“Do you think he would really expel the druids, Grandmother?”
“Yes, my child. If it comes to choosing sides in a clan war, I’m afraid that’s exactly what he would do. He can’t allow the Christians of his kingdom to be slaughtered while he stands idly by. But this is not good news for anyone, even followers of your faith. A religious war in the kingdom of Dúnlaing would bring chaos on our land. The hungry wolves from the other kingdoms would then come and pick clean our bones.”
“What can we do?” I asked.
“Find the murderer, Deirdre. And find him quickly.”
Chapter Nine
My grandmother and I were back at her home by early afternoon. On the walk back from King Dúnlaing’s feasting hall, we discussed what I should do first and decided the best course of action was to immediately confront Finian, the leader of the conservative druids. He lived on a small holding near the ancient fort of Dún Ailinne, so I decided I could leave early the next morning and be back home by nightfall. I wasn’t worried about meeting him or wandering the pathways of Leinster alone. I was a bard, a sacred person in the eyes of all. To kill a bard was to destroy the history and memories of a people, and so was unthinkable on our island. Finian and his fanatical band might despise me for being a Christian, but they would never harm me.
Just after we returned and I had poured a cool glass of buttermilk for both of us, I heard a knock on the door. I opened it and much to my delight found Dari, with Kevin there beside her. We hugged each other and I invited them both in.
“I’m going to wait outside, if you don’t mind, Deirdre,” said Kevin. “I’m responsible for guarding Dari and I want to keep an eye open out here in case anyone comes near.”
“My hero,” said Dari, and she stood on her toes to give Kevin a kiss on his cheek. He blushed like a schoolgirl.
We both laughed. We needed to laugh with all that had happened the last few days. I poured Dari a cup of buttermilk, and my grandmother took one to Kevin as well. She went out to milk her cow and weed the cabbages in the garden, leaving Dari and me alone in her hut.
“How are things going at the monastery?” I asked.
“Not well, as you might expect. The place is in a panic after the two murders, and everyone is wondering what will happen next. It feels like a fortress with the king’s men posted at the gates and walls, though at least we don’t have to worry about being killed in our beds.”
“How is Father Ailbe?”
“He’s wonderful, like a calm harbor in a storm. He’s worried, of course, but he has a comforting word for everyone. It’s Sister Anna I’m concerned about.”
“Sister Anna? I would have thought she would be stronger than anyone.”
“She is, at least as far as she lets anyone see. But I know she’s feeling the loss of Grainne and Saoirse terribly and worries about the other sisters.”
“I’m surprised she allowed you to visit me after what happened yesterday.”
“Actually, she doesn’t know I’m here. But the nuns are permitted to leave the monastery grounds during the day with one of the brothers if he’s armed.”
“What will she do if she finds out you came to see me?”
“I don’t know, and I’m certainly not going to tell her. She doesn’t have the authority to excommunicate you, Deirdre, just remove you as a nun. On the other hand, I wouldn’t show up at the church anytime soon if I were you, especially dressed like that. You look magnificent, by the way. I’ve never seen you dressed in anything but our dull nun clothes. You make quite an impression.”
“I hope so. It might serve me well in my current task.”
I told her about my visit to the king and his commission to find the killer.
“I’ll help you, Deirdre. We’ll work together.”
“Thanks, Dari, but Sister Anna won’t let you run around the countryside with me.”
“I don’t care. She can kick me out of the order too, if she wants. In fact, I might leave in any case. I can’t stand the thought of being at Kildare without you.”
“Dari,” I said, “don’t be foolish. Kildare is your home. I’m not going to be responsible for your leaving all that behind.”
“I don’t want to leave the monastery, but it’s not the same without you there.”
“Are the others being unkind to you for being my friend?”
“Some are a bit cold, but not exactly unkind—well, except for Eithne, who has managed to say ‘I told you so about Deirdre’ at least ten times since yesterday. I’m ready to pound her with a frying pan.”
“Forget Eithne. How are the solitaries doing inside the monastery?”
“That’s one of the things weighing on Sister Anna. Even with all that’s happened, most of them refuse to come to Kildare. They say they’ll trust in God to protect them.”
“They’re ignoring the orders of the king?”
“I think they’re more afraid of Sister Anna than the king, but they won’t even come to the monastery for her sake. The problem is that they’re uncomfortable living with other people. Many of them have been alone for years. It’s a terrifying thought for them to suddenly move into crowded sleeping quarters with other nuns. In fact, those few solitaries who have come to the monastery have settled into other buildings so they can be by themselves. I think Sister Coleen has set up her bed in the nook above the granary.”
“What about Riona?”
Sister Riona was a solitary who lived about a mile from my grandmother’s home. She was a cousin of mine on my mother’s side, a couple of years younger than me, and a much better nun than I had ever been. Her grandfather had been a druid, though she never knew him. Her father and mother had become Christians before she was born and encouraged Riona in her desire to be a sister of holy Brigid. She was an only child, so when they died a few years ago she moved back into the family home as a solitary. She raised sheep there and gave the meat and wool to the monastery.
