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quietly in front of them, and now felt they could trust him. The crowd drew closer together, their eyes fixed on the wooded ridge above the church. A light breeze was wafting the pungent smoke across the churchyard. There was an outbreak of coughing. To the alarm of the villagers, sparks and tiny tongues of flame rose in the column of smoke from among the trees.
    The Reverend Vaughan stepped forward. In his clear voice he said, ‘Let us pray for strength to help us deal with this strange situation, and for the safety of everyone in this community.’ The crowd stood motionless, heads bent and hands holding hands tightly, as the vicar started to pray. Then a child’s high voice rose above the prayers.
    â€˜Mummy, look at the monkey!’
    People nearby turned to look at the little boy.
    â€˜Sssh, Jacky,’ muttered his mother anxiously. ‘It’s just a pussycat.’
    â€˜No, it isn’t,’ the child shouted. ‘Look. Up on the roof. It’s a monkey.’
    Erin and Jonah gasped.
    â€˜Oh no!’ Erin said and then she stepped forward, evading Emlyn’s restraining hand, and called out. ‘It’s one of the animals we saw yesterday.’
    Everyone who could hear her faltered in their prayers and stared up at the roof. Something skittered across the slates, whisking its tail. Girls screamed and the crowd broke up, as people backed away from the church. Several hideous little creatures suddenly appeared on the roof ridge, screaming abuse and threatening the flabbergasted faces turned up to them. An elderly man turned and rushed towards the lych-gate. And then, from the woodland deep in the Radnor Forest, came a great rumbling noise. The earth seemed to pulse and shiver beneath their feet and, high above the trees, a great column of fire shot into the sky.

CHAPTER 12
LEGENDS OF RADNOR FOREST
    Some people began to scream as the plume of smoke mushroomed above the woodland beyond the stream. Neighbours clung to each other and looked apprehensively from the woods to the church roof, though the grotesque little animals seemed to have vanished.
    The man in the tweed cap strode towards Mike and said aggressively, ‘I want to be told what you know about this smoke. We need that information now. And no flannel, boyo. Give it us straight.’ He looked at Mr Vaughan apologetically. ‘Sorry, Vicar. I don’t mean any harm but we need to understand what we’re dealing with.’
    Mike smiled at him. ‘Don’t worry. I understand how you feel.’ He raised his voice. ‘This is what we believe is happening. Please bear with me because it’s going to sound very strange. I am glad that your local ministers are able to be here today because it all has to do with the local churches and, in particular, this church.’ He stopped for a second and glanced round at the old building bathed in the early morning sunlight. Then he turned to the sea of faces in front of him.
    â€˜Look,’ he said, ‘around the Radnor Forest there are four churches all dedicated to Saint Michael – this one, and those at Cefnllys, Llanfihangel Rhydithon and Llanfihangel Nantmelon. And you all know that in English Llanfihangel means the sacred place of the angel.’
    All their eyes were fixed on Mike as he reminded them how the old legend told that after the Archangel Michael’s victory over the Red Dragon of Wales, Y Ddraig Goch, those churches were built to keep it asleep under the Forest. The legend prophesied that the dragon would wake up if the ancient link between the four Forest churches of St Michael the Dragonslayer should ever be broken.
    â€˜There are only a few houses out here at Cascob, so it isn’t worth opening the church every Sunday,’ he said. ‘There’s only one service a month. One might say it hardly counts as a centre of worship any more.’
    â€˜So are you saying that here, at Cascob, the link is almost severed?’