andy cannon

Another perceptive question! This one is explained further on, so I will allow that to unfold in a timely manner.

That is a perceptive question that raises an issue I did not fully work out. My thought is that one of the unusually-oriented burial sites is Celyn's, and the Maelor arranged that so he could watch the Marcus Aemilianus depart from Britannia forever as a final "and the horse you rose in on". I would love to hear other theories!

### Chapter Four:########################################################################################################################################### Cloud cover still pressed low across the harbour when Christopher arrived with the Year Eleven history class just after midday. The storm had passed during the night, but the world it left behind looked waterlogged and raw. Wet stone reflected pale light beneath the quay railings while gulls circled overhead, shrieking into the wind.

Sadly, I am as confused as Christopher, LOL.

Christopher woke feeling as though he had not properly slept at all. Grey morning light pressed dimly through the curtains. Rain still tapped softly against the windows, though the storm had weakened sometime before dawn into a steady coastal drizzle. The radiator clicked unevenly beneath the window while somewhere downstairs the bakery ovens had already begun their daily thunder. Christopher stared at the ceiling for a long moment without moving. The dream itself was already dissolvin

They sound like a fun bunch.

Thank you for catching that! It was corrected in an earlier draft but it crept back in. Now it is edited out.

This is quite the conundrum since I didn't think it through very carefully and didn't anticipate that the ambiguous nature of the charges would become such a sticking point! I'll let everyone read the first three or four chapters to see if this feels like a fatal flaw or if it can be shrugged off as another of my eccentricities. If it proves hard for you readers to overcome, I can revise the prologue to reflect something less anachronistic.

Rain arrived before dawn and never properly stopped. By ten in the morning, Penmere had dissolved into shifting grey water and blurred light. Rain swept sideways across the harbour in dense curtains while the wind shoved hard against the sea wall below the promenade. Most of the tourist shops along the waterfront had their shutters down despite the hour. Plastic signs rattled uselessly outside closed ice cream kiosks. A rack of postcards outside the newsagent twisted damply in the wind.

Religion in general seems to attract charlatans and scoundrels with an agenda.

There's the rub, eh?

Fair enough, it was a bit before my time, so I didn't spend much time researching it (no time at all actually), but the actual impetus of the punishment is not too important to the plot, hence the ambiguous nature of the charges in the prologue.

Teacher Christopher Edwards believed his life began in the seaside town of Penmere. When memories return beneath the ancient Tor, he discovers another truth: he has lived before. Across two thousand years, he and one other soul have found each other again and again, only to be torn apart. At the heart of the mystery lies one act of unbearable grief, when a priest's desperate refusal to accept death transformed love into an endless cycle of remembrance. Christopher must decide whether the life he is living belongs to memory or to choice. For the first time in centuries, love may offer not a beginning, but an ending.

From The Coastal Traveller's Guide to Devon and Cornwall, 2023 Edition Penmere Rugged cliffs, winding harbour streets and centuries of maritime history make Penmere one of the most distinctive coastal towns on Britain's south-western shoreline. Popular with walkers, history enthusiasts and visitors, the town combines dramatic scenery with a strong sense of local identity. At first glance Penmere appears to be a classic fishing harbour. Colourful boats crowd the quayside, c

The settlement clung to the curve of the harbour as though it had grown there rather than been built, its pale stone and timbered roofs following the natural sweep of the shore. Steep headlands rose on either side, dark with gorse and wind-bent trees, forming a protective embrace that made the slate-coloured water inside feel unusually still, almost sheltered from the broader violence of the sea. At the edge of the settlement, where land and sea met most sharply, a black tor rose from the w