"Gardening News," Guto told him.
Alun, seeming somehow less efficient in a leather flat-cap and without his tinted glasses, gazed up at the dark and rumbling sky. "It was supposed to stop tonight."
"You dickhead," said Guto.
"Yes, yes," Aled said, anguished. "But there is no way anyone can ever prove it. And what good would it do anyway?"
Bethan began to feel sorry for him. He was worn and tired, his wife had left him…
"She will come back," Aled said. "When she is well again. When the winter is over."
"A lot of it left to come," Berry said.
"Yes." Aled stared into the dead fireplace. "I don't know, something has changed, gone wrong, isn't it?"
"Maybe it was always wrong," Berry said.
"No. It was not wrong." Aled's face was ragged in the candlelight. "How could it be wrong? We were preserving that which was ours. A shrine, it was. Is."
"Not 'is'." Bethan said. "You don't believe that now."
"I don't know. Why are you asking me these things? There is nothing you can do, except to save yourselves. Perhaps."
Berry said, "How can it not be wrong if people are dying?"
Aled put his face into his hands, peered slowly over his fingertips. "Ones and twos," he said. "That was all it ever was. It was so strong, see. They could not withstand the exposure to it. Some of them simply went away. Fine. But over the years, some… Ones and twos, that was all."
Bethan's pity evaporated. "'Ones and twos'. What does that mean, Aled? Minor casualties?" Hands curled into fists, pressing hard into the tabletop. "Expendable English people, like Martin Coulson and— and—"
"Yes, yes — I was so sorry. He was a good man, Robin. A fine man. And I did try to talk you out of it, the cottage, once. Do you remember that day? But they see this place and there is no stopping them. Seduced, they are. You know that." Eyes wide, full of futile pleading.
Bethan said quietly. "The Gorsedd Ddu"
"No. I will not talk about that."
"Ap Siencyn then."
"If you know, why do you ask me?"
Bethan hadn't known. Not for certain. "And the others?"
"Judge Rhys?" Berry leaned into the candlelight.
"Yes, Judge Rhys, and now—"
"Morgan?" Bethan demanded. "Buddug? Dilwyn? Glyn Harri?"
"Yes, yes, yes! And the rest are scattered all over Wales. I don't know how many, I only run a pub. Oh, God. what have I done?"
"Ap Siencyn." Bethan said. "Tell us about him."
"What is there to tell that you do not know? The minister, he is, and the dyn hysbys."
"What's that?" Berry said.
"The wise man," Bethan said. "The conjuror. The wizard. Most villages used to have one. Someone who knew about curing illnesses and helping sick animals and—"
"Like a shaman?"
"I suppose."
"He cure people?"
"Some people," Aled said.
"And what about the others?"
"We do not ask," Aled said. "It has been a good place to live."
"Where does the Gorsedd meet?" Berry demanded.
Aled screamed out, "What are you trying to do to me?"
And the candle went out, as if someone had blown on it.
Chapter LXV
The first vehicle in the Plaid Cymru convoy drew up to find the village school in darkness.
"What the hell—?" Alun jumped down from the Land Rover and strode to the school door.
"What did I tell you?" Guto roared after him.
Miranda stepped down into half an inch of snow. "So this is Y Groes." She paced about, kicking at the thin white dust with the tip of her boot. "It's almost warm here, isn't that odd?"
"I can't understand it," Alun was saying, walking round the building, looking into windows. "I was talking to the FUW not two hours ago. They said it was definitely on. I said, "Look, if there is any change, get back to me." I gave them the mobile phone number, everything."
"Oh, gave them the mobile phone number, did you?" Guto leaned against the bonnet of the Land-Rover and started to laugh.
"What's wrong?" Alun was affronted.
Headlights hit them, the Daihatsu crunched to a stop, and presently Bill Sykes wandered over, his long overcoat flapping. "Are we here, old boy?"
"We seem to have a problem, Bill," Alun said.
"The problem is Alun." Guto told him. "He is a city boy. Alun, do you have your mobile phone on you?"
"It's in the Land-Rover."
"Well, if you go and get it, I think you will find the words "No Service" emblazoned across its little screen."
"No way. That phone functions everywhere around here. It's the best there is."
"Dickhead." said Guto. "They haven't even got television in Y Groes."
"You're kidding."
Guto stepped back and held open the door of the Land Rover for his colleague. When Alun emerged, the five reporters were clustered around the Plaid candidate in the beam of the Land-Rover's headlights. They turned to face the General Secretary, all looking quite amused.
"Right." Alun said briskly. "I don't know why it's been called off, but it obviously has. Well… As you can see, it's stopped snowing, so I don't think we'll have any problems getting back. I think the least I can do is buy you boys a couple of drinks. The pub is just over the bridge."
There was a small cheer.
"You're a gentleman." said Ray Wheeler, of the Mirror. A nationalist and a gentleman."
Dai and Idwal arrived in the Fiat Panda, and Guto explained the problem. "I'm not having a drink," Dai said. "Bad enough getting here as it is."
"Well, have an orange juice," said Guto, as Miranda appeared at his shoulder, frowning.
"I've just had a peep round the back," she said. "Morelli's car is there, parked very discreetly under some trees. And another car, a Peugeot, I think."
"Bethan's car?" said Dai sharply. "They came to see me earlier, wanted to know about—" He looked across the village to the church hill. "Oh, bloody hell."
They knew Aled was shaking because the table was shaking.
"Go," he said. "All right? Go from here."
Berry found his lighter, relit the candle.
"Draught," he said.
"Remember what you said when we got here?" Bethan asked him.
"OK. Not draught."
The candle flared and Aled's white face flared behind it. Can you not feel it. man?"
Berry didn't know what he was supposed to be feeling, so he looked around the room and out the window. It was still not snowing. There were still no lights.
"The snow will melt before morning," Aled said.
"No chance. You shoulda seen it on the mountains."
"The village is generating its own heat," Bethan said. "Is that what you're saying?"
"Bethan, I once told you, see, this village makes demands."
"I remember."
"Demands, you know — sacrifices."
"You did not say anything about sacrifice."
"The old Druids, see." Aled said. "They did not sacrifice each other, their — you know, virgins, kids. None of that nonsense."
History lessons. Berry thought. Wales is all about history lessons.
"But I've heard it said they used to sacrifice their enemies," Aled said. "Their prisoners. A life's a life, see, isn't it? Blood is blood."
He stood up. "That is the finish. You have had enough from me."
Bethan was too shocked to speak.
Aled picked up the candle and they followed him out of the dining room and through to the bar, where he unbolted the oak front door.
"Opening time soon," he said. "And you won't want to see the Morgans, will you?"