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'Yeah,' I laughed, 'Look it's my day off today and you're supposed to be having a break from parish life, I thought we could go to look at the ruins of an old Abbey that is not too far away.'

'Okay,' Replied Harry, 'What's got you interested in archaeology all of a sudden?'

I explained to Harry the gist of Anna's story.

'... So, I thought it would be interesting to check it out.' I finished.

'That sounds good.' Said Harry, 'with my parish work, I don't think I've done any walking for pleasure in an age.'

Half an hour and one phone call to Charlie Hopes to drop some clothes over the Harry later we set out. I'd thrown together some lunch to eat on the go and stuffed our picnic into an old rucksack of mine. By now it was mid-morning and the day was warming up. We walked down the strangely quiet road and passed the church. We cut off the road opposite the village school and headed towards the Amble along a footpath which wound its way across the water meadow. So far the summer had been hot and dry and the river was merely a trickle in the centre of its muddy bed. We stood on the footbridge and watched as a large electric blue dragonfly droned lazily across the surface of the water.

We clattered across the footbridge. The bridge had been built many centuries before to allow the old road to continue along the valley to Newton. Now I wondered if the redoubtable Abbot Henry Leonis had had a hand in its construction. Once we reached the eastern bank we were enveloped in the green coolness of the woods. The woods were, as far as I knew, the last remnant of an ancient forest - now all but rooted up by farming and development. But, here at least, the old wild country still had some power.

We walked for about another mile until we came to a small clearing. In the centre of the clearing was a stone circle. There were a few stone circles left in the area; I remember going to a lecture at the Amblehead Civic Centre that had said that the Amble Valley was once an important cultic centre in the Stone Age. I decided that now would be a good time for lunch and picked out a handy fallen tree trunk to use of the bench. As I busied myself with getting our lunch out of my bag, Harry started to mooch around the circle.

'I wonder when the stones were last visited.' I said.

'Animals must come past it all the time.' said Harry.

'No,' I replied, 'The last time they were visited for their intended purpose.'

Harry shrugged and continued to walk around the circle. Then, his ears flattened against his head and his tail began to swish from side-to-side. He prodded at something on the ground with one of his foot paws.

'The stones have been used quite recently, I think.' He said quietly.

I stood up and padded across the clearing to Harry. My ears started to flatten themselves against my head as well, as Harry became increasingly nervous. This did not feel right, I had always felt able to rely on Harry's cool and his calmness. I tried to convince myself that this was still just Harry reacting to his recently reopened mental wounds from his time in the army, but this felt different. As I reached him, I saw what he had been prodding at. There was a part burnt stub of a candle and a piece of metal. I hunkered down and picked up the candle stub. I sniffed at it tentatively: there was a lingering aroma like damp leaf mould. I rolled it over in my paw and noticed that the black colour of the candle rubbed off to reveal simple beeswax underneath.

I passed the candle stub to Harry, who put it on top of the nearest stone. I wiped my paws on the grass before picking up the piece of metal. It appeared to be a fragment of a blade, the sharp edge glinted dully in the sunlight. It reflected my face in a reddish light, turning the white on my muzzle a deep crimson. I could just make out words etched into the surface.

'There's something written on this.' I said.

I straightened up to show the fragment to Harry:

Afon o Aberth

We both read the words, they were in a language that seemed both strange and yet familiar to me. I turned the fragment of metal over and over in my paws I looked at Harry, and said:

'This doesn't feel right. Let's get on to the Abbey.'

He nodded and I stuck the piece of metal into my pocket. A few minutes further down the path the ruins of the monastery came into view.

The Abbey had been reclaimed by the forest, the stubby remains of towers and walls were covered in ivy and undergrowth. Here and there flourishing trees grew through what would have been windows or rooves. It took some effort, but I was beginning to build a picture of the place as it had been. Here was once the monks' dormitory, and here their calefactory, their socialising space. Here they once ate in silence; and here could have been the scriptorium.

Ahead of us lay the Abbey Church, the low remains of the walls peeking out of the bushes. The church must have been twice the length of the parish church in the village. I found my mind's eye filled with figures in black habits walking slowly towards the church. At their head was a lion, this must have been Abbot Henry. I thought that I heard the faint tolling of a bell I glanced at Harry and he said to me:

'Did you just hear that?'

