The Dream Weavers by Barbara Erskine (books you have to read txt) 📕

he has warned me to ask you to be discreet. You know what a lovely man he is, but he said that she had the light of zeal in her eyes. He has told her he expects her discretion in anything that worries her and that, if anything does, she is to go to him or someone in the deliverance team. And, Bea, you and I know that she will. She will be on the lookout every second to try and catch you out.’

‘So, you’re telling me I can’t go and pray in the chapel any more.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m only saying be careful. And perhaps choose somewhere less public for your meetings with Simon and his family. The café in the middle of the cathedral is not the place to discuss demonic possession.’

‘I would have thought it was absolutely the place!’

‘Bea, please.’

‘Sorry.’ Her anger subsided as she saw the utter weariness in his face. ‘I’m putting you in an intolerable position, aren’t I?’

‘Nothing about my wife is ever intolerable. Tricky, perhaps.’

‘I will avoid her. I promise.’

‘I think you may find that very hard, given that we live on the premises.’ He levered himself to his feet. ‘Darling, do you think it’s possible you are too invested in this family? Especially in Emma. I know how much you miss Anna and Petra, do you think you are perhaps becoming a little bit over-protective?’

‘How can it be over-protective to want to help her?’ Bea stared at him, aghast. ‘If Meryn was here, I would send her to him, but he isn’t. I’m the only one there for her.’

She stood up and walked over to the window and stood staring out. ‘Yes, I miss Petra and Anna, you know I do, but neither of them have inherited this ability so it was something we didn’t have to deal with. Perhaps it’s more that I can see myself in her, Mark. I remember what it feels like to have all these frightening experiences and know that other people don’t understand what’s happening. I was lucky. My grandmother was there for me, but Emma has no one. Simon can’t cope with her, and it doesn’t sound as if her mother would be sympathetic.’

‘Was she all right when they went home?’ Mark asked after a pause.

‘Yes, she’d recovered her composure. She was excited if anything. Couldn’t wait to tell Simon and Felix what happened.’

‘And will you be seeing her again?’

‘Of course. If that’s what she wants.’

Mark came over and put his arm around her shoulders. He sighed. ‘Can we talk about this some more later? I’ve got to go out again. I’ve got to do some parish visiting.’

‘Plans for Tenebrae?’

‘Exactly.’

‘I bet Sandra wouldn’t approve of that. Candles and ritual and darkness and meditation. All very suspect activities.’

‘Well, luckily it’s not her parish.’ He bent and kissed her on the top of her head.

She stood there without moving for a long time after he had gone. He was right. It was strange that she and Emma seemed to share this ability, but the link was so much stronger than Mark could ever understand. Emma had dreamt Eadburh’s dream. The clinging shadow had attached itself to the girl who reminded her of her earlier self and was using her to remember Elisedd and somehow re-enact the intensity of their lost love.

A beam of sunlight strayed through the window, crept across the rug near her feet, then disappeared. From outside she heard the bronze note of the cathedral clock chime the hour.

It was at night that Eadburh thought about her lost baby. The ache of emptiness, the longing for the little boy who had never drawn breath, brought tears in the darkness, but in her dreams he was confused with another child, the son of her long-lost prince. She had convinced herself that it too had been a boy, a boy who would have loved her had Cynefryth not killed him.

Nesta had concocted the potions that had destroyed him, but she did not blame the woman. The sisters of Wyrd had killed both children, as they had caused her to miscarry two other children by her husband. All that was left to her now was her little girl, Eathswith, the little girl she knew she could never fully love because she looked at her mother with Beorhtric’s eyes.

No one at court mentioned what Eadburh had seen. Now that Hilde had gone, there was no one but Nesta in whom she felt she could confide, and Nesta had set off on one of her plant-collecting trips into the forest. As always, Eadburh wondered how many people had known, had kept her husband’s secret, had laughed behind their hands at her confidence.

When her husband returned to the palace with his warrior band, life went on as before, but now she watched him and she realised that he had always had favourites. Her father had enjoyed women; her mother seemed to accept it and dismiss them as a part of life, like flies to be swatted away if they grew too persistent, though belatedly she realised that her mother’s way of dealing with the situation was to take lovers herself. If Offa knew or suspected what was going on, he would, she was fairly sure, have been reluctant to cross his wife. Cynefryth was the strongest personality in the court. Eadburh gave a grim smile as she sat spinning by the fire, listening to a scop who had ridden into Corfe from far-off Canterbury. Lovers were one thing; lovers prepared to murder the man promised to her sister could not be tolerated. She wondered if her mother guessed what had really happened to Grimbert. If she did, would she ever suspect who had done it and from whom that person had learnt her skills? She doubted it very much.

If Beorhtric had ever had mistresses, she did not care. She had assumed he had, to assuage his lust while she was absent from his bed, but matters had changed. This