“She’s one of those who has refused to come to Kildare,” Dari said. “Sister Anna told me to visit her and try to persuade her to return. It’s nearby, so I’m on my way there now.”
“Let me come with you. Maybe she’ll listen to a kinswoman. I don’t like the thought of her out there alone. If she doesn’t want to go to the monastery, I’ll see if she wants to stay here with my grandmother and me.”
“I’d be grateful. She’s as sweet as can be, but there’s a stubborn streak in your family.”
“Not stubborn, Dari, just . . . determined.”
We laughed again and went out the door. Kevin was taking his role as protector very seriously, marching back and forth in front of the hut as if the Saxons were about to invade.
“Kevin, I’m going with Dari to Riona’s hermitage to see if I can’t talk her into returning to Kildare. You can wait here until I bring her back. Maybe you could help my grandmother in the garden. Dari will be safe with me.”
He scratched his head.
“Well, I don’t know, Deirdre. Sister Anna told me to guard her. Are you sure you’ll be safe? I mean, I don’t want anything to happen to either of you.”
Kevin was one of the best men I knew. He was loyal and brave and kind, not to mention tall and handsome. If he hadn’t been such a pious monk, I would have invited him into my bed years ago.
“Please don’t worry, Kevin,” I said. “You know that no one would dare to touch a bard or anyone under their protection. If it makes you feel better, I’ll take a sword with me.”
“All right, but please promise you’ll be back here before dark.”
“I promise.”
I told my grandmother where we were going and took my father’s sword from the wall near my bed. I knew no one would bother us, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.
The path to Riona’s farm lay through a forest of sweet-smelling aspen trees to the west. The heavy rain from the day before had stopped and the sky was warm and clear as we drew near to Riona’s farm. Her small flock was in the meadow next to her
house.
“You’d better let me go first, Dari. Her dogs know me.”
At that moment five large sheepdogs came rushing down the hill, barking at us. They stopped a few feet in front of us, snarling and teeth showing, with the hair on the back of their necks raised.
“It’s all right, boys. It’s me, Deirdre.”
I held out my hand for them to smell. The largest one almost took it off.
“I thought you said they knew you.”
“Maybe they don’t recognize me in my robes.”
“Rory, stop! It’s all right, lads. They’re friends.”
Riona was coming from the barn behind us, pushing a large handcart in front of her. The dogs all ran up to her, and she scratched them behind the ears, then came over to give us both a big hug.
“Look at you, Deirdre, dressed up like the chief bard of Ireland. I’m so glad to see you two. How’s Aunt Aoife?”
“Fine. I left her with Kevin pulling weeds.”
“Well, come in and have a cup of mead. I have to bring the sheep in soon, but I have a little while. I had two lambs taken by wolves last week, so I’ve been keeping them all in the pen by the house at night.”
We went into her home, which was almost identical to my grandmother’s. Riona once said she had thought about knocking it down and building a proper little hermit’s hut, but it seemed silly to waste a good building that had been in her family for years.
She poured us a cup and we sat down around her table.
“So, are you here to give me the same message the king’s men did yesterday?”
“Yes,” I said. “You know about the killings and that the murderer is planning more. This is serious business, Riona. You’re all alone out here. Please come back to the monastery where you’ll be safe, just until this is all over. If you don’t want to do that, then come and stay with me and my grandmother at her house.”
She took a long drink of the mead.
“Deirdre, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I’m not leaving. I can’t take care of my sheep if I’m hiding in the monastery or even at Aunt Aoife’s house. The wolves will have them all for breakfast before the week is out.”
“I’m sure we could find a local farmer to keep them for a little while,” Dari said.
“Maybe, but they’re my sheep. I was there when each of them was born. I take care of them, watch them, shear them, and I’m the one who gently eases them from this life when the time comes. They know me. I can’t just drop them off at some stranger’s farm.”
“Could you bring them to Grandmother’s house and watch them there?”
“That wouldn’t work. She isn’t set up for sheep. You don’t have the pens or anything else they need. Besides, they’re happy here.”
“Riona,” I said, “there is a vicious, determined murderer roaming these woods who is hunting nuns and sacrificing them in horrible ways. I understand your love for your animals, but are they worth your life?”
“I think you overestimate this druid killer, Deirdre. He got away with killing two women who lived without any protection, but I’ve got five dogs who would rip out someone’s throat at my command. I also know how to use a sword. My father was a warrior, just like yours.”
She refilled our cups and took another drink.
“And besides,” she continued, “I can’t give in to fear of the druids. I’ve lived with it my whole life.”
“What do you mean?” asked Dari.
“My grandfather was a druid sacrificer,” she said. “He left this home before I was born, but I heard the story from my parents. When they had been married just a short time, they decided to become Christians. They had attended the monastery school together and loved the life of the church, but would never have dreamed in their youth of defying their parents and leaving the old ways behind. But by the time they came of age and married, only my grandfather was still alive. He lived here with them and served the Order at ceremonies all over the province. He was a formidable man, they say, tall and powerful. It must have taken a great deal of courage for my father and mother to tell him that day that they were joining the church.”
