I asked if he had been back to Norway. He nodded.
“I think I made the right choice in moving out. It doesn’t get any better over there, it’s been hard for them. It seems to be getting colder. The ground won’t take seed before spring, and then the crops don’t grow well. Some years are better than others. Up in the north, though, I hear it’s getting very hard.”
I suggested that the raiding party that Owain had caught might not be the last. The pilot nodded reluctantly.
“That may well be, sir, though I hope not. But people get desperate, and they’ll try anything. Let’s hope for all our sakes - here in Britain and over there in Norway, because I’ve still got brothers over there and family here, too - let’s hope that it doesn’t get any worse than it is already.”
He fell silent then, and I didn’t pry any further. When next the pilot spoke it was to ask me to move forward so that I wouldn’t be in the way when the boat had to start tacking through the bends in the river. Its winding course and the drop in the wind meant that progress would be the oarsmen’s job, although the incoming tide would continue to help, for a while.
We’d been on the water for about four hours and the sun was well down towards the horizon when the small fleet turned in towards the northern shore. We’d reached the furthest extent of safe travel on the river and were to disembark. There were mutterings that we were in the middle of nowhere, and where would we spend the night, there couldn’t be an Inn for miles, but were all assured that they would be well catered for. We found, to general surprise, that there was a jetty - recently made and pristine, without a single plank missing. The path from it through the low-lying ground led us to a small settlement about a mile distant. There was an Inn; it had recently extended on Owain’s orders, I learned, and with more than enough room for all. We were made very welcome, for a party of two dozen and more didn’t arrive very often, whatever their means of transport. Those who’d passed this way before were astonished to find how far we’d come in four hours: nearly thirty miles upriver. As Owain had promised, we’d covered a journey of a day and more in just an afternoon.
I asked to sleep in the barn, but a few words from the Pilot to the Innkeeper produced a smile on the plump man’s face.
“I have to tell you that that will not be possible, Magister. On the King’s orders, you are to sleep in a bed tonight. He allows that you need not have the best room but I am told that you are to sleep indoors on pain of a flogging - for both of us.” I had to give way but complained that all the soft treatment I was receiving would make me unsuitable for the monastic life.
I wanted to take my leave of the Pilot before retiring to my room for contemplation and prayer. I told the Innkeeper that I wouldn’t be eating with the company, but asked for bread, cheese and an apple if there were any left. He assured me there was. Then I turned to the Norseman.
“Well my friend, I don’t even know your name and I’d like to. You’ve been a good companion.”
“Per, son of Lars is my name. Per Larsson in my own language. And I thank you, Magister. Our talk made the journey pass quickly. And of course I know who you are. Anselm of the Community of saints on Iona, friend of our High Druid. I’ve been to Iona and have to say I found it a bleak place. I admire you and your companions for carving out a living there. Well Magister Anselm, I look forward to our next meeting. I trust you’ll pass this way again?” I replied that I’d been more or less ordered to return, and would not risk a flogging by avoiding this duty. Per laughed and we shook hands before I went upstairs to my room, where my supper was ready and waiting on the small table.
I offered a quiet prayer and afterwards sat and softly sang a couple of songs. I found it calming and mildly purgative, like a cool shower for the Soul. I entered a sort of light trance as I sounded the notes and words; I was sure they were deliberately designed to produce just such an effect. It was over an hour before I settled down to a sleep that was, for nearly the whole night, calm, dreamless and refreshing.
I knew I would be waking up shortly when the Vision began. I felt acutely aware and conscious of myself while in the middle of it. I remember thinking at the time that I was having to put up with the Sight rather a lot of late.
I was walking through long grass. It reached halfway up my calf and felt alive, manifested by a tingling like a stream coursing through it as I made my way. It was not pleasant.
I was in an area of open ground. I could feel, but not see, trees all around. I was not sure how big the clearing was.
In the centre there was a small stone slab, or maybe a boulder. It was rough hewn, hardly fashioned by Man, if tools had been laid to it at all. It was very old.
A tuneless chant seeped into the air from the ground. It was deep and sonorous and set the whole land vibrating, as if the earth itself was humming in harmony with the sound. I did not recognise the chant and the words were unintelligible but at the same time it was familiar. It reached back into my mind and coiled itself into the deepest recesses of my brain, seeking a home. It was sensual. It touched me in my heart of hearts and set up a resonance far within me. It curled caressingly round my hips and thighs and down between my knees and back up and stroked my loins, looking for a way in. It was hard to get to the stone. The volume rose and rose and I was invited to join in. It promised that there would be peace and harmony for me and such pleasure as I had never known. I could join in if I wanted to, and I did want to. I liked singing and the tune was so sweet, so heady and I was almost ready. I stood straight and opened my mouth and
repeated my song from the night before - it was my favourite. It told of a love that continued in triumph beyond the grave.
‘Death did not diminish Him, nor torture overthrow
The love there was for sinful Man, that His great Heart did hold
Though evil spells and wicked deeds
His body took and bore
His Heart was ever stronger, and always would endure.’
I would not give in. I heard a venomous hiss and it was over.
I sat up in bed and felt something close to violation, as if dead hands had caressed my skin. My flesh crept with revulsion and I wanted to be sick, the way I’d felt at the Glade the previous morning. A bowl stood on a small table in the corner of the room, with a stone jug half-filled with water in it. I grabbed the bowl, careless that I had knocked over the jug, heaved and retched and heaved again, but nothing came. There was nothing to come. I’d allowed nothing inside - but it had been terribly close.
“There will be other tests. Be strong,” someone said.
“Padhraig?” But there was no-one there.