“How can we fight that? How can we fight what isn’t there?”
“There is no ‘we’ about it, Godwin. Remember our agreement. The first time you came across something that really frightened you, you were to turn back. You are frightened now. Go back and leave this to me.” The great-hearted man stood and shook himself from head to toe. Then he shook his head again, closed his eyes and opened them wide, then rubbed them with his finger and thumb before speaking.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine now. It just took me by surprise. I’ll be fine. I promise you.” I restrained him from going on. I was filled with affection, sympathy and deep respect for this man, who had been terrified by something he had never encountered before but was still prepared to face it again.
“No, Godwin,” I said, “you must leave it to me. That was nothing. A trumpet-blast; nothing more than a range finder. It’ll get worse. Much worse. If I allowed you to come with me you would be a slobbering fool before we had gone a hundred paces. You remember the outlaws yesterday? The one I had disabled but you killed?” Godwin nodded slowly and miserably. “What I did to him was nothing compared to what will happen to you if you go on. I wasn’t trying to hurt, just disable. Ieuan will try to destroy me. He will drive you to incurable madness as a by-blow. He will barely even give you a thought but the rest of your life will be filled with torment such as you can’t imagine. Please, my friend, go back to the horses and wait for me. This shouldn’t take too long. Please.” The big man stood, looked down at me, with my inadequate build and shaved head. He shook his head and turned and walked slowly back off down the path. “Horses for courses, Godwin,” I called out, “just the right mount for the job.” Godwin sheathed his sword and raised his hand in miserable acknowledgement. He had never been so frightened; he would remember it for the rest of his life.
I stood and watched for a few moments to make absolutely sure that he’d left, then turned and walked towards the creature who had once been my friend, determination steeling my heart and my mind. I’d gone no more than twenty yards when a wall of fire leaped up across the path. It raced around and had encircled me in the time between one thought and the next. It radiated fierce and hungry heat and it started to close in from all sides at once. It was going to roast me, I could feel it start to singe my hair. I closed my eyes and walked straight on into the cooling late afternoon air.
I'm sure you have more than that. I am alone now. I am coming for you. You will not stop me.
I walked on, then contacted Ieuan again. I couldn’t believe it was you. I thought it was one of Lucius’ followers. You became a disciple of his?
Lucius. He’s been dead twenty years.
He taught you though, didn’t he? And he taught you well.
He taught me nothing.
He showed you. He led you to the door. And you knew what he had done. What he was doing. And you followed him.
No. It was what you did. You are cruel, and savage.
What I did? When?
At the Ballaugh.
You weren’t there.
No. But I felt what you did. And I saw the aftermath. What you did. You were savage, merciless.
They were killing and enslaving –
Not Sean.
Who is Sean?
He was at Innisgarbh.
[a picture of a youth floated into my vision. The face was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t say I knew him]
What about him?
You destroyed him. Left him mad. He did no harm.
He was with Lucius. They all did harm. Massive harm.
Not Sean.
All of them. I don’t regret what I did.
You destroyed him. My beautiful Sean. I arrived there two weeks after you had wreaked your savagery. I found him. Drooling, empty – an idiot. Everything I loved about him, destroyed by you. Our whole circle of friends, brutalised and killed by you. I swore then I would find you and return the favour.
There was no arguing with this. What I had done at the Ballaugh was destroy what I thought would be the most evil thing I ever encountered. A coven of Druids who had turned to ultimate evil and were enslaving the local populace. They had revived human sacrifice – for what reason? Power, of course. And sex, in many cases. Not ordinary sex, either; the humiliation that had been visited on those unfortunate enough to fall under their influence was beyond all depravity I had previously witnessed. And I had seen some dreadful sights on my travels.
If you think I should not have destroyed that coven, you had already lost all sense of morality. They were monstrous. Bestial.
[silence from Ieuan]
So what did you do? Spend years locked away, allowing this bitterness to feed on itself and corrupt you? When did you finally turn to Cromm Cruaich?
[silence]
Let me guess. It was before the Winwaed – a few years before. You learned quickly, for one without the Sight.
[there was hiss at this. I had hit a nerve – deliberately. So he was listening.]
It was you at the Winwaed, wasn’t it?
A shivered acknowledgement
You must have thought yourself most favoured when I arrived.
A bitter chuckle echoed through the Dark and a reply came at last.
I was expecting you. One of my people had got Penda to send for you. I knew you were coming.
And the Apple of Discord? I asked.
What?
The Apple of Discord. Was that you?
What are you talking about?
Never mind. It was you, with the human sacrifices and the two disciples? How did you manage to join Oswy’s army?
A smug chuckle filtered through.
We joined as wandering Irish friars who had been moved to minister to men’s souls on the battlefield. We knew enough to pass as Irish monks.
But Oswy is Christian. Why work for a Christian triumph?
There was no reply. I suspected, now, that his plans had not worked out. If Mercia and Northumbria had entered pitched battle at the Winwaed it was possible they would have crippled each other. With their power broken, the way would have been open for a resurgent Strathclyde to dominate all of Britain. Ieuan’s hatred of the English was palpable; it was a physical thing, part of his very being. He had already installed himself in Strathclyde. Without any opposition from Northumbria or Mercia, he could have achieved his aim of driving his enemies back into the sea whence their forefathers had come.
The children. All those children.
He had got better at human sacrifice, if that was the right word. At the Winwaed, he’d had to kill someone every few moments. Now, he could go days – maybe even weeks? – on the blood of just one child. And that child in Dumbarton, the sick one I had called him to…