My inspection completed, I settled to commune with my Maker. I stood with my forearms loosely outstretched and with the palms upward, offered a prayer of thanks and dedication and then opened my mind to whatever God would send me.
On this occasion, it seemed, He sent not very much. I considered Eanfleda, Queen of Northumbria, and realised how little I knew of her. Beyond the fact that she was Mercian (not Kentish, although she had been raised in Kent), everything was rumour and conjecture - alloyed, perhaps, with a little prejudice. The British couldn’t be expected to be neutral in matters concerning the English, and anything that undermined them and their status would be played upon, highlighted, exaggerated and gossiped around until it bore little or no resemblance to the original person or their characteristics. I should know - in my former life I had been the subject of more wild stories than most outside a royal court. But the information had come from Owain and Ieuan, and neither of them struck me as given to gossip. No, not quite so: I was judging Ieuan by what I knew of him from the past. He seemed to have gained in deviousness with age, as the episode with the princesses of Fife demonstrated (so he had only recently become High Druid! that was why I was unaware! And what had happened to Dyfrig, his predecessor?), but that was only the clearest indication that my old friend and protector may have changed over the years. Divination, I thought. It can be done if you don’t have the Sight but the price had always been too high – or believed to be. What price had Ieuan paid? He appeared to be an old man. I would have to ask him…
The thought of Eanfleda drifted into my mind again. What should I think of her? Hilda, her sister, was the Abbess of Whitby and a powerful woman in her own right. She ran the monasteries according to the Celtic rule and it was she who’d been trusted to host the Synod. Two sisters in positions of power in the same Kingdom could give rise to conflict. Sibling rivalry was a powerful thing, as I knew - and it wasn’t restricted to males, not by a long chalk...
I offered thanks for the insights I had been granted and settled down to sleep.
5
Friend No More
Less than five hours later I woke up and prepared for my morning offices.
The sky outside my window was still pitch black; it was about three hours before dawn at this time of the year. In a few weeks’ time I would be making this office in the full light of day – on Iona, anyway. I’d not been disturbed by bad or intrusive dreams but I felt not quite alert. My head was still woolly. I hoped to be on my way reasonably early if the King would let me go. Perhaps I should breakfast on whatever I could find and leave. No, better not, that would be a profound discourtesy. But first I had to perform the morning office, even before lighting a lamp. The stars were bright enough for that.
I arose unsteadily and, looking out of the window, assumed my normal stance. I gazed out to the bejewelled sky but had got no further than “Lord, may all my thoughts, my words and my actions...” when one of the stars began to radiate jagged rainbows of light. It seemed to spread itself quite quickly into a ragged arch across much of my vision. It was difficult to focus on it and examine it closely because it seemed to be just off-centre of my eyeline wherever I looked. I was getting a headache trying to follow it.
The arc extended from the right-hand end and curled round until it formed an elongated and mis-shaped oval, still rainbow-coloured at the edge but the centre was filling with greenish light. I leaned forward to try and get a closer look. The edge of the circle expanded rapidly and
There was a Man there. I could see him through the branches. I could smell him, too. Men smelled so much it was almost more than I could bear to be this close. This one was alone, though, sitting outside the cave as he had on each of the two days I had been watching him. He seemed to be paying no attention, to be unaware of me, but I had to be careful with Men, very careful. They were cunning and sly and cruel. The old wounds on my back seemed to throb again. They reminded me of the sting of stones and the smart of fires. They feared me, I knew, and I feared them - but the smells kept drawing me back. Not the smells of the Men themselves - they were disgusting - but the food, the glorious smells of their food. I got so hungry: the animals seemed to know I was there, now, and had learned to hide from me when I was hungry.
Could they smell me too? Did I smell as much as Men?
I hated the Men. They hurt me and chased me away with fire when all I wanted was to get close to the fire and get warm, because I got so cold. I hated the Men. They were cruel. But the food, the food, the food. The smell of the food. It brought me back, kept bringing me back.
A squirrel came close to the Man, small and russet with a big tail. Too small for a proper meal but enough to take the edge off my hunger if I was starving, but they tasted of rats. It stood on its hind legs and sniffed hopefully at the Man’s plate. He said something and offered a nut. The squirrel was almost torn in two: it wanted the nut so much but it was frightened to come too close. The Man tossed it gently so that the squirrel could get it without coming too close, maybe - just out of arm’s reach but close enough for a sudden spring.
Don’t do it, I thought, don’t do it. Men are cunning and cruel and kill you just for fun. But the squirrel ran the couple of steps to where the nut lay and picked it up and started to eat it where he stood. Now the Man will spring out and catch the little squirrel and catch him and kill him, he’ll have him. But he didn’t.
Then the wind changed and it came off my own back. The squirrel looked my way and ran off up the nearest tree and off over the branches. The Man looked my way and purred and held out his plate with the food on it but I couldn’t smell it any more and I just snarled a growl of irritation, turned away and crept off through the bushes.
The next day there was a bowl of food about two paces from the Man and about four from the edge of the forest. It was cooked meat of some kind, mixed with herbs. It smelled good. It smelled wonderful, like a feast after a long hunt. But it was too close. I crept away through the trees.
The next day the bowl was further from the Man, but still too close. Over the next two days I had no luck in the forest and went back to the bushes just by the cave, ravenous with hunger. It was early morning and there was no food out.