Challenge on the Hill of Fire

by Marianne Hering

The soldier’s horse galloped up to Beth. The soldier reached out his hand for her.

  “Beth!” Patrick cried out.

  Beth’s feet felt as if they suddenly grew wings. She ducked the soldier’s grasp and scrambled toward the crowd. She ran past Patrick, and he followed close behind her.

  Beth pushed through the confused crowd. A pig stepped in her way. She dodged it. Then she bowled into a flock of sheep. They scattered. She slid under a cart filled with fish. Then she rolled out the other side.

  Patrick stayed with her every step of the way.

  Beth ran into another crowd. The village’s crowds, animals, and carts kept the soldier from following. His shouts sounded farther and farther away.

  Beth saw Finn up ahead and wondered where Tristan had gone. Finn darted behind a hut. Beth and Patrick followed him.

  They reached a grassy field. The sky above was dark with clouds. Finn reached the edge of a wooded hill. He climbed up a tall tree. Then he raced from branch to branch. He jumped and leaped deeper into the woods.

  Beth and Patrick followed Finn from the ground. The hill got steeper and steeper. It was hard to keep up.

  A light rain sprinkled down and soaked Beth’s clothes and skin. Then the sky opened up and a heavy, cold rain washed over her. She looked at Patrick. He was drenched too.

  Patrick grabbed Beth’s sleeve. “Let’s head that way,” he said. He pointed to a wall of rock. “I see some caves. We can find shelter there.”

  The cousins ran to the rock wall. They crawled underneath a large rock ledge. They sat for a moment, gasping.

  Beth looked out through the rain to make sure the soldier wasn’t following them. She could see beyond the trees to the valley below. Across the valley stood a castle on another hill.

  “That’s probably the castle Tara,” Beth said. She was still a little breathless.

  “It looks spooky,” Patrick said. “I wonder if anyone is locked up in the pointy tower.”

  “Probably kids who didn’t obey the druids,” Beth said.

  Finn suddenly appeared between them. He shook his fur and licked his paws.

  “Where is Tristan?” Beth asked Finn.

  He shook his head from side to side.

  “He’s a squirrel,” Patrick said as if to suggest that she was silly to talk to it.

  “Dogs seem to know what we’re saying,” Beth said. “Maybe Tristan has Finn trained.”

  Patrick looked doubtful.

  The cousins rested while the storm passed. Finally the rain stopped. But a chilly wind whipped around the hill. The sun was setting. Finn suddenly chattered and ran off again.

  “I think it’s time to go,” Beth said.

  The cousins followed Finn. The red squirrel stopped at the edge of a clearing and climbed a large tree.

  Beth and Patrick hid behind the tree and peered ahead.

  A group of thirty men moved around the top of the hill. They were throwing branches into a big pile. The men’s long brown robes were muddy and wet.

  A tall, bald man with a cropped white beard stood in the middle of them. He seemed to be giving instructions to the others. He was holding a tall staff. It reminded Beth of the staff she had seen in pictures of Jesus as the Good Shepherd.

  Beth’s heart pounded in her ears. What are they going to do with all that wood? she wondered. Is this a secret meeting of the druids?

  The Bishop

  Beth looked up at Finn in the tree above her. He sat on a branch, eating a pinecone.

  Just then Tristan walked into the clearing from a different part of the forest.

  Ka-thunk. Finn dropped his pinecone. It nearly hit Patrick on the head. Finn raced down the tree trunk to the ground. Then he scampered across the clearing, climbed up Tristan’s robe, and sat on his shoulder.

  “Finn!” Tristan said in surprise. “Where have you been? And where are the others?”

  “Here we are!” Beth cried. She stepped out into the clearing. Patrick stepped out with her.

  Tristan smiled. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” he said. “I lost you in the village.”

  “Finn led us here,” Beth said.

  Tristan looked at Finn. “Well done,” he said to the squirrel.

  The tall man turned his attention to Tristan. “Tristan!” He came down the hill and clasped the young man by both arms. “I’m pleased you’ve arrived.”

