The Druid of Death - a Sherlock Holmes Adventure

by Richard T. ; Ryan

  “You have all secured the blankets and dark lanterns?” Again, there were nods of assent. “I believe Inspector Lestrade has something else for you men.”

  “Actually, I have two things for you,” said Lestrade as he placed a satchel on the table. Opening the bag, he began to pull out the Webleys, handing one with an extra box of cartridges to each man. When he had finished, he said, “Permission to carry these comes directly from Commission Bradford, and that should be an indication of how badly he wants this man captured. We will be in the dark, so think of these as the last resort. Remember, your comrades might be moving, so be absolutely certain that you have the killer in your sights should you feel the need to fire.”

  There were looks of gratitude, mixed with a hint of disbelief as Lestrade parceled out the weapons. When he had finished, Sergeant Driver said, “Speaking for all of us, thank you sir.”

  “And you all have your coshes?” asked Lestrade.

  “We do,” said Driver. “You said there were two things Inspector.”

  “I did, indeed,” said Lestrade. Reaching into the satchel once again, he pulled out five Masonic flasks. “It’s going to be a long night, so before you take your positions, fill these with hot tea or coffee. Hopefully, tomorrow we can celebrate with something a bit stronger.”

  “You all have your whistles?” asked Holmes, “and you know the signals?”

  “We do, sir,” said Tierney, who together with Driver appeared to be the two senior officers.

  After Holmes and Lestrade had fielded a few more questions, they went over the plan one more time. When they had finished, Holmes looked at them and said, “Be careful, gentlemen. We are dealing with an adversary unlike any other you may have encountered.

  “It’s going to be a long, cold night, so get some rest and then everybody should be in position no later than seven o’clock. Good luck, men.”

  As they left, I was a whirl of emotions. I felt the excitement of the chase, but it was tempered by the fact that these brave men had volunteered to try to catch a killer. I didn’t know if they had families or not, but I was grateful that such men stood between us and this and sundry other unspeakable evils.

  Suddenly, I felt Holmes staring at me. Without saying a word, he simply glanced at the men then back and me and gave an almost imperceptible nod. At that point, I knew that the day was going to drag on inexorably. When we left the inn to depart for Marlborough, the sky was gray and overcast. Throughout the carriage ride, I could feel the burden of time on my shoulders. I saw much the same look on Lestrade’s face, but Holmes was a veritable picture of equanimity. I then determined to enjoy the respite because I knew that an uncertain future awaited us at the top of Merlin’s Mound.

  Chapter 22

  “And you must promise me that you will be careful? We are so close!” she implored.

  “I promise you that I will come to no harm, acushla,” he replied.

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because we have been through this before. I have taken every precaution. There are ample diversions out there. The police will be hunting for me from one end of the country to the other, but I do not think, they will be where I am.”

  “And have you the branches? And the symbol and the message?”

  Pointing to a pack he had slung over his horse’s back, he said, “I cut them this morning. Everything I need is right there. Once this is done, we are in the clear, and no one will ever suspect us. I promise you that.”

  “I do hope that you are right,” she said. “I don’t know what I would do if anything were to happen to you.”

  “Well you needn’t worry yourself. Now I must go. I have a great many miles to cover if I am to finish this business.”

  “I don’t want to know anything else,” she exclaimed. “I just want to know that when the sun rises tomorrow, you will be here with me - safe and sound.”

  “I give you my word,” he said, and before she could say anything else, he wheeled his horse around and headed for his destination.

  As he rode, he considered everything that had happened in the past nine months, and then he cast his mind back even further, remembering the first time he had seen her so many years before and how totally smitten he had been.

  It was a match that never would have happened. He, the son of a poor dairy farmer, and she, the daughter of the local gentry. Despite everything, their love had triumphed, and he would do anything, even the darkest deeds, for her.

  Although the years of separation had been difficult, the travails he had undergone while abroad had changed him, and he had returned from Africa and his service in Dahomey a vastly different man. Life meant more to him than it ever had, and if taking another to advance his own were required, then so be it. He had long since given up thoughts of an afterlife. The only things that really mattered were the here and the now. They were reality, not some vague promise of eternity that might never come to fruition.

  However, the pain that he had endured paled in comparison to the joy he felt when he thought of her. Time had done nothing to cool their ardor, and when he had chanced to see her on Marylebone Road in London that spring day three years ago, it was as if an hour had passed instead of more than two decades.

  And then he turned his thoughts to their future together. He reasoned that the bonds that had joined them - as unseemly as they now might be - had been forged of iron. Certainly, they were far firmer than any words he might have muttered standing in a church somewhere. They had both been tested and they had emerged victorious - and together.

  No, the future looked bright and promising and all that stood between him and the woman he loved were the deeds of one more night.

  Steeling himself for the task ahead, he spurred his horse on. “The sooner this is behind us, the better.”

  Chapter 23

  Our carriage deposited us in front of the Green Dragon, and the manager seemed quite pleased to see us again, especially since there were now three of us. The hotel seemed remarkably quiet, and then I remembered it was the Friday before the Christmas holiday.

