Lady of Hay The Final Chapter Part 3

Continued from Part 2...

 

5

 

‘Technically this is probably treasure trove,’ Ann said as they  set their finds out on the table in her little study and  spent several minutes just looking at it  all in sheer wonder. ‘But it wasn’t lost; it was deliberately  hidden and we know who it belonged to. I just wonder how much weight the evidence that we were told about it by a ghost would carry.’ 

Gently Jo rubbed some of the dirt of the beads of the rosary to reveal the dull gleam of gold and what  looked like precious gems. ‘Do you think these are rubies? And emeralds?’ She shook her head.  ‘Oh Ann, what have we found?’ Her eyes were full of tears. ‘All this could have bought her freedom. It could have saved her life.’

‘We’ll think about it tomorrow. You  must ask Matilda. She is the only one who knows what she wants done with all this.’  When at last she switched off the light Ann locked the door. ‘Just in case your son turns up in the morning,’ she said. Jo did not protest. 

 

It was just after 9 am when Harry knocked on the front door. He glanced suspiciously from one woman to the other. ‘What?’ 

‘I have had a chance to think overnight and I want you to go back to Paris, Harry.’ Jo folded her arms.  ‘It is lovely to see  you, but things are not normal at the moment and I am not going to be terrorised by you – or your father for that matter. Is that clear? This is all nonsense and I want it to stop.’

Harry looked bewildered. ‘But Mum – ’ 

‘No. I have made up my mind. I want you to go back to Paris and I want you to sort yourself out. Concentrate on your job. Forget about Sam.’ 

She and Ann had discussed it for a long time the night before. It was Ann’s idea to take a firm stand.  ‘Sam is not there all the time, if at all,’ she had said. ‘Have you noticed? Look at Harry’s eyes. He’s veering between the frightened schoolboy and  his take on what it might be to be possessed. I don’t think it’s genuine.’

Jo had stared at her. ‘But sometimes – ‘’ 

Yes, sometimes there is a flash of something scary. But I think he can fight it. He needs you to tell him, Jo.’

Jo held Harry’s gaze now. ‘Please, Harry. I want you to go.’

He shook his head. . ‘Something has happened.  I can sense it.’ He glanced from one woman to the other. ‘I am right, aren’t I.’

‘Harry – ’ 

‘You went out again last night, didn’t you. To look for Matilda’s treasure.’

Their look of stricken dismay was enough to tell him he was right. ‘So where is it? Did you leave it there in the mountains? Or is it here?’

It was almost as though he could read their thoughts. He turned to Ann’s study door and rattled the handle. ‘Locked?’ He put out his hand. ‘The key. Or do I have to break it down.’ His eyes were hard, his face set. It was Sam’s face. Jo felt a rush of nausea in her throat as Ann groped dumbly in her pocket. ‘There is no need for this Harry,’ she  said softly. ‘And you have no right to throw your weight around here. It is not your business.’

He snatched the key from her and thrust it into the door.

The room was in darkness the curtains closed. He strode across and threw them back  and then stood staring down at the items on the table.  ‘This?’ He sounded incredulous.  In daylight the mound of small blackened discs, the earth encrusted cups and goblets, the  rings, looked pathetically small and grubby. ‘This?’ He repeated. He picked up the largest goblet and held it to the light.  ‘This! He repeated even more loudly and his voice was suddenly quite different. It was deeper and more harsh.. ‘This is what you would have bought our freedom with? You think this was worth 50,000 marks! Are you mad, woman?’

His face was totally alien. ‘ I have worried and agonised and suffered for centuries because I didn’t now where you hid this treasure and it would not have ransomed the king’s horse!’ His voice rose to a shout. He stepped closer to the table and threw down the goblet  picking up instead the small cross. ‘This was given to you by Gerald,’ he said his tone suddenly different,  softer. ‘He was a good man. A godly man. This was your most reassured  possession. And this rosary? Who gave you this?’ His voice was harsh again.

Jo stared at him in total horror. She tried to speak but her voice failed.

 It was Ann who recovered first. ‘William de Braose?’ she whispered at last.

Harry did not react. He dropped the rosary and picked up a handful of the little coins. ‘Pennies,’ he said scornfully. 

He looked at Jo at last and to her horror she saw his eyes fill with tears.  ‘This would never have paid back the king. We never had a chance. Never. He was playing with you.’

‘Harry!’ Jo reached forward and put her hands on his forearms. ‘Harry! Listen to me!’

