Valley of the Shadow Page 3

  As he peered upwards towards the impossible heights, his eye caught something flashing momentarily. He blinked. He had seen the flash at least two or three times before on their upward climb and, at first, he thought that he had merely imagined it. He must have betrayed his concern, perhaps by a tightening of his neck muscles or straining his head too long in the direction of the point of the glinting light, because Fidelma said quietly: ‘I see it. Someone has been watching our approach for the last half hour.’

  Eadulf was aggrieved.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  ‘Tell you what? It should be no surprise that someone watches strangers riding through these mountains. Mountain folk are a suspicious people.’

  Eadulf relapsed into silence. Nevertheless, he continued to keep a wary eye on the surrounding hills. To his perception, the flash was the sun striking on metal. Metal meant weapons or armour. That always meant a potential danger. The journey continued in silence for a while and still they climbed higher. At one point they were forced to dismount, so steep and rocky did the path become, and lead their horses upwards.

  Eventually, Eadulf was about to ask Fidelma if she thought that there would be much further to climb when the pathway suddenly curved around the shoulder of the mountain and, unexpectedly, a broad glen stretched away before them. It was heather filled with a mass of red, orange and green gorse presenting a strange ethereal spectacle. And still the higher mountain peaks seemed as distant as before.

  ‘This journey is neverending,’ Eadulf grumbled.

  Fidelma paused and turned in her saddle to regard the Saxon sternly.

  ‘Not so. We have but to cross this great glen and pass through those peaks beyond. Then we shall be in the territory of Laisre; in Gleann Geis itself.’

  Eadulf frowned momentarily.

  ‘I thought that you had never been in this territory before?’

  Fidelma suppressed a sigh.

  ‘Nor have I, though I have passed it by.’

  ‘Then how … ?’

  ‘Ah, Eadulf! Do you think our people have no knowledge of the making of maps? If we don’t know how to cross our own country, how could we send missionaries across the great lands to the east?’

  Eadulf felt a little foolish. He was about to speak again but he suddenly observed that Fidelma’s body had tensed and she was staring across the glen before them, looking upwards into the sky. He followed her gaze.

  ‘Birds,’ he remarked.

  ‘The ravens of death.’ Her voice was low.

  The dark specks were circling against the azure sky, seemingly moving lower and lower in a spiral.

  ‘A dead animal, no doubt,’ Eadulf suggested, adding: ‘A big one to attract so many scavengers.’

  ‘Big, indeed,’ agreed Fidelma. Then she nudged her horse forward with a determined movement. ‘Come on, it is on our way, and I have a mind to see what attracts so many scavengers.’

  Reluctantly Eadulf followed her. Sometimes he wished that his companion was not always filled with curiosity about things. He would rather press on out of the heat of the day and reach their destination quickly. Several days in the saddle was enough for Eadulf. He would prefer a comfortable chair and a mug of mead which had been left to chill in some icy mountain stream.

  Fidelma had to guide her horse carefully, for the superficially level valley floor was deceptive. The clumps of heather and brambles grew at depths over an uneven terrain. An entire army could have hidden out of sight among the gorse and heather. Their coming had set off an alarmed croaking chorus among the wheeling birds who stopped their whirling descent and rose reluctantly higher.

  Abruptly, Fidelma halted her horse and stared at the ground before her.

  ‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf, coming up behind her. She said nothing but sat like a statue in her saddle, staring with her features drained of blood.

  Frowning, Eadulf edged forward and looked towards the object of her horror-filled eyes.

  His face also went ashen.

  ‘Deus miseratur …’ He began the first line of Psalm 67 and then halted. It seemed inappropriate. There had been no mercy shown to those who comprised the curious altar of death before them. Around the rough ground there lay over a score of bodies; naked bodies of young men, arranged in a grotesque circle. That they had met their deaths violently was obvious.

