Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

Beorhtric smiled pleasantly and sat back. ‘I hope that I have the power to do so, Eadulf. You were an hereditary gerefa of your people and it was your duty to maintain the faith and code of your ancestors. I have persuaded our leader to give me an opportunity to save your life.’

‘An opportunity?’ Eadulf raised an eyebrow. ‘What will that entail?’

‘You may join us, be received into my warband with the respect I would give to any gerefa of my people … ’

‘On what condition?’

‘That you tell us what you know about the happenings in Tara and whether the Fianna is marching against us.’

‘You mean to ask me to make an act of betrayal?’

Beorhtric shook his head. ‘It is no betrayal. Tell us what we need to know and we will not harm you. That is simple enough.’

‘It is a betrayal of my wife and her people, as well as all I hold dear.’

‘Your wife, this Fidelma of Cashel, will not be harmed. Our leader has said that she has great respect for her. We will capture her and then, if she won’t join us, you can take her with you and go where you want.’

Eadulf stifled the refusal that came to his mind because something else occurred to him. Perhaps he could find out more about these people, the strange woman who led them and the strength of her army, if he did not make an immediate rejection of the offer.

‘You cannot expect me to abandon all I believe in just like that,’ he countered. ‘Tell me more of why you fight for this woman.’

‘The ceannard ?’

‘Yes. What is her name?’

‘She is just the leader, the Wise One. A priestess of the god Crom.’

‘So she has no name?’

‘None that dare be spoken.’

‘And she believes in this old god?’

‘She believes that the Christians are just a new empire spreading from Rome as they once spread before; she believes that they are destroying the old ways and customs just as the Romans tried once before to make everyone bow down to their ways and government.’

‘And that is why she fights?’

‘That is why.’

‘But the message of Christ is peace,’ pointed out Eadulf.

Beorhtric laughed as if he found the idea uproarious. ‘Peace among those who fall under the Roman heel? The real rulers of Rome recognise no peace. While they conquer, they preach that the conquered should have poverty of spirit. They are thus able to oppress them, for when men are of poor spirit then the proud and haughty can easily rule them. Oh yes, Eadulf, I know something of the religion you still uphold. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”. That’s what is taught, eh?

‘And what else do they teach?’ he went on, goading Eadulf. ‘“Him that takes away your cloak, do not forbid him to take your coat also. Give to every man that asks something from you and of him that takes away your goods do not make protest”. And if physical violence is used against you, why, “if you are struck on the one cheek, turn the other so they can strike you again”!’

Beorhtric burst out laughing. ‘This is the religion that slave-masters teach to slaves, the better that they might enslave them.’

Eadulf stirred uneasily, for Beorhtric had certainly homed in on what he had always seen as the weakness of the new philosophy.

He and Fidelma had spent much time discussing such matters and they had always felt that resistance to wrong and the practice of moral right and self-reliance was the better course. But it was surely contrary to the teachings of the poverty of spirit that was claimed to be a virtue?

‘And does this Crom uphold such virtues?’ he demanded. ‘I heard that this idol was some aberration of the Old Faith of Éireann whose priests demanded human sacrifices to appease their appetites.’

Beorhtric made a dismissive gesture as if it was of no consequence. ‘Crom? That is for the people of this land. I have never foresworn Woden. And if Woden is using Crom to overthrow the New Faith, then so be it. Crom only demands the sacrifices of his enemies. He demands, moreover, that people stand up against the Christians who would oppress them by stealth. He commands us to drive the tide of Roman cunning back into the sea as the old Romans were driven back before.’

Eadulf shook his head sadly at the light of fanaticism in Beorhtric’s face.

‘And this is the reason for what is happening here?’

‘It is a great cause. It is the freedom of people from the new oppression. Sadly, our Saxon brethren have been fooled into accepting these insidious ideas. Here we might win and then be able to bring our army back to our homelands to reconvert our people to the true ways and mend the harm that has been done.’

‘To return to what?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘Was life so good when we sacrificed to the gods, when we left people with no hope but the utter void that follows death?’

‘We had the choice,’ Beorhtric said fiercely, ‘to die with weapon in hand and the name of Woden on our lips so that we might live again in the Hall of Heroes.’

‘And how many could hope for such a death, a futile death at that?’

For a moment, Beorhtric’s eyes blazed. Then he said slowly: ‘You are playing for time with me, Eadulf. I give you a final chance. Join us now. Tell us where Fidelma of Cashel is. Tell us what is happening at Tara and who is coming against us. If you do, you will live and the world will be yours. Refuse, and you will die a death at the next festival to Crom, a death in flames and so horrible that even you will cry out to Crom for mercy with your last breath.’

Eadulf had sat back. He glanced down at the mug that he still held in his hand. Now, with a quick movement, he threw its contents over the face of the Saxon warrior.

With an oath, Beorhtric sprang up and drew his sword in one swift motion. The blade was raised. Another moment and it would have sliced into Eadulf.

‘Hold!’ snapped a voice.

For a moment everything seemed frozen in time and space. Then slowly Beorhtric lowered his sword and sheathed it. Eadulf, transfixed in his seat in the chair, relaxed and began to breathe again.

The woman known as the ceannard had entered the tent. She looked at Eadulf with a curious smile.

‘I was right about you, Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. For a Christian you display a remarkable courage. I did not think that they would break you and cause you to betray your beliefs or Fidelma of Cashel.’ She glanced at the Saxon warrior. ‘You see, Beorhtric? I know men. I knew he would not accept your offer to join us. No matter. My daughter will soon send us word about what is happening in Tara. Now take him back and ensure that he is confined properly. No harm must come to him before the time is right and we present him to Crom Cróich.’

Sullenly, Beorhtric moved forward and yanked Eadulf roughly from the chair.

The woman smiled almost encouragingly at Eadulf. ‘It is good, my Saxon friend,’ she said softly. ‘If you were a coward, you would not make a fitting sacrifice to Crom.’

Then Beorhtric was hauling him out of the tent back to the stone prison to rejoin Bishop Luachan.

Ardgal found Fidelma pacing in the refectory of the abbey. He paused nervously at the door.

‘Bad news, lady,’ he blurted out.

Fidelma stood, the coldness clutching her heart. ‘Eadulf has been found?’ she asked hoarsely.

‘No, lady. But my men have found the body of Brother Manchán. He had been run through with a sword. There were the tracks of many horses … ’

‘But no sign of Eadulf?’

‘No sign of anyone else but the slain brother.’

‘What did your trackers tell you?’

‘They saw traces of a heavy-laden horse.’

‘Eadulf and Brother Manchán were riding one horse.’