Sacrifice

by Philip Freeman

  I heard footsteps approaching the temple from beyond the hedge and then a knock on the wooden door. I was tempted not to answer it, but I knew who it would be. She was the one person I didn’t mind talking to at that moment.

  “Dari, come in. The door isn’t latched.”

  She entered carrying a blanket and spread it on the dirt floor of the hut beside me. She also pulled a small jug of beer and a loaf of bread from her satchel and placed them in front of us. I wasn’t hungry, but it was thoughtful of her. She put her arm around me, giving me a tight hug. I reached out and squeezed her hand in return.

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. I knew she was going to let me speak first.

  “Dari, I don’t understand how this could have happened. Grainne was one of the most caring and thoughtful people I’ve ever known. Do you remember that night a couple of years ago when we stayed at her hermitage on the way back to Kildare? She gave us the last of her wine and insisted we sleep on her bed while she spread out a mat on the floor for herself. And she was funny, too. I still remember the joke she told last Easter about the goose who went to visit the two swans.”

  Dari laughed.

  “I remember too. She was one of my favorite people in the world. She was the first person to welcome me when I came to the monastery from Ulster, just before I met you. She told me that everything was going to be all right after all the hard times I had been through. And she was right.”

  Dari began to cry.

  “Deirdre, why would anyone kill her? She had no enemies. She had nothing worth stealing except a cow, and the murderer left that behind. And the way she was killed. Why would someone do such terrible things to her?”

  “I know, Dari, believe me, I know. It doesn’t make any sense. Even in ancient times, no druid would seek out an innocent old woman for a sacrifice. It’s a blasphemy against everything the druids held—and hold—dear.”

  I saw a hedgehog peek its head through the door to the temple. They were strange little creatures with brown spikes covering their bodies except for their undersides and noses. This one lived in a hole by our barn. He had smelled our food and was trying to decide if it was something he might like. I tore off a piece of bread and tossed it to him. He sniffed it, looked at me as if to ask if that was all I was offering, then took it back into his den.

  “How are the sisters back in the sleeping hut holding up?”

  “No one is sleeping, as far as I could tell. Some were still crying when I left, some were gathered by the fire sharing stories about Grainne, and a couple were sitting on their cots just staring at the walls. Kevin moved her body from the infirmary to the church after you left. Sister Anna and some of the elderly nuns who knew her best are holding a vigil there. Father Ailbe is with them.”

  “I’m such a coward, hiding here. I should be there too.”

  “It’s your turn in the fire temple. I’ll take your place here if you want, but everyone understands. They also know how difficult this is for you. No one blames you because you’re a druid.”

  “You always see the best in everyone, Dari. They may not blame me directly for Grainne’s death, but I saw the way some of them looked at me in the church, especially Eithne.”

  Sister Eithne had been my nemesis since my first day as a child at the monastery school.

  “Eithne has always looked at you like that. She’d blame you if the sky fell down on her head. As for the others, I think they’re just frightened. It all happened so suddenly. They don’t know what they’re mad at or who to blame. You’re the resident druid at our little monastery, so naturally they look at you suspiciously. It won’t last.”

  Dari pulled her blond hair back behind her neck and tied it with a ribbon from her pocket. She was the same age as me, but she always managed to look younger than her thirty years. My grandmother once said she had the spirit of a woodlark and the courage of a she-wolf protecting her cubs.

  “It doesn’t really matter if some of them are mad at me, Dari. The problem is finding out who killed Grainne and finding out quickly. King Dúnlaing is going to be outraged by this brutal murder and see it as a blatant attack on his sovereignty. This is not some family revenge killing or an isolated raid by outlaws. It was cold and calculated and meant to strike fear into the hearts of us all. The king knows that a ruler who can’t protect his own people is seen as weak in the eyes of everyone. Word of this killing will spread across Ireland, and other kings may try to take advantage of it. The last thing we need now is a war with another tribe. We’re too weak after the years of fighting with the Uí Néill. We need time to heal.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Honestly, I hadn’t thought of anything except how much I’m going to miss Grainne.”

  “I know, Dari. It’s just that I was born into the nobility of this island and can’t help but know how they think. As much as some of them may genuinely grieve at the death of Grainne, they’ll all consider how this might change the game of power they play. Who gets weaker, who gets stronger, what opportunities does this open—you can bet they’re already talking about it at Dúnlaing’s court. By next week, they’ll be debating it from Munster to Ulster.”

  “Deirdre, I don’t know about the politics of these things, but I’ve met a number of druids in my life, especially since you and I have become friends and I’ve gotten to know your grandmother. I know you can’t talk about druid secrets, but what possible reason would a member of the Order have for killing Grainne?”

  “That’s just it, Dari. It doesn’t make any sense. This kind of sacrifice hasn’t been done for centuries. Even then, it was a rare event that was carefully debated by the whole druid community before being carried out, never an isolated action done by a lone druid or even a small group. And such a sacrifice was always meant to bring balance to the land. I’m afraid that Grainne’s death is going to do just the opposite and throw everything into chaos.”

  Dari stared at the fire for a while, then yawned and stretched out her arms.