  Fidelma and Eadulf sat still on their horses, looking down at a ring of naked bodies, unable to comprehend what their eyes accepted.

  Still without speaking, Fidelma finally slid from her saddle and moved forward a pace or two. Eadulf swallowed hard, dismounted and, taking the reins of both horses, loosely tethered them to a nearby bush. Then he moved forward to join Fidelma.

  She stood, hands folded in front of her, her lips compressed in a thin line. There was a slight twitching of a nerve in her jaw which betrayed the emotion her features did their best to conceal.

  She took another step forward and let her eyes travel intently around the circle of death. That the naked, male bodies had been carefully laid out after they had met their deaths, there was no question.

  Fidelma’s shoulders braced and her jaw thrust out a little as if she were preparing herself for a difficult task.

  ‘Should we not remove ourselves lest those responsible return?’ Eadulf urged nervously, glancing about him. But the valley seemed devoid of life save the flock of night-black ravens still gathering in the sky above, flying in a chaotic croaking cloud. Some were moving hesitantly down again as if unsure of what their senses told them – that here was rich pickings, carrion for the eating. But some sense told them there was movement among the corpses, living humans who could do them harm. A few, braver than the rest, actually landed a short distance from the circle. Eadulf, in disgust, as they hopped cautiously to the nearest corpses to inspect them more closely, reached down and picked up a stone. He did not hit the ugly black bird at which he aimed but the action itself was enough to cause it to take flight again with an angry squawk which warned its fellows that there was danger below. Some of them still alighted on the ground nearby but out of range and watched with glinting hungry eyes.

  ‘Come away, Fidelma,’ urged Eadulf. ‘This is not a sight for your eyes.’

  Fidelma’s green eyes flashed dangerously.

  ‘Then whose eyes is it a sight for?’ Her voice was sharp. ‘Whose sight, if not that of an advocate sworn to uphold the laws of the five kingdoms?’

  Eadulf hesitated awkwardly.

  ‘I meant …’ he began to protest but Fidelma cut him short with a sharp gesture of her hand.

  She had turned and dropped to one knee by the nearest body and began to inspect it. Then, slowly, one by one, she began to move around the circle of bodies repeating her examination, pausing by one body for a longer period than the others. Eadulf gave an inward shrug and, although his eyes kept flickering across the surrounding countryside, he passed the time trying to make some sense from the grim pile of cadavers.

  That they were all young males, perhaps the youngest was no more than sixteen or seventeen, the eldest no more than twenty-five, was the first and immediate thing that struck him. They were all naked; their pale skins, parchment white, showed that they were unused to any stage of nudity in life. He also noted the bodies were arranged in a circle with each body placed with the feet towards the centre of the circle. Each body also lay on its left side. He also noted that there were no signs of blood or disturbance of the ground around the circle. To Eadulf this meant that the young men had not been slaughtered at this spot. He was pleased by his deduction.

  Fidelma had finished her examination and rose to her feet. There was a small stream about ten yards away and, without a word, she turned and walked with a studied determination towards it. Bending before it, she washed her hands and arms and then splashed the cold water on her face.

  Eadulf waited patiently. He had been long enough in the five kingdoms of Éireann to know how fastidious the Irish were about cleanliness. He waite
d patiently until she had finished. When she returned, her face was still sombre and she halted again before the circle of bodies.

  ‘Well, Eadulf, what have you observed?’ she asked, after a pause of a moment or so.

  Eadulf started in surprise. He had not realised that she had noticed his inspection. He thought rapidly.

  ‘They are all young men,’ he offered.

  ‘That is true.’

  ‘They have been lain out in some sort of order, in a circle, and they were not killed here.’

  Fidelma raised an eyebrow in query.

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘Because if they had been killed here then there would have been a struggle. The ground around is not disturbed nor is it bloody. They were killed elsewhere and placed here.’

  She nodded appreciatively at his observation.

  ‘What about their feet?’

  Eadulf looked at her curiously.