  Tristan gave a respectful bow of his head. “I am too,” he said. “I wondered if I would make it safely. God protected us in miraculous ways.”

  The man turned to Beth and Patrick. “Who are your young friends?” he asked Tristan. Beth noticed that the new man’s accent was different from the ones she had heard so far. She wondered if he was from another part of Ireland.

  “These children were captured as slaves,” Tristan said. “This is Patrick the Keeper of Swine and Beth o’ the Shamrock. They were on Shane’s cart.”

  “But Tristan rescued us,” Beth said.

  “Thanks be to God,” said the man. “I’m Patricius, son of Calpornius.”

  Tristan leaned down and said in a loud whisper, “This is the bishop.”

  Beth was relieved. She felt as if nothing bad could happen to them now.

  “You are both Christians?” the bishop asked.

  “Yes,” Beth and Patrick said together.

  The bishop smiled gently. “You’re welcome here to celebrate Christ with us.”

  Beth noticed markings sewn into his clothes. They were shaped like a cross.

  Patrick asked, “Why are you building a huge pile of sticks?”

  The bishop looked at the stack of wood. “We’re going to light the paschal fire here on Slane Hill,” he said.

  Beth didn’t know what a paschal fire was. And she wondered why Slane Hill was the place to light it.

  “Is the fire important?” Beth asked.

  The bishop and Tristan looked at each other.

  “There is an ancient law. It declares that only the king can light a paschal fire—an Easter fire—on this night,” Tristan said. “It’s a law made up by the druids, who want to honor their terrible gods tonight.”

  “So you’re breaking the law?” Beth asked. “Won’t that get you in trouble?”

  The bishop nodded. “Anyone else who lights a fire tonight faces immediate death,” he said.

  “Death!” Patrick said. “Then why would you do it?”

  “It’s the best way to challenge the gods of the druids,” the bishop said. “The people will be gathered for the festival. They will all see for themselves that the true King is Jesus Christ.”

  Tristan pointed across the valley to the castle. “That is the castle of Tara,” he said. “All the druids are gathering there in King Logaire’s courts tonight. They will see our fire and come.”

  The bishop said in a strong voice, “It will be like Elijah when he challenged the prophets of Baal. We will light a paschal fire. We will battle against the druids’ evil black magic.”

  “But if the druids catch you,” Beth said, “they’ll kill you.”

  The bishop smiled gently at Beth. “I’m not afraid of death,” he said. “I was once a slave in this pagan land. Irish pirates kidnapped me from my native home in England. They brought me here.”

  The bishop pointed at Patrick. “I was the slave of one of the druids,” the bishop said. “I wore the garb of a swinekeeper. As you wear one now.”

  Patrick looked down at his clothes.

  The bishop continued, “I faced hardship, struggle, and toil every day. It almost destroyed my body.”

  “That must have been terrible!” Beth said.

  “Terrible for my body,” the bishop said, “but glorious for my soul. During those hard days I gave my heart to Jesus. I stared into the face of death many times. But I also looked into the face of Jesus. To die here on this earth is to stand in His presence.”

  The bishop’s followers had stopped their work to listen. Then one shouted, “We are not afraid of death!” Others joined i
n. Then came another shout: “Light the fire!”

  The bishop moved back to the pile of branches. One of the men gave the bishop a thick stick covered with black tar.

  Tristan stepped over to the cousins. He petted Finn’s head. “Stay with Patrick,” he said to the squirrel. “I don’t want you too near the fire.”

  Finn leaped from Tristan’s shoulder to Patrick’s. Patrick looked uneasy. He nodded at Tristan.

  “I suggest you move farther away to watch,” Tristan said. Then he turned and joined the bishop and his men.

  Beth and Patrick and Finn moved down the hill. Beth stood close to Patrick. Finn chattered and barked.

  The hillside fell into shadow. The darkness made her afraid. She expected the druids and the soldiers to spring from the woods. Then she realized that they might arrest her too.

  Am I afraid of death? she wondered.

  The Challenge

  Patrick and Beth watched the men stack the final pieces of wood. The tower of sticks stood taller than the bishop.

