Daughters of Fire (73 page)

‘Ma?’

He was slipping outwards over the edge of the rock, a trail of scarlet droplets oozing down his shirt. As Meryn’s hand snatched at Peggy’s wrist, Steve half rose to his feet, his hand clasped to his neck as he lost his balance and began to fall.

‘Steve!’ Hugh lunged forward. With a supreme effort he managed to catch the young man’s arm. For a moment the two men swayed to and fro on the edge of the ravine, then with a desperate heave Hugh dragged him back and half pushed, half threw him into the bushes behind them.

Peggy stared down at her son, puzzled, then staggered towards him as he lay sprawled at her feet in the wet grass.

‘Leave him alone. You’re insane -’ Hugh tried to push her away, but he was off balance and she was too strong for him.

‘Steve? You have to go, sweetheart!’ Stooping, she snatched at the knife handle which protruded from Steve’s shirt above his collar bone.

‘Leave it! You’ll kill him if you pull it out … !’ Hugh’s words faded helplessly on his lips as Peggy wrenched out the blade and blood fountained out of the wound, drenching the ground. With a little gasp, Steve fell back.

Peggy looked round soberly. ‘I salute you, Professor. And you, great Druid!’ She glanced at Meryn. She was herself again. ‘But there was nothing to be done. The goddess needed her sacrifice as she still needs her messenger.’ She raised her hand towards Steve’s body and blew him a kiss, then turning, the knife still clutched in her hand, she leaped out into the falls.

Hugh knelt down beside Steve and pressed two fingers gently to his neck, feeling for a pulse through the stickiness of the blood. He slumped beside the young man and took a deep breath, shaking his head. ‘He’s gone.’

‘No!’ Viv threw herself down beside him. ‘No, please! Can’t we try the kiss of life? Something?’ Tears were pouring down her face as behind them the falls roared on, oblivious to the tragedy in which they had played such a part.

‘I’m afraid it’s no use,’ Meryn answered her gently. ‘I saw his spirit leave.’He stooped over Steve and closing the young man’s eyes, carefully straightened his head, resting it gently on the mossy bank behind him as the two dogs crept closer, huddling against his body.

Hugh looked up at Meryn. He was white with shock. ‘And Peggy?’ His voice was husky.

Meryn shook his head. ‘They are both gone.’

Sobbing, Viv flung herself into Hugh’s arms, her face buried in
his shoulder, her fingers clinging to his wet shirt. ‘How could she? She loved him!’

Hugh closed his eyes, burying his face in her hair. She could feel him trembling as he held her. He seemed incapable of speech.

Wearily, Meryn moved across to the rock where Steve had been sitting only seconds before and he stood, staring down into the churning waters. There was no sign of Peggy in the darkness and the misted spray below him.

The blue plastic mug out of which Steve had been drinking had lodged in a crack of rock, half hidden by ferns. With a sigh he stooped and retrieved it. In this world of rules and law and forensics the sticky residue in the bottom would no doubt be evidence as so much of what had occurred here would not. As far as the police were concerned, this case would be straightforward. Peggy, pushed over the edge of sanity, had killed her husband and, unable to deal with what she had done, had murdered her son and then committed suicide. The coroner would not hear about Venutios or Medb or Cartimandua. He would never know that these deaths were part of a chain of events stretching back nearly two thousand years.

Turning with another deep sigh, he walked back to Hugh and Viv, glancing beyond them to see two figures appearing in the distance. Pat and James had come the long way round by the path. James had a torch in his hand.

‘Are you all right?’ James called as they approached. He hurried ahead of Pat. ‘The police are on their way.’ We saw their Land Rovers at the end of the track. They’re on their way to take us all back to the farm.’ He stopped abruptly, looking down at Steve. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I’m afraid we’ve had a double tragedy,’ Meryn said gently.

James held his gaze for a moment, then he moved forward and stiffly knelt at Steve’s side. Putting his hand over Steve’s cold fingers, he began to pray quietly as Pat hurried up behind him.

