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Authors: Philip Freeman

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BOOK: Sacrifice
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There were shouts of approval from the left of the hall and angry calls from the right. Tadg played even more loudly.

Saoirse's father stood and waited for the uproar to subside before he began.

“Brion, you dare to speak to us of taking advantage of an outrage to strengthen our eastern clans? Was it your daughter who was murdered? Do you think I would use her death to take a few scrawny cattle from your herds? Or perhaps you think the king bribed a druid to bury alive his own kinswoman? I find it strange you paint us as conspirators while it is our own women who are dying. We all know you have craved power over this tribe for years. It seems to me that if anyone is manipulating the murder of the nuns of Kildare, it is you and your western allies.”

Both sides jumped to their feet and began shouting at each other even more loudly. I was glad that their swords weren't allowed in assembly halls, but I was afraid these men would tear each other apart with their bare hands.

Father Ailbe rose from his seat next to me and waited silently. At last the noise subsided and the king nodded to him.

“My friends, as you all know, I am a stranger in this land. I came here from Egypt many years ago when some of your fathers were not yet born. You have welcomed me most graciously to your island and accepted me as one of your own. You are truly a remarkable people of honor, strength, and courage.”

I marveled at how he was able to hold these violent men with his voice. But then, Father Ailbe had been trained by the finest rhetoric teachers of Alexandria.

“My city was founded eight hundred years ago by Alexander the Great, a name known even in this distant land. Alexandria prospered like no other city before it. We traded with India and distant Cathay, sailed the seas from the African coast to Scandinavia, even here to Ireland, and we grew rich in both gold and knowledge. We welcomed people of all backgrounds and beliefs to our city, be they gentle Hindus or followers of the fierce Germanic gods. Our differences made us stronger and we honored them. But then jealousy and dissension came among us. For many years the people of my city fought among themselves. Christians tortured and slew believers in the old gods, priests at the temple of Serapis urged their members to kill Christians, and everyone slaughtered the Jews. Alexandria was once a shining jewel, with temples and churches and synagogues that surpassed even Rome and Constantinople. The wisdom and heritage of the whole world was preserved in its libraries and museums. But so much of it has been reduced to ashes and rubble. The citizens of my once-great city now live in fear of conquest by the Persians or even the Arab tribes of the desert. They are weak because they fought among themselves.”

The hall was silent until a voice spoke from the back.

“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

M
y 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 threatened 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?”

BOOK: Sacrifice
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