“What did he do?” I asked. I had heard bits and pieces of this story from my grandmother over the years, but never the whole tale.
“He stood up from this table and raised his arms to the sky. Then he called on the gods to curse them, to wither their crops, to decimate their flocks, to render my mother barren, to make them suffer every possible torment for the rest of their lives, then to die wrapped in flame, along with anyone they loved.”
“Dear Jesus, that’s horrible!” Dari said. “What happened then?”
“He walked out the door and never returned. I was born four years later, but not before my mother suffered three miscarriages, and the two of them almost starved after their harvest failed twice and the flock was wiped out by a blight. They thought everything was fine after that and the curse had run its course, but when I came home from the monastery to visit them one day, I found their bodies in the charred ruins of the old barn. I don’t know how the fire had started or why they couldn’t get out, but I buried them in the meadow and moved here myself to tend the sheep.”
“I heard that your grandfather left Ireland years ago,” I said.
“Yes, I heard that too. They say he went to Argyll in the land of the Picts with the Dál Riata. I heard later that he had gone to the northern isles. He may still be alive somewhere. I don’t know and I don’t care. He was a wicked man who killed my parents.”
Tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“I can’t let him win. I can’t let this farm go to ruin because of a curse or a mad druid on the loose. Deirdre, you know I love you and Aunt Aoife. I have nothing against the druids. Every one of them I’ve ever met was kind and generous to me. But there are some bad apples in your basket, like my grandfather, who use whatever powers the forces of this earth have given them to cause pain and death.”
Dari and I both put our hands on hers.
“Riona,” Dari said, “I understand. I’ll tell Sister Anna why you won’t come to the monastery. She won’t like it, but I’ll tell her you’re well protected here. Is there anything we can bring to you?”
She wiped her eyes.
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine. This has just been a hard time with the deaths of Grainne and Saoirse.”
Dari and I bade her farewell and walked down the path to my grandmother’s house in silence for a while before Dari spoke.
“Do you think she’ll be safe?” Dari asked.
“Yes, I hope so. No one is going to get near that house with those dogs.”
I looked behind me to the southwest.
“The sun is getting low in the sky. You and Kevin had better get back to the monastery before Sister Anna sends out the king’s guards to look for you.”
“True enough. Will you be all right? I hate to leave you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Be careful tomorrow with Finian. He may be a fanatic, but he’s as cunning as they come.”
“Don’t worry, Dari, I’ll be fine. He would never hurt a fellow druid.”
Chapter Ten
Finian lived alone on the edge of King Dúnlaing’s territory in a hut tucked away beneath an oak grove in the shadow of an ancient dolmen. Some Christians called these piles of giant rocks druid altars, but they were never used for sacrifices. The stories passed down from long ago said they were the tombs of famous kings.
I had known Finian for many years, but I would never have called him a friend. He was a few years older than me and had been one of the best students at the monastery school. His parents were not Christians, but neither were they particularly devoted to the old ways. Many non-Christians sent their children to Kildare, and we never tried to proselytize them. Part of our mission of service was teaching, and we were happy to provide a free education to anyone. Reading, writing, mathematics, science, literature—these were our subjects, not religion. Father Ailbe
taught special classes in the Christian faith after school for students who wanted to attend, but these were optional. Finian, however, was always there, listening, asking questions, and debating the finer points of theology with Father Ailbe. Most of us assumed he would be baptized when he finished school and perhaps even become a priest, but one day when he was seventeen he disappeared. It wasn’t until months later that we heard he had joined the Order and was training at a druidic school on Rathlin Island off the northern coast of Ulster. When he returned home to Leinster five years later, he was a sacrificer and a committed member of a small traditionalist group who sought to purify the teachings of the druids of all outside influences. I had seen him occasionally over the years at ceremonies. Kings would often call on him to perform the most important sacrifices, since he was more skilled than anyone else at the dispatching of animal victims and the interpretation of their entrails. Whenever I had tried to speak to him at these events, he always turned away.
He was in front of his house at a small stone altar, holding a dove in his hands. His head was shaved in front from ear to ear, in the manner of male members of the Order. He wore the scarlet robes of a druid sacrificer over his white tunic and a gold torque around his neck. What set him apart from every other druid priest I had ever met were his tattoos. On his cheeks and arms were intricate spirals and colored animal figures in a manner not seen in many years.
“Greetings, Finian. May the gods grant you peace this fine day,” I said in the formal manner of address to a fellow druid.
He turned to look at me with his piercing blue eyes and scowled.
“That would mean something, Deirdre, if you actually believed in the gods.”
“May I speak with you, Finian?”
“Be silent until I finish this sacrifice.”
He took the dove and raised it in both hands to the sky, uttering prayers in a form of Irish so old, I scarcely understood the words. Then in one swift motion he took his knife and cut off the head of the bird, letting the blood fall onto the stones below. He then sliced open the creature and removed its liver and other internal organs. He probed them with his fingers for several minutes while I waited patiently. At last he placed the entire carcass of the bird into the fire next to the altar as a holocaust offering.
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