  After Holmes suggested that we meet at six for dinner, we all retired to our rooms to get some rest. I cannot speak for Holmes or Lestrade, but for a long time sleep eluded me as surely as this killer had sidestepped all of our efforts to capture him. So I lay there, turning over all the events of the past nine months, reviewing each murder in detail and wondering what Holmes had seen that I had not. When I finally did nod off, my dreams were filled with gruesome images and druidic symbols.

  When I awoke, I glanced at my watch and saw that it was just ten minutes before six. I quickly washed my face and went downstairs to meet Holmes and Lestrade.

  Dinner was a solemn affair. We sat off in a corner of the dining room so that Holmes and Lestrade could review their plans one final time. Anytime someone would enter the dining room, he attracted the attention of my friend, who would appraise the individual and then dismiss him.

  The meal might have been a feast, but my mind was racing to the night ahead. As a result, I tasted little although, oddly enough, Holmes seemed to enjoy his food as did Lestrade.

  As we sat over coffee and cigars, the inspector said, “Best savor that Mr. Holmes. It might be a while before we can enjoy another.”

  “True enough,” he replied. Pulling his watch from his pocket, he said, “It is a quarter before the hour. I suggest that we make our way to the mound.” Each of us then returned to our rooms where we retrieved the blankets the officers had given us earlier in the day. I checked to make certain that I had an extra candle and matches for my dark lantern. I put everything in a small satchel and then I took the flask downstairs and asked if I might have it filled with hot tea.

  “What might you gentlemen be up to this evening?” inquired the manager. I could see that Holmes and Lestrade were carrying similar bags and assumed that they had made identical requests.

  “Tonight is the winter solstice,” replied Holmes. “And we are going over to Av
ebury to record the constellations and take photographs of the sunrise with a revolutionary new camera that my friend here is developing,” said Holmes, indicating Lestrade.

  “Well, I wish you the best of luck,” he replied. “Hopefully, the rain will hold off, and there will be a sunrise to photograph; otherwise, you will have spent a night in the cold for nothing.”

  “Such are the vagaries of nature,” replied Holmes. “We are at the mercy of forces beyond our control.”

  A few minutes later, we found ourselves walking along High Street toward the grounds of Marlborough College. What had been such a pleasant excursion just a few days earlier, now seemed fraught with peril.

  When we entered the grounds, we were in total darkness. The clouds hid the stars, and there were no lanterns on the pathways. Holmes took the lead, walking slowly, followed by Lestrade, and I brought up the rear.

  We headed straight to the path that led to the top. How different things seemed under the cover of darkness. I imagined blackguards and cutthroats lurking behind every bush and tree. I must confess that it took me a minute to rein in my imagination. “Thoughts like that will do you no good on a night like this,” I told myself.

  Although Merlin’s Mound is but sixty feet high, give or take, that climb seemed far longer than it was. Each step was taken with care. When we finally reached the summit, I thought I saw something move in the shadows to our left and then Sergeant Tierney materialized out of the darkness. “All the men are in place below,” he said.

  “Excellent,” said Holmes. “Let us make a square - one on each side of the summit at the outermost edges where there are trees and bushes for concealment. Lestrade, you take the far end. Watson and Sergeant Tierney will face each other from opposite sides, and I will remain here, closest to the path.

  “I do not know how long we must wait, but I cannot impress upon you strongly enough the need for absolute silence.”

  We then moved to our places. I found myself on Holmes’ right side. After some little searching, I discovered a small bush that still had a surprising number of leaves on it and wrapped myself in my blankets, with the green one on the outside.

  With nothing to do but wait, I started to think back over my long association with Holmes. We had faced thieves, blackmailers and more than our share of murderers, but I could recall no one who had ever killed in this manner before save the Ripper. I knew that Holmes had long since jettisoned the secret cult of druids theory, and I began to wonder what had led him to his conclusions.

  After a few hours, the cold began to creep into my bones. Although I listened intently, I could not hear a sound. I stretched as silently as I could and shook my limbs, trying to keep warm. I was fully aware that I might have to leap into action at any time.

  As I waited, I recalled other vigils with Holmes. I was just about to take a sip of tea when I thought I heard a voice. I remained absolutely still until I heard it a second time. Although I couldn’t see anything, I could now make out the words: “Careful there laddie, you’ve had a wee bit too much to drink. Watch your step there now.”

  The voices were coming from the direction of the path we had used to ascend to the top. “Almost there, my boy. Just a few more steps.”

  I strained my eyes to see in the darkness, and on the other side of the plateau, I saw a single lantern come into view. The light was not bright, but in that absolute darkness it seemed a brilliant beacon. I could discern two figures, one taller than the other, and the taller one seemed to be almost dragging the other one along with him.

  They moved to the center of the top level, where the taller figure placed the other one on the ground. He then proceeded to unpack a bag he had been carrying, although for the life of me I could not see what it contained.

