Sacrifice (16 page)

“Because when it comes to matters of religion, reason doesn't matter. People crave the assurance that their lives have meaning, and they yearn to live happily after death. What can we druids offer them except a sense of wonder? We tell them that life is often unfair and that the gods aren't always interested in them. We tell them they will indeed be reborn, but only again into this world of pain. But you Christians offer the much simpler view of a god who always loves them, who cares about their least concern, who promises them an eternal life of joy rather than an endless cycle of rebirth. Who wouldn't prefer such a vision to what we druids teach? Yes, you will win. It will take time, but you will win.”

I could hear the wind beginning to blow outside.

“I don't want Christianity to replace the old ways, Cathbad. There is so much good, so much truth in what the druids teach. Isn't there another path, one in which we respect and learn from each other?”

“I'm afraid that's wishful thinking, my child, and not even consistent with the doctrines of your own faith. Didn't your Jesus say that he alone was the way, the truth, and the life, so that no one could come to your god except through him? I wish there was another road that lay ahead of us, but I have looked into the future and seen that there is not. The way of the druids—my way and your grandmother's—will fade from Ireland like the light of the setting sun.”

He rose from his bench. I walked with him outside, where Grandmother gave him a basket of strawberries, and then I bowed to him in respect. I knew it was against all protocol, but I hugged him. He was surprised but embraced me in turn, then mounted his chariot and rode away.

Chapter Nineteen

W
ith the authority of both the king and the Order, I went to Kildare that same evening and spoke to the captain of the guard. I told him to send armed men to the three known members of Finian's traditionalist circle and bring them to me immediately at a deserted farm near Kildare. It was a violation of Irish law to arrest someone without proper testimony, but at this point I didn't care. By midnight, the guards had returned with the three frightened druids who had been pulled from their beds. One at a time, I questioned them in a leaky barn with rats crawling on the rafters above our heads. The blazing fire, iron chains hanging from the walls, and the two hulking guards who stood
next to the men with clubs added a useful touch of intimidation to the proceedings.

They were not an impressive group. All three denied any knowledge of the murders and begged me not to send them to the king to be burned at the stake. I ordered the guards to begin heating an iron rod in the fire. Two of the prisoners were so terrified, they lost control of their bowels. I would normally never have put anyone through such an ordeal, but five nuns were dead and my tribe was about to slip into clan war. In the end, it wasn't necessary to physically harm any of them. Whatever my faults might have been, I was a good judge of human nature. These men were not murderers, simply weak souls who had latched on to Finian like sheep following a bellwether. None of them had the courage to kill another human being.

I told the guards to take shifts and keep the men secure in the barn for the time being. Under no circumstances were they to allow them to leave. I walked back to my grandmother's house, exhausted and utterly frustrated as the sun rose. If none of these men had murdered Alma, then who had? The only possibility was a druid from another tribe, though it was almost impossible for a member of the Order from beyond our borders to move through the kingdom without being noticed by someone. Still, when I reached home, I asked Grandmother to send word to all druids in the area to report to me right away any news of visitors.

“Grandmother, is it possible one of the members of the Order in our tribe has secret sympathies with the traditionalists?”

I was sitting on my bed wrapped in a blanket, eating a bowl of porridge.

“I suppose anything is possible, my child, but it's hard to believe. I know every druid among our people, most of them since they were children. Aside from Finian and those three miscreants you locked away, none has ever expressed
traditionalist ideas. Most of that lot are in the far north, and there aren't even many there.”

“Well, some druid is killing the nuns of Kildare, and I have run out of ideas for finding him. There were no clues at the murder scenes or on the bodies, except the ones Finian and this second killer wanted us to find. And those clues only make it clear that the murderer has been trained as a druid and plans more sacrifices.”

“Maybe there is more we can learn from the murders,” she said. “What about the mistletoe?”

“That's what troubles me the most. We don't know if Pelagia had any, but how did Finian get Grainne and Saoirse to drink mistletoe before he killed them? And how did this second killer persuade Alma to drain a cup? I know for a fact that Grainne, sweet as she was, despised Finian and would never have sat at a table with him. And Saoirse was terrified of the man. She would never have opened her door for him, let alone share a drink with him.”

“As we said before,” she said, “the only explanation that makes any sense is that he somehow forced them to drink the cup by threatening them.”

“But that seems so unlikely. Was he threatening to kill their families? Pelagia had no kin or even friends on this island, but the others did. I can see how someone would sacrifice their own lives to protect those they love. But they died with such peaceful expressions on their faces. Would they do that if they were under threat?”

“No,” she sighed. “None of it makes sense to me either. The only thing I do know is that we're going to have a bloody war on our hands soon unless we find the killer.”

“But what can we do, Grandmother?”

“I have an idea, though you're not going to like it.”

“What?”

“The
imbas forosnai.
”

“Grandmother, no. I won't let you do that.”

“You can hardly stop me, young lady, though it would be easier with your help.”

“But you've only done it once before, when you were much younger, and you said it almost killed you then. Even if you don't die, seers can become lost performing that ritual and never return to this world.”

“It's dangerous, I agree,” she said, “but we are running out of options.”

