Old Gwenith’s eyes closed. There was a half breath, a hungry gulp of air that choked before it finished, and her mouth slackened. The only sound in the room was the spitting and crackling of the wood on the fire. Healing Martha lifted the transparent blue eyelids and touched her eyes and then held a feather against her lips. She watched intently for what seemed like forever, but the feather did not stir.

Gudrun looked from one to another of us and then at her grandmother. Slowly she reached out a clenched fist, unfurled one finger and gently stroked the old woman’s face. She snatched her hand away, as if she had been burnt. She threw her head back, her red mouth wide as a howling dog, but not a sound emerged. Her body was rigid. Before I could reach her she fell to the floor, choking and jerking violently, her mouth foaming. We watched, helpless. What could we do to help her?

yOU COULD HAVE PICKED SOMEWHERE WARMER for a lover’s tryst,” Hilary sang out softly from among the trees.

I whirled around in the direction of the taunt, but I couldn’t see anyone in the copse. There was still another hour of daylight left, but the clouds had rolled in and light rain was falling, so that it seemed already twilight.

“I thought you said you never wanted to see me again,” Hilary said mockingly. “But I told you you’d be begging me to come back, didn’t I?”

“Stop playing games, Hilary. Come out.”

I jumped as a hand clapped down on my shoulder.

Hilary laughed and planted a savage kiss on my mouth. “Anyway, why in God’s name did we have to meet in a wood? If you think I’m going to strip off here in the middle of winter, you can think again. That stinking crypt in the Cathedral was cold enough to freeze my balls off, but earwigs and thorns up the arse as well, forget it. Why couldn’t we meet at your cottage?”

“We were nearly caught there, remember. And things are worse now. The Owl Masters are watching everyone. They’d spot a stranger instantly and start asking questions. Any one of the villagers could be an Owl Master or be spying for them. It had to be here. I couldn’t risk anywhere else.”

The rain pattered softly on the dead leaves underfoot and the bushes trembled. I glanced round uneasily. Rustling and creaking seemed to come from every direction. I’d never realised how much noise there was in the woods. I’d always thought them silent peaceful places. This hadn’t been such a good idea. The old undergrowth could conceal a dozen pairs of watching eyes or listening ears.

“Here, you’re shaking, my poor Ulfrido,” Hilary said, grasping my hand. “You look terrible. Sit down. Has something happened?” Hilary’s voice had lost its lazy drawl and for once there was genuine concern in his dark eyes, something I’d not seen for many months.

There was a fallen oak close by. Now as I half leant, half sat on the great trunk, Hilary lifted the hem of my robe, sliding his hand up between my thighs. I shuddered as his cold fingers, wetted from the rain, ran lightly across my prick, stroking the length of it, cupping my balls, but gently for once. It was an old familiar gesture. He had not been tender like this for many months and I sensed it was meant only for comfort, not to tease. I ached to surrender my body to his touch, but I dared not. I tore myself away from his hand and stood up, though it cost me every ounce of resolve to do it.

Hilary broke off a twig and began snapping it into pieces. “I should be cross with you, Ulfrido. I don’t know why I came.” He stuck out his lower lip in a parody of a sulky child. “Sending me away, then not a word for weeks. Now you expect me to come running whenever you snap your fingers. I had a good mind not to come at all.”

He slouched against the fallen oak, idly scuffing the crumbling brown leaf mould like a bored child. I felt angry and resentful. He had no idea what I’d been through the last few days. For a moment I was tempted to pour out all the events of the All Hallows’ Eve. But no one who had not witnessed it could possibly understand the horror of it. And what would I say if he asked me what I had done? I could not admit aloud that I, who had been so determined to fight this evil, had merely turned and fled like a coward with all the other villagers.

“Well?” Hilary asked impatiently. “You dragged me all the way to this arsehole of a village. You must want something. Talk to me or fuck me, it’s all the same to me, but either way get on with it; I’m not sitting here all night getting soaked.”

My anger boiled up again and I jumped to my feet. “You want to know what I want? I’ll tell you. I want money.”

“Money?” Hilary repeated incredulously. “What could you possibly want money for? You’re a bloody priest, for shit’s sake. Good living. Free cottage, free food, free wine! You’ve got it all. You don’t have to break your back to earn it. Recite a few prayers in Latin and it all comes pouring into your lap without you having to lift a finger. I wish I had it so easy.”

Before I realised what I was doing I had drawn back my fist. Hilary raised his arm to shield his face. I felt instantly ashamed and annoyed with myself. I couldn’t afford to drive away the one person I had left. I lowered my hand, and saw the look of contempt on Hilary’s face. I knew he despised me because I’d wanted to punch him and also because he knew I lacked the guts to do it.

I took a shaky breath. “The villagers didn’t pay all their tithes. I gave Bishop Salmon everything I had in the barn, but it wasn’t enough, so I had to borrow the rest and use the church silver as surety. It’s not been missed yet. But I have to redeem the silver in time for the Christmas Mass or D’Acaster will realise it is gone. I have to have the money to get it back.”

“My poor little Ulfrido. I wish I could help you, really I do.”

Hilary moved closer. He stroked the back of my neck. I could smell the sweet musky perfume of oil that he rubbed on his skin. “But I’m the one who comes to you for money, Ulfrido. You know I can never keep a coin for more than a day or two without it burning a hole in my purse. It’s my nature; I can’t help it.”

“But you can get money. Those other men you… entertain. They’d give you money if you asked.”

“Are you turning whoremaster now?” Hilary laughed and pressed still closer. He ran a finger across my groin, making me shiver. “And I thought you didn’t want me to entertain other men. Or do you secretly get a thrill from it? Do you lie in your cold empty bed, Ulfrido, thinking about me with other lovers?” He suddenly crushed my balls in his fist, making me gasp.

I pushed him away. “You know I loathe the thought of you with other men, but I know that you do it. You’ve always enjoyed throwing that in my face.”

His mocking grin did not deny it.

“Please, Hilary, I beg you: If you ever had any feelings for me, help me. There is no one else I can ask. The villagers won’t give me what they owe me because the Owl Masters are taking every penny from them in exchange for their so-called protection. My church is practically empty.”

Hilary leant against a tree, staring up at the dripping branches, as if he was already bored by the subject. “There must be something you can sell. A relic? Every church has those.”

“Not this one,” I said bitterly. “If I had a relic, the villagers would be flocking into the church eager to hand over their coins for its miracles and protection. Pilgrims would be queuing up to pay to touch it. All my problems would be over. But you need money to buy relics.”

Now it was I who moved nearer, caressing the silky black curls of his hair. “Please, Hilary. I’ll do anything you ask, anything. But you must get me the money. I’m begging you.”

Hilary’s lips sought mine, his hot tongue slipped between my teeth, his hand pressed against my buttock, pulling my groin against his, sending a shudder through my body. We pressed hard against each other, feeling those old waves of passion surge through us again. For a heartbeat, I didn’t care about tithes or Owl Masters. All that mattered was that perfect, beautiful body I held in my arms.