Lord Lochru

Patrick felt a hand fall on his shoulder an instant later.

“I am responsible for this fire,” the bishop said from behind Patrick. His tone was warm. But there was a lion’s strength behind it. “I am Patricius, bishop of Christ’s church.”

Lochru waved a bony finger at the bishop. “How dare you challenge the ancient laws of our land!” he cried.

The fire crackled and roared behind them. Branches crashed down. A spray of hot sparks flew high into the air.

Lochru pointed his staff toward the fire. “Put out this fire at once!” he shouted.

The druids moved toward the flames. Some grabbed dirt and threw it onto the fire. Others tossed large clumps of wet leaves. But the fire burned hotter.

“We need water!” one druid called out.

“Bring water from the creek!” Lochru shouted.

A few of the druids hurried to obey.

Lochru turned to the remaining druids. “Guard those two,” he said. “The king will see that they’re punished!”

The druids moved toward the bishop and Patrick.

“Take the girl away,” the bishop said quietly to Tristan.

Beth looked surprised. Tristan raised his hand as if he might protest.

“Now,” the bishop ordered.

Tristan nodded. Then he grabbed Beth’s arm and began to pull her toward the woods.

Beth dragged her feet. “No,” she said. “I want to stay with Patrick.”

“Go with Tristan,” Patrick said. “We’ll be safe.”

Suddenly Lochru laughed loudly. “Safe?” he shouted. “You will be dead !”

Tristan and Beth hid in the forest. They silently watched the clearing from behind some bushes. The light from the fire shone around the crowd for hundreds of feet.

Hour after hour the druids brought buckets of water up the hill. They threw the water on the flames, but the fire stayed lit. Then more druids came with more water buckets. But the fire only burned brighter as each bucket was emptied on the flames.

Beth was about to fall asleep against a tree. But she heard a strange sound.

Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!

The ground shook.

Rumble! Rumble! Rumble!

“What’s that noise?” Beth whispered to Tristan. “It sounds like an earthquake.”

“Look and see,” Tristan said. He pointed to the clearing.

Beth and Tristan watched the chariots arrive. They were pulled by galloping horses. Soldiers rode in the chariots. Each carried a shield in one hand and had a sword at his side. They headed straight toward the druids.

The chariots stopped. A soldier stepped out from one of the chariots. “We come with orders from the high king,” he said to the group of druids.

Lochru stepped up to meet them. “Speak!” he cried.

“King Logaire summons the one who lit this fire to appear before him,” the soldier said. “He will be charged with a sentence of death.”

The bishop rose to his feet. “I will gladly come,” he said. “Thanks be to God! This is the reason I built the fire.”

“What about the boy?” Lochru asked. “He admitted that he helped!”

“What do I care about a boy?” the soldier asked.

Just then a big druid with red hair stepped out of the crowd of white robes.

Beth gasped. It was Shane.

“I care!” Shane shouted. “The boy is an escaped slave! I paid a bagful of gold for him.”

Lochru turned. He pounded his staff on the ground. “Bring him along! To the castle!” he cried.

“Walk behind us!” shouted the soldier. He climbed back into his chariot. He gave a command. All the chariots turned. The horses galloped away. They pulled the chariots back toward the castle.

The bishop and Patrick marched after the soldiers. The men in brown robes fell in line behind the bishop.

Bong. Bong. Bong.

A solemn drum sounded. One of the bishop’s followers pounded a steady beat as they walked.

Beth thought the drum sounded like a death march.