Chapter 29
B ethany flew into a panic the like of which she had never experienced before. Where could Matthew be? His little legs could not have carried him far.
But as she rushed out into the garden, calling his name, she saw a horse disappear around a bend in the lane. Absolute dread seeped through her bones. Matthew couldn’t get far on his own. A horseman, though, could take him a long way indeed.
She ran after the horse with all the speed she could muster. Her tired arms and legs pumped as fast as they could, her feet slapping against the dry dust of the road. But by the time she reached the bend, the horse was long gone. She couldn’t even tell which way it might have gone.
Breathing hard, she walked back to the cottage. She might be worrying over nothing. Matthew might be in the cottage garden, wondering what all the fuss was about.
Or he might have been on that horse. But how had someone got him out of the cottage so quickly and quietly ?
“I’ve checked everywhere,” Finola said as Bethany burst into the cottage. “He isn’t here. He must have slipped out of the door while we were talking.”
“I think someone took him,” Bethany said, tears starting to prickle in her eyes. “What are we going to do, Finola? How can we find him? Where could he possibly be?”
Finola gently took her arm, and Bethany realised she was raving.
“Sit down,” Finola said. Bethany obeyed her, taking a deep breath as she sat.
“Now, you need to be calm,” Finola said, her own voice smooth and soothing. “We will find Matthew. But you will have to trust me, and you must have faith. That is the most important thing.”
Bethany stared into the old woman’s kind eyes, trying to understand. How would faith help her to find Matthew? She needed action. Most of all, she needed answers.
Finola fetched a bowl of water from the well-drawn bucket that sat beside the door. She set it down beside the fire. Muttering softly to herself, so softly that Bethany could not make out the words, she sprinkled a few herbs into the flames and the water. A pungent scent blossomed, touching every corner of the room. It was rich and powerful, and it touched at some deep, uncomfortable memory. Bethany took a step towards Finola, all her panic suddenly replaced with unease.
Finola crouched down on the ground and leaned forwards to stare into the bowl of water. Bethany crept a little closer, wondering what there was to see. Suddenly, Finola’s hand shot out and locked around Bethany’s wrist with a grip like iron. Bethany tried not to cry out in shock and pain. Instead, she leaned a little further forward - and then she really had to fight to contain her panic. Finola’s eyes had rolled right back to show only the whites. What was going on?
“You must go back,” Finola said. Her voice was strange and deep, utterly unlike her usual soft tone. “To find your son, you must go back to where it all began.”
Then she began to hum and moan. She swayed from side to side with such force that Bethany thought she might fall over. Abruptly, she gasped for breath, and snapped back to normal. Her eyes rolled back into place, and the rocking stopped.
“Well,” she said to Bethany, her voice normal again. “What are you going to do?”
Bethany was still staring at her, trying to work out what on earth was going on.
“I need to go back to where it all began,” she said slowly. “I have to return to Dunadd. All of this began at the footprint.”