“Father Ailbe speaks wisely.”
We all turned and saw an old druid standing in the doorway. Like many elderly men of the Order, he had a long white beard. The gnarled oak staff he carried was a symbol of authority, but also helped him as he hobbled down the aisle between the two sides of the hall.
“King Dúnlaing, please forgive my tardiness. It is a long ride from Cruachu for someone of my age.”
The king arose.
“Welcome, Cathbad. I am grateful that you have come. The floor is yours to speak.”
Cathbad walked to the center of the hall and faced us, standing to the right of the king. Everyone in the room stood as he passed, even the Christians.
“Let me begin with an apology,” he said. “Sister Anna, on behalf of the druids of this island, I offer my most sincere condolences to the members of the monastery of holy Brigid at Kildare. The men who carried out these horrendous murders are a disgrace to the Order. They have rejected our teachings and used their knowledge of our ways to bring shame on us all. I pronounce them maillaithe—cursed—for all eternity.”
A visible shudder went through the room. There was no worse fate than to be damned by the most powerful druid in Ireland. Such a curse echoed in birth and rebirth throughout the ages.
“I also pledge to King Dúnlaing and to all of you here the full cooperation of the Order in finding and punishing the man or men who are blaspheming our ancient ways.”
There were sounds of assent from the leaders of the western clans and a few from the east.
“Let us live together in peace,” Cathbad concluded, “Christians and druids, followers of old and new ways alike. We are all children of the divine, whether you see the power of heaven as one god or many. We are all connected to each other. We must learn that we are one.”
The king stood up.
“Thank you, Cathbad. You have given us much to consider. Let me add my pledge that none of us will rest until the killer of these women is punished. We will work together, no matter our religious differences. We will stand together against the forces that would tear us apart. We are one tribe and one people.”
The king dismissed us, and the crowd began making their way out the door. But in spite of the words of reconciliation, I couldn’t help but notice that the leaders of the feuding clans were still looking at each other with murder in their eyes.
Chapter Eighteen
My grandmother invited Cathbad to stay at her home, since they had much to discuss. He had arrived in a chariot with a driver, so she decided to accompany them back, though it was not a form of transport she enjoyed. They left as soon as the king’s assembly was over, even though it was growing dark. Sister Anna rode back to Kildare as well that same evening, with her two guards. I was happy to spend the night in the king’s guest quarters with Father Ailbe and walk back to the monastery with him the next morning.
Once I had seen him to the walls of Kildare, I returned to my grandmother’s hut. Cathbad’s driver was already packing the chariot for their journey back to Cruachu.
I entered and found Cathbad and my grandmother sitting on the bench by the fire, eating porridge.
“Deirdre, join us,” Grandmother said.
“Thank you. Cathbad, it’s good to see you again,” I said. “I’m sorry we didn’t have time to talk yesterday. I see you’re preparing to leave. I don’t want to delay you.”
“Nonsense, my child. I’m always glad to make time to visit with you. Even more so as the matters pressing us are urgent.”
Grandmother got up.
“I’ll leave you two to talk. I want to get some strawberries from my garden to send with you, Cathbad. I also gave your man some of my pudding to take back home.”
“Ah, thank you, Aoife. I should have married you years ago when I had the chance.”
“Indeed you should have.”
They both laughed as Grandmother got her basket and went out the door. Cathbad had been happily married for many years, but his beloved wife had died just over a year earlier. She had suffered horribly in the final weeks of her life. Father Ailbe had traveled all the way to Cruachu to treat her, but he said it was a type of illness that had no cure and little way to alleviate the suffering.
“Cathbad, I know you and my grandmother must have discussed the murders of the nuns and the dangers we all face. She’ll share with me all the details of your conversation so you don’t need to repeat them to me now. But is there anything I should know that might help me find this killer?”
“Yes, my child, the two of us sat up most of the night talking about the situation. We agreed that it must be one of the renegade druids from Finian’s group who has taken up his unholy task. I would begin there. Find these associates of Finian and run them to ground. You proceed not only with the king’s authority but with my own. Do whatever you need to do with my blessing. I have already sent word to all the druidic leaders of Leinster to aid you in your work. We must stop this man, Deirdre, and stop him quickly. I may have applied a balm to the tempers at the feasting hall last night, but it will not last. The clans of your tribe are ready to go to war, druid against Christian. You occupy a unique position between these factions. You must extinguish this fire before it consumes your people and spreads throughout this island.”
