“Owain, there remains the prospect of the Synod at Whitby. Your presence would be greatly appreciated by the delegation from the Irish Church.”
“What makes you think I’d support you? I’m not a Christian.”
“No, but you know a great deal about Christianity. More important, your presence would be a counter to the ambitions of the Romans. I really do believe that there’s more to this Synod than a religious debate.”
Owain sat without responding for some time. At length he replied.
“My answer has to be no, Anselm. It’s a difficult decision and one that I may come to regret, but the core of the matter is the religious question and I’d get restless at being excluded and bored while you lot got enmeshed in the finer points of hairstyles. I can’t afford to leave the kingdom for very long, the situation is still too unstable, with Dalriada to the west and Gwynedd and Mercia to the south. Who knows what Mercia will do next? It is reduced after its defeat at the Winwaed but it still simmers with resentment. It may not try its luck with Northumbria but may fancy its chances with Strathclyde.
“And what’s more,” he continued, barely pausing for breath. “Oswy has promised safe conduct only to clerics. I wouldn’t feel safe. We were at war only a few months ago and he’s likely to feel the bruises still. I wouldn’t put a good Christian king to such temptation.” I made to speak but Owain held up his hand to stop me. “The political ambitions of the Romans do concern me, though. I’m prepared to resist them and Gawain is, too. I suspect that Oswy doesn’t like the idea of their influence spreading either: they already have too much over his wife.”
He paused again, and I kept quiet. For me, the religious and the political were intertwined. I would not see Britain and its people thrown into a new slavery. If I could gain the support of this powerful young man by emphasising the political threat, then I wasn’t so pure as to deny myself that advantage. I would offer penance for any dissembling later.
For Owain, the religious aspect was of little import at all. He was considerate of his subjects’ welfare but it never occurred to him that they would, or could, or indeed should have control over their own lives. The power of kings was different, however.
The young King - kingly again after the morning’s aberration - sat thoughtfully in his chair, stroking his beard. Finally, he resumed.
“I am going to ask you to deliver a message to Oswy personally. I’ll have it written down in appropriate language,” by which he meant flowery and diplomatic, “and in it I’ll express my regrets at my absence but explain that the attentions of predators require my presence here. I will assure him of my peaceful intentions towards his Kingdom, and willingness to join with him in resistance to any common enemy that may appear. That should get the message across, but if it doesn’t, explain to him in simple language that I would not stand idly by and see his kingdom become a province of Rome, and would hope for the same from him. As the message is delicate, deliver it to him in as private a situation as the circumstances will allow.” I had to feel satisfied with that, and indeed I was content. Short of the Owain’s presence at Whitby, this was as much as he could hope for. An alliance between the two great kingdoms on the Island would give any potential troublemakers pause for thought. There could be a great and lasting peace come out of this, which would be good for everyone – kings, princes, monks and merchants, ordinary people, their crops and even their animals. He stood and I did the same.
“Now, I must go and make peace with my wife. Please come to see me again in a few hours. Say, an hour after midday.” I replied mildly that I was hoping to be on my way as I had a long distance to travel.
“I’ll ensure that you catch up on the delay.” I responded that I didn’t use horses, but preferred to walk among the people. “I didn’t have a horse in mind, Anselm,” the King replied with another enigmatic smile.
He was still playing games and I fervently hoped that this one would be harmless; I would have to wait and see. Owain refused further explanation.
8
The Glade
Until I was called to attend the King again I was free to wander where I wanted – and I wanted to find Ieuan. Wanting to find him but worried about what a meeting would entail. His attempt to use the forgetting-spell showed that I’d got close to the Druid’s secret. It was obviously a huge burden to him but it was probably terrible only in my friend’s mind. I knew very well that events or sins that were fairly minor could be magnified out of all proportion until they twisted the sufferer’s mind and made them think they were the worst person on Earth, beyond forgiveness. It could be that Ieuan thought so. But he knew my history so well and could see that it no longer crushed me, so what could be worse than what I’d done?
Padhraig had helped me through my crises, through those dark nights of the soul when I felt so alone and crushed under the burden of guilt. I was not the only one to have such a soul-friend; we all had one. As Padhraig was to me, so was I to others in the Community. The Romans talked of forgiveness in the Confessional but that was heresy to us. It was more about control than salvation, as far as we could see it. And with their gold-embroidered vestments, lace and fine buildings, who could say otherwise?
This was the path my thoughts took as I wandered to the top of the Keep and looked out over the hinterland of Dumbarton. It was a clear day, the sky was blue with hardly any cloud anywhere. The sun picked out the last of the snows on the peaks to the north and seemed to polish them so they shone like purest silver. Below the snowline the heather was brown and velvet. The whole landscape looked soft and gentle, with no indication of how the weather could change in a few minutes when a squall rushed in from the west. Lives had been lost by the unwary and unprepared, caught out in a sudden blizzard in the high passes or pastures, and I had no doubt they would be again. For now, though, the view was as beautiful as it was peaceful.