Chapter 5
NOW
Violet pulled on her walking boots, glad she had had the foresight to bring them. She’d walked the short distance down the hill to the Brocolitia car park this morning, the cold February air biting into her cheeks. Once she got there, she paused and looked out across those fields again.
Bleak was the word she’d use to describe them today.
The horizon was grey and she couldn’t see the distant hills of the Pennines this morning.
Everything was covered in a cloud, and she was almost certain that snow was being carried her way.
Just as that chap had said at breakfast. She’d left before him.
Her cup of tea didn’t take her long to drink, and her stomach had churned at the plates of fried food that were being carried past her from the buffet.
But she didn’t envy the stalwart hikers who were carb-loading that morning.
She was happier just coming to the Well for her expedition.
‘Okay,’ she said, pulling her scarf tighter, and casting a wary glance at the rolling cloudbank.
‘Down there – through those fields. And that should get me to the Mithraic Temple.’ She looked at a rough sketch she had copied from the old book that sparked her interest in this place and turned it around, making sure she got her bearings.
She was correct – she needed to go through the gap in the fence and walk past the ruins of the temple, then climb a stile to get near the Burn.
The book had said there had been a shrine to the Water Nymphs nearby too, so with that, the temple, and Coventina’s sacred well, the place must be drenched in mysticism.
Add Meggie to the mix, and, well, the thought made Violet catch her breath. The place could, if she was prone to flights of imagination, be the perfect storm – for something. Although she wasn’t quite sure yet what it might be.
She walked down the rough trail, Carrawburgh Fort to her right.
There was another stile – gosh, they were fond of those here – which invited tourists to clamber over it and explore the site of the fort.
There wasn’t much to see at the fort, just a huge, green mound and a few rocks sticking out of the ground.
But it wasn’t the fort Violet had come to see today.
As she walked down and turned to the right, the cloud had somehow managed to beat her. It had rolled across the fields and was settled on the other side of the Burn, almost as if it was a veil into another world.
Violet had always liked mist and fog – she thought it made her a bit strange, but she loved the idea of being inside a cloud that was sitting on the ground.
She walked a little faster. She was aware that the closer she was getting to the Burn, the quieter the area was.
It maybe had something to do with the geographical features – the fact she was deep inside a valley, perhaps – but the silence and stillness were palpable.
And it wasn’t a normal stillness either.
It was almost as if something was lying in wait down there – sleeping until somebody or something disturbed it.
Violet paused and turned a full 360 degrees. There wasn’t another person around, and all she could see when she looked upwards was Carrawburgh looming over her. No road, no car park, no B there was certainly an atmosphere in here.
Something heavy and oppressive and evil lingering.
It just seemed – dark. As if something was waiting for the chance to show itself…
Ollie suddenly thought better of hanging around there any longer. The atmosphere was indescribable, becoming heavier and heavier, as if something had seen him and focused in on him and was coming towards him.
A wave of panic crept up his spine and he looked around, trying to understand what on earth was going on. But there was nothing and nobody around.
But all he knew was he was not going to explore that cottage any further. What if it belonged to a real witch after all? And he did not feel welcome in the slightest.
He hurried back out of the building, casting a glance at the blackthorn, which suddenly looked cruel and menacing.
All thoughts of trying to find Milburn Hall fled his mind, and he squelched and skidded back to the main track.
He hurried back down to the gate and scrambled over it, never gladder to see his car parked up.
That place had, for some ridiculous unknown reason, freaked him out completely.
His hands shaking, he managed to unlock the car and throw himself in. He switched on the engine and, his muddy shoes slipping a little on the pedals, he turned the car around and sped back to the main part of the village.
Surely to God that pub he’d seen would do coffee – he could do with a strong one and a roaring fire to dry his feet by. And then he would try to organise his thoughts and decide what the hell had gone on up that farm track.
* * *
Jake was right. It hadn’t taken him long to get across to Hadrian’s Wall country.