The Druid of Death - a Sherlock Holmes Adventure

by Richard T. ; Ryan

  “Holmes, you amaze me.”

  “Nothing to it, my friend. I anticipated encountering future ogham characters and thought the ability to translate them myself might prove invaluable.” With that he began his transcription.

  After a short while, I could contain myself no longer, “So what does it say?

  “Just another minute or two,” he said.

  I watched as Holmes compared the characters to the list that had been prepared for him. After he had finished transcribing the message, he looked at me and repeated his earlier sentiment. “Yes, I think we are definitely getting too close for someone’s comfort.”

  “What on Earth does it say?” I demanded.

  Pausing for a second, Holmes then looked up at me and remarked, “The gods must be satisfied.”

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, as were breakfasting, there was a knock on the door.

  “Yes, Mrs. Hudson?” asked Holmes.

  Our landlady poked her head in the door and announced, “Inspector Lestrade is here to see you, Mr. Holmes.”

  “Show him in, by all means,” said Holmes.

  A moment later, we were joined at the table by Lestrade. After a cup of tea and a bit of small talk, Lestrade said, “I’ll come clean, Mr. Holmes. I have people to whom I must answer, and they want to know what we are doing to solve these murders.”

  “I assure you, Lestrade, that I am doing everything within my power to see justice done. I will tell you that I think I have made some small degree of progress, and I am currently exploring several promising avenues of inquiry. I will also tell you that I think there will be at least one more murder on the winter solstice unless we can find a way to prevent it.”

  “If this killer strikes again, I may find myself demoted,” moaned Lestrade.

  “Hopefully, it will not come to that,” said Holmes. Tell your superiors that the net is slowly closing around this killer. If he strikes one more time, and I fully believe that he will, we will have him.

  “Assure those demanding action that you are doing everything in your power to prevent another murder, and if all else fails, simply remind them that the Ripper struck more often, killing five women in less than 10 weeks - and no one was ever arrested.”

  “They won’t like to hear that, Mr. Holmes,” said Lestrade.

  “The truth isn’t always pleasant, my friend.”

  “Need we worry about All Hallows Eve as Baring-Gould suggested?” asked Lestrade.

  “I hope not,” said Holmes. “These killings are druidical to a degree, and thus far they have taken place on the equinoxes and the solstice. That leaves us some time to prepare for the next murder.”

  “But didn’t the Reverend Baring-Gould say that Halloween was one of their most important celebrations?” asked Lestrade.

  “Not Halloween but Samhain, although it is celebrated on the same day as our youngsters celebrate Halloween. According to the druidic calendar, Samhain is actually the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter - the darker half of the year, if you will - and that is what gives me pause.”

  “If we have another murder on All Hallows Eve, my superiors will give me more than pause,” remarked Lestrade.

  “Then you must prepare them for the worst. Tell them thus far, the killings have occurred on the solar cycle of the druidic calendar, and there is no evidence of interest in the lunar cycle.”

  Lestrade looked at me quizzically.

  And then Holmes continued, “Prepare them for the possibility of another killing, possibly two more, but tell them - no, guarantee them - that the killer will be captured.”

  “I trust you, Mr. Holmes. You’ve never let me down yet.”

  “Thank you, Lestrade. I promise you that I will do all that I may to prove that your confidence in me has not been misplaced.”

  After Lestrade had left, I said, “That was kind of you to bolster Lestrade’s spirits like that.”

  “I meant every word I said,” replied Holmes. “I will see this killer captured and justice done. I just hope that my efforts to prove his guilt do not come at the cost of any more human lives.”

  “But you didn’t tell him about the letter.”

  “He has enough to worry about,” said Holmes. “The letter is merely another diversion.”

  “Were you able to learn anything from it?”

  “The paper was cheap, and it was written by a quill dipped in ink. The author took great pains to ensure its clarity. I believe that it was written by a man. Given the indentations of the characters in the paper, I should think he is quite strong, and he is left-handed.”