He shook his head sadly. ‘Never. Never any kind of a chance.’

‘Harry!’ Jo released his arms and snapped her fingers under his nose. ‘Listen to me!’ she said again.

Still he shook his head. He reached out and ran a gentle finger over the crucifix, then suddenly  he turned round. ‘This is all the king. The bastard! He had it in for us from the very first. And it was your fault. You do realise that don’t you! Your fault.’ His voice slid up into a shout.  

‘No, Harry – ’

But he had spun away from her. ‘He’ll be here by now. I am going to find him.  I am going to find him and I am going to kill him.’

Pushing past her he strode out into the hall,  dragging open the front door. He ran out into the street.

‘Harry!’ Jo ran after him. ‘Wait!’

But he was already disappearing round the corner.

‘Nick!’ She cried. ‘He’s gone to look for Nick!’

‘Ring him.’ Ann managed to keep her voice steady. ‘Ring him now. Find out where he is.  Warn him.’

Her calm voice got through to Jo who took a deep breath and reached for her phone. ‘Nick?’ He answered almost at once. ‘Are you in Hay?’

‘Indeed.’ Nick replied ruefully. ‘I don’t suppose you are going to tell me where you are?’

‘Nick, listen. Harry has been here. He seems to have gone mad. He doesn’t just think he’s Sam, he thinks he’s William de Braose and he has just rushed out of the house looking for you and uttering awful threats. You have to be careful.’

There was a moment’s silence. ‘He doesn’t know where I am.’

‘He knows you’re in Hay.’

‘Does he indeed.’ She heard him sigh.  Well, well. Poor Jo.’ There was  a note of wry amusement in his voice. ‘Both of us here, and both bonkers!’

‘Neither of you are bonkers, Nick. You are possessed. Or at least he is.’ 

‘Then he needs sorting out once and for all,’ Nick said grimly. She heard him sigh. ‘I am going to tell you this much, Jo. I am not going to be terrorised by my own son.  Enough is enough. I have spent most of my life in awe of Sam, frightened of what he could do to me, and I  am not going to do it any more. He is not having Harry. And nor is de Braose.’

 

‘Dad?’ Harry answered Nick’s call on the first ring. ‘Where are you?’

‘I am not far away, Harry. We need to meet.’ Nick compressed his lips grimly. ‘Half an hour, on the bridge over the Wye. We’ll go for a walk along the river.’

 

Jo was clasping the cross with both hands. She bit her lip. ‘I should be there, Ann. I should be trying to  stop them.’

‘What are they going to do?’ Ann asked wearily. She sat down heavily in the chair in front of her desk.

‘I don’t know. Nick wants to sort it all out once and for all.’

‘I suspect he is the only one who can do it, Jo. He is a strong man, your Nick.’ Ann shook her head. ‘I often wondered why he let Sam terrorise him. I suppose it dates from when they were children, but I thought we agreed that after Sam died he would be free of him.’

‘But he wasn’t was he. Sam’s last vicious act was to make sure Nick would never be free of  King John. He really was John, you know, in a previous life.’ Jo’s voice was husky. She was running her thumbs over the engraved gold of the cross. The cross given her by Gerald of Wales. No, not to her. To Matilda. It was set with tiny red stones, like the rosary, probably rubies, she thought, sadly. Rubies, representing drops of Christ’s blood. Flecks of earth and rotten wood fell to the carpet. ‘Without Sam’s interference, Nick could have been free of John. We could have been happy.  As it was there was always that feeling that John could return. That Nick  would get violent. And that was Sam’s legacy. Pure malevolent Sam.’

‘But now Nick is going to make a stand,’ Ann said . She took Jo’s hand.  ‘You have to let them do this alone.’

Jo was still looking at the cross. ‘I wonder if you’re right and technically this is treasure trove,’ she said thoughtfully after a moment. ‘Which means, doesn’t it, that it would be  the property of the crown. Descendants of King John. How ironic!’

‘I don’t think it’s yours to decide,’ Ann said after a moment. ‘You came here to find  the treasure which Matilda had hidden. She told you where it was. She wanted you to have it.  My guess is,’ she went on with a smile, ‘she must have kept an eye on it all these years and when the road started collapsing, she knew that it might be found any day by the wrong people. If it was something that was obsessing her during those last awful days, and it was on her mind as she died, it would not be unusual for her to be linked in some way to the place where it lay. I’m not an authority on ghosts, but I have heard that often happens.’

