Sacrifice (12 page)

I heard early the next morning that Sister Anna had sent one of the guards to the king during the night to report on the latest killing. The man was back by dawn with ten more warriors and orders from the king to bring the remaining nuns back to the monastery whether they wanted to come or not. I decided to go to my cousin Riona immediately in hope of avoiding a scene between her and the king's men. I knew she wouldn't go with them willingly and I didn't want to see her dragged from her home by force.

I strapped my sword to my belt, took a large staff from the corner of the hut, and headed down the path just as it was getting light. A heavy rain was falling, making the track through the woods a muddy mess.

I knew a farmer not far from the monastery who raised sheep, and I was sure he would take Riona's small flock until all this was over. With the help of her dogs, we could have them there by noon and Riona safely within the monastery walls by dinner. The problem was what to do with her dogs. Sister Anna would never allow five fierce sheepdogs inside the monastery grounds, but I knew they would be uncontrollable away from Riona.

I readied my staff as I approached her farm in case the dogs reached me before Riona did. I didn't think they would attack me if I stood still and didn't try to come closer to the house, but I wasn't sure. I stopped at the edge of the meadow, well away from her hermitage, and made certain I was standing next to a tall tree with low branches in case I needed to climb it quickly. Then I called out for her and waited. I could see that the sheep were still in their pen, which was strange for so late in the morning. I called again and prepared to be rushed by a pack of angry hounds, but there was no sound. I moved out of the woods slowly and approached the house, calling out several more times in case she and the dogs were in the back garden or down by the stream.

Next to a large elm tree midway between the meadow and the yard, I saw a pool of blood on the ground with trails of dark red leading toward the house. Behind the tree, the trails ended with the bodies of five dogs riddled with arrows. I drew my sword and called out for Riona frantically. I heard a crash in the house and ran to the open front door. Riona was lying on the floor inside.

She had a noose around her neck but was conscious and struggling to sit up. I rushed to her side and held her up as I worked the flax rope off her neck. It had dug deeply into her skin and was tightly fixed from behind, but I managed to get it over her head. She had cuts on her face and hands as if she had been in a fight. There were broken dishes on the floor, and a large jar was smashed against the fireplace. I brought her a cup of water and waited until she was at last able to speak in a rasping voice.

“Deirdre—he must have heard you coming—he came up from behind—when I was by the fire—my dogs—where are they?”

“Out by the elm tree. I'm so sorry, Riona, but they're dead. Someone shot them with arrows.”

She tried to get up and go to the door but fell back down.

“Wait. You're in no shape to move. Just rest here. I've got my sword. He won't be coming back.”

She sat for a few minutes, trying with great effort to breathe. The rope must have bruised her windpipe. I bound the wounds on her hands and wiped the blood off her face with a rag.

“Did you see who it was? Did you recognize him?” I asked.

She nodded and took another sip of water.

“He had a hood on—black—but I fought him—pulled it off.”

“Who was it?”

She grimaced from the pain of speaking, but continued.

“It was him—the bastard—he killed my dogs.”

“Who? Who was it?”

“Finian.”

Chapter Fourteen

I
tried to get Riona to rest, but she insisted on leaving the house to see her dogs. She knelt beside them and wept. I put my arm around her.

“We don't have time to bury them now,” I said. “I've got to get word to the king to arrest Finian before he disappears. Are you strong enough to make it to Grandmother's house?”

“Yes.”

I covered the dogs with a tarp to keep the crows away. I would send someone back to take care of the sheep. I led Riona slowly down the path, supporting her as we walked through the pouring rain and keeping both eyes open for Finian in case he tried to ambush us. It took us almost an hour to reach my grandmother's home. She was in the garden when we arrived.
I explained to her quickly what had happened and helped her get Riona settled on a bed inside. Then I ran down the road to the monastery as fast as I could. Kevin was at the gate talking with several of the guards. I told them everything that had happened. The leader sent a rider to the king almost before I had finished speaking. He sent another three of his men on horseback to Riona's farm to pick up Finian's trail if they could find it. With all the rain, I had my doubts. Then, leaving a handful of guards at the monastery, he galloped off with four others to Finian's farm.

“Do you want to come in and tell Sister Anna?” Kevin asked.

“No, please, you do it. I've got to get back to my grandmother's house to check on Riona. I know the king will want to see her as soon as possible.”

I asked one of the remaining guards for a horse, since I knew Riona wasn't fit to walk. The man hesitated, but I was in no mood for delays. I threw my bardic cloak around me with a flourish and fixed him with my eyes. He was holding his own horse for me a minute later as I mounted it and bolted down the trail to Grandmother's house. By the time I got there, Riona was sitting up by the fire.

“Riona, are you fit to ride to the king? I hate to ask you to do it, but he'll want to see you right away. He needs to hear what happened directly from you, to make the testimony valid.”

In Irish law, nuns and monks were considered equal in status to druids. As witnesses, they were outranked only by a king. The fact that Riona's father had been a respected warrior made her testimony even stronger.