  “Left-handed, how on earth could you know that?”

  “There is a very slight incline in all the characters from right to left. That is characteristic of those who write with their left hand. There is also a slight inclination in the backward direction. By contrast, those who are right-handed tend to write from left to right and their letters are inclined slightly forward. Although he has attempted to disguise his writing, those traits are readily discernable to the trained eye.”

  * * *

  Over the next few weeks, Holmes divided his time between working on the druid killings, as we had come to call them, and several other affairs that demanded his attention.

  I found myself quite busy covering for a colleague who had fallen ill, and so it was that I returned to Baker Street on the evening of October 28th to find Holmes conducting another of his malodorous chemical experiments. Looking up, he inquired of me, “Watson, can you clear your schedule for the next few days?”

  “I suppose so,” I replied, “Dr. Semler seems much better, and I am certain that he can find another locum as long as I let him know right away.”

  “Please do so,” said Holmes. “I will tell you this, I have no definite plans at present, but three days hence is All Hallows Eve, the feast of Samhain, in the druidic calendar, so I have put myself at Lestrade’s disposal. I have no idea what, if anything, he will require of me, but I gave the man my word.”

  “And I gave you mine. We started this together, and we will see it through.”

  It was around 6 in the evening when Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door. At Holmes’ bidding, she opened it and informed us that Inspector Lestrade wished to see Mr. Holmes. After he had entered and seated himself, he said, “Mr. Holmes, I have been doing my homework. I know that there are many places throughout the kingdom, but I think you will agree with me that few were more highly regarded by the ancients than Avebury.”

  “I certainly can’t argue with that Inspector,” replied Holmes.

  “I plan to take a few select officers, in plainclothes of course, and set out for Wiltshire on a special train from Paddington this afternoon,” he said.

  “I should advise against that,” said Holmes.

  “But why?” asked Lestrade.

  “What better way to announce that something unusual is going on in a rather remote area than by having a special pull into Swindon and then having a group of strangers descend on the hamlet of Avebury. No, Lestrade, it simply won’t do.”

  “What would you suggest, Mr. Holmes.”

  “Take four men and we will make seven.”

  “Only four?” asked Lestrade.

  “Any more and we might have more officers there than there are villagers,” replied Holmes.

  “Have two of your men start for Swindon and the other two should head for Marlborough. They should leave as soon as possible. I would prefer that they travel alone rather than in pairs. They can pose as itinerant salesmen, chimney sweeps and peddlers. Once in the area, they can make their way to Avebury by different means. Some may rent a horse at Swindon; others may hire a carriage. It’s a distance of about 10 miles. After they have arrived, have them reconnoiter the village and the surrounding areas. Are you familiar with the stone circles there, Lestrade?”

  “Probably not as familiar as you are Mr. Holmes.”

  “There is one large circle that encloses two other, s
maller circles. Nearby are other prehistoric structures, including West Kennet Long Barrow, The Sanctuary and the rather mysterious Silbury Hill.”

  “Blimey, Mr. Holmes, that’s going to require a great many more men than I can muster on such short notice.”

  “If I may ask, Lestrade. Why are you focusing on Avebury?”

  “You recall Mr. Holmes that I was at Avebury when the second killing took place at the Uffington White Horse.”

  “Yes,” I interrupted, “that was the night that Holmes and I spent at the wretched Nine Ladies place.”

  “I am sorry about that, Doctor,” said Lestrade. Turning back to my friend, he said, “Call it a policeman’s hunch, Mr. Holmes, but there’s something about Avebury that has haunted me since I was there. If I were this druid killer, I would find it impossible not to offer a sacrifice at that place. It is one of the queerest spots I have ever seen.”

  “Again, I cannot fault your deductions, Lestrade. Nor would I be inclined to argue with your finely-honed instincts.”

