She laughed and folded her arms.
“I am a Druidess! Learn that, ye two poor white-livered Christians.”
Her glittering eyes glanced from Cormac to Elgiva.
The distant chime of the monastery bells came softly to their ears; and closer at hand the chant of Saint Patrick’s hymn, the Feth Fiddha. The June sun shone warm through the chinks in the walls.
For a time Cormac was unable to speak. When he did so, his voice was hoarse and uncertain.
“It is a foul and horrible faith. Its rites are bloody and repulsive—there is human sacrifice—and the burning to death of men and women and little children! At its best it teaches neither love nor charity.”
She spat upon the ground.
“So much for your love and charity! I never heard such words till I lived amongst fools and Christians!”
“But thou art a Christian, Ethne!”
The woman again laughed impatiently.