‘So where is she now? Why isn’t she here, in this room?’

Ann glanced round. ‘I have a feeling that she is.’

 

Harry was leaning on the bridge rail, looking down into the shallow, peaty  water far below. The swift currents had combed the river weed into long tresses between shingle banks and deep still pools and he watched as the dark shape of a fish slid into the shadow of the bridge beneath him. Nick hesitated for a moment then he walked steadily towards him along the footway which bordered the road, pausing at last some four feet away. He too leaned, elbows on the railings, and looked down. ‘So,’ he said at last. Shall we walk along the bank. What needs to be said between us is private.’

Harry didn’t react. When at last he looked up, his face was a blank. ‘They found the treasure,’ he said. He gave a humourless laugh. ‘A pile of  tarnished silver coins which have almost wasted away to nothing, some dented goblets which are admittedly gold, I think, and a gold cross and that is it! That is all there is!’

Nick scanned his son’s face. It was Harry talking. There was no sign of Sam behind those  eyes. ‘You frightened your mother, Harry.’ He said sternly. ‘Did you know that?’

‘I know.’ Harry pushed himself away from the rail and headed on across the bridge away from Nick. 

His father  followed slowly. ‘Harry – ’

Harry shook his head. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten her. It wasn’t me, it was as if someone else was speaking through me.’ He hesitated. ‘It wasn’t Uncle Sam either.’

‘No, Jo told me that.’

‘Who was it?’

‘I think you know.’

They reached the end of the bridge and  headed for the footpath along the broad grassy river  bank. Several canoes were drawn up on the shingle. Harry glanced at them and walked on.  ‘Fifty thousand marks before Lammas,’ he said suddenly. ‘That’s what John demanded. ‘Fifty thousand marks!’ He swung round. ‘How much is that in today’s money?’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Nick scanned his face. ‘A lot.’

‘And she thought she could pay him off with that paltry hoard of pennies.’

‘Jewellery,’ Nick said thoughtfully. ‘She said there was jewellery.’

‘So you do remember.’ Harry’s face blazed with anger suddenly. ‘I could do nothing! Nothing against a king with an army, surrounded by attendants and guards and  hangers on. Could I? I couldn’t have gone back.  I was helpless. Beaten down. Lost!’

‘Harry!’ Nick reached out to him. His son’s eyes were hard as flint.

‘Not Harry!’ Harry pushed his father’s hand away  and thrust his face close to  Nick’s. ‘Can you get your head round that? Not Harry! The time has come for retribution!’

‘No, Harry.’ Nick reined in his temper with difficulty. ‘This is nonsense. William de Braose is dead. If he doesn’t rest in peace, then he needs a priest. Not you. He does not need you to spout vicious echoes. Nor does my brother. Sam is dead!’ His voice was raised as he held Harry’s gaze. ‘So is Matilda.  William is not the only one who wants retribution, I hear.  Both of them have to stop this. Put an end to the endless cycle of blame. We are not going to let the past ruin our lives, Harry. You have to take charge of your own soul!’

‘My soul,’ Harry sneered. His fists were clenched. 

‘Your soul!’ Nick shouted at him suddenly. ‘And so do I. I let my cursed brother come between me and your mother, the woman I love more than anyone else on earth. I’ve let myself be terrorised for a quarter of a century! I am not going to lose you as well, do you understand?’  He reached out again  and seized the front of Harry’s shirt. ‘William de Braose was a weak and deceitful man. At the end I am sure he was sorry for what he did and yes, I think somewhere deep inside him he was genuinely fond of Matilda. He was revolted by what he did to her. He let her die and he has suffered for it ever since. If he has been burning in hellfire it was of his own making.’

A woman walking down the river bank nearby glanced at them nervously . She called her dog and turned back towards the bridge.

‘Get a grip, Harry. I want you to go back to Paris. I want you to go to the Rue St Victor and I want you to tell your uncle Sam to get lost. Then I want you to forget him. Understood?’

‘Do you really think it would be that easy!’ Harry turned away, then he swung back. ‘One isn’t allowed to kill a king, is one. That would be treason!’

‘Take one step closer and I will take you down, Harry!’ Nick said icily. ‘You may be younger, but I think I can still beat you to pulp if I have to!’

His own voice had changed. His eyes narrowed. Harry stared at him and suddenly he was afraid. ‘All that stuff about King John. It was true!’  He shouted. ‘You are the one who is possessed.’ He  stood still for a moment, then suddenly he turned and began to run.