  I cast a glance at Holmes, but it was impossible to tell if he were being serious or enjoying a gentle just at Lestrade’s benefit.

  “Now, run along, and try to get your men in place. Stress to them the importance of being inconspicuous. Also, if you have any officers who are not from London originally, you might consider assigning them. Too many similar accents, might cause someone to get the wind up.”

  “I’ve stolen a march on you there, Mr. Holmes,” said Lestrade. “The same thought struck me, and I have acted accordingly.”

  “Bravo,” said Holmes warmly. “We will make a proper inspector of you yet, Lestrade.

  “So then it is settled. Watson and I will meet you at Paddington tomorrow where we shall board the four o’clock train for Swindon.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I am in your debt.”

  After he had left, I looked at Holmes and said, “Do you really expect something to happen at Avebury?”

  “Honestly, no. But if something should occur, we will be there before the townspeople and those living in the vicinity have had a chance to trample any clues underfoot that might have been left behind.”

  October 31st dawned bright and crisp. It grew gradually warmer to the point where it seemed more like early summer than the middle of autumn. Reflecting that today was also the first day of winter according to the druids, I had to conclude that our calendar appeared far more accurate, if that term could be applied, than theirs.

  Holmes was in one of his more reticent moods. I know that he thought spending the night at Avebury was pointless, but he had given Lestrade his word. As the day wore on, Holmes became slightly more talkative, but his misgivings were written all over his face.

  We met Lestrade at Paddington and had a first-class carriage on the train to Swindon. During the journey, Holmes inquired about where Lestrade planned to place his men.

  “As you know, the largest stone circle is bisected by two roads that meet in the center of the village. I had thought to place one man in the North Circle, another in the South Circle. I was planning on having another patrolling the Sanctuary and I will take my spot at Silbury Hill with the last officer and then wander from site to site. I was rather hoping that you and Doctor Watson might take the West Kennet Long Barrow. Of all the places in Avebury, that would be the one where I feel our killer might strike.”

  “Because it has served as a burial area in the past?” asked Holmes.

  “Exactly,” said Lestrade. “There are plenty of places for you and Doctor Watson to conceal yourselves among the stones, and if anything should happen there, you will be the first one on the scene.”

  Glancing over, I thought I saw a brief smile flash across my friend’s face. Both he and I knew that Lestrade was playing to his vanity, and Holmes seemed quite content to appear obtuse to the Inspector’s little charade.

  “So, if my calculations are correct, we have a total of seven men to patrol some 28 square miles.”

  “Is Avebury that big?” I asked.

  “Indeed,” said Holmes. “I have been reading a great deal about these sites since the killings began, and perhaps a quote that may help put things in perspective for both you and Lestrade comes from the 17th-century antiquarian, John Aubrey, who wrote of Avebury, ‘It does as much exceed in greatness the so renowned Stonehenge as a cathedral doeth a parish church.’ Thus while the village is quite small, the stone circles and other prehistoric structures have been spread out over several miles. In fact, there is one theory put forth by a historian which opines that at one time, Avebury and Stonehenge may have been connected in some way.

  “Now, as regards tonight, the one obvious benefit that we have is that the locale is sparsely populated. However, working against us is the scope of the area as well as the terrain. It’s approximately a mile and a half from Avebury to Silbury Hill, and there is quite a distance between all four areas that you wish to patrol. In between, there are banks and ditches, and plenty of sheep grazing in the area.

  “This will be a tremendous undertaking, Lestrade. I hope your men are up to the task.”

  “They will be, Mr. Holmes. They understand what is at stake. They all have police whistles, and we have devised a code whereby each officer, should he encounter anything suspicious, will blow his whistle a specified number of times to alert everyone else to his location.” He then gave Homes and me whistles - “in case you should get separated” - and explained the code to us.

  “That certainly sounds all well and good,” said Holmes, “but let us hope the night passes quietly.”

