Who might be their followers here? Devil-worship will gain adherents from time to time, particularly when the world is in a state of flux, when material possessions were elevated to objects of worship and spirituality fell into contempt. The path of true spirituality did not offer immediate compensations and was unattractive to the self-seeking and, I had to concede, to those who were desperate. The poor, the starving, the dispossessed could be fertile ground but the richest harvest was from those who seemed to be better off; those who wanted more and felt themselves cheated if they didn’t get it. The desperate could be swayed by offers of immediate succour, but at the cost of their souls. It was a price that horrified me.
There was no fear of the object itself - it was just a piece of stone - but to Cromm’s followers it was a symbol of power. Its owner would have been mortified that he had lost it. But it was old and the surface had been worn down: it could have been left there as its owner fled the vengeance of a Roman task force. It couldn’t have been earlier than the Romans, for it was after their example that the later druids had carved their small idols from stone; previously, they had been carved in wood. It was still uncomfortable though, with a resonance of the ancient malice of the god it represented and it went some way to explain why the altar felt so powerfully evil. I put it in my pocket. I would discuss it with Ieuan later: he had to know about it.
My guide, the badger, had stopped to explore a pile of leaves while I considered the small statue. Now it looked at me and then turned and trotted on. I followed.
We made good progress, the badger leading away from the clearer path and me following and in quite a short time we came upon a slightly thicker clump of thorn. The roof above the path came lower down but my guide continued undeterred. I wormed my way through and a moment later emerged into normal forest again. I got to my feet and brushed off the worst of the dirt and detritus I’d collected on my habit. I couldn’t get myself completely clean but the rest would wait until later. The badger snuffled around at the edge of the hedge in a desultory fashion until I spoke to him again.
“I thank you, master guide. Without your assistance I would’ve been much longer and my journey would’ve been less informative. I bid you good fortune, good day and God’s blessing.” This seemed to be good enough for the badger, who sauntered off into the undergrowth again. I watched him until he’d disappeared, then I looked up at the clear blue sky and smiled. Badgers were nocturnal, and this one was out and about in the clear daylight.
Feeling that my God was with me lightened my heart as I set off back towards the Castle. I was almost cheerful. Owain would require my presence soon and it would not be good to keep him waiting twice in the same day.
It took the better part of an hour to return to Dumbarton, climb the path up the Rock and return to the Keep. I had plenty of time to consider whether or not the King or Ieuan knew about the Druid Glade so close to the capital. It was most unlikely that Owain would. He was a follower of druidism, as was his brother, but he would be at a very junior rank, if he was in the priesthood at all. He was king of a warlike kingdom and his prowess in battle was more important than his spiritual qualities. The same applied to Gawain. They would, most likely, be occasional worshippers, attendants at the four major feasts of the year and they may have had the central role at Bealtane, Owain in particular as he was ‘married to the Land’ as King, but otherwise they were probably not involved. The Druids guarded their secrets carefully and while kings took counsel from them and even, as Ieuan had testified that morning, required Divination and Sight of their advisers, but that didn’t make the monarchs high initiates, any more than a Christian king who talked regularly with his local Abbott became a priest by doing so.
Anyway, the glade was old and obscure and very well hidden. It wasn’t used regularly. It was most probably the meeting-place of an isolated and secretive group of renegades. I’d certainly not discerned anything like suppressed evil from Owain: if anything, the opposite. The young man was arrogant and could be thoughtless but he was essentially good. The evil I’d felt from the altar was overwhelming. If he had been infected by whatever practices went on there, Owain would not have been able to conceal it from my Gift.
Which left Ieuan. He had given me concern from the moment I saw how wizened he’d become, and the conversation earlier in the day had made me more disturbed. But still, there was no feeling of evil coming from him, not even when he had attempted to put me under a spell. Whatever it was he was hiding deeply troubled him, but it was most likely to be conducted in private. He healed hurts through his Gift, he couldn't possibly be involved in anything as evil as the devilry I’d felt. He simply couldn’t. It would be against his nature; the man I knew could no more do such things than a cow could be a horse. He may know who might be involved, however, and he should be informed as quickly as possible in order that the Circle be broken up before it could spread.
My ruminations had brought me quickly back to the hill leading up to Dumbarton and I was approaching the hut which contained the sick child. A guard was standing outside and he stepped across the door to block my way as I made to go in.
“No-one is allowed in there, Magister. The Lord Druid is inside.”
“I sent for him to come here and I may be able to help. I’m a friend from long ago.”
“I know that, Magister, everyone in the Castle does,” the sentry replied. He was the same one who had warned me against wolves on my way out. “But I’m under the strictest orders to allow no-one in.”
“What if the King came down here? Would you keep him out?”
“I would tell him my orders.”
“But would you keep him out if he insisted on going in?”
“I am sworn to his service. I could not keep him from anywhere he insisted on going.”
“And what if I insist on entering?”
“You’re not the King, and I’m not sworn to your service.” The guard was not overtly threatening me but it was clear that force would be used, if he deemed it necessary to keep me out of the hut.
“Then you leave me no choice,” I said, and stepped back. “I’ll be on my way back up to the Castle. Would you do me the favour of advising Father Ieuan that I would very much like to see him before I depart. Oh,” I continued, “and pass on my thanks to him that he answered my call”
“I shall do that, Magister. And thank you,” the guard responded.
“What for?”