  ‘Their feet?’ he faltered.

  She pointed downwards.

  ‘If you examine their feet, you will see that each young man has callouses, sores and blisters, as if they have been forced to walk over rough ground or for many miles. The abrasions are recent. Doesn’t that contradict your argument that they were carried here?’

  Eadulf thought furiously.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ he said after a moment. ‘They may well have been marched a distance to the place where they were killed and then brought here after death to be laid out in this curious fashion.’

  Fidelma was approving. ‘Well done, Eadulf. We’ll make a dálaigh of you yet. Anything else? You have not mentioned the marks of a leg-iron around their left ankles.’

  In truth, Eadulf had not spotted these abrasions which, since Fidelma pointed them out, were now clear. However, Fidelma went on: ‘Did you count the number of bodies?’

  ‘About thirty, I think.’

  There was a momentary expression of annoyance on her features.

  ‘One should be more accurate. There are precisely thirty-three bodies.’

  ‘Well, I was near enough,’ he replied defensively.

  ‘No, you were not,’ she countered sharply. ‘But we will return to that in a moment. You mentioned that they were laid out in some sort of order. Do you have any other observations?’

  Eadulf regarded the circle and grimaced.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You have no comment to make on the fact that they were laid on their left side, every one of them with their feet placed towards the centre of the circle? Does that not mean anything to you?’

  ‘Only that it must be some form of a ritual.’

  ‘Ah, a ritual. Look again. The bodies are placed on their left side. Start at the top of the circle and follow round … they are placed facing right-hand-wise. In other words – sunwise, what we call deisiol.’

  ‘I am not sure that I follow your meaning.’

  ‘In pagan times we performed certain rites by turning deisiol or sunwise. Even now, at a burial, there are many among us who insist on walking round the graveyard three times sunwise with the coffin.’

  ‘You mean this might be a pagan symbol?’ Eadulf shuddered and raised a hand to cross himself, a gesture he thought better of.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Fidelma reassured him. ‘When the Blessed Patrick was given land at Armagh, on which he eventually raised his church, it was said that he had to walk deisiol around it holding a crozier and, in that fashion, solemnly consecrated the land to the service of the Christ by using our ancient customs and rites.’

  ‘Then what are you saying?’ frowned Eadulf.

  ‘That these bodies are laid out as part of a ritual but what form of ritual – pagan or Christian – we must endeavour to find out by other observations.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Have you observed the manner in which these unfortunates were precipitated from this world?’

  Eadulf confessed that he had not.

  ‘Have you ever heard of The Threefold Death?’

  ‘I have not.’

  ‘There is an ancient tale that once, long ago, our people forsook the ancient moral code of our Druids and fell to the worship of a great golden idol called Cromm Cruach, the god of the Bloody Crescent, to whom human sacrifices were offered. He was worshipped on the Plain of Adoration, Magh Slécht, in the time of the High King Tigernmas, son of Follach. His very name meant “lord of death”.’

  ‘I have not heard this tale before,’ Eadulf said.

  ‘It is a period in our history which adds no pride to our people in the telling of it. The people finally tired of Tigernmas and he was mysteriously slain during the frenzied worship of the idol and our people returned their allegiance to the gods of their forefathers.’

  Eadulf sniffed disapprovingly.

  ‘I see little difference between worship of an idol and worship of the pagan gods. Neither was the true god.’

  ‘You have a point, Eadulf, but at least the old gods did not demand the blood sacrifice that Cromm Cruach did.’

  Eadulf ran a hand through his hair.

  ‘But what has this to do with … what was it? … The Threefold Death?’

  ‘It was the death which Cromm Cruach demanded, according to Tigernmas.’

  ‘I still do not follow.’

  Fidelma waved a hand towards the bodies.

  ‘Each of these young men has been stabbed. Each has been garroted and each has had their skull crushed by a blow to the head. Does that imply anything to you?’

