‘Is there something wrong?’ Eadulf repeated.
Miach waved his hand in dismissal. ‘I wanted to be sure as to their identity. They claimed that they knew you so I took the liberty of seeking confirmation. They have come seeking comairce in my territory.’
‘Asylum?’
Miach smiled briefly. ‘They wish to dwell here in the great glen among my people, under my protection. Indeed, even to build their own church here. These have been difficult times. It seems but a short time ago that not far from here we fought the great battle of Cnoc Áine. I think you know well that outsiders must be accountable. I would have you hear their story. Let us move to the fire and refresh ourselves while Brother Berrihert tells it.’
The young guide took care of their horses, and as they moved forward to the fire Eadulf introduced Caol to the Saxon brothers. Eadulf was then introduced to Ordwulf, although the elderly man seemed unfriendly and uncommunicative, which Eadulf ascribed to his lack of knowledge of the language of Éireann. Berrihert explained that the old man had been a warrior in his youth, a thane of Deira. His sons had brought him with them, as there was no one else in the family to look after him. Once they had seated themselves round the fire and mugs of foaming mead were brought, Berrihert began his story.
‘It is true, Brother Eadulf. We do seek permission to settle in this valley.’ He smiled quickly and added, ‘I now speak the language of this land, as do my brothers. Our father’s knowledge is imperfect but I will tell the tale so that Miach, our host, and his men will know it is the same as I have already told them.’
He paused for a moment as if to gather his thoughts before continuing.
‘When King Oswy announced that he would follow the teachings of Rome, there was great consternation among the congregations in Northumbria. Abbot Colmán of Lindisfarne, who had been the leading spokesman for those opposing the reforms, could not, in conscience, accept the decision, or remain as chief abbot to the king. It was against all his beliefs and teachings, as it was against those of many of us who had been raised in the ways of those who first brought the word of Christ to our kingdoms. Arguments raged in many abbeys and churches, even to the shedding of blood in the heat of such quarrels.’
Eadulf nodded slowly. ‘I had heard that Oswy’s decision was not popular among either the religious or the people. I did not realise that it had led to bloodshed.’
Berrihert grimaced wryly. ‘To say that it was not a popular decision is an understatement, Eadulf. Abbot Colmán said he could no longer preside at Lindisfarne and serve Oswy’s churches. He announced that he would return to his native land so that he could practise his faith in the way in which he had been raised. Many decided to follow him. Colmán asked Oswy to choose a successor at Lindisfarne. The king chose Tuda, who was from the kingdom of Laigin. Although the Blessed Aidan at Lindisfarne had trained him, Tuda espoused the reforms of Rome. When Tuda agreed to succeed him, Colmán withdrew from the kingdom. Many went with him, including some thirty of the faithful community from Lindisfarne.’
‘I thought that Eata, the abbot of Melrose, became abbot of Lindisfarne?’ said Eadulf.
‘Tuda was dead within the year from the dreadful Yellow Plague and then Eata succeeded him. My brothers and I — indeed, my father and mother also — had joined Colmán. We first travelled north through Rheged and then west to Iona. From Colmcille’s little island community, to which we owe so much, we sailed across the sea to this land. Colmán was from the kingdom of Connacht and he sought the permission of the local prince of the Uí Briúin to settle on Inis Bó Finne, the island of the white cow, to the west. Permission was given and we established our community there.’
‘I have heard stories of that community. I was told that it prospered.’
Brother Berrihert shook his head sadly. ‘For the first year we prospered, and then we received an emissary from Ard Macha.’
‘Ard Macha?’ Eadulf was surprised. He knew the abbey was in the northern kingdom of Ulaidh. ‘What did Ard Macha seek in Connacht?’
‘The emissary was an abbot who came to demand that Colmán, and our community, recognise Ard Macha as the centre of the Faith among all the kingdoms of this land. He had an arrogance of manner that reminded me of Wilfrid.’
‘Wilfrid who was the main advocate of Rome at Witebia?’
‘The same. I had known Wilfrid since he was a callow youth sent by Queen Eanflaed to Lindisfarne to be taught religion. Wilfrid was, and is, an ambitious man. He went to Rome and then to Canterbury and, I believe, he expected to become leader of all the churches of the Angles and the Saxons. He was angry when it was not so. Alas, his demeanour was dictatorial and he never allowed that there could be many paths in religion other than the one he advocated.’
‘And you observed the same qualities in this abbot from Ard Macha?’
‘He and Wilfrid might have been born from the same womb. The abbot, as I said, was an emissary from the abbot and bishop of Ard Macha. Colmán, having rejected the ideas of Rome once, was not averse to rejecting similar demands again. But this man was very cunning and, indeed, had persuasive arts. Once more there arose arguments and dissension among the brethren. Some decided to accept what this envoy from Ard Macha argued. They were led by a brother from the East Saxons named Gerald. There was no dwelling in harmony with him and those who had been persuaded to follow him. Finally, they left our island and went to found a new abbey on the mainland — a place called Maigh Éo. .’
‘The plain of yews? I know of it.’
‘We, my brothers and I, became increasingly saddened by what was happening. We saw how this man had destroyed our united community and knew that he would continue to work against those who wanted to follow the original teachings. When he came again to our island, great unrest followed.’ He paused and swallowed, pulling a grim face. ‘In that unrest our mother, elderly like our father, was killed. That was when we decided to leave Colmán and our island community and come south, to somewhere away from the dissension. Somewhere where we can dwell in peace and follow our religion without interference.’
Caol intervened for the first time. ‘What made you choose this place?’
Berrihert smiled broadly and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘God led our footsteps here.’
Miach, who had been patiently following the conversation even though he had heard the story before, was nodding slowly. ‘And you, Eadulf, say that you know these Saxons?’
‘That is so, Miach.’
‘Then I am willing to allow them sanctuary in this valley, among my people.’
Brother Berrihert came to his feet and offered his hand to the chief. ‘God will bless you for your generosity, Miach.’
The chieftain smiled grimly as he took the man’s hand. ‘It is my people who need the blessing, my Saxon friend. As Eadulf here will tell you, we have been at the forefront of raids by the Uí Fidgente, until a few years ago our king Colgú managed to defeat the army that they sent against us on the slopes of Cnoc Aine not far from here. My people have suffered much. But, thanks be to wise counsels, we seem to have emerged from that conflict and we now look forward to a time of peace. So blessings come at an appropriate time. Is it not so, Caol?’
Caol nodded enthusiastically.
‘These Saxon friends of Eadulf have joined us at a most appropriate time,’ he added. ‘In two days, Eadulf and our lady Fidelma, sister to our king Colgú, renew and strengthen their marriage bonds in a great celebration at Cashel.’
Brother Berrihert turned to Eadulf. ‘We have already heard tales of Fidelma and Eadulf and of their deeds. Was it the same Fidelma whom you helped in uncovering those responsible for the terrible murders at Witebia and averting a great war between the Saxon kingdoms?’