And there are other surprises too. The references to Elaine tie in with what Sam told her but what’s all this about Pippa Henry? Elaine looked over ‘as if she suspected something’ but Clayton was ‘oblivious’. Was Dan having an affair with Clayton Henry’s wife? It certainly looks that way, though Ruth can’t make out if the affair was over by the time of the dig. She thinks of the elegant Mrs Henry in her scary shoes. She can’t imagine Dan being involved with her but, as is becoming clear, she doesn’t really know Dan at all. Or rather, the Dan she knew existed twenty-odd years ago. She doesn’t know this Dan, the New-Age Don Juan of Pendle University, at all. Dan was always good-looking, women were attracted to him, but she would never have thought that he would be the sort of man to have an affair with another man’s wife. But, then again, who would have thought that she’d become the sort of woman to have an affair with a married policeman? Love does funny things to us all.

Was Dan in love with Pippa Henry? Was he ever in love with Elaine? If so, it certainly doesn’t come across in the diaries. There is only one loved object here – King Arthur. Dan airily dismisses Clayton as ‘oblivious’, but what if he wasn’t? What if he suspected that the wife (whom he so clearly adores) was sleeping with a member of his department? Wouldn’t that constitute a motive of some kind? Ruth resolves to mention this to Tim (she can’t face Sandy, even over the phone).

The description of the skull is interesting too. There is no doubt that this isn’t the skull that Ruth examined at the lab. It’s complete, for one thing. And, with hindsight, it’s interesting that he mentions the eye orbits and the nasal cavity. African skulls tend to have rectangular eye orbits and wider nasal apertures. Did Dan suspect, even then? He says that he took a long time examining the head. Did he guess the amazing truth? That the Raven King was, like the bird itself, black? If so, he didn’t record it in his diary.

At her feet Thing sighs and twitches in his sleep. He has stuck close to her all evening. Is he missing his master? Pendragon has been an unspoken presence in the house all day. Ruth can’t imagine what it was like for Cathbad, finding his friend’s dead body in that way. Cathbad doesn’t seem to want to talk about it and Ruth respects that. They both took refuge in talking about the dog, about his trauma and possible distress. Ruth leans down to pat him now while she scans the screen. She is, of course, looking for references to herself.

Under 20 May she finds one:

I’ve been thinking I need a second opinion and suddenly I thought – Ruth! She’s made quite a name for herself in forensic archaeology (was involved in a big murder case in Norfolk a few years back) and I know I could trust her. Funny, I haven’t thought of her for years, but I can picture her quite clearly. Dark, ungainly, with lovely eyes. Clever, intense, but funny too. I kissed her once and remember thinking that she’d probably be terrific in bed. I looked for her on Friends Reunited but she wasn’t there. I didn’t think she would be somehow. I got a new invitation from an outfit called University Pals. I sent off my info but I’m pretty sure she won’t have joined them either. She’s probably married with ten kids by now. Like everyone else from those days. Anyway I can find her easily enough through her university. There can’t be many forensic archaeologists in Norfolk. I’ll wait until I get the results and then I’ll contact her. Until then, I won’t tell anyone except

And there, maddeningly, the entry ended. Ruth sits, staring at the words, feeling slightly dizzy. She has often wondered what other people think of her. Well, now she knows. Ungainly, that’s about right. But – lovely eyes, terrific in bed? Ruth loves sex but has never wondered whether she’s good at it. That’s something new to think about it. She recognises the bitterness of thinking that everyone else your age is married with children. How often, over the last twenty years, has she felt the same thing? First it was the wedding invitations, then the birth announcements. When, in her forties, they eventually stopped coming, she had felt relieved. Now, at last, they would leave her alone. And then she had her own miracle baby. Dan couldn’t have expected that. No one did, least of all Ruth herself.

