Sacrifice by Philip Freeman Page B

forces are as exhausted as ours, but if they could destroy Dúnlaing without a fight they would welcome the chance to expand their control into Leinster.”
    â€œAnd then there’s the abbot of Armagh.”
    â€œYes,” I sighed. “He’s part of the Uí Néill royal family. If he could extend the political power of his people, he could also increase his own dominance. He would like nothing more than to see the monastery of Kildare in ruins. When I saw him a few months ago, he told me he’d like to kill us all.”
    â€œWas that before or after you held a knife to his throat?” she chuckled.
    â€œBefore, I think. Anyway, I made a powerful enemy for us that day.”
    â€œBut,” she said, “the Uí Néill are not the only political threat to Dúnlaing. There are plenty of kings in Leinster and Munster who would like to see him fall, including the young ruler of Glendalough.”
    â€œNo. Cormac would never harm the nuns of Kildare. He’s as ambitious a man who ever lived, but that is a line he wouldn’t cross.”
    â€œI agree, but other royalty might not have such high standards, including Dúnlaing’s own sons.”
    â€œTrue, though in any case none of the kings, princes, or abbots of Ireland would have the knowledge necessary to perform these sacrifices on their own. They would have to have found a druid who was willing to desecrate and defile everything we stand for. I can’t imagine any druid would do that for the sake of money or power—or for any other reason.”
    â€œI can’t imagine it either,” she said, “but you never know what lies in the heart of another person.”
    We stared at the fire for a long time without speaking. It had grown dark outside and there was no moon to brighten the night.
    â€œGrandmother, I am going to find whoever did this. I may not be a member of the monastery anymore, but Sister Anna gave me a job to do and I intend to carry it through. The nuns of Kildare are still my sisters in my heart. This killer may not stop with the solitaries scattered around the woods. Machacould be a target next, or Garwain—or even Dari. I swear by holy Brigid and the gods of my tribe that I will destroy this man. Maybe not being a nun could even help me in the search. I’m not constrained by the rules of the monastery or the authority of Sister Anna. I’m free now to wander anywhere on this island with my standing as a druid and a bard. I can make kings answer to me if I need to.”
    â€œTrue, my child. But you still look like a nun.”
    I got up from the hearth and went to the large wooden chest at the foot of my old bed. I untied the belt around my waist and laid it on the bed, then reached over my shoulders and pulled off my rough woolen tunic. As I stood there naked, I folded my garments from the church at Kildare and put them into the chest. Then I reached to the bottom and took out one of the fine linen tunics I had stored away three years earlier and put it on, along with a broad belt of worked leather. Then I took the solid gold torque I had been given by King Dúnlaing himself as a badge of office and fixed it around my neck. Finally, I reached into the chest and pulled out the beautifully woven multicolored robe of a bard and threw it over my shoulders, then fastened it with a stylized horsehead brooch made of Spanish silver and studded with lapis lazuli.
    My grandmother came over and put her arms around me. Only my small wooden cross remained as a symbol of my life as a nun.
    â€œIt doesn’t really match the rest of your outfit,” she said.
    I reached behind my neck and started to untie the lanyard, but then stopped. Instead, I tucked the cross inside my tunic close to my heart.
    â€œIt’s still a part of me. I’m going to keep it on, at least for now.”
    Grandmother kissed my cheek.
    â€œWell, we should get some sleep,” she said.