“I will do everything in my power,” I said. “The nuns should be safe within the walls of the monastery since the king’s guards surround them, but they can’t live like prisoners forever. They can’t carry out their mission of service to others in a fortress. I’ve got to end this.”
“My child, my prayers go with you.”
I refilled his bowl with warm porridge and sat back down beside him.
“Cathbad, would you mind if I asked you about something else?”
“Please do, my child.”
“Do you think Christianity and the ways of the druids can live together? I suppose I’m asking if you think our church will survive in Ireland—or even if it should. Do you think the teachings of the Gospel are a threat to our traditions?”
He took a large spoonful of porridge and blew on it to cool it.
“Deirdre, did you know that Brigid was a friend of mine from long before you were born? I helped her overcome the opposition among the nobles of your tribe so she could establish her monastery at Kildare. She was truly a holy person, even though she was a Christian. I think those who carry out her work are indeed blessed. If our ancient traditions aren’t compatible with her mission of kindness and charity, then it is our ways that are at fault, not hers.”
“Cathbad, I wish all druids felt that way. You’ve always been a most generous man when it comes to the Christians on this island.”
“And why wouldn’t I be? We druids should always be open to new ideas. We don’t think truth can be confined to one narrow form of belief. I have listened carefully to the words of your priests and learned much from the stories of your holy book. I particularly like the parables Jesus told. He seemed to have a keen understanding of human nature and a healthy skepticism regarding dogma. I too wish all of your fellow believers shared his views.”
“Most of us do try. I know there are some Christians who see the Gospel as a sword, but we sisters at Kildare prefer to look at it as a cup of living water.”
“A pleasing metaphor, my child, which I believe you have borrowed from a story of Jesus sitting by a well. If I remember correctly, he spoke those words to a woman.”
“Yes, a Samaritan woman, an outcast of the world in which he lived. Like him, we try to minister to those most in need.”
“A noble mission indeed. If all the Christians of Ireland were like the sisters of Brigid, I would sleep better at night.”
“What do you mean?”
He reached into his cloak and removed a piece of parchment with a message written in Latin and handed it to me. It was from the abbot of Armagh, demanding that Cathbad allow the establishment of a church at Cruachu to preach the way of salvation to the lost souls of Connacht. He th
reatened the fires of hell on anyone who stood in his way.
“You can see, my child, that not all Christians share your views. I fear the priests at Armagh have forgotten the ways of the church that Patrick founded there. He was another good man of your faith. I very much enjoyed my discussions with him when I was younger. He traveled freely throughout Ireland and preached about his god to anyone who would listen, including many druids, though he had only modest success.”
“Cathbad, I apologize for the attitude of the abbot of Armagh. Our faith is not about condemnation and damnation. We want only to share the love of God with the people of Ireland.”
“I know the abbot is not representative of your faith, at least the faith that Patrick and Brigid preached, but I think your view of Christianity is incomplete.”
“In what way?”
“Your religion is not just about love and forgiveness. Jesus gathered the children around him and healed the sick, but he also drove sinners from the Jewish temple with a whip and said that anyone who loved his own family more than him could not be his follower. He himself may not have often spoken of this fiery hell that the abbot mentions in his letter, but his followers certainly do. Your holy book is full of bloodshed, all in the name of your god.”
“But Christianity is not about violence.”
“Yes, I know you would say it is about love; but would a single, all-powerful god who loves each of us permit so much suffering in this life? Forgive me, Deirdre, but would he have allowed your son to be killed so senselessly? Would he have let my wife die in agony?”
He clenched his fist as he spoke.
“And yet, in spite of all the arguments against Christianity, I know something that no one else in the Order seems to realize.”
“What is that?” I asked.
“That in the end, your religion will win.”
“You mean you think Christianity will survive in Ireland?”
“I mean much more than that. Your god will someday conquer this island. I see a day when our land is covered with churches and the ways of the druids are forgotten.”
“But if you think our religion is unreasonable, how can you suppose it will win?”
“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
With 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.
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