Beorhtric laughed in good humour and took a sip of his ale. ‘I am no Brother of the Christian Faith. After you left to study here I wandered with Fursa for a while. Then I realised my mistake and returned to the kingdom of Sigehere. I saw the devastation left by the Yellow Plague. Our new god had not protected us from the evil and so I supported Sigehere when he returned to the Old Faith and called on Woden to drive out the evil. I was with Sigehere when he destroyed the new Christian churches and re-opened the old temples.’
Eadulf grimaced. ‘I had heard that the East Saxons had returned to the old ways. I am sad to find that you are one of them.’ He frowned. ‘Yet Iheard that Sigehere had, with the guidance of Bishop Jaruman, returned to the Faith of Christ.’
‘Sigehere was a fool,’ snapped Beorhtric. ‘He was not swayed by argument but because Wulfhere of Mercia, who fancied himself as a Christian overlord, promised him his niece, Osyth, in marriage. They now have a Christian brat called Offa. Sigehere is a weak king. He runs with the hare and tries to hunt with the hounds. He allowed Wulfhere to drive out those who remained true to Woden.’
‘Is that why you are here?’
Beorhtric smiled thinly. ‘With all the Saxon kingdoms falling to this Christian teaching, I and some companions decided to take service with those who would pay for our swordhands. We found ourselves coming to this land and by chance we fell in with this band who are fighting for the restitution of their old gods against the Christians.’
‘Do you really hope to change the tide of the New Faith?’
‘The tide is with us, Eadulf,’ Beorhtric said. ‘Soon this army will spread through the country and the few generations that separate the people from their old gods will be but a curious moment in time, a pause in the march forward to a new golden age.’
‘You cannot believe that?’ Eadulf looked aghast at the Saxon.
‘And you are too intelligent not to consider it, my friend. Remember your youth when you worshipped at the grove of Woden? Are we not all descended from Woden’s seven sons? How can you turn your back on him whose divine blood is in all of us?’
Eadulf shivered slightly.
It was true that, having accepted the New Faith with his intellect when he was seventeen, Eadulf’s emotions still felt the power of Tyr, Woden, Thunor and Freya. Every time he spoke against them, he felt their lurking presence, waiting to seize him and consign him to the flames of Hel. Deliberately he raised the mug of ale and took a swallow in order to disguise his emotions.
‘What is the purpose of this conversation, Beorhtric?’ he asked coldly. ‘Are you trying to reconvert me to the old ways?’
Beorhtric smiled pleasantly and sat back. ‘I hope that I have the power to do so, Eadulf. You were an hereditary gerefa of your people and it was your duty to maintain the faith and code of your ancestors. I have persuaded our leader to give me an opportunity to save your life.’
‘An opportunity?’ Eadulf raised an eyebrow. ‘What will that entail?’
‘You may join us, be received into my warband with the respect I would give to any gerefa of my people … ’
‘On what condition?’
‘That you tell us what you know about the happenings in Tara and whether the Fianna is marching against us.’
‘You mean to ask me to make an act of betrayal?’
Beorhtric shook his head. ‘It is no betrayal. Tell us what we need to know and we will not harm you. That is simple enough.’
‘It is a betrayal of my wife and her people, as well as all I hold dear.’
‘Your wife, this Fidelma of Cashel, will not be harmed. Our leader has said that she has great respect for her. We will capture her and then, if she won’t join us, you can take her with you and go where you want.’
Eadulf stifled the refusal that came to his mind because something else occurred to him. Perhaps he could find out more about these people, the strange woman who led them and the strength of her army, if he did not make an immediate rejection of the offer.
‘You cannot expect me to abandon all I believe in just like that,’ he countered. ‘Tell me more of why you fight for this woman.’
‘The ceannard?’
‘Yes. What is her name?’
‘She is just the leader, the Wise One. A priestess of the god Crom.’
‘So she has no name?’
‘None that dare be spoken.’
‘And she believes in this old god?’
‘She believes that the Christians are just a new empire spreading from Rome as they once spread before; she believes that they are destroying the old ways and customs just as the Romans tried once before to make everyone bow down to their ways and government.’
‘And that is why she fights?’
‘That is why.’
‘But the message of Christ is peace,’ pointed out Eadulf.
Beorhtric laughed as if he found the idea uproarious. ‘Peace among those who fall under the Roman heel? The real rulers of Rome recognise no peace. While they conquer, they preach that the conquered should have poverty of spirit. They are thus able to oppress them, for when men are of poor spirit then the proud and haughty can easily rule them. Oh yes, Eadulf, I know something of the religion you still uphold. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven”. That’s what is taught, eh?
‘And what else do they teach?’ he went on, goading Eadulf. ‘“Him that takes away your cloak, do not forbid him to take your coat also. Give to every man that asks something from you and of him that takes away your goods do not make protest”. And if physical violence is used against you, why, “if you are struck on the one cheek, turn the other so they can strike you again”!’
Beorhtric burst out laughing. ‘This is the religion that slave-masters teach to slaves, the better that they might enslave them.’
Eadulf stirred uneasily, for Beorhtric had certainly homed in on what he had always seen as the weakness of the new philosophy.
He and Fidelma had spent much time discussing such matters and they had always felt that resistance to wrong and the practice of moral right and self-reliance was the better course. But it was surely contrary to the teachings of the poverty of spirit that was claimed to be a virtue?
‘And does this Crom uphold such virtues?’ he demanded. ‘I heard that this idol was some aberration of the Old Faith of Éireann whose priests demanded human sacrifices to appease their appetites.’
Beorhtric made a dismissive gesture as if it was of no consequence. ‘Crom? That is for the people of this land. I have never foresworn Woden. And if Woden is using Crom to overthrow the New Faith, then so be it. Crom only demands the sacrifices of his enemies. He demands, moreover, that people stand up against the Christians who would oppress them by stealth. He commands us to drive the tide of Roman cunning back into the sea as the old Romans were driven back before.’
Eadulf shook his head sadly at the light of fanaticism in Beorhtric’s face.
‘And this is the reason for what is happening here?’
‘It is a great cause. It is the freedom of people from the new oppression. Sadly, our Saxon brethren have been fooled into accepting these insidious ideas. Here we might win and then be able to bring our army back to our homelands to reconvert our people to the true ways and mend the harm that has been done.’
‘To return to what?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘Was life so good when we sacrificed to the gods, when we left people with no hope but the utter void that follows death?’
‘We had the choice,’ Beorhtric said fiercely, ‘to die with weapon in hand and the name of Woden on our lips so that we might live again in the Hall of Heroes.’
‘And how many could hope for such a death, a futile death at that?’