“It is a fitting time to enter the sacred heart of Hibernia,” she had said to Cormac, in speaking of the two great Druidical festivals, Beltane and Santheine. “Therefore I have chosen it; it is our time of joy—so hallowed by custom that even some of the Christians share it with us.”
There was such excitement and fascination in these ancient festivals that the wild spirits of the Hibernians were unable to resist them; when, as Christians, they wished to do so. They entered often from mere love of excitement and danger; not realising—or realising too late—that they were offering homage to the sun-god of the Druids who was no other than Baal—the Baal of the Syrians, the Phœnicians, and the ancient Hebrews—the Bosheth, or shameful thing of the Jewish writings.
CHAPTER VII.
Into the Arms of Moloch!
“All hail! all hail! Son of the House of Tuathal! Twig from the tree of Tara!”
These words were cried in Cormac’s ear next evening; as he and Ethne gave their horses drink at a running stream.
The cry was followed by a shout of victory as a Druid—the horse beneath him wet with sweat—leapt across the stream; his beard and garments streamed in the wind as he disappeared in the smoke of a circle of fires.
“Behold! behold!” cried Ethne, leaning forward and pointing to the circle of fires. “You have seen the winner!”
With a wild cry, she struck her horse—the creature bounded forward and she disappeared after the Druid.
A great wave of excitement passed over Cormac. He knew enough of the rites of the Druids to realise what this meant to Ethne. He had seen the winner of the Snake’s Egg—the Anguineum; the most prized of all druidical charms; believed to be thrown in the air from the frothy striving of entangled serpents; and eagerly sought after by waiting Druids who stood around with outstretched cloaks ready to catch it as it fell. The lucky Druid who caught it would forthwith ride at full speed on a waiting horse to gain security by the placing of running water between himself and the pursuing serpents—for it was believed the vipers turned immediately in pursuit.
As far as Cormac could see, the country was dotted with wreaths of smoke. As the evening fell, innumerable fires twinkled under the smoke; tongues of fire leapt on every hill, on every peak and granite column; they lit up the tracks in the swale and heath before him. He knew that to the Druids they were sacred fires.