‘Steve?’

Viv moved away from Hugh. She was still crying. ‘Peggy stabbed him. He’s dead!’ Her voice broke in anguish.

Pat’s mouth fell open. ‘Jesus!’ she breathed. ‘Oh God! Poor Steve!’

‘This is all my fault!’ Viv cried suddenly. ‘If I hadn’t come to the farm! If I hadn’t written the stupid book!’ Her voice slid up hysterically.

‘No.’ Meryn put his hands on her shoulders and held her firmly, forcing her to look at him. ‘You must never let yourself think that. Not for a moment. You three have been used. You were catalysts. If there is fault, and perhaps destiny is a better word, then it was the destiny of all of us, myself included, to be part of this drama tonight.’

Somewhere above them they could hear a helicopter in the distance, the beat of its rotors echoing from the rocks as it hovered above the hillside.

Help was on its way.

It was nearly four in the morning before the exhausted group of survivors sat down around the kitchen table at Winter Gill. Gordon’s and Steve’s bodies had been taken away and Peggy’s retrieved from the river, and the police had gone at last. Meryn took the head of the table as Hugh threw himself into the chair next to Viv. Beyond them Pat and James sat glumly opposite one another, too tired even to speak. The two dogs were huddled together beside Meryn’s chair.

Meryn gave them each a long steady look across the table. ‘I want you all to understand that there were forces involved here tonight which no one could fight. Stories which had assumed such an impetus that nothing could stop them being told. These deaths have been the cataclysmic result of two millennia of emotions which had never been resolved. Nothing that we could do would have stopped them. We all have our weaknesses and maybe we need each of us to acknowledge that they may have played a part in all this, but it’s done now. Finished.’

There was a long silence. Finally, Viv cleared her throat. ‘I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel I could ever sleep again.’ Tears spilled over suddenly and she dashed them away miserably. ‘The police have gone away thinking this is all some sort of horrifying ‘‘domestic’’ which got out of hand. We know better. For Steve’s sake we must make sure it’s over.’ Her voice cracked into a sob. ‘Are we sure that the story has been told?’

‘We can be sure.’ Meryn nodded. ‘We know the truth. The protagonists can rest in peace. The gods have had their last sacrifice.’

Pat was turning a cigarette packet round and round in her fingers. ‘So, how does it finish? We know about Venutios and Medb’s curse.
We know about Vellocatus. We know why Cartimandua supported the Romans. What else happened?’

‘Gaius!’ Viv whispered slowly. ‘He was too late! Then he took Carta away from her people.’ She fell silent. It was as though she could hear his voice in the distance.

‘I saved Cartimandua! If Venutios had captured her, she would have died! My men and I took her over the pack horse trails to Deva after the king’s dun fell to Venutios. As did all the other hill forts and townships one by one. He took back the whole of Brigantia.’ He paused. ‘Then he declared war on Rome.

‘She had a good life, though. The governor at Deva took her into his own villa. She was given a suite of rooms, slaves, all the Roman luxuries she had loved so much and more she had never dreamed of: hot showers, central heating. The Romans were grateful for all she did for them over the years. They did not forget.’

But then nor did history. As the echo faded, Viv looked down at the table with a sigh. To historians Cartimandua would always be a quisling - the Celtic queen who sold out to the Romans.

Pat groped in the crumpled packet for her last cigarette and lit it with shaking hands. ‘What happened to Venutios in the end?’ she asked.

Viv gave a wry grimace. ‘Somehow I know that too. He found the brooch in the smouldering ruins of Dun Righ and for a long time he thought Cartimandua was dead.’ She shook her head. ‘Mairghread told him the truth. She had gone with Cartimandua to Deva but she couldn’t bring herself to stay in a Roman household and she went back to Brigantia. Venutios gave her a home.’ She paused sadly. ‘We know from history that the Romans defeated him in the end. In a great battle near Stanwick. Even the ghost fence didn’t save him. It was all pointless.’

