Valley of the Shadow by Peter Tremayne Page A

the world, but we have bards and scribes who have recounted the stories of how your Faith was spread. We know that Patrick went to Tara where he caused the Druid Luchet Mael to be burnt in a pyre and when the High King, Laoghaire, protested, Patrick brought about the death of others who refused to accept the new Faith. Even the High King Laoghaire was told that he would die on the spot unless he accepted the new Faith. Didn’t Laoghaire summon his council and tell them: “It is better for me to believe than to die” – is this a logical way to win people to a Faith?’
    ‘If what you say is the truth then it is not a logical way,’ Fidelma agreed quietly, though with a slight emphasis on the word ‘if’.
    ‘Do members of your Faith lie, Fidelma of Cashel?’ the woman sneered. ‘Ultan of Armagh sent my brother a gift of a book, Life of Patrick , written by one who knew him, one called Muirchú, and in which these truths are recorded. Not only that but we are told that Patrick journeyed to the fortress of Míliucc of Slemish, where he had lived before running away to Gaul and converting to the
new Faith. Hearing Patrick was nearing his fortress, so fearful of this Patrick was the chieftain, that he gathered all his valuables and his household, his wife and children, and he shut himself in his ráth and set fire to it. What fear could a man stir in another to make him end his life so horribly? Do you deny that this is so recorded?’
    Fidelma sighed softly.
    ‘I know it is so recorded,’ she admitted.
    ‘And as it was written, so was it done?’
    ‘We are told to believe the word of Muirchú, but it was the chieftain’s decision to end his life rather than believe and serve the eternal God.’
    ‘Under the ancient laws, we are told that what we believe is a matter for our conscience only. Belief is our choice so long as what we believe does not harm others. Your Patrick’s conversion of the five kingdoms was through a presentation of a single choice – believe or die by his hand.’
    ‘By the hand of God!’ snapped Eadulf, finally no longer containing his silence.
    Orla raised her eyebrows and turned in her saddle.
    ‘So? The foreigner speaks our language. I had begun to think that you did not or else that you were dumb. What land do you come from?’
    ‘I am Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham in the land of the South Folk.’
    ‘And where is that?’
    ‘It is one of the Saxon kingdoms,’ explained Fidelma.
    ‘Ah, I have heard of the Saxons. Yet you speak our language well.’
    ‘I have studied in this land some years.’
    ‘Brother Eadulf is under the protection of the hospitality of my brother Colgú of Cashel,’ interposed Fidelma. ‘He is an envoy from the archbishop of Canterbury in the land of the Saxons.’
    ‘I see. And the good Saxon brother disputes my understanding of Muirchú’s account of Patrick’s life?’
    ‘Some things may not be taken so literally.’ Eadulf felt moved to make a defence.
    ‘The book is not true then?’
    Fidelma groaned softly as Eadulf reddened in annoyance.
    ‘It is true, but …’
    ‘How can it be true and yet not to be taken literally?’ smiled Orla icily. ‘There is some necromancy here, surely?’
    ‘Some things are symbolic, meaning to impress the concept by means of stating a myth.’

    ‘So none of the people Patrick is said to have killed were actually killed?’
    ‘That is not what …’
    Fidelma interrupted.
    ‘We are coming to the end of the gorge,’ she announced thankfully as she saw that the ravine was widening into a broad valley. ‘Is this Gleann Geis?’
    ‘It is the Forbidden Valley,’ confirmed Orla, turning away from Eadulf and gazing up at the cliff above them. She suddenly issued a shrill whistling sound like a bird cry. At once, a deeper answering cry sounded. The figure of a sentinel appeared high above them, gazing down. It was then that Fidelma realised this passage into Gleann Geis was well protected for no one could move in