It was very quiet in the glade. No birds sang, no animals disturbed the grass, no breeze rustled the branches. The peace had attracted me and set my mind at ease but this wasn’t a calm peace. It was the stillness of Dread. There was evil at the heart of this forest and I had no place there. My Druidic training would not protect me if I was found by anyone who used this Glade, of that I was sure. I couldn’t tell how long it had been since the last Meeting but of a sudden I was certain it hadn’t been very long ago. What I was sure of was that I should leave, and quickly. Even if there was no Meeting planned for the immediate future (it was full daylight, after all), the sooner I was out of it, the better. An attendant might appear at any time.
It had been my intention to find an easier way back out of the glade but now I was very frightened and speed was of the essence. The quickest way was the one you knew. Accordingly, I ran back across the open ground to the hedge as if all the Devil’s demons were after me. I paused at the entrance to the tunnel and looked back across the grass: my footprints were clear as if a light shone on every one, but I took a moment to calm myself. After a couple of deep breaths I could see that they were still visible in the dew but the Sun, which was gaining height and power, would soon burn off the rest of the moisture and it would be as if I had never been there. If no-one came here for another half hour, they would find no trace of me. Unless they could Divine it.
I considered last night’s Moon: it had been well on the wane. The New Moon was not due for ten days and it was unlikely that the Glade would be used before then, at the earliest. So long as no-one with any Power came within the next week my presence and contact with the altar would, most likely, remain undiscovered. I fervently hoped so as otherwise I would be in danger of my life.
There would be no raising of any churches here.
I had to get away as soon as possible. I bent to crawl back through the tunnel, but then thought I heard something: someone crawling through the other way, confident of the route. I looked around urgently and spotted a stout branch, as thick as a forearm and a yard long, and I picked it up. I wouldn’t resort to any kind of violence if it could be avoided but I was in fear of my life. Only someone who had business here would come through the tunnel as confidently as this. I could hear the scuffling sounds getting closer. I stood to the left of the entrance, ready to bring my weapon crashing down on the head of the intruder.
The crawling stopped, or at least I couldn’t hear it any more. Instead I could discern the faint sound of someone - or something - sniffing. Whoever or whatever it was seemed to be searching for me by smell.
The silence in the glade was oppressive. There was just me, the quiet, and the sniffing. I could hardly bear it and willed whoever it was to come out and get it over with and it seemed my prayer was answered. The sound of the scuffling crawl resumed.
I raised my makeshift club higher as I heard the attendant reach the end of the tunnel. I was ready, I was scared and I was desperate.
Out came a badger. It turned its old man’s eyes towards me and sniffed. In times past, I would have rained blows down upon the creature without a moment’s hesitation, expecting it to be an enemy and only looking to identify the victim later but my years of training, thought and contemplation as a monk had made me wait until I could see what I would attack. I would be useless as a warrior now, I thought too much. But that thought had saved the badger’s life and the favour might well be returned. I let the stick fall to the ground behind me and addressed the creature.
“Well, brother Brock, I am pleased to see you although I took you for a two-legged beast and not a four legged friend. I would say that this is no place for me so, if you will make room there, I’ll be on my way out of here. And if I can give you a word of advice, I would say that it’s no place for you either. Something wicked has happened here, and not very long ago either. I would sooner retrace my steps than remain here another moment, so if you don’t mind...”
The badger had been staring at me the whole time I spoke and it seemed inclined to take my advice. It turned and shuffled off back through the hedge. I followed. The two of us exited the tunnel within seconds of each other and the badger, instead of going straight on out through the flap I had left open, turned sharp right and headed off where the undergrowth seemed to be less dense. Having replaced the flap with care to leave it as undisturbed as possible, I followed. The journey in had been difficult. If the badger knew a better way then I was all for it. I still had to crawl but the going was much easier. The path through the thorn bushes twisted and turned but consistently headed south: that was fine, it was the direction back to the Castle. I was getting back quicker than I’d got in although my knees and wrists were beginning to feel the strain. I pressed on and then felt something under my hand, larger and smoother than the stones that littered the place. I looked to see what it could be: it was a small statue or amulet, a rough representation of a male human. The eyes were pinpricks in the facial area and there was no nose or mouth unless a rough scratch across the lower half could be so described. The limbs were barely suggested but there was no mistaking the intention of the phallic protrusion from the lower body.
The whole crude object was less than six inches in length, about the size of a child’s doll - and less useful, I thought. A doll could bring comfort but this graven image could not even give that. It was just so much stone, with no power at all. But I remembered where I’d seen one before - one morning at Innisgarbh - and who had taken it away from me and ordered me to forget it: Lucius. I could recall the incident as clearly as yesterday, since the spell of forgetting had been broken - not that I wanted to remember anything about it at all. I forced the image of the engorged penis from my mind. Ieuan had saved me from that evil man that day, and others besides. Lucius. Was Lucius at the root of my Visions? I found it easy to believe anything of him but I knew that my judgement would be influenced by my experience. I must not allow his dislike of the man to prejudice my judgement.
I shook myself. No, of course it wasn’t Lucius. I had seen him dead at my feet, after the battle at the Ballaogh. There was no way it could be him. But that meant… There had to be disciples of Lucius, right here, in the heart of Strathclyde. Ieuan would have to be made aware.
The talisman had a reputation that inspired fear among Christians and pagans alike. The reputation was that of Cromm Cruaich, a devil-god of Druidism, bringer of destruction and eater of human flesh. To it had been made the old Wicker Man sacrifices, when a huge human shape constructed of brushwood and cane had been filled with animals, enemies, virgins, witches or anyone else handy, and set on fire.
I - like most others who had been brought up in Druidism - had believed that the Cromm cult had been suppressed and eliminated by the Romans. It was only ever an aberration of Druidism even at its height, but one that had for a while commanded a lot of support. Lucius and his crew had been committed to its revival.