Evans to Betsy

Digest and Woman’s Weekly. Then he remembered the book in his pocket. He took it out and started to read. An hour later he still hadn’t been called and he had reached chapter 10.

Chapter x. Sacrifices.

Sacrifice as a usual part of Druid ritual, although most sacrifices involved animals, not humans. Human sacrifice, greatly exaggerated and distorted by ancient Roman observers, did take place, but only in exceptional circumstances. Prisoners were ritually sacrificed so that their death twitches could be observed and the way they fell could provide divination answers to the oracles. Oracle Druids also disemboweled living victims so that their entrails could be read for answers from the gods.

Small numbers of ritually sacrificed bodies have been found throughout Britain, showing that ritual sacrifice was only performed in very special circumstances. Several bodies have been discovered, perfectly preserved, in bogs. The way they were decorated and the fact that their arms were bound with leather thongs show that they were put into the bog to die, although whether this was meant as punishment or as an appeasement to the gods is not certain.

In times of extreme emergency, or when the high priests felt that the gods were displeased or unapproachable, a perfect specimen from the tribe would be selected as an appeasement sacrifice—usually a young warrior or a virgin. In some locations they would be killed on a stone table with a ritual knife, but this does not seem to have been the preferred method in Wales or Ireland.

The more curious phenomenon of the Wicker Man has been reported by many ancient observers and was surely a part of the fire rituals, although whether on a regular basis or only in times of war is not known. The Wicker Man described in ancient literature was a figure made of willow branches and stuffed with straw. It was burned rather like our Guy Fawkes, on a bonfire to insure prosperity, fertility, or the success of the crops or as an offering to the gods in war. It is suggested that live victims were at times placed within the Wicker Man, although whether these were captives or victims selected from the tribe for a specific tribute is not clear.

As he read, Evan had been experiencing a growing uneasiness. Why was Rhiannon suddenly showing such an interest in Betsy? “She needs me to help her with the big ceremony.” Evan flipped back to the chapter on Beltane. “Beltane, the ceremony of new fire. Sometimes sacrifices were performed to ensure success of the crops and fertility of the herds.” He heard Betsy’s soft whisper from the previous night: “Promise not to tell another soul in the whole world. I’m still a virgin.”

The big ceremony tonight! Evan jumped to his feet. “Oh my God!” he gasped as he ran down the echoing tiled hallway. Beltane was tonight. The Wicker Man. He had to get to the Sacred Grove before it was too late.

He hadn’t ridden down on his motorbike this time, because there was still a chance of rain, and his own old bone-shaker didn’t do more than fifty miles an hour without protesting groans. He pushed it as hard as he dared along the expressway to Caernarfon, then on the coastal road to Porthmadog. Across the estuary, where the setting sun streaked the outgoing tide with pink, then into the twilight of the oak woods, and finally to the gate of the Sacred Grove.

As he approached the security gate, figures loomed out of the gloom and surrounded his car. They were waving placards and Evan soon recognized the song they were singing. It was ‘Cwm Rhondda.’ “Strong redeemer, strong redeemer, I will ever cling to thee!”

“Go back, Satan. Back to the place God has ordained for you!” shouted a voice and Evan saw Mrs. Powell-Jones brandishing a sign as if it was a weapon. The sign read, DRUID WORSHIP IS DEVIL WORSHIP. Other signs proclaimed, PAGANS GO HOME. KEEP WALES

CHRISTIAN. NO HEATHEN CEREMONIES.

Evan wound down his window. “Let me get past, Mrs. Powell-Jones. It’s me. Constable Evans.”

“Constable Evans! Well, I never … I hope you don’t intend to participate in the heathen orgy?”

“No, I want to try and stop it! Let me get past.”

“Good man. Good luck to you! I hope they’ll let you in. They closed the gate as soon as we got here.”

Evan pushed the intercom button. “Let me in. It’s Constable Evans. It’s very urgent.”

“I’m sorry, Constable,” came the scratchy voice through the intercom. “I’ve had orders not to open this gate. There’s a lot of raving loonies out there. If you can radio for police backup to keep the loonies out, then I’ll let you in, but until then it’s more than my job’s worth to open this gate.”

“The ceremony?” Evan shouted over the hymn singing and chanting going on around him. “Are they going ahead with the ceremony?”

“Oh, yes, that will have started by now. They were heading down to the oak grove about an hour ago.”

“Where is it? Where is this oak grove, man?”

“Not exactly sure. Over toward the point, it must be. That’s where they were heading.”

“Send someone over there and stop it before it’s too late!” Evan shouted.

“I can’t do that. There’s only me on duty and I can’t leave my post.”

“Call someone. Get someone over there, man, do you hear?”

“All right. All right. Keep your hair on, Constable. I’ll call them at the big house. What’s all this about then? What will I tell them?”

“To stop the bloody ceremony before somebody gets hurt, that’s what!” Evan shoved the car into reverse and backed through the milling crowd, making them scatter before him as he sounded his horn. Then he drove a mile or so back along the road, parked the car on the muddy verge, and ran through the woodland. He had to be able to reach the point from here. The property was on a narrow strip of land between two estuaries. It couldn’t be very wide at this point. It was just a question of cutting across at the right place. Darkness was falling rapidly now and trees loomed like ghostly figures, reaching out spiky arms to grab at him as he ran past. His breath started coming in gulps as he reached the crest of a hill and got his first view of the estuary beyond. At least he couldn’t see the glow of a bonfire yet. Maybe he was in time and they hadn’t started the ceremony.

He plunged down the other side of the slope, his feet swishing through unseen bracken, stumbling over tree roots, and tearing through gorse bushes. Then he heard the voice. It was colder and deadlier than ever before, but he recognized it and made for it through the darkness.

“I have cast the circle. The seen and the unseen are now one. Now I call the four quarters. I call the East, quarter of the air. I call all winged things, inhabitants of the air, to our circle. Come birds, come angels, be one with