“Did Ieuan know him?”
“Of course, but they were enemies. He saved me from Lucius as well. He wasn’t frightened of confronting him. He would no more have sided with him than with the English invaders.”
“Your friendship may blind you to fundamental changes in him.”
I nodded slowly. “Perhaps, but I felt no evil in him.”
“But you weren’t looking for any.”
“I never do. I find it without having to look for it.” Eata nodded in his turn.
“Don’t we all. This peaceful scene conceals much enmity and even wickedness, at times” he indicated the Abbey farms and the small settlement. “But on the surface all is calm and most will greet you pleasantly. The Druid is a friend, he remembers you fondly. I wonder why he sticks with the old ways, when so many of his companions have turned to the true path. But you may well be right,” he said, turning to walk back down the hill again, “he may have no malice in him. As I said, the Devil loves to sow confusion among his enemies. It wouldn’t be any surprise if he tried to drive a wedge between you and your friends: he would love to see it.
“You have a difficult road to follow, Anselm. Be careful and hold fast to the Faith. Pray to St Michael, that he may spare you just a thousandth part of his courage and strength. I will pray for you too.”
“And let me know if you hear anything that may help throw light on the mystery,” I replied. “Ask your brothers to look out for any signs. Ask after any new druids, maybe in the woods or in hermitage.” Eata agreed, then he turned to other topics.
“And now, tell me about Nectan’s daughter,” he was referring to Gruach. “Is she well? Has she settled?”
“I didn’t know you knew her.”
“Not personally, but I know of her and these alliances between kings are always of interest. We’re not so very far away from two borders that have been the subject of...er...heated debate. We’re now ruled from Bamburgh, but only a few months ago these lands were part of Lothian - and may well be again one day.”
We passed the time back to the Abbey in conversation about the pretty young Queen and her unusual spirit. I recounted her scolding of Owain, without detailing the reason, and Eata laughed at her audacity.
“You seem quite taken with the lass,” he said lightly.
“Indeed I am. She’s a breath of fresh air and good for Owain, I’m sure. I’m not so taken as to wander off my path in search of one like her, but it’s good to know that she’s in the World. It makes it a brighter place.”
“Your honesty does you credit, brother. Had you tried to conceal your feelings I would have been concerned for you and maybe recommended a long pilgrimage to a remote and rocky place once your duties at Whitby have been discharged, but you’ve been open. The pilgrimage is not a bad idea anyway, of course, but in this instance to strengthen your Faith rather than to subdue inappropriate emotions,” and he smiled. “Maybe I should take the White Martyrdom myself, and if my route happens to take me to Dumbarton I’ll be able to judge for myself whether your Gift of divination is accurate. You’re not the only one with a touch of the Sight.”
I snorted briefly. Once Eata had confessed to his Gift it was obvious that he had it, although less strong than my own.
We’d reached the grounds of the Abbey and, across the yard, Bedwyr was being led towards the infirmary. He was still wearing his threadbare clothes but he was carrying a bundle that looked - even from a distance - much cleaner. The boy would be bathed and dressed in a simple habit and his old clothes would be given to a family even poorer than his own: there was no shortage of them.
“He’s very small and young. You were right to bring him here, nonetheless, and I thank you. I will pray that he will be strong enough to resist the Evil One when he is assailed.”
“Given half a chance, he’d talk him to death.” I grinned.
“Ah yes. He must learn some self-control, I think.”
“Not so much that the spark is snuffed out, I hope.” Eata paused for a moment.
“You’re right. We must not drown his great Gift in a sea of discipline, or we may be held to account for it. I’ll make sure it’s not laid on too thick and his Gift is encouraged to grow. I think that lad may have a bright future in the Church, if he chooses to stay.”
“I pray he will. He may turn out to be very helpful to us and those who follow.”
Eata nodded agreement and then we took our leave of each other. I thanked him for his time and, through him, for the Community’s hospitality. I was encouraged to return soon, and safely, and then set off along the river valley towards the coast.
The following night I gained shelter with a smallholder and his family and, in payment, had to satisfy their entreaties for baptism for their youngest child, born during the winter, and for a small family service.
My hosts informed me that there were Roman missionaries wandering the countryside, proselytising and seeking converts but with little success so far. Some conversions had been made but equally some priests had disappeared. This was a dangerous area and one who is expected to carry a full purse - whether or not they did - was a likely target for brigands, deserters and even (it must be confessed) starving farm families. The main reason for the lack of success, however, was the usual: submission to their hierarchies and discipline. For people brought up by the monks of Lindisfarne and Iona to have a direct relationship with God the very idea of an intermediary was distasteful, especially if – like the Pope – he was a foreigner none had seen.
I rose early and left quickly. I made good time but when nightfall came I had to camp in the open almost within sight of the Holy Island. It was frustrating to have to stop, so close, but it had to be borne. I’d done well so far - greatly aided by Owain’s ferry service - and I would probably arrive before I was looked for in any case. A night to cool my heels would help strengthen my patience.