Byzantium

Abbot Fraoch met our visitors inside the gate and welcomed the bishop with a kiss. He hailed the company warmly, saying, "Greetings, brothers! In the name of our Blessed Lord and Saviour, Jesu, we welcome you to Cenannus na Rig. May God grant you peace and joy while you are with us. Rest now and take your ease while we extend to you every comfort we possess."

To this the bishop replied, "You are kind, Brother Fraoch, but we are fellow labourers in fields of the Lord. Thus, we expect to receive nothing which you would deny yourselves." Casting his gaze around him, he spread wide his arms. "The peace of our Lord be with you, my dear children," he called in a fine strong voice.

We answered: "And with your spirit also!"

"As many as have come to you, that many more would have gladly accompanied me," the bishop continued. "I bring greetings from your brothers at Hy and Lindisfarne." He paused, smiling with pleasure. "I also bring a treasure."

Then, passing his staff of office to his secnab, Bishop Cadoc gestured for one of the monks to step forward. As the monk came near, he drew the strap of his bulga over his head and offered it to his superior. Cadoc received it, pulled the peg, lifted the flap and withdrew the book to cries of amazement and wonder all around.

Oh, it was magnificent! Even at a distance, I thought it a marvel; for the cumtach was not leather-not even the dyed calfskin used for very special books. The cover of Colum Cille's book was sheet silver worked into fantastic figures: spirals, keys, and triscs. At