After my morning offices and breakfast of bread, spring water and goat’s cheese I set off with a light heart. Although the expedition to Whitby was yet to come I felt that Lindisfarne, the Holy Island, was the end of my journey for now. I was looking forward to seeing the community here: the cheerful, simple and faithful Colman; Cuthbert the ascetic whose great intellect created greater torments to test and stretch his soul; Cedd, whose bright conversation and wide knowledge was as enjoyable as it was enlightening, and there would be others of course. New novices, visiting monks from Erin and the British kingdoms to the south and west, and others who I didn’t know. There was much to look forward to and I quickened my step again. Above all there was the Shrine of Aidan, founder of the Community, who I’d met only once and that a long time ago. It was Iona’s child but one that was set to overtake its parent in importance as it enjoyed the patronage of the most powerful of the English kings.
When I reached the strand the sand was damp. I didn’t know whether the tide was coming in or going out and there was no-one around to ask. I looked across to Lindisfarne, sometimes island and sometimes mainland, rising a couple of miles ahead, grey-green from the yellow-white of the temporary connection. I wondered if it would be better to wait until I was sure which way the tide was flowing but when I looked around again I saw storm clouds massing to the west. I could stay and be soaked or hurry and maybe get my feet wet. I looked to the Island again, shimmering invitingly in the sunshine that still bathed it ahead of the storm to come, and decided to make for it as quickly as I could. The way was clearly marked by tall poles reaching from the sand, so I was in no danger from quicksands and without further hesitation I set off. It would take me less than half an hour to reach the island if I hurried.
I was more than half a mile from the shore when it became obvious that the tide was coming in. The pools were getting larger and deeper and it was impossible to avoid them without following a tortuous and twisting course that would take far longer than a straight dash. I hadn’t expected to arrive dryshod anyway.
After a short while longer I knew I’d made a serious mistake: I was nearly a mile from the mainland and about the same distance from the island. The water was coming in rapidly and now reached well above my ankles. The speed of the incoming flow surprised me. I turned to go back, looked at the distance I’d come and turned again to judge how far it was to Lindisfarne: I was almost exactly half way. To go forward or back would take the same time. I stood in the middle of the deepening strand and looked first one way then the other, unable to make up my mind. From a distance I must have looked a forlorn figure, turning one way then the other, unable to decide which way to go as the water rose rapidly around my indecision.
I decided to go on. I must move from this place or I was lost. If I was half across it was the worst place to be and the way would get better from now on.
The water was rising rapidly. The depth of it and the strength of the current impeded my every step, slowing me to the speed of a slug. As I waved my arms in the air for balance, the sea and sand hissed and sucked greedily at me like a leech. I could hardly move at all. My robe was heavy and soaked with the brine and the water was up to my stomach. Lindisfarne and safety seemed no nearer but the mainland was further away. I must be making headway. I would press on and find the going easier soon, I was sure.
Within a few minutes the water had reached my chest and I was too far away from land. The sea was rising faster than I could make way and I realised, with a dreadful, dreadful spasm in my stomach, that I wouldn’t see Aidan’s Shrine, or Colman whose cheerful face appeared in mymemory now, or torn, tormented Cuthbert, or meet any of the people who were gathering from all over the world to be at Whitby. I wouldn’t be able to deliver Owain’s message to Oswy and the two countries may go to war against each other rather than resist Rome. I would never see young Bedwyr again but at least I’d delivered him safely to Eata at Melrose and he would make a good monk, a great one. I could see him now, bent over a high desk and writing, writing, writing away. He was still the cheerful, inquisitive boy I’d known, I was glad to see. “Why are you wet? Why are you waving? Why are you walking out there? Can you swim?” he asked and I smiled. So many questions!
I was suddenly conscious of the little talisman of Cromm as a heavy weight in my pocket. I couldn’t believe the inert stone would have had any influence on my fate at all. My last regret as my saturated robe dragged me down and the water closed over my head was for my herbs: the sea would ruin them and the brothers in Lindisfarne were always short of good medicines. It was a shame. I raised my arms for one last prayer to God and sank beneath the triumphant waves. I felt the hand of God reach down for me and pull me out of this shabby, illusory life and take me to my reward at last.
“I don’t think we’ll let the fishes have you yet, Magister, even though we could do with some fat ones for our nets.” I dimly heard someone speak and then there was a dragging pain across my chest and stomach and then I vomited seawater and then I coughed and retched and then there was no more.
13
A Dream of Oil and Glass
I was floating on a sea of glass and oil and had been for Eternity. The water caressed me, nurturing me as a mother feeds a child. I drifted forever and came close to the shoreline and could smell apples. Not yet. Not yet.
The sea firmed and hardened. Alarmed, I jumped but I leaped further than I had intended and could see everything laid out before me. I saw my birth and I saw my Mother.
Mother! Where are you now? Why have you left me alone and aimless when you should be caring for me?
I was the child taken from the hearth, away from my Mother’s breast, away from her warmth and love and taken to my brother of the breast, my Dark Twin. We played together and fought together and cried together and comforted each other when we were beaten. And we were beaten often, until we were word-perfect in the Law and then we were beaten again because our swordsmanship was not good enough and it could not be good enough because we hadn’t practised enough because we were learning the Law and
I felt Love, and kindness and I knew where it came from. I knew, I KNEW, that people loved me and would do what I asked them to. I was their Priest, their guide, their judge, their leader. They would follow me anywhere and do my bidding, because they loved me. And I loved them all - all of them, I loved their beauty and their ugliness, their splendour and their misery, their health and their illness, their strength and their weakness, I loved them all and everything about them and they loved me and would do my bidding.
I was lost in a forest and there were wolves all around me. They were looking for me and they loved me and they wanted to devour me and then they would do my bidding because they loved me and they would rip out my entrails and they loved me and they would do my bidding