  Some of the men crouched down. They seemed busy with something near the ground. Then one of the men threw a stone away in frustration. Another growled and kicked a piece of wood.

  “Why are they upset?” Beth asked.

  “They can’t get the fire started,” Patrick said. “It’s too windy. And the wood is probably wet from that rain.”

  “Then how will they challenge the druids?” Beth asked.

  Just then Patrick remembered the gift Whit had given him. “My tinderbox!” Patrick said to Beth. “Hurry! Let’s find some dry twigs and leaves.”

  Patrick and Beth ran back to the woods. Finn jumped from Patrick’s shoulder as if he might help them. The cousins looked underneath thick trees for dry wood. They picked up a few pieces. They also found dry bark strips and grass underneath.

  They took everything they had gathered back to the top of the hill. The bishop’s men were busy trying to start the fire by striking rocks. Sparks flew, but the wood wouldn’t catch fire.

  “We’re losing time!” Tristan cried.

  “God will provide,” the bishop said. “Search the forest for drier wood and better rocks to start the fire.”

  “Should I tell them?” Beth asked Patrick.

  “Not until I’m sure this will work,” Patrick said.

  Patrick knelt down and made a small pile out of the bark and grass.

  “Sit on that side,” Patrick said to Beth. “That will help block the wind.”

  Beth crouched near the pile.

  Patrick opened the tinderbox. He held the flint rock in one hand. He held the bar of steel in the other.

  Patrick struck the flint and steel together several times. Sparks flew. One tiny spark landed on the little piece of cloth in the tinderbox. The cloth caught fire.

  Patrick used the burning cloth to light the little pile of bark and grass. The fire grew.

  The light caught the bishop’s attention. He was suddenly at their side. The big man knelt down next to Patrick. Then he clapped his hands.

  “It’s working,” Patrick said, relieved.

  “It is fitting that children—innocents— have helped in this glorious event,” the bishop said. “Now stand back.”

  Beth and Patrick stood and backed away from the small fire.

  Patricius placed the torch in the flame for several seconds. Suddenly the pitch on the outside of the torch flamed to life.

  Finn crawled up Patrick’s arm to his shoulder. He made more barking noises.

  The bishop raised the torch in the air. “The druids have led this people into a dark age. We will show them that the light of Jesus is more powerful than their magic!”

  The bishop went to the base of the pile. “Tonight,” the bishop shouted, “let it be known in all the land that Patricius, bishop of Ireland, lit the paschal fire!”

  The bishop threw the torch onto the huge pile of wood.

  Soon the whole pile was ablaze with a roaring fire. Huge orange and red flames leaped up high in the night sky.

  Patrick and Beth moved back from the bright flame. The fire rose upward to the sky. The flames looked as if they might light the dim stars.

  “I’ll bet all of Ireland can see that,” Patrick said.

  The bishop stood in front of the roaring flames. He looked toward the hill of Tara. A crowd of druids gathered outside the castle walls. The bishop threw his arms open wide. “Lochru, evil lord of the druids! Hear now the words I say. Tonight I challenge you and your dark faith.”

  A great cheer rose up from the bishop’s followers. An angry roar echoed from the druids on the hill of Tara.

  Beth looked and gasped. She grabbed Patrick’s arm. “Look! They’re coming!” she cried. “The druids have lit fires now too.”

  Patrick turned toward the castle. The druids’ torches were moving in their direction in a wave of flames.

  At that moment, Tristan came to the cousins’ side. “I would send you somewhere safe, but I don’t know that such a place exists.”

  Finn jumped down from Patrick’s shoulder. Then the red squirrel climbed up Tristan’s brown robe. He perched again on Tristan’s shoulder.

  Tristan squinted in the direction of Tara. He said, “I see a great cloud of white-robed figures moving down the hillside. Lord Lochru, the chief of all the druids, leads the way.”

  They could see one large man at the head of the crowd.

  Tristan said softly, “He holds our nation captive with sorcery.”

  “Why do the people let Lochru get away with it?” Patrick asked.

