‘I am tired. I have had a long journey. Maybe it is catching up with me now.’

She moves out of the sun and sits next to me. Her skin is flushed.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘I am.’

‘Come to the kitchens with me then.’

We get up from the bench and start to walk slowly towards the kitchens. I ask, ‘Have you remembered Tora yet?’

‘Have I remembered who?’ She answers this very quickly.

‘Have you remembered the person of whom I spoke?’

She smiles at me. I find this a little frustrating but her smile makes her seem younger than she is. It brightens her. ‘I am sorry.’

I stare at her for a few seconds. ‘You know who I am.’ It is not a question.

‘I am sorry. You have not told me your name.’

I ignore this. ‘I saw the judge this morning.’ I look closely at her. She does not answer. ‘The judge. From ten years ago.’

She looks ahead. ‘What would you like to eat?’ is all she says but she takes me by the arm. I am silent.

In the kitchens she says, ‘Sit anywhere you like.’

I watch her as she walks away. She is not old but not in the prime of her life either. I wonder if she has a husband, a lover. I turn back, remembering Tora.

When she returns with food and has placed it in front of me, instead of leaving she remains standing. I pause in the act of lifting my fork to my mouth. ‘Do you mind?’ she says, pointing to the seat next to me.

‘Not at all,’ I say and make as if to pull the chair out for her but she gets there first and in my haste I knock my knife to the floor.

‘Thank you,’ she says and takes a clean knife from one of the other settings and places it in front of me. It is an unfussy movement, making light of my clumsiness. She would make a good wife.

For a few seconds I do not know what to do.

‘Not hungry?’ She asks, pointing to the food.

‘Oh, yes,’ I say, and smile.

‘Was she an old lover of yours?’ I am slightly taken aback by the forwardness of the question but not for long. I decide to answer truth fully.

‘Yes. She was my lover for twelve years before I went away. Twelve happy years.’

A serious expression comes over her face. ‘Why did you go away?’

If there is a game with this woman she is good at playing it. For a moment I wonder whether I have changed more than I think. Perhaps ten years in the rain have altered me. I am certainly slimmer and probably a lot darker. It is as if the peat has soaked into me, through my feet, staining my skin a dark brown.

‘I was sent away.’ I watch for a change in expression but there is none.

‘Why?’

‘The courts sent me away. The judge.’

‘Ah, you’re one of our ambassadors. You have been away a long time?

It seems as if you have.’

‘Why is that?’ I do not show my surprise at her talking of ambassadors.

‘You seem…’ She pauses. ‘Perhaps things have changed a bit in the last few years. You will get used to us soon again.’

‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Yes, I probably will.’ I stare into her eyes, slightly longer than is necessary.

‘How long were you away?’

‘Ten years.’ I am still staring at her. She drops her eyes from my gaze and hesitates.

‘And the woman? Why didn’t she go with you?’

‘It would not have been right.’

‘Forgive me,’ she says. ‘I ask too many questions.’ She begins to get up as if to leave. Without thinking I grab her wrist.

‘Stay. Please. I mean, if you don’t have any work to do.’ She sits again. ‘I told you she used to work here.’

‘Yes, I remember you saying but I do not remember someone called Tora. I have been here almost twelve years. No Tora.’

‘She started these kitchens. She was the first one to organise the meal rota.’

She shrugs, ‘Sorry.’

‘She looked a bit like you,’ I say. She looks away again.

‘What will you do if you find her?’

‘If I find her?’ Now I pause. ‘It has been a long time. I don’t know. It depends on the first meeting, I think. Then I will know what to do.’

I do not tell her that Tora was the only person I have ever loved. I do not tell her of the trial, though I am convinced she knows about that.

How could she not? I do not tell her of Abel. I do not tell her of the island. Soon though. I will tell her why I came back. I feel this with some certainty.

But I truly don’t know what I will do when I see Tora.

The woman senses my change in mood. ‘I should get back to work,’ she says.

I want to keep her as an ally. ‘Forgive me,’ I say. ‘I do not mean to be rude. I would like to talk again. Would you mind if I called on you?’

She looks around, as if shy. ‘I don’t work nights. You could come this evening.’ She turns to walk away but stops, then turns back.

She stoops to talk to me and whispers, ‘You shouldn’t go chasing men through the streets. We don’t like that sort of thing. It will not be good for you.’ She walks off before I have a chance to respond.

I make my way to the Marshal’s office. On the way I go to the shelter to find Andalus. I give him some food I took from the kitchens.

When he is done I lead him to the courtyard of the administrative complex. Again there is no one around. I walk up to the Marshal’s door and knock. There is still no reply to the second knock. It is the middle of the day and the office should be open now. Even if the Marshal is not in, there should be clerks and officials about. A settlement cannot function without its administration. The townspeople though do not seem to care. It is a somnolent place, much changed since I left. There are few people on the streets. How many people have died, I wonder.

With the area so fertile I doubt it is possible for a town’s citizenry to be entirely replaced by a new one. Almost no one around and many of those I do see appear furtive, they shuffle around barely glancing up and when they do they hurriedly look away. Apart from the children, proof that the town is not dying. And the woman from the kitchens.

There’s a story in her, that I can sense. But there is a distance about her.

She is far away.

I open my palm and bang on the door. I can hear an echo. I try the handle but it is locked. I turn to go and Andalus is right behind me. I have to pull up to avoid bumping into him. ‘Do you want to try?’ I push him towards the door. He stands in front of it doing nothing. Then he turns his head slowly towards me. Is he shaking his head? I cannot see.

He is standing in the shadows, I in the sun. I cannot see him.

I leave him to follow me. We go back to the shelter and I lie down.

I will try again later. I will not criticise. I will remain civil. My case will be difficult enough to state without my losing my temper.

Speech from Andalus would make it so much easier. ‘People of Bran,’

I imagine him saying, ‘My land, Axum, is under siege from a band of people neither of us has come across before. I escaped because I was out on a surveying trip when they attacked. I tried to go back to rescue Axum but I could not get past. I thought of Bran, once an enemy, now an ally. On the way to find help I got lost at sea. These people, the third band, could well be on their way here right now. For all we know they could be sweeping over the hills in the night, eyes glowing red from the dust kicked up by the heels of thousands. They are strong. They will not rest until Bran and Axum are slaughtered. They are the new breed.

We can defeat them but only if we unite.’ How easy would it be then for me to get what I came for.

A third force. More people. Perhaps a blessing. Probably a curse.

The world is so vast, our memory of it so small. Everything we see, all new lands we come across, each new set of ruins; new, yet we always feel like we’ve seen them before, like we’ve been there before. We are a group of people who have lost their memory but retain a sense of having been. Once we were kings. Now it appears a terrible accident, an extinction, a curse has wiped our memories clean. Almost clean.