Thinking about babies makes Ruth want to check on Kate. She is stretched out sideways in the double bed, sleeping deeply, mouth open. She has caught a slight cold, probably from paddling yesterday. The joys of a summer holiday in England. Not that this is a holiday exactly, what with a sinister fascist group spying on her, death around every corner and the shadow of the Raven King looming over them all. And Dan had been contacted by University Pals, the outfit Tim suspects of being an internet scam designed to steal your identity. It’s a frightening thought, put like that.

Cathbad’s door is shut and Ruth does not go in.

Downstairs she pours herself a glass of wine and goes back to the diaries. Thing settles heavily on her feet. Like Kate, he’s a noisy breather.

22 May 2010

Threatening letter received today. Know it’s from the WH as it has all their stylistic signatures. The references to pure-blood, England (not Britain) and the so-called Gods of Yore. The salutation ‘Dear Jew’ was a nice touch, I felt. What worried me more was they obviously know something about the Raven King. There was a line ‘Curst be he who touches the bones of King Arthur’. That mock-archaic sentence structure is also typical. How did they know about the possible Arthurian link? Maybe someone from LAS has been gossiping. News travels fast around here.

I told Clayton about the letter and he panicked as usual. I said I thought that we should involve the police but he said no, the uni had had enough bad publicity lately. Be worse publicity if someone’s killed, I said (joking). Clayton went white and said ‘Oh, dear boy, it won’t come to that’. I wonder if he has been threatened himself.

When I got home there was a dead bird on my doorstep. Neighbouring cat or death threat? It’s hard to tell. Elaine looked over the wall when I was burying the bird and asked what I was doing. ‘Gardening,’ I replied. She flounced off inside, obviously thinking that I was taking the piss. After all, as Howard Jacobson says, who’s ever heard of a Jew gardening?

Later

Just occurred to me that if someone did leave the bird as a message, they must know about the bird skeletons we found on the site. Uncomfortable thought.

Ruth wonders what LAS stands for. She googles and comes up with the Lancashire Archaeological Society. She remembers Clayton telling her that some members of the society were present at the dig, ‘old dears’, Dan calls them. Even so, it might be worth the police checking the names of the old dears. She adds that to her list for Tim tomorrow.

Dan had sounded slightly shaken in the diary entry, she thinks, but not scared. He was blasé enough to joke about someone being killed. In fact, he sounds every inch the contemptuous academic – take the references to ‘mock-archaic sentence structure’ and ‘stylistic signatures’. Even the anti-Semitism is treated lightly, though Ruth is surprised how much Dan obviously thought of himself as Jewish. Who’s ever heard of a Jew gardening? She is sure that in all the years she knew him he never once referred to himself as a Jew.

The tone of Dan’s letter to her had been very different. Then he had seemed genuinely frightened. I’m afraid … and that’s just it. I’m afraid. What happened to make him change his mind?

25 May 2010

Elaine called me today. That’s unusual in itself. And she suggested meeting at the Mount Hotel, which seemed a strange choice of venue. I was teaching all day and couldn’t get there until six. I knew when I arrived that she’d already had a lot to drink. She started off by railing against Guy, saying that I shouldn’t trust him etc. etc. I’d heard all this before but said (quietly) that Guy was one of my best friends and that I’d trust him with my life. She laughed rather wildly and asked me what I thought my life was worth. I said I didn’t want to have this sort of discussion with her and got up to leave. She grabbed me then and started crying. She said she still loved me but she was afraid. ‘What are you afraid of?’ I asked. ‘Not what, who,’ she said. She was in a really terrible state. I did try to get her to drink water or coffee but she swore at me and ordered another bottle of wine. I half hoped they wouldn’t serve her but they did. I escaped to the loo and rang Guy. He came immediately, thank God. By this time she was so drunk that she was hardly able to stand, but she went with Guy quite calmly. He is so good to her. I don’t know how he puts up with her behaviour. I don’t know if they are lovers or not (Sam says not) and I don’t want to know. All I know is that he has been a wonderful friend to her. And to me.