hours if you need me.'

And she needed him now. She switched off her phone and looked down at her desk. In the story Elen was there in Aquileia. She was looking down at the box that contained the clay dish and she was consumed by fear. The end of the story was near. Elen knew it and Cadi knew it. And there was nothing either of them could do about it. It was written in the stars.