Выбрать главу

‘I have a fantastic contacts,’ said Brandon, ‘Besides, they need someone like me who can work just far enough away to keep their hands clean, yet close enough to rely on in tricky situations. I already have their support.’

‘Whose support?’ asked India.

Brandon laughed.

‘Let’s just call them the grey men,’ he said, ‘Anyway, you have a think about it, and let me know.’

‘I will,’ said India.

They reached the gate in the cemetery wall and Brandon stopped, turning to face India

‘Something’s still puzzling me,’ he said, ‘Earlier on you told me that you went back down into the crypt to replace the ashes into a new urn.’

‘I did.’

‘Surely that was a job for one of the nuns?’

‘I asked the church for special permission.’

‘Why?’

‘There was something personal I had to do.’

‘Like what?’

India smiled at him.

‘Perhaps I’ll tell you one day,’ she said, ‘Come on, you can buy me a drink.’

As they left the cemetery, India looked back at the majestic Oak dominating the cemetery, and, after a moment’s pause, whispered gently into the breeze.

‘Sleep well, Rubria,’ she said, ‘Sleep well.’

Epilogue

The tomb was still and silent once more. A new stone lid had been fitted above and the modern day rubbish that had littered the ancient floor, had gone. Everything was back as it had been for over two millennia.

One modern item did remain though. In the far wall, a new and beautifully made Oak casket, no bigger than a loaf of bread, sat central in the alcove. The lid had been fixed down and all the spilt ashes secured inside.

Deep within the ashes, however, lay something that only one person on the planet knew about. Since being spilt onto the tomb floor months earlier, it had been cleaned up and restored to its former glory until eventually, during the recent rededication of the ashes, the last missing necklace of Vesta had been returned to the resting place where it had spent the last two thousand years.

Alongside the necklace was one last thing, a tiny folded note bearing a personal message that would probably never be read by any living being.

Santa Rosa

Servant to Rubria, Priestess of Vesta

Rest in peace, Rose

All my love

India

Follower of Isis