  Eadulf’s eyes widened.

  ‘This is your Threefold Death?’

  ‘Exactly so. Each of these forms was a means of death. Every young man bears the marks of the same manner of dying. And furthermore, did you note the marks on their wrists?’

  ‘Marks?’

  ‘The burn marks of ropes. Their wrists were secured, presumably at the time of their deaths, and then the ropes were untied.’

  Eadulf shivered and genuflected.

  ‘Do you suggest that they are the victims of some sacrificial rite?’

  ‘I enumerate the facts. Any conclusion would be no more than speculation.’

  ‘But if what you say is so, then you are suggesting that this is a pagan sacrifice and imply that the worship of the idol you mentioned, Cromm, still survives.’

  Fidelma shook her head.

  ‘Tigernmas was said to have been the twenty-sixth king after the coming of the sons of Mile who brought the children of the Gael to Éireann. He ruled here a thousand years before Christ came to this world. Even his Druids turned on him because of this evil practice. To suggest the worship of Cromm still exists would be illogical.’

  Eadulf pursed his lips a moment.

  ‘There is some deviltry here, though.’

  ‘In that, you are correct. I mentioned the number of bodies – thirty-three in all …’

  ‘And you implied that this number has some significance,’ interposed Eadulf hurriedly.

  ‘When the evil gods of the Fomorii were overthrown, it is said that they were commanded by thirty-two chieftains plus their High King. The great Ulaidh hero Cúchulainn slew thirty-three warriors in an evil fairy castle. When the Dési were expelled from Ireland by Cormac Mac Art they had to spend thirty-three years wandering before they could settle down. Thirty-three champions including the king died in Bricriu’s hall … need I go on?’

  Eadulf’s eyes slowly widened.

  ‘You are saying that the number thirty-three holds special significance in the pagan traditions of your people?’

  ‘I am. What we see here is some ancient ritual. The Threefold Death and the placing of the bodies in a sunwise circle and the number of the bodies all add to the ritual. But what the meaning of this ritual is, that we must discover. There is one other important observation which you have neglected to mention.’

  Eadulf’s eye scanned the circle.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked uncertainly.

  ‘Examine that body and tell me what you see,’ she
said, indicating a particular corpse with a wave of her hand.

  Distastefully, Eadulf picked his way across the bodies and looked down. He gasped and crossed himself.

  ‘A brother,’ he whispered. ‘A brother of the Faith. He wears the tonsure of St John.’

  ‘Unlike the others, this one has cuts and lacerations to his legs and arms and face.’

  ‘Does this mean that he was tortured?’

  ‘Perhaps not. It looks more likely that he was running through some brambles from which he sustained such cuts and scratches.’

  ‘Yet this brother in Christ was ritually slaughtered.’ Eadulf was aghast. ‘His cloth did not save him from this mean death. You have already said yourself what this means.’

  Fidelma stared at him uncertainly for a moment.

  ‘I have?’

  ‘It is obvious.’

  ‘If it is so, then tell me.’

  ‘We are heading to this Forbidden Valley where a pagan chieftain rules and who, by your very words, is opposed to the Truth of Christ’s Teaching. You are fond of quoting Latin proverbs Fidelma. I give you one. Cuius regio eius religio.’

  For the first time since they had witnessed the horrendous sight Fidelma let a smile play around her lips at Eadulf’s observation.

  ‘The ruler of a territory chooses its religion,’ she echoed in translation.

  ‘This chieftain, Laisre, is a pagan,’ went on Eadulf hurriedly. ‘And is this not some pagan symbolism which is meant to frighten or intimidate us?’

  ‘Intimidate us to prevent us from doing what?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘Why, from going on into Gleann Geis to negotiate the establishment of a Christian church and school there. I think that it is meant as an insult to your brother as king and Ségdae as bishop of Imleach. We should leave this place immediately. Turn around and head back to a Christian land.’