Dancing With Demons Read Online Free PDF Page B

Patrick could walk into fires or the Blessed Ailbe could restore to life the son of Mac Dara after he had drowned in the river. Look how it is told that Patrick smashed the skull of the Druid Lochru on a rock, using, as we are told, his magical powers to do so. This was to demonstrate that his magic was more powerful than their magic. In fear, they turned to the Faith that he brought as being more advantageous to their well-being. This fear spreads the Faith.’
    Fidelma was slightly disapproving of the argument but she knew the stories well enough. For herself, she did not believe in miracles of any sort.
    ‘So this is a symbol of the old beliefs?’ she said quickly as she saw the old man about to extend his argument.
    ‘It may well be the only surviving symbol of a great Druid.’ Brother Conchobhar nodded slowly.
    ‘You think the old man who died in Ferloga’s inn was such an important member of the Old Faith?’
    ‘It is impossible to say with certainty, but it is rare to come upon such
accoutrements. Do you know anything else about him? Was it known where he came from or where he was going?’
    ‘Apparently, he was from the north. He asked Ferloga the innkeeper, what road he should take for Cnánmhchailli. But there are no dwellings around there. It is an empty and desolate place.’
    Brother Conchobhar’s eyes had widened. ‘Except for the ancient pillar stone,’ he pointed out.
    ‘So Ferloga said,’ Fidelma grimaced. ‘Why go to an old, decaying pillar stone? I have passed it a hundred times. It is of no significance.’
    ‘To you, perhaps. But if this man were truly one of those who clung to the pagan ways, then it might make sense that he would be going there.’
    ‘How so?’
    Brother Conchobhar leaned forward, confidentially. ‘Have you heard of the legends of Mug Ruith?’
    ‘The sun god of the pagans?’
    ‘Yes. He became known as mac seanfhesa, the son of ancient wisdom, chief of all the Druids in the five kingdoms. He rode a great chariot, which at night shone as bright as daylight. In the days before the Blessed Ailbe of Imleach brought the teachings of Christ to this corner of the world, it was said that the pillar stone was a fragment of the wheel of Mug Ruith’s great chariot that had become petrified.’
    When Fidelma smiled cynically, Brother Conchobhar told her: ‘It is not wise to dismiss other beliefs without understanding them. Among those who cling to the Old Faith it is said that Mug Ruith is their great champion against Christianity and that his Roth Fáil, his wheel of light, will one day be an engine of destruction that will sweep the teachings of Christ out of the five kingdoms; that we will once again encompass the old way. I believe that many of the Old Faith still search in the hope of finding the Roth Fáil.’
    ‘An old pillar stone is hardly the Roth Fáil.’ Fidelma was dismissive.
    ‘The Druids spoke in symbols. Who knows what they meant? Tell me, did this man carry anything else with him?’
    Fidelma brought forth the bag of coins. ‘He carried these.’
    Brother Conchobhar emptied the coins on his table and peered at them. ‘Roman coins?’ he asked.
    ‘Look closer. They are ancient coins of the type the Britons and Gauls used to cast before the coming of the Romans, centuries before the birth of Christ. I have seen them before in my journeys. And here are also some
marked with the name of Tasciovanus, who ruled in Britain two generations before the Romans invaded. Do you see the letters CAM on this gold stater? That signified his capital of Camulodunum. Not one of these coins is later than the time that Rome moved into these territories. They are the most ancient coins of our western world.’
    ‘Why would this old man be carrying such coins with him?’ frowned the apothecary as he sifted through the coins. ‘This is proof of wealth indeed.’
    ‘I was hoping that you would have some arcane knowledge that might explain it,’ Fidelma told him.
    ‘Alas,