Dancing With Demons by Peter Tremayne Page B

quietly addressing the old woman: ‘And does the watcher have a name?’
    ‘Some have called me Badb,’ came the croaking response.
    To Eadulf’s ear the name sounded like ‘bave’. It meant nothing to him, but at his side he heard Gormán groan a little.
    Fidelma’s voice was light and bantering. ‘Are you claiming to be the hooded raven of battles, old one? The goddess Badb who delights in setting one person against the other, incites armies to fight each other so that she may delight in the slaughter and haunt the battlefields for lost souls? I declare, I never thought to meet so distinguished an entity. So you call yourself Badb?’
    ‘Your mind is reputed to be sharp, Fidelma of Muman. You clearly heard me say that some have called me so, therefore it is pointless trying to match your wits with mine in an attempt to irritate me.’
    Fidelma’s voice was still bantering. ‘Well, old one, why am I not welcome in Midhe?’
    ‘You come seeking a solution to the death of Sechnussach. You will not find the truth, I tell you. There will be no peace in this land until all you of the New Faith have given up this heresy and returned to the Old Faith and the gods and goddesses of the time before Time began. You must welcome them back into your hearts and lives. When the great Cauldron of Murias is brought to the Hill of Uisnech, the navel of the world, when the sacred stone of Falias, the mighty sword of Gorias and the great Red
Javelin of Finias are once more together, then shall the Children of Danú, Mother Goddess, reign supreme again over their people. It will be soon, for the Wheel of Destiny is found. The White One has spoken of these things and she speaks the truth.’
    Fidelma and her companions sat spellbound by the old woman’s chanting tones. As she spoke, the crone seemed to rise up so that her hunched back was almost straight, her voice still rasping but powerful.
    ‘Turn back across the bridge and return to the land which your brother rules and take this message to him: “Return to the Old Faith before it is too late, for the path you are taking leads to the destruction of the peoples of the five kingdoms, and foreign kings will take the place of those who now rule in vanity”. Go back, Fidelma of Cashel! ’
    Then, with a wild cry, the old woman turned from the riverbank and scuttled away into the woods.
    ‘Wait!’ Fidelma called to her. Even as she spoke, Caol had slapped his horse forward and was off the bridge and trying to follow the woman through the dense undergrowth.
    Fidelma, Eadulf and Gormán walked their mounts slowly forward off the bridge and waited for Caol to return.
    Eadulf was bewildered. ‘What was all that about?’ he asked.
    Fidelma smiled without humour. ‘I’d say it was a poor demented old woman who is living in the past. There are still some who believe in the old ways and the old superstitions, and she is certainly one of that number.’
    Gormán coughed nervously. ‘But, lady, how did she know that you are Fidelma of Cashel and the reason why you have come to Tara?’
    The thought had also occurred to Fidelma.
    ‘It is no use speculating when I do not have information,’ she replied airily. ‘It is not beyond the bounds of possibility that Cenn Faelad’s sending for me has been talked about at Tara so that she acquired such knowledge that way.’
    ‘Well, I have no understanding of half the things that were said,’ Eadulf commented. ‘What or who is a bave ?’
    ‘ Badb. ’ Fidelma corrected his pronunciation slightly. ‘She was one of three evil goddesses who presided over death and battles, who loved slaughter and bloodshed, and would often sow baneful thoughts to incite people to commit violence against one another.’
    Gormán chimed in: ‘And she is often depicted as an old woman washing the skulls of those slain in battle while sitting at a ford – that is why she is also known as the Washer at the Ford.’

    ‘Except the old one called herself a