‘Harry!’ Nick stared after him.

 He let him go. Slowly he walked down to the river and stood staring out across the water. ‘The trouble is you’re right,’ he said softly to himself. ‘I am possessed and I  don’t know what to do about it.’

 

Harry banged on Ann’s door with both fists until they let him in. ‘What happened? Where’s Nick?’ Jo’s face was white.

‘He’s down by the river. He’s OK. He threatened me, not the other way round.’ Harry  pushed past them and walked into the kitchen. He went to the sink and grabbing a glass he poured himself some water. ‘He is possessed, genuinely, frighteningly, possessed!’

Ann and Jo looked at each other. ‘I will have to go to him,’ Jo said.

’No!’ Harry grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t go near him, Mum. Oh God this is all such a mess. But he’s right. I have to take control.  I will not let myself be taken over as well. He says I can fight it. He says I need a priest.’

Jo stared at him. ‘ A priest!’

He nodded.  ‘Yes. No. Not me. William.’  Setting down the glass he walked towards Ann’s study. By the table he stood looking down at the array of items there and at last picked up the cross. ‘This stuff meant a lot to William. He was a superstitious git, wasn’t he.’ He looked at it for several seconds then he kissed it and  put it gently down.

Pushing his way past Ann he walked to the door. On the doorstep he turned. ‘I’m going.  I’m sorry I frightened you, Mum. I love you.’

‘Harry – ’ Jo shouted. He ignored her.  She was about to run after him but Ann clutched her wrist.’ Let him go, Jo. This is something he has to do himself. He’s going to fight it. He will be all right.’

‘And Nick?’ Jo felt a tear run down her cheek.

‘Ring him.’

It was several seconds before Nick picked up. 

‘Where are you, Nick?’

‘By the river.’

‘Are you OK?’

There was a pause before he answered. ‘I will be’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Set the past straight.’

‘How?’

‘I’m going to the main man, Jo. Sam has always been nothing more than a manipulative jealous nobody. I told Harry to kick him out and I am going to do the same. Then I am going to see John.’

‘What do you mean?’ Jo felt herself go cold.

‘I thought of Runneymede,’ Nick gave a hollow laugh. ‘God, how he must have hated that place. And then the Wash. Do you remember the school jokes, Jo? King John who lost his treasure in the Wash. He was so careless of treasure, wasn’t he. No wonder he wanted more all the time. I hear you’ve found it by the way. Well, you keep it. You deserve it, Jo.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘Then I remembered where he’s buried. That will do. That will do nicely. I will confront him there.’

‘Nick?’ Jo called. ‘Don’t. Please. Let’s talk. Come here. I am sure we can do something.’

‘I am sure we can , Jo, but you have suffered enough. I love you, Jo. I have always loved you.’  He gave another,  bitter, laugh.  ‘But John is in my head. He was fascinated by Matilda,  obsessed by her in his own way. He was not a man to tolerate anything he saw as opposition. He was a controlling, vicious bastard, and he was prepared to go to any lengths to punish anyone he saw as an enemy. William was his enemy and he couldn’t lay  his hands on him, so Matilda had to die. But I think he regretted it. I think he has regretted it ever since, down the centuries, forever.  Well I am going to go and have a word.’ There was a moment’s  silence. ‘One day we will be able to talk without the fear, Jo. That is my prayer.’ There was a click. He had switched off his phone.

‘He’s going to John’s grave!’ Jo threw her phone down on Ann’s desk.

‘Where the hell is that?’ Ann looked bewildered.

‘Worcester Cathedral. King John is  buried in Worcester Cathedral.’

Ann bit her lip. ‘Not so far away.’

‘No.’

‘And so  I guess we’re going there?’

Jo nodded. ‘You don’t have to come, Ann.’

Ann grinned.’ I think you know that is not an option.’

 

Harry had stopped for some coffee on the M4 when his phone rang. He glanced at it and then answered. ‘Ceecliff?’

‘Where is  Jo?’ His great grandmother’s voice was firm and a little indignant. ‘She left the house unattended in the care of my neighbour and I haven’t heard from her since. I assume you keep in touch with her. Where is she?’

Harry bit his lip. ‘She’s still in Hay. ‘

‘I thought as much.’ Ceecliff sounded resigned. ‘I take it the rector didn’t get rid of Matilda then?’