  “Well, I for one would like to put this day behind me and begin again tomorrow. Why don’t you throw a couple more logs on the fire to keep us both warm tonight.”

  “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I’ll be fine alone.”

  She smiled and stretched out on her blanket next to me. She was asleep almost as soon as her head touched the ground. I pulled her cloak over her and put more logs on the fire. Then I took my harp from its case and softly plucked the strings as I began to sing:

  Where is God on a night such as this?

  Where is the mercy of Christ, the love of Mary,

  the watching eyes of Brigid the fair?

  Where is Grainne, the gentle woman of Leinster,

  who was a light in this dark, cold world?

  Dear Jesus, let her leap like a lamb

  freed from its ropes as she enters the gates

  of your kingdom on high,

  never to know suffering again.

  And remember your children left here without her.

  I put away the harp and curled up beside Dari, tucking my cloak around her as well. I lay awake for a long time, watching the gentle dance of the flames in the fire.

  Chapter Six

  Dari and I were up early the next day for morning prayers in the church. I placed more logs on the hearth and banked the fire so it would burn until evening, when another sister would come and spend the night in the temple. We gathered our bedding to take back to the nuns’ sleeping quarters before the service. I couldn’t hide anymore. It was time to face whatever lay ahead.

  “Did you sleep at all last night?” Dari asked as we walked through the muddy monastery yard. It had rained hard in the early morning hours, and the muck was even worse than usual.

  “Not much. Maybe tonight will be better. Are you still holding classes this morning?”

  Dari was the teacher of the youngest children at the monastery school.

  “Oh, yes. The children are scared and confused, of course, but it’s i
mportant that we go on as always. Little ones need consistency in their lives.”

  “Don’t we all? I’m actually looking forward to getting back to work in the barn today. While I’m figuring out how to investigate this murder, I’m going to clean out the cattle stalls and patch up the fence on the far side of the pig pen. I’m not going to bother bathing until tonight.”

  I saw that Dari was no longer beside me but a few steps behind, staring into the distance.

  “Deirdre, what is that?”

  She was pointing to a tree trunk about a quarter of a mile away on a low rise south of the monastery. It was an ancient oak that had been struck by lightning a few years ago. The tree was dead, but the scarred remains of the bare trunk still rose like a blackened stake hammered into the ground by some angry god.

  There were crows circling the tree. On the top fork of the trunk was some object I couldn’t make out at that distance.

  “I’m not sure, Dari. Maybe an animal? Hunters sometimes tie a deer to the tree to gut the carcass.”

  “I don’t think so.” Her eyes had always been better than mine. “Whatever’s on top looks yellowish, like golden hair.”

  We dropped our blankets and began to run.

  Brother Kevin must have seen it at the same time we did, since we all arrived at the tree together. For a moment the three of us just stared, trying to understand what we saw in front of us. Then Dari fell to the ground and threw up.

  The naked body of a young woman was tied with thick ropes to the broken trunk of the tree. A crow that had been perched on her right shoulder had flown away when we came near. Signs and emblems, all of which I knew were sacred druid symbols, had been carved into the flesh around her breasts with a knife. But there was no head on the body.

  On the sharp point at the top of the tree, higher than I could reach, was the missing head of the woman, fixed as if on a pike. The golden blond hair was blowing in the wind, wrapping itself thickly around her face.

  Others from the monastery were running to the tree now, including Sister Anna, who came and stood with us. I could also see Father Ailbe coming down the path as fast as he could.

  The abbess took in the scene in a moment and made the sign of the cross on her chest.

  “Sister Deirdre, how long have you been here?” she asked.

  “I just arrived, along with Dari and Kevin. We were spending the night in the fire temple and saw the body as we left for morning prayers. I don’t know—”

  “Enough. I’ll have more questions for you later.”

  She turned to Father Ailbe, who had just arrived. He was out of breath but walked around the tree, examining the body from every angle.

  “Father, is there any reason we need to have this young woman exposed like this?”

  “No,” he said. “The cause of death is obvious. The heavy rain has washed away any tracks around the trunk. We can bring her down.”

  Sister Anna took off her own cloak and wrapped it around the corpse as best she could. She then asked Kevin and one of the other brothers to hold the body while she cut the ropes. Once it was released, they lowered it gently and placed it in a patch of grass a few feet away.

  “Brother Kevin, can you reach her head?” she asked.

  He nodded. He was easily the tallest of the brothers at the monastery. He reached up and began carefully wiggling the head to ease it off the top of the tree. It made a horrible sucking sound when it finally came loose.

  “Sister Darerca, may I borrow your veil?”

  The abbess was the only one at the monastery who called Dari by her given name.

  “Yes, of course.”

  Dari gave her the linen veil we normally wore around our necks except when we covered our heads at prayer. The abbess folded it in her arms and asked Kevin to place the head there. She began to gently push the hair away from its face, careful to keep it from the bloody stump, so that she could reveal the identity of the young woman. But she already knew. We all knew.

  “Saoirse.”

