Chapter 12
The ChaliceMartha, sent to draw water out of the Sacred Well at Glastonia, filled her jar and then set it down. It was a cold, grey day and a misty rain was drifting down. “How soft,” she thought, “compared to the heavy rain of Rome.” Her woollen cloak was scarcely damp. Fetching water from the well was one of her favourite chores. The dell in which it lay was green and leafy, jewelled with flowers. Overhanging branches sheltered it from the rain. Although it was at the foot of the mysterious Tor, she never felt threatened there. It was as though there were a charmed circle around it into which no malevolent force could ever penetrate. She wondered if it was true that Joseph of Arimathea had placed the Lord’s Chalice there. How she would love to see it! To touch something the M