‘The rector?’ Harry stared unseeing down into his coffee.

‘He was going to pray for her soul.’

Harry looked up suddenly. ‘Would he pray for mine?’

 

They were waiting for him as he pulled into the drive.  For a moment Harry couldn’t move; when at last he climbed stiffly from the driver’s seat he was shaking.  Geoffrey stared at him for a moment, then gently he took his arm. ‘Let’s walk in the garden,’ he said.

They stood for a long time by the pond, watching the ducks as  Ceecliff waited in the conservatory.

‘Your uncle Sam spoke to your mother here,’ Geoffrey said at last, ‘only days ago as she stood exactly where you are standing.’ There was no cross this time, no tea lights. ‘She told your great grandmother that  Sam said he was in hell.’

‘That would be right!’ Harry suddenly exploded

 ‘There are two souls in torment here, Harry,’ Geoffrey went on steadily,’ your uncle Sam and Sir William de Braose, the man with whom he so closely identified. You and I can help them.’ He glanced sideways at the young man. ‘Will you pray with me?’

Harry nodded. His fists were clenched; sweat stood out on his forehead. And suddenly he was sobbing.  He had held himself together as he drove across the country but he could feel his brain fragmenting. He had never been so afraid in his life. ‘He’s here now! He’s inside me!’

‘You will be all right, Harry.’ Geoffrey’s voice conveyed a certainty he was far from feeling. ‘Tell them to go. With Our Lord’s help, you have the strength.’

‘But I don’t!’ The voice speaking from Harry’s lips was deeper now, more resonant. Sam’s voice. ‘You think God will sort this? Think again, old man. Where I’ve been there is no God! I can’t get William  out of my head. He drove me to my death and still he’s with me, like some vile parasite!’ Harry raised his hands, tearing at his hair in agony. ‘William! Always there! Always leeching on my soul!’

‘Tell William to go!’ Geoffrey repeated. ‘In the name of Jesus Christ. The man was pious. He will listen.’ He fumbled in his pocket for the missal he had grabbed as he ran out of the door in response to Ceecliff’s phone call.  

‘In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.  Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine: et lux perpetua luceat eis. Do you hear me, William? Leave this man. Let it rest. You have the chance of eternal peace. Remember the words of Our Lord. Forgive that you may be forgiven.’ He paused,  overwhelmed and amazed at the power of the words he was uttering. ‘And you, Sam,’ somehow he kept his voice steady, his eyes fixed on the young man’s face, seeing clearly the alien eyes behind the tears, ‘let William go. He clings to you as you cling to him. Free him and you will free yourself. In the name of the Lord, go! Both of you!’ He waited. He knew it was working. ‘Have you heard me, Harry?’

Harry nodded.

‘And do you believe me. They have gone.’

Again the faint nod.

He paused, his eyes on Harry as he fumbled again in his pocket for a small bottle. Harry said nothing. He was chewing on his lower lip, his face white with strain.

‘With this oil  I anoint you, Harry, to cleanse and bless you and give you strength. You and your mother and your father must from henceforth look forward, into the future, to freedom and hope. The past is over. All these souls from the past are at peace.’ His hand was shaking as he drew the cross on Harry’s forehead with his thumb, pressing so hard the shape was clearly visible for a long moment as Harry closed his eyes, his fists clenched.  

It was a long time before at  last Harry  relaxed and his shoulders slumped. ‘I think they’ve gone,’ he murmured. 

Geoffrey nodded. He had seen today something he had never believed possible. He had seen the souls of the dead, Williama de Braose and Sam Franklyn,  depart, drifting across the water of the pond into the refracted light of the sun.

 

‘Nick?’ Jo spoke in a whisper. Her heart ached for this man who had been her lover and her husband, the father of her child and now, thanks to his vicious vindictive brother, her mortal enemy.  He was standing at the east end of the tomb in the choir of the great cathedral, staring at the marble effigy of the king. A long way behind them, out of sight in the nave,  Ann sat down to wait. Around them the vast building  was hushed, groups of tourists making their way from  one point of interest to the next were standing gazing up at the stained glass windows. Someone dropped a book and the sound echoed up into the high vaulted roof. Someone else coughed. 

‘Harry is safe, Nick.’ Jo touched his arm, acutely aware that the electricity was still there. She wondered if he felt it too. ‘Ceecliff rang me. It is over. They are all at peace now. The cycle is complete.  William and Sam. Richard de Clare and Will. The other de Braose children. And their children’s children. Everyone.’ 