  The newest member of our monastic family, Saoirse was a strikingly beautiful young woman in her early twenties, from a warrior clan just to the east of the monastery. She had been a student at Kildare and was loved by us all. She was particularly drawn to the stories of the holy women of Egypt who had gone into the desert alone to follow God. Her parents were Christians, and her father was one of the most prosperous cattle lords of our tribe. He was also a proven warrior at the side of the king in battle. He had received generous offers for bridal payments for his daughter since she was twelve, but, being an indulgent man and loving father, he had agreed to the wishes of his child and not made her leave the school. When she turned eighteen, she asked him if she could become a nun. He was none too pleased at first, but he was a devout man with several older sons and daughters. He agreed at last to her marriage to the church and had wept tears of pride as she took her vows at Kildare just a few months earlier. She decided to live as a solitary in a hermitage not far from her family farm. Although she was most sincere in her wish to seek God apart from the world, she came to the church for mass every Sunday and was a frequent visitor to her family’s holdings as well.

  Sister Anna cradled Saoirse’s head in her arms and wrapped the folds of the veil over her face.

  “Brother Kevin, can you carry her body back to the infirmary?”

  We all walked together back to the monastery, with Sister Anna and Kevin leading the procession. When we reached the infirmary, Kevin carried her body inside. Sister Anna then asked Father Ailbe and me to join her to examine the body.

  “Sister Anna, may I send for my grandmother?” I wanted her to look at the signs carved on Saoirse’s chest.

  “No, Sister Deirdre, you may not.”

  We entered the hut, and the abbess placed Saoirse’s head gently on the side of the examination table next to her body. Father Ailbe began by unwrapping the veil from her face. The look of the young woman was again one of complete peace. I had seen people beheaded before as punishment for some heinous crime. The look that remained on their faces after death was always one of terror.

  “No blows to the back of the head or elsewhere on the cranium,” said Father Ailbe. “The decapitating blow was made with the single stroke of a broad and very sharp axe. The tendons, vertebrae, and spinal cord were all severed cleanly, with no need for further sawing or cutting. Death was instantaneous. She did not suffer.”

  He bent down and kissed Saoirse on the forehead, then covered her face with the veil and moved to her body, pulling back the cloak.

  “Aside from these symbols carved in her skin, there is no visible trauma to her upper or lower torso. The limbs are similarly unremarkable. Once again, no cuts or lacerations on the hands. The carved symbols show swelling around the edges, indicating that she was alive when they were made.”

  I helped him turn her over.

  “No trauma of any kind to the back of the body.”

  We turned her over again.

  “We should examine her stomach contents,” said the abbess.

  Father Ailbe and I did the same procedure as with Sister Grainne. The odor was identical.

  “Mistletoe.”

  I covered her again except for her chest. There were six markings artfully carved into her skin. There were two above her breasts, one below, and one to the right and left; these were graceful swirls, figures, and lines of simple design. Between her breasts was a sixth carving twice the size of the others.

  “Deirdre, do these symbols mean anything to you?” he asked.

  “Yes, Abba, they are druidic signs.”

  “Signifying what?” asked Sister Anna.

  “Sister Anna, I . . . I can’t tell you. But I can say that we are all in grave danger. There will be more deaths if we can’t find the killer.”

  She stared at me as if she was weighing something in her mind, then pointed to the sign above Saoirse’s right breast.

  “This is the head of a crow, the symbol of the Morrigan. Even
those of us outside the Order can recognize the sign of the goddess of battle. Do you betray any secrets by confirming this for me?”

  “No, you are correct, Sister Anna. It is the symbol of the Morrigan.”

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about these other signs?”

  “Sister Anna, I would if I could, but—”

  “Get out, Sister Deirdre.”

  “But I—”

  She held the door open.

  “I said leave us. Leave the monastery. Now. You are expelled from the order of holy Brigid. You are no longer one of us.”

  The whole community of Kildare was gathered outside the infirmary, again waiting for news. They had all heard the final words of Sister Anna. They parted silently as I walked through the crowd. All the brothers and sisters turned their heads away, except for Eithne, who spat at my feet. Only Kevin and Macha reached out to touch my arm as I passed. Dari was at the end of the line and started to hug me, but I shook my head. She was going to have a hard enough time from the others as it was. I walked across the yard to the sleeping quarters of the nuns and took my harp and satchel from the wall above my bed. I left everything else from my life as a nun behind and walked out through the gate, down the path to my grandmother’s hut.

  Chapter Seven

  Would you like some more wine?”

  I was sitting by the hearth fire at my grandmother’s house that same evening. She had made roasted chicken with apricot sauce, my favorite, and we had just finished washing the dishes.

  “No, thank you, Grandmother. I think three cups is enough for one night.”

  I had a sense of hazy unreality after the events of the day, as if I couldn’t wake up from a bad dream—and the wine wasn’t helping. I had seen the results of a brutal human sacrifice and been stripped of my life as a nun, all since sunrise. I had come to my grandmother’s house because I had nowhere else to go. It had been three years since I had lived in this place. I had gone from here to the monastery after the death of my son because I needed a new life and a new beginning. Kildare had become my home and my world, the nuns and brothers my closest friends. Now all that was gone.