“Yes, I'm feeling better now,” she said. “But you should ride double, behind me, so you can steady me if I need it.”

We set off down the road at a fast canter. We stopped twice so she could rest and drink some water, but by early afternoon we were at the king's feasting hall.

Dúnlaing was waiting there, surrounded by several of his most trusted warriors, including Saoirse's father. He placed Riona in his own chair and called for a slave to bring her a cup of wine. She was exhausted from the ride and her voice was still hoarse from the rope, but she drank the wine gladly and said she was ready to talk.

“Riona, daughter of Oisín, do you swear to speak only the truth before your king and these witnesses?”

“I do, my lord.”

“Who was it who tried to kill you this morning?”

“It was Finian, the druid sacrificer.”

“Is there any doubt in your mind that it was Finian?”

“None, my lord.”

“Was there anyone else with him?”

“Not that I saw.”

“And you make this testimony knowing that to speak falsely before your king brings a sentence of death on your head?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I'll have one of my servants take you to my guest house and watch after you.”

“Thank you, my king.”

He clapped his hands and an old woman appeared to lead Riona away. The king then bade his men and me to sit at the table. A slave brought each of us a cup of wine.

“Thank the gods this is over,” the king said.

“Only if we can catch Finian,” Saoirse's father said.

“We'll catch him. Besides the men out looking for him, I've posted guards on all the border roads and sent word to the neighboring kings to hold him if he comes to their lands. They won't risk war by defying me. No one would protect a murderer in any case.”

He turned to me.

“Deirdre, it goes without saying that I expect the full cooperation of the Druid Order in this matter.”

“Of course, my lord. We would never harbor such a fugitive. Finian has brought shame on all of us.”

The king then talked with us for an hour or more, asking our advice on how best to restore calm and order to the kingdom. He was insistent that there was to be no retribution against the druids after Finian was punished. He wanted the matter to end there. He looked at Saoirse's father as he said this, and the man finally nodded his head in agreement. Dúnlaing spoke of the need for cooperation between people of different faiths and pledged to help the monastery of Brigid recover.

We heard horses approaching from outside the feasting hall and rose from our chairs. The lead guard from the monastery and his men marched into the hall with Finian held in chains between them. His face was covered with bruises, but he wore a look of pure defiance.

“He was at his farm, my lord. The fool didn't even try to run—though he wasn't cooperative.”

The king took his place on his chair at the front of the hall and ordered Finian brought before him. Saoirse's father stood near, fingering his sword.

“Finian, son of Esras, you stand here accused of the murder of four women, sisters of the monastery of Brigid. What say you?”

Finian spat blood onto the ground along with two of his teeth, but said nothing.

“You understand,” said the king, “that silence will be taken as an admission of guilt?”

Finian stood there, saying not a word.

“So be it,” said Dúnlaing. “You are sentenced to die for your crimes. Take him into the yard.”

The men led Finian out of the hall. Saoirse's father approached the king and spoke.

“My lord, let me do it. This man killed my daughter and defiled her body. I claim the right to end this man's life. I want to hold his bloody head in my hands after I sever it from his neck.”

The king put his hand on the man's shoulder.

“My old friend, normally I would be glad to let you deal with this criminal, but that would be too quick a punishment in this case. Come with me into the yard. I have something better planned.”

We followed Dúnlaing into the large space in front of the feasting hut. I saw that a small crowd had assembled near a tall wooden post that was being stacked around with dry kindling. When all was in place, the king spoke.

“Bind him to the stake.”

The men pushed Finian forward and fixed his hands behind the pole with iron chains. As much as I despised Finian at that moment, I couldn't help but admire his courage. Burning was not a common form of execution in our land. It was slow and horrifically painful and reserved only for the most heinous of crimes. Yet Finian stood tall, gazing up to the heavens with a look of calm determination on his face.

“Do you have any last words, druid?” the king asked.

Finian said nothing.

“Light the fire,” Dúnlaing said.

The king's men brought blazing torches and placed them at the edges of the pyre. Sometimes kings would pour oil on a pyre to make it burn faster and hasten the death of a victim. Sometimes they would use water once the fire had caught hold, to make dense smoke and suffocate the condemned man before the flames reached him. Dúnlaing did neither.

I watched as the flames worked their way slowly to the center of the pyre. When they reached Finian, I expected
him to scream in pain as his clothes caught fire and his flesh was seared. But in spite of the indescribable agony he must have felt, he uttered not a sound. In the last moments before his body was engulfed in the fire, he turned his head to look at me with an expression of pure hatred. And then he was gone.

Chapter Fifteen

I
t was almost a week after the death of Finian before I could sleep through the night again. The images of his execution and the murders of the nuns kept jarring me awake at all hours. But life was beginning to return to normal, though the scars remained for us all.

I was still expelled from my life at the monastery, of course. Just because the killer had been caught didn't mean Sister Anna was going to change her mind. I didn't really blame her. She had told me that I had to choose where my loyalties lay—and I had. But what would I do now?