‘Was he killed?’

Viv shrugged. ‘I expect so.’ She glanced up at Hugh. ‘Perhaps the answer to that one will be in your book.’

‘I doubt it. There won’t be any guessing in my book.’ He looked mortified as soon as the words were out of his mouth. ‘I’m sorry. That came out wrong …’

‘Did it?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘I shall expect you to send me a copy, then I can read your conclusions.’

Hugh stared at her. ‘I won’t need to send it, Viv. I shall give it to you myself.’

‘Not if I accept the post they’ve offered me in Ireland.’

There was a long silence. Viv was aware of everyone’s eyes fixed on her face. ‘Better money. Supportive team, so I’m assured. Far away from all this.’ She shrugged miserably.

‘Viv, please. We have to talk about this.’ Hugh reached over and took her hands in his. ‘You can’t go. Not after everything that has happened. I need you. I can’t live without you.’

She looked up at him and for a moment they held one another’s gaze. Slowly she smiled. ‘That’s one I’ll have to think about.’

Pat cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps this is a good moment to change the subject.’ She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small plastic box. ‘I’d forgotten in all the awful mess of what’s happened. What do you want to do with this?’

They all stared at it as she put it down in the middle of the table.

‘Where did you find that?’ Viv asked huskily.

‘Where you told me to look.’

No one touched it.

‘I wonder how it finally ended up at Stanwick,’ Hugh said slowly at last.

Viv shrugged. ‘Venutios took it there.’ She wasn’t sure how she knew this any more than all the other certainties which were in her head. ‘He and Mairghread buried it there with all its evil and no one touched it for nearly two thousand years.’

‘Till Wheeler and my father came along.’ Hugh grimaced. He gave a wry, humourless laugh.

‘Are we ever going to tell this story now? Or are we going to be the only ones who know what happened?’ Pat asked at last. Her voice was flat.

‘I think you should. Don’t let the Steadmans have died in vain,’ James put in. He glanced at Meryn. ‘You owe it to them. Steve, I feel sure, would want the truth told. Perhaps you could dedicate your play to his memory.’ He paused. ‘As for this,’ he reached forward and held his hand for a moment over the box, ‘I think it should be destroyed.’

Meryn smiled enigmatically. Taking off the lid, he lifted the brooch out of its box and examined it closely. ‘I will cleanse it of
Medb’s curse and we will ask James to bless it. A double whammy like that should sort it out.’ He nodded gravely. ‘Then we will return it to its owner.’ He looked at Hugh. ‘Personally I agree with James. It should be disposed of. I would toss it into the falls, but I suspect the historian in you will want to see it put back behind glass. If so, I suggest it remains there for good.’ He paused. ‘We have seen terrible tragedy here tonight. Not because anyone was malicious or culpable or careless but because you were all involved in a tangled passionate story from long, long ago, all linked by one thing. You all touched this brooch. For all your sakes, that involvement must end now. Peggy and Gordon and Steve were drawn in by the land on which they lived; by the gods whom they encountered here. In my view, Viv, you and Pat should write your play to bring this all finally to an end. But no more consultations with the leading characters. Let them rest in peace. They have gone. Just use the material you have already.’

There was a long silence, broken at last as Hugh cleared his throat. ‘So, no orthodox research at all, then,’ he said wryly. ‘Just what we in the trade call counter-factual speculation.’ He sighed. ‘Well, maybe in the long run it makes history just that bit more interesting!’

‘There is one thing we don’t know yet,’ Pat interrupted. She was very pale with dark rings under her eyes, utterly exhausted. ‘What happened to Carta in the end?’

‘I don’t think I want to know,’ Viv put in hastily. ‘Let’s leave it there. Please. I agree with Meryn. Enough is enough. No more research.’

‘Until the next book,’ Hugh put in.

‘And the play. We’re still a team, right?’ Pat added quietly. ‘The Daughters of Fire will write again. Won’t they?’