GLASTONBURY5

He turned, tired yet filled with expectation. “You know I had to return here. The risen Lord has charged me with the task of delivering the Shape Changer to this place.”

“I understand that, but why here?”

Joseph smiled, despite his tiredness. “We’ve been friends for many years, and I’m grateful for your patience and acceptance. You’ve accompanied me here, respecting my wishes, and not questioning my motives. If I’d tried to explain before we reached this place, you wouldn’t have understood.”

Philip cleared his throat impatiently. “Don’t presume too much upon our friendship,” he said. “I’m not an idiot. I haven’t questioned your motives because I knew that you wouldn’t have confided in me - until now. I came with you because I’m a trader, and there’s much here that I hope to buy.”

“You’re also a disciple of Christ,” said Joseph, scornfully. “I’m sure your motives are nobler than the mere acquisition of physical wealth.”
Philip looked away, staring into the mist. “Of course they are,” he said, “but I think the time has come for you to tell me why we came all this way.”

Joseph sighed, feeling the weight of years upon him. “A long time ago, I came here with Jesus. We were young, yet even then he was a man of vision.”

“You knew him before his ministry began?”

“Yes. We built a church here, below the Holy hill. He was drawn to the place. He told me that it was the centre of a vast power that spread beyond the confines of Earth, and that what we began here would last forever.”

His eyes glistened as he remembered. Now he was an old man, his skin dark and wrinkled. A tear slid across the hollow of his cheek.

“We built Jerusalem here,” he said.

“Look,” whispered Philip, subdued by the sight. The Tor appeared before them as the veil of mist parted. It seemed to float above the land, reflected in the marshy waters. Dusk chilled the air, and the pilgrims pulled their ragged cloaks tighter to them.

Soon the shapes of dwellings appeared, hunched under the fading light. The lake village was raised on wooden piles above the marsh. A wharf extended along the base of a gently rising hill, dwarfed by the terraced magnificence of the Tor beyond.

“At last, we’ve come to Avalon,” said Joseph, falling to his knees.
Joseph carefully removed the Shape Changer from the wooden box. He placed it on the table. It appeared as a small wooden cup, but the edges were blurred. Colours shifted through a rainbow spectrum around it. He shut his eyes tightly. When he looked again, the object had resolved itself into a cruet.

“The blood and tears of Christ,” muttered Joseph, “shed for our sins.” He carefully opened the cruet and marvelled once more at the tiny pools in each compartment. They glistened, as fresh as the day they had been shed. He replaced the Shape Changer in its box, and carried it to the deck.

A crowd had gathered to greet the travellers. Joseph smiled as he placed the box in front of him.

“I am Joseph, from Arimathea,” he said. People muttered in surprise, and then became silent. They knew of him, and he was grateful for that. It had been a long time since he had spoken their language, but his memory was good. The Lord was with him, and he felt comforted.
“We are disciples of the risen Lord,” he said, “and we come to continue the work that He began here.”

Two men stepped forward from the crowd. They were dressed in grey cowls and carried wooden staffs.

“How do we know you are who you say you are?” said one of them in a soft, unassuming voice. “Traders come here from far and wide, not only to buy, but sometimes to rob.”

Philip stepped forward. “How dare you suggest that we’re no better than robbers!” he said angrily.

Joseph placed his hand on Philip’s arm. “No, Philip. They are right to be cautious.” He turned to the two men. “I’ll prove that I am who I say; then you’ll escort me to the chapel and its confines, so that I may spend my final days where once I walked with the Son of God.”

“If you are Joseph,” said the monk, “then you and your companions are welcome here, and we are honoured by your presence.”