I nodded, my tail swishing nervously. I watched Harry move slowly towards the ruin of the church. As I followed cautiously after him I noticed that, here and there, there were patches of blackened and scorched earth and stone; and a lingering odour of burning. Within the lines of the ancient walls the smell of burning was much stronger; and there was another scent in the air. I sniffed and then retched, it was a foul rotting stench. Ahead of me Harry had pressed a paw to his nose. I walked over to Harry and put my paw on his shoulder. He spun round, his eyes wide. I motioned for him to come back the way we came. He nodded briefly, then leant down and picked something up from the ground. We both hurried away from the ruins.

Once we had regained the apparent safety of the footpath we stopped and gulped down lung falls of blessedly untainted air. I sat down at the side of the path and began to pick little seeds and various bits of vegetation out of the fur on my tail. Harry sat down next to me.

'What was that?' He asked.

'Not the foggiest.' I replied, 'I know one thing: I never want to experience it again.'

'You know what it reminded me of?'

I shook my head.

'Rotting bodies.' Said Harry was no emotion in his voice. 'I smelt it first in the army. When I was a peacekeeper we found a mass grave. We had to guard it from the locals while the forensic archaeologists did their work. The smell lingered in my fur days afterwards. I thought I was going to smell of death forever.'

I shivered. Normally as a priest the bodies I saw were either embalmed and at funerals or of someone who had died during the Last Rites - the recently deceased tend not to smell. I stared up at the sky for a moment, and then said:

'What did you pick up back there, Harry?'

'Another bit of metal.' Harry replied, 'I thought it looked similar to yours. Come on, Nerd, let's see if they do match.'

Harry fished in his pocket and drew out a piece of metal that was indeed very similar to the fragment we had found earlier. Both pieces had the same reddish hue, the same dull sheen. Awkwardly I retrieved my fragment from my pocket. On closer examination the piece of that Harry had found was somewhat larger than mine. Where my piece fitted comfortably in my paw, Harry's was at least twice the length.

'Do you think they could be from the same thing?' I asked.

'Couldn't say,' Replied Harry, 'I'd say they are made from the same metal, though.'

'Hmm...' I rolled both pieces around in my paws until the inevitable happened. 'Ow!' I cried, I turned my paw over. 'That's gone really deep.'

I held my paw up while Harry rooted through the rucksack. After a moment, he pulled out what appeared to be my favourite scruffy T-shirt and wrapped it tightly around the cut. I looked at Harry aghast. Before I could say anything, Harry said:

'We need to get home - that cut needs to be cleaned properly. Why don't you have a first-aid kit in here?'

My mouth dropped open.

'But, that was my favourite Fratello Metal shirt.' I said.

'You're bleeding, and you don't have a first-aid kit. So, stop acting like a spoiled puppy.' Said Harry, 'As far as I care that shirt was long overdue going in the bin when we were at seminary. I don't know why you've still got it.'

I stuck my tongue out at Harry, but I could see his point. We set off back the way we came. After our experience at the ruins, the woods did not seem as welcoming as before. Harry set a blistering pace and soon we were crossing back over the Amble and into the village. As we reached the road, I caught sight of Laura. I waved my un-bandaged paw and she waved back. We crossed the road to meet her.

'Harry, I'd like you to meet Laura Cavia.' I said, 'No, that's wrong - Laura Buck. We were good friends at Anskar's. Laura, this is Reverend Harry Cormack; we trained together and he'll be staying with me for a while.'

'Hi!' She said to Harry, then she saw my other paw. 'What in goodness' name have you done to yourself?'

This was said in what I can only describe as a teacher's voice: it brought memories of getting into trouble at school flooding back. Needless to say I reverted to type:

'Cut my paw.' I muttered. 'And Harry ruined my favourite T-shirt.'

'Come on, Francis, grow up. We've got a first-aid kit in the staffroom. Sorry, Reverend Cormack, you don't mind coming in for a moment, do you?'

'No, of course not.' Replied Harry, 'Anyway: I want to see how far he'll revert to primary school puppy!'

Laura laughed and led us into the school. The school was housed in a rambling Victorian building. It seemed to me to be the epitome of an old country primary school: the loose parquet flooring that clicked and squeaked under our paws; the walls lined with fuzzy green noticeboards covered in pupils' work; the high ceilings; and the lingering smell of school dinners.