to destroy it.’
Ruth is rather shocked to find herself under attack.
Nelson, though, positively quivers at the words ‘worship and sacrifice’.
‘We didn’t destroy it,’ Ruth says, rather lamely. ‘It’s at the university. In the museum.’
‘The museum!’ mimics Cathbad savagely. ‘A dead place, full of bones and corpses.’
‘Mr Malone,’ cuts in Nelson. ‘Ten years ago, you were … how old?’
‘I’m forty-two now. Not that I count the years on the temporal plane.’
Nelson ignores this. ‘So, ten years ago you would have been thirty-two.’
‘Full marks for the maths, Detective Chief Inspector.’
‘What were you doing ten years ago, aged thirty-two?’
‘Looking up at the stars, listening to the music of the spheres.’
Nelson leans forward. He doesn’t raise his voice but suddenly Ruth feels the temperature in the caravan drop.
She is suddenly aware of an undercurrent of violence in the room. And it isn’t coming from Cathbad.
‘Look,’ says Nelson softly, ‘either you answer my questions civilly or we go down to the station and do it there.
And, I promise you, when it gets out that you’ve been questioned in connection with this case, you won’t be looking at the stars. You’ll be looking at a gang of vigilantes trying to burn your bloody caravan down.’
Cathbad looks at Nelson for a long moment, drawing his cloak around him as if for protection. Then he says, in a low monotone, ‘Ten years ago I was living in a commune near Cromer.’
‘And prior to that?’
“I was a student.’ I ‘Where?’
‘Manchester.’ Cathbad suddenly looks at Ruth and smiles, rather oddly. ‘Studying archaeology.’
Ruth lets out an involuntary gasp. ‘But that’s where—’
‘Erik Anderssen taught. Yes. That’s where I met him.’
Nelson seems uninterested in this but Ruth’s mind is racing. So Cathbad knew Erik long before the henge dig.
Why hadn’t Erik mentioned it? Erik had been her tutor when she did her doctorate at Southampton but she knew that previously he had been a lecturer at Manchester. Why hadn’t Erik told her that he had been Cathbad’s tutor too?
‘So, what did you do, on this commune? Did any of you do any real work?’
‘Depends what you mean by real,’ says Cathbad with a flash of his old spirit. ‘We grew vegetables, we cooked them, we made music, we sang, we made love. And I was a postman,’ he adds, as an afterthought.
‘A postman?’
‘Yes. Is that real enough for you? Early starts, it suited me fine. I love the dawn, leaves you with the rest of the day free.’
‘Free to disrupt the henge dig?’
‘Disrupt!’ The fire is definitely back in Cathbad’s eyes.
‘We were trying to save it! Erik understood that. He wasn’t like the rest of those …’ He pauses for an epithet strong enough. ‘Those … civil servants. He understood that the site was holy, sacred to the place and to the sea. It wasn’t about carbon dating and crap like that. It was about being at one with the natural world.’
Nelson cuts in again. Ruth can tell he stopped listening at about the word ‘holy’. ‘And when the dig finished?’
‘Life went on.’
‘You went on being a postman?’
‘No. I got another job.’
‘Where?’
‘At the university. I still work there.’
Nelson looks at Ruth who stares at him blankly. All these years, Cathbad has been working beside her at the university. Did Erik know?
‘Doing what?’
‘Lab assistant. My first degree was in chemistry.’
‘Did you hear about the disappearance of Lucy Downey?’
“I think so. There was a lot in the papers, wasn’t there?’
‘And Scarlet Henderson?’
‘Who? Oh, the little girl who went missing recently. I heard about it, yes. Look Inspector …’ Suddenly his voice changes and he draws himself up in the wizard’s chair.
‘What’s all this about? You’ve got nothing that links me to these girls. This is police harassment.’
‘No,’ says Nelson
Ruth is rather shocked to find herself under attack.
Nelson, though, positively quivers at the words ‘worship and sacrifice’.
‘We didn’t destroy it,’ Ruth says, rather lamely. ‘It’s at the university. In the museum.’
‘The museum!’ mimics Cathbad savagely. ‘A dead place, full of bones and corpses.’
‘Mr Malone,’ cuts in Nelson. ‘Ten years ago, you were … how old?’
‘I’m forty-two now. Not that I count the years on the temporal plane.’
Nelson ignores this. ‘So, ten years ago you would have been thirty-two.’
‘Full marks for the maths, Detective Chief Inspector.’
‘What were you doing ten years ago, aged thirty-two?’
‘Looking up at the stars, listening to the music of the spheres.’
Nelson leans forward. He doesn’t raise his voice but suddenly Ruth feels the temperature in the caravan drop.
She is suddenly aware of an undercurrent of violence in the room. And it isn’t coming from Cathbad.
‘Look,’ says Nelson softly, ‘either you answer my questions civilly or we go down to the station and do it there.
And, I promise you, when it gets out that you’ve been questioned in connection with this case, you won’t be looking at the stars. You’ll be looking at a gang of vigilantes trying to burn your bloody caravan down.’
Cathbad looks at Nelson for a long moment, drawing his cloak around him as if for protection. Then he says, in a low monotone, ‘Ten years ago I was living in a commune near Cromer.’
‘And prior to that?’
“I was a student.’ I ‘Where?’
‘Manchester.’ Cathbad suddenly looks at Ruth and smiles, rather oddly. ‘Studying archaeology.’
Ruth lets out an involuntary gasp. ‘But that’s where—’
‘Erik Anderssen taught. Yes. That’s where I met him.’
Nelson seems uninterested in this but Ruth’s mind is racing. So Cathbad knew Erik long before the henge dig.
Why hadn’t Erik mentioned it? Erik had been her tutor when she did her doctorate at Southampton but she knew that previously he had been a lecturer at Manchester. Why hadn’t Erik told her that he had been Cathbad’s tutor too?
‘So, what did you do, on this commune? Did any of you do any real work?’
‘Depends what you mean by real,’ says Cathbad with a flash of his old spirit. ‘We grew vegetables, we cooked them, we made music, we sang, we made love. And I was a postman,’ he adds, as an afterthought.
‘A postman?’
‘Yes. Is that real enough for you? Early starts, it suited me fine. I love the dawn, leaves you with the rest of the day free.’
‘Free to disrupt the henge dig?’
‘Disrupt!’ The fire is definitely back in Cathbad’s eyes.
‘We were trying to save it! Erik understood that. He wasn’t like the rest of those …’ He pauses for an epithet strong enough. ‘Those … civil servants. He understood that the site was holy, sacred to the place and to the sea. It wasn’t about carbon dating and crap like that. It was about being at one with the natural world.’
Nelson cuts in again. Ruth can tell he stopped listening at about the word ‘holy’. ‘And when the dig finished?’
‘Life went on.’
‘You went on being a postman?’
‘No. I got another job.’
‘Where?’
‘At the university. I still work there.’
Nelson looks at Ruth who stares at him blankly. All these years, Cathbad has been working beside her at the university. Did Erik know?
‘Doing what?’
‘Lab assistant. My first degree was in chemistry.’
‘Did you hear about the disappearance of Lucy Downey?’
“I think so. There was a lot in the papers, wasn’t there?’
‘And Scarlet Henderson?’
‘Who? Oh, the little girl who went missing recently. I heard about it, yes. Look Inspector …’ Suddenly his voice changes and he draws himself up in the wizard’s chair.
‘What’s all this about? You’ve got nothing that links me to these girls. This is police harassment.’
‘No,’ says Nelson
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