Nick shrugged. ‘Everyone. Except the king.’

They stood side by side for several  moments looking at the carved figure on the bier before them. John had been buried here at his own request; the effigy showed a bearded face,  at peace, a crown on his head, a saint on either side of him. Below the figure the tomb itself was incongruously brightly coloured, rebuilt in the 16^th century.

‘Doesn’t he look small,’ Nick said at last. ‘Insignificant even. An ordinary man who had the power to destroy so many people’s lives.’ His voice was husky. ‘Apparently when  they opened the tomb he was found to be 5 foot 6 and a half. Much shorter than Moll!’ He drew in a deep breath. ‘He never forgave her for being so tall, did he.’

‘Let him rest, Nick,’ Jo said softly. ‘Whoever, whatever, it was in you,  let him go now. The viciousness that Sam implanted was Sam’s. It did not come from  King John. He’s gone.’

‘The memories were real, Jo.’

She hesitated. ‘I know they were.’  

‘As was the regret. He was sorry afterwards.’ He looked at her at last and she saw the longing in his eyes.

‘Sorry that he killed Matilda. But he would never have wanted to kill me, Nick. I am nothing to him. Joanna Clifford. A  woman from the future.’

‘A descendant of hers. Moll’s.  Through Richard’s daughter Mattie and Will.’ His eyes narrowed.

‘We only guessed that, Nick. We could never be sure. And why would he want to kill me for that? Why would anyone?  You don’t want to kill me, do you. You never did. Where has all this come from? A vindictive man. Your brother! And the prayers of a kind old man in Suffolk have sorted him out. It is all over Nick!’ She hesitated. 

He  was still staring at the tomb.  ‘My marriage is over too, Jo. It was never for real. Poor Julie-Ann. She couldn’t compete with you.’ 

‘She rang me.’ Jo gave a wry smile. ‘She wasn’t very happy with you either.’  She sighed. She groped in her bag. ‘I have brought you this. Moll’s final payment.’ She and Ann  had wrapped the rings and the cross and the rosary with its little crucifix  in a silk scarf. ‘We can give the treasures to the cathedral in John’s name  if you like.’

He took the bundle and stared down at the contents. ‘It wouldn’t have paid even a fraction of the debt.’

‘No.’

He gave a small laugh. ‘Beautiful things. Things she loved.’

‘Yes. When everything else had gone, only this was left hidden in the mountains. Ironically, they are  probably worth a fortune now.’

She glanced up. It was no surprise to see the figure of Matilda there, beside the tomb, looking  down at the effigy of the man who had been her  nemesis. Her expression was unreadable.

‘Do you really want him to have that stuff?’ Nick looked at Jo suddenly.    ‘I don’t. He doesn’t deserve it. Why don’t you  ask Matilda? She wanted you to find it. She must have had something in mind. The cross,’ he went on thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps  that could go to Brecon Cathedral.  It was already an ancient place of worship in William’s day. A priory. As Lord of  Hay, and of Brecknock, he wanted to be buried there. That never happened, of course. He died in exile in France.’ There was a long pause. ‘I planned to take  Sam’s ashes to the gardens at Brecon Cathedral but in the end I didn’t. I scattered them  to the winds somewhere in the Beacons.  To set a seal on the past.’

But it hadn’t, had it. Jo didn’t point it out.

They both looked back at the tomb.

Matilda had  wanted to give the treasure to the king; to buy her freedom. But that could never be. It was far too late The  king didn’t  need it. Not now

‘I think, maybe, she is free of him at last. Jo glanced at the shadowy figure of the woman and thought she detected a smile. ‘And you are too. He is dead and buried here. And here he  will stay forever, Nick. Sam never had any power over him or you. You know that now, don’t you.’ Cautiously she held out her hand with its bundle of precious things. ‘What shall I do with the treasure?’

‘I’m sure she will tell you.’ Nick turned his back on the tomb. ‘It’s up to us, now, Jo. If we can at last put the past  behind us we could  make the most of the future. Taking her hand he gave her fingers a squeeze. ‘I only hope that now Matilda herself can rest in peace.’

Jo looked back at the tomb. There was no sign now of the figure. She had gone. But was she at peace? She couldn’t be sure.

‘Shall we go back to Hay?’ Nick was still holding her hand.

Jo nodded. 

‘Together?’ 

 

She  smiled.  ‘Maybe.’

 

 

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