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I may have been programmed to hurt her?"

"I would say it was impossible. "

"But can you be sure of that?"

She could feel his eyes on her in the small dazzle of the candlelight. "Almost. Yes. " She leaned forward. "What do you mean by programmed?"

"I allowed my brother to hypnotize me. I trusted him completely, I had no reservations. It turns out I was mistaken in doing that. He claims"—he hesitated—"he claims that he has already set me on a course from which I cannot draw back. One that involves Jo's destruction. "

He had taken an unused spoon between his fingers, twisting it restlessly to and fro. It snapped suddenly under the pressure and Nick stared down at it in surprise. "I'm sorry—"

"It doesn't matter. " Ann hadn't taken her eyes from his face. "Listen. Tell me honestly. How do you feel about Jo? Do you distrust her in any way? Do you dislike her? Resent her? Hate her?"

"No. God in heaven. No!"

"You say that without reservation?"

"Yes. "

"Then I don't think you have anything to fear. "

"But supposing Sam has planted some idea in my head that I don't remember? He has discovered—or tried to convince me—that I am—I was—John. He knows and I know that Jo is—was—Matilda. For God's sake, can't you see what's happening? He wants me to kill her again!"

Ann felt a whisper of cold air across her skin. She glanced at the candle flame, expecting it to flicker. "What you are suggesting, Nick, can't happen in real life. It's pure science fiction. If it were possible, people would have the perfect murder weapon, wouldn't they?"

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. What kind of creep is your brother anyway? Jo told us she had always liked him. "

Nick stood up abruptly. He walked to the edge of the terrace and stood looking out into the darkness. Far away in the valley car headlights showed for a moment on the main road as two tiny silent pinpoints of light, then as the road wound out of sight they disappeared.

"I think he is in love with Jo, " he said softly.

"Then why would he want you to kill her, for God's sake?"

He shrugged. There was a long silence. "I've always worshipped Sam, " he said at last. "But now I realize that he hates me. I expect he always has. "

Ann stood up. She went and stood beside him. "That's tough. "

"Yes. " His voice was bleak. For a moment he said nothing more, then out of the silence he said, "Please, don't regress her anymore, Ann. "

"If I don't she will do it on her own, Nick, spontaneously. The need to know what happens next is too strong in her. She can't fight it. Maybe that is something your brother has implanted in her. I don't know. But if Jo is going to regress with this violence it is much better that it happens in reasonably controlled conditions among friends than out in the streets or somewhere on the mountainside. " She could see his face clearly in the starlight. "Are you afraid to see her as

Matilda again in case it prompts you to try to hurt her?" she asked at last. "I suppose I am. "

"There is no need. " She hesitated for a moment, then plunged on. "We had planned for another regression this evening. If Jo still wants to do it, Nick, I think we should. I think it's doubly important, now that you're here. "

The ride through the hills was exhilarating. Matilda sat her white Arab mare, feeling the creature's grace and speed as it danced ahead of the more solid horses of her kinsmen Adam de Porter and Lord Ferrers. In spite of the fear that lurked at the back of her mind and the need for haste as they rode down the tracks softened by spring rain and everywhere budding with new green, she felt a strange, optimistic lightness of heart.

By the time they rode into Gloucester, though, her mood had changed. A damp white mist clung over the river, swirling up the narrow streets of the town and hiding the tower of the cathedral. The joyous spring day had been extinguished by a damp, cold evening, and her fear had returned fourfold. She and she alone must face the king and beg him to reinstate William in his favor.

William's fall had been sudden and unexplained. Only two days after John had left Bramber after Will's wedding, messengers came from the royal exchequer, abruptly demanding repayment of all the money that William owed the king.

"Christ's bones, how does he think I can pay?" William had fumed, waving the parchment under Giles's nose. "And why now? Why does he want the money now? He made no mention of it at the wedding! He seemed pleased to be there. "

"Can you really owe the king so much, Father?" Giles had at last managed to take the parchment from his father's flailing hand. "How could you let your debts mount so?" His solemn face was anxious.

William rounded on him. "There isn't a nobleman in the kingdom who doesn't owe money to the king! Fees, fines, reliefs, taxes! Good God above, how could any of us pay so much? He knows he'll get it all in the end, or if he doesn't, his heirs will, from mine. Apart from anything else, I have had two lots of marriage relief to pay in six months—a thousand pounds each! That's what your brothers' wives cost me!"

Giles was reading the parchment slowly, his finger tracing the figures methodically down the page. "It says here, Father, that you still haven't paid any of the relief for your Honor of Limerick after Uncle Philip died. That dates back five years. "

"Five years!" William exploded. "Some of the bastards haven't paid for fifty years! Why does John suddenly pick on me? What about some of his precious earls?"

"Have you displeased him at all, Father?" Giles looked up, his green eyes scanning his father's face

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