As the bells chimed eleven, Morgan emerged from the nave and walked around the outside of the cathedral toward the ruins of the abbey of St Augustine. Elegant stone arches were all that remained of the infirmary chapel, but she found the stark beauty of the architecture more conducive to quiet contemplation than the grand cathedral now in the throes of another busy day.
The sky above was a pale grey and, although the sun tried to pierce the heavy clouds, the chill of winter still crept in through her fleece jacket. Morgan sat on a block of stone amongst a tangle of wild ivy, the smell of crushed foliage mingling with the scent of herbs from the border garden just beyond the ruins. Lichen grew on the stone in shades of mottled mustard and lime green, evidence that nature would always claim