  “Lochru is a friend of King Logaire, the most important king in Ireland,” said Tristan. “Lochru whispers his prophecies and threats in the king’s ear. King Logaire is afraid. So he obeys Lochru’s commands.”

  They watched as the druids disappeared from view.

  “They’ll be climbing Slane Hill soon,” Tristan said.

  “Are you afraid?” Beth asked, sounding very afraid.

  “The bishop taught me not to fear the things that can kill the body,” Tristan said.

  “How did the bishop become so powerful?” Patrick asked. “He said he was a slave and a swinekeeper.”

  “The bishop escaped from slavery here in Ireland,” Tristan said. “He sailed back to his home in England. But he saw visions from God. In the visions, God called him to come back to this dark land and shine the light of Christ. Patricius was ordained by the church and sent here as a bishop.”

  Patrick heard loud shouts coming from the woods. Torches flickered among the trees. The small flames grew brighter. Men in white hoods and robes arrived at the clearing.

  Patrick reached over to Beth and drew her behind him.

  One druid stepped forward. His long white beard flowed down to his waist. He lifted his druid’s staff high in the air. “I am Lochru,” he shouted. “I demand to know who lit this fire! Come forth and tell us your name if you dare!”

  Patrick looked at the tinderbox in his hand. He felt a surge of anger flow through him. Maybe it was courage. He didn’t like the druids. He didn’t like how they hurt the people with their lies. Suddenly he wanted Lochru to know that he had lit the fire.

  “I did,” Patrick said. His voice sounded nervous to his own ears. “And my name is Patrick.”

  Lord Lochru

  Patrick felt a hand fall on his shoulder an instant later.

  “I am responsible for this fire,” the bishop said from behind Patrick. His tone was warm. But there was a lion’s strength behind it. “I am Patricius, bishop of Christ’s church.”

  Lochru waved a bony finger at the bishop. “How dare you challenge the ancient laws of our land!” he cried.

  The fire crackled and roared behind them. Branches crashed down. A spray of hot sparks flew high into the air.

  Lochru pointed his staff toward the fire. “Put out this fire at once!” he shouted.

  The druids moved toward the flames. Some grabbed dirt and threw it onto the fire. Others tossed large clumps of w
et leaves. But the fire burned hotter.

  “We need water!” one druid called out.

  “Bring water from the creek!” Lochru shouted.

  A few of the druids hurried to obey.

  Lochru turned to the remaining druids. “Guard those two,” he said. “The king will see that they’re punished!”

  The druids moved toward the bishop and Patrick.

  “Take the girl away,” the bishop said quietly to Tristan.

  Beth looked surprised. Tristan raised his hand as if he might protest.

  “Now,” the bishop ordered.

  Tristan nodded. Then he grabbed Beth’s arm and began to pull her toward the woods.

  Beth dragged her feet. “No,” she said. “I want to stay with Patrick.”

  “Go with Tristan,” Patrick said. “We’ll be safe.”

  Suddenly Lochru laughed loudly. “Safe?” he shouted. “You will be dead !”

  Tristan and Beth hid in the forest. They silently watched the clearing from behind some bushes. The light from the fire shone around the crowd for hundreds of feet.

  Hour after hour the druids brought buckets of water up the hill. They threw the water on the flames, but the fire stayed lit. Then more druids came with more water buckets. But the fire only burned brighter as each bucket was emptied on the flames.

  Beth was about to fall asleep against a tree. But she heard a strange sound.

  Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!

  The ground shook.

  Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!

  “What’s that noise?” Beth whispered to Tristan. “It sounds like an earthquake.”

  “Look and see,” Tristan said. He pointed to the clearing.

  Beth and Tristan watched the chariots arrive. They were pulled by galloping horses. Soldiers rode in the chariots. Each carried a shield in one hand and had a sword at his side. They headed straight toward the druids.

  The chariots stopped. A soldier stepped out from one of the chariots. “We come with orders from the high king,” he said to the group of druids.

  Lochru stepped up to meet them. “Speak!” he cried.

  “King Logaire summons the one who lit this fire to appear before him,” the soldier said. “He will be charged with a sentence of death.”