  After he had placed the various items on the ground near the other figure, I saw him lift something and then he spoke, “Nos morituri te salutamus.” Since he was facing in my direction, I could see what he was doing thanks to the light of his lantern. I saw him take a long drink from a silver flask, and then he pulled a knife from his belt.

  At the point I heard Holmes declare, “I don’t think anyone need die here tonight.”

  The man then whirled and threw his lantern at Holmes. When it hit the ground, it went out and pandemonium reigned.

  I heard Lestrade yell, “Don’t you move!”

  In the darkness, I heard the sound of footsteps running; I can only assume they were the killer’s as he tried to make his escape. Then Sergeant Tierney yelled, “He’s heading down the path, I think.” With that he began to blow his police whistle.

  Holmes then yelled, “Watson, see to the victim.” I managed to light my dark lantern and by its glow, I soon found a young man of about 20, unconscious in the middle of the clearing. I could feel a pulse, and although I could find no puncture wound on the neck, I thought that he might have been drugged.

  I lifted him to a sitting position, and tried to get a bit of tea into him to no avail. With all my strength, I managed to get him standing and started to walk him about, hoping the increased blood flow might help to dispel the effects of whatever he had been given. All the while, I could hear shouts in the darkness.

  “He’s headed your way, Driver.”

  “No one has come past me.”

  “Over there,” yelled Sergeant Driscoll.

  “We can’t let him escape,” I heard Lestrade yell.

  The shouts continued back and forth and then suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder. When I turned around, Holmes was standing there holding his dark lantern.

  “How is he?”

  “I think he’s been drugged, but once that wears off, he should be fine. Why aren’t you helping with the chase?”

  “Our quarry is long gone, I fear,” replied my friend. “This is what I wanted,” he said, leaning down and picking up the bag left behind by the would-be killer.

  “Is that important?”

  “Unless, I miss my guess, the contents of this bag should tell us with absolute certainty the identity of the killer. Moreover, it will tell us where to find him and it may also reveal the identity of his accomplice.”

  Chapter 24

  While the officers and Lestrade continued to scour the countryside, Holmes and I headed back to the Green Dragon with our new companion. Between the two of us, we virtually carried him back to the inn, and the owner was none too happy to be awakened from his bed by Holmes pounding on the door.

  “I thought you gentlemen were going to Avebury,” he said. “And what has happened to poor Samuel here?”

  Holmes quickly filled him in, judiciously omitting some key facts and improvising on other aspects. We soon retired to the dining room, where after I had administered some smelling salts Samuel began to regain consciousness. At that point, a bit of brandy brought him fully around.

  He told us that he had met a stranger, an Irishman, who had introduced himself as Liam O’Day, in a pub. They got to talking about horses and the approaching holiday, and the next thing Samuel remembered was waking up in the dining room with us.

  “Can you describe this Mr. O’Day for us?” asked Holmes.

  “He was quite tall with dark black hair and blue eyes. He had a scar on his left cheek, and he said he was on his way to London to visit a sister.”

  Holmes asked a number of other questions, and he concluded with, “Did you happen to notice is he was left- or right-handed?”

  “He was left-handed,” replied Samuel. At that moment, Lestrade and the other officers came into the inn. “He got clean away, Mister Holmes. How he did it I’ll never know, for we had the mound surrounded.”

  “Don’t worry Lestrade,” he won’t get too far.

  “How can you say that?”

  “Because he left this behind,” said Holmes, placing the case on the table.

  “What good will that do us?”

  “Unless I am very much mistaken, it will tell us where to find him. Sergeant Driscoll would you escort Samuel home?”

>   Looking at the youngster, Holmes said, “You are one lucky lad, but from now on, you would do well to be wary of strangers bearing drinks.”

  After they had left, Lestrade looked at the satchel and said, “Will that really lead us to the killer?”

  Opening it, Holmes pulled out a piece of piece of paper. At the top was another druidic symbol.

  “Here’s the first bit of evidence that Mr. O’Day was our druid of death.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Lestrade.

  “It’s a rough version of a Celtic cross,” replied Holmes. “It can mean many things depending upon how you interpret it. Some see it as a navigational tool, others see it as the meeting of energies; still others see it as a symbol of transition. I think the latter interpretation is the one we were intended to ascribe to it. The victim was intended to move from life to death on this night just as the year moves from death to life, with the days starting to grow longer immediately.”

  “But what does it all mean?” Lestrade almost roared.

  “Quite frankly, it means nothing,” replied Holmes, “but I will get to that in a moment.” Looking at the paper, Holmes said, “Here is the second indication. You can see the ogham writing here as well.”

  “And does that mean nothing, as well?” asked Lestrade.

  “Don’t hold me to this translation,” said Holmes, “but I think it may be translated as ‘the end’.”

  “The end? The end of what?”

  “The end of this charade,” replied Holmes.

  “Once again, Mr. Holmes. I am at your mercy,” said Lestrade.

  “Wait, there are a few more things to consider,” said Holmes.

  First, he pulled a small box out of the bag and when he opened the case, we saw a syringe and two small vials of what I believed was some sort of opiate. “I’m sure he brought this along, just in case Samuel started to come around.”