  That said, Holmes and Lestrade continued to modify and refine the Inspector’s plan all the way to Swindon. We then hired a carriage to drive the three of us to Avebury. During the drive, Holmes and Lestrade made small talk about fishing in the local streams.

  It was just after dark when we finally arrived in Avebury. Leaving us at the Red Lion, where we had booked rooms for the night, Lestrade began to check on his men, who had concealed themselves near the various sites they had been assigned to watch. Returning nearly two hours later, he informed us that everyone was in place.

  As we ate, Holmes told us of the Red Lion’s history and the fact that it had claims to be the country’s oldest inn, and he concluded with the fact that it was supposedly haunted by the wife of an innkeeper, who had caught her in the arms of another man and then killed them both.

  “Her name was Florrie,” said Holmes, “and perhaps you may catch a glimpse of her in your room before we leave.”

  As it was now fully dark outside, we left the Red Lion. We walked with Lestrade down between rows of stones as we made our way to The Sanctuary, yet another stone circle, and the West Kennet Long Barrow. Both are about a mile and a half from Avebury and they are separated from each other by about three-quarters of a mile.

  We agreed to meet on the road in the morning, unless something brought us together sooner.

  Holmes and I headed for the Long Barrow. As we walked, he gave me a brief description of the barrow that had been imparted to him by Professor Connors. “Scientists and antiquarians have been interested in this area for hundreds of years. In fact, the area was almost lost thanks to the ministrations of one Doctor Troope, an 18th-century charlatan who removed many bones from the burial chamber. He claimed that he used the bones to create a ‘noble medicine’ that worked wonders on many of his patients.”

  “How bizarre!” I exclaimed.

  “The barrow itself is more than 300 feet long and one may enter into the burial chambers themselves. Unfortunately, the passage only extends about 40 feet, but one may still access four different chambers from it. I plan to conceal myself in the barrow, Watson, and I should like you to set up a watch post from which you can see the entrance. If anyone should arrive, allow them to enter and then come to the stone with your weapon at the ready.

  “Any questions, old friend?”

  “No, but I must say this is one of the most unusual places that I have ever seen.”r />
  “Don’t let your nerves get the better of you, Watson. Unless I miss my guess, nothing is going to happen.”

  “But what if we are set upon by a cult of crazed druids?” I protested.

  “I can assure you that will not happen,” said Holmes. “I believe that we are looking for a killer who is using the trappings of an ancient religion to conceal his acts.”

  “To what end?” I asked.

  “When I have put all the pieces together, I assure you that you will be the first to know. Now, here we are. I’ll conceal myself inside and you can look around for a suitable hiding place.”

  After leaving Holmes, I managed to find two large stones right near each other, and I concealed myself between them, in such a manner that I was terribly uncomfortable and thus far less likely to fall asleep.

  I have spent many nights on watch with my friend, but knowing that a diabolical killer was preying on innocent young people helped me steel my resolve. Periodically, I would check my watch using the dark-lantern that I had brought with me. To say that time moved slowly that night, would be a gross understatement. Minutes seemed like hours and hours days, but finally I could see the sky just beginning to lighten when I heard four sharp blasts from a distant police whistle. Holmes had also heard them, for he emerged from the barrow and yelled “Silbury Hill, old friend.”

  Holmes and I then set off at a breakneck pace across the fields toward the mysterious mound. I later learned that Silbury Hill is the largest man-made mound in Europe and is roughly the size of the Egyptian Pyramid. As we ran, I heard the whistle blasts repeated a second and then a third time.

  As we neared the hill, Holmes yelled back, “Hurry, Watson, I will need your assistance with this.”

  The four blasts were then sounded again. “Around the back,” yelled Holmes, who was some 50 feet in front of me. I followed my friend, and I thought I heard Lestrade yelling in the distance as well.

  Holmes began to ascend the hill, and I saw another figure standing quite close to the top. I heard Holmes yell to him, “Stay back! Don’t touch anything!”