“I can't risk losing you, Grandmother. I just can't.”

She sat down and put her arm around me.

“I think I can perform the ritual safely. But, my child, even if I were to die or become lost in the Otherworld, you would be all right. You're not a child anymore. I've got to do this for the sake of our tribe, for the Order, and for the nuns at Kildare. If it works, we might find out who the killer is and be able to stop him before he murders someone else.”

“Oh, Grandmother, there must be some other way.”

“If you can think of one, please tell me.”

I shook my head.

“When will you begin?” I asked.

“I'll start the preparations now. Everything should be ready by tonight. Are we agreed?”

I couldn't stand the thought of her performing such a dangerous ritual, but I didn't know what else to do.

“Yes, I'll help you however I can.”

“Good. Now, go find me a stray cat.”

Father Ailbe once told me that the church had condemned the
imbas forosnai
as an invocation of Satan, but I knew that the Irish had had no concept of a devil before Christianity arrived in Ireland. The ritual may have been blasphemy, but if any of the unseen spirits of this island could help us find the killer, so be it—and I prayed that God would forgive me.

It took hours, but I finally found a wild cat at a nearby farm and lured it to me with a piece of bacon. When it was done eating, it came to me for more, rubbing against my leg. I grabbed it by the neck and with one forceful twist killed it instantly. I felt terrible doing such a thing, but the needs of the tribe and my friends at the monastery demanded it.

When I returned home, my grandmother took the cat and told me everything was ready. She took the body outside to the butchering table and cut its flesh into thin strips. She could have used a pig or dog, but she had never liked cats, so I wasn't surprised that she had asked me to find one. She took some of the flesh inside the hut and, with her palms turned downward, began chanting over it. After an hour or so, she placed the meat on a rock behind her door. She had once explained to me the reason for this peculiar practice, but I couldn't remember at the moment. I was too busy praying to Brigid and all the saints that this would work.

She prayed once more with her hands over the meat:

Strength of sky, light of sun, brilliance of moon,

burning of fire, speed of lightning, swiftness of wind,

depth of sea, firmness of earth, hardness of rock.

It was an ancient Irish incantation calling on the hidden powers of the world to help her see beyond her mortal sight. Patrick had taken this prayer and changed it into a beautiful hymn, just as Christians borrowed so much from the old religions of Greece and Rome. I used to think this was cheating, but I see now that the nourishing flow across boundaries of faith is a good thing. God knows, the druids borrowed much from the old ones who came before us.

It was starting to grow dark outside. After more prayers, my grandmother turned her palms slowly upward and walked to
her bed. Carefully holding her hands in front of her, she lay down on the straw mattress and placed her palms against her cheeks, then closed her eyes. I took her thick wool blanket and spread it over her as she began to drift off into sleep.

I sat next to her the whole night, dozing in my chair and rising only occasionally to place another log on the fire. I knew that sometimes druids would lie in bed for two or three days until a vision came to them. I also knew that sometimes they would awaken after only a few minutes. I was terribly worried, but encouraged that she remained still until sunrise.

When the first light peeked beneath the front door, Grandmother began to shake. Her breathing became heavy and I could feel her heart racing in her chest. I would have tried to awaken her, but I was afraid I would break the spell and she would be lost forever. Suddenly she screamed. I had never been so frightened.

At last she opened her eyes with a strange look on her face.

“Grandmother, are you all right? Are you here with me?”

She wiped her eyes.

“Of course I am, child. Where else would I be?”

She motioned for me to bring her a cup of water and drank it deliberately as I waited quietly.

“I'm fine, Deirdre, though I don't want to go through that again.”

“What did you see?”

“It was a most peculiar dream,” she said at last. “I was standing on the edge of a dark river in what seemed to be a vast cavern. Around me were hundreds—perhaps thousands—of people, pale and dead, though they could move and speak. An old man in a boat was coming toward us, and the crowd was crying to him with outstretched hands. As he reached the shore, they surged forward, but he beat them back with his
paddle, allowing only a few at a time to climb into his little craft after he had examined them closely.

“I looked again at the shore, and there were five women standing beside the boat. They wore the veils of nuns. The strange man looked at them and motioned to them to board the boat. I recognized one as Grainne and called out to her. She turned and gave me a look of great sadness, then climbed into the boat with the others.

“I looked again and suddenly there were two more nuns standing next to me. I couldn't see their faces. Then a tall figure dressed in black came up behind us, wearing a mask. The face on the mask was beautiful, like the paintings of one of your angels at the church. The dark figure then pierced both of the nuns through the chest with a sword. I screamed and tried to stop him but was unable to move. It was as if my feet were fixed to the ground. The two women didn't call out or collapse; they just walked to the boat, climbed in, and sailed away.

“I turned to the person in black and tried to tear the mask away. At last I got my fingers underneath the edge and ripped it off. I had never seen such a face as lay beneath. I can't even begin to describe it. I can only say that it was a monster. That was when I woke up.”

She finished the cup of water.

“Grandmother, didn't you recognize any features beneath the mask?”

“No, my child. I'm sorry. I'm afraid the ritual has failed. All I can say is that the nuns of Kildare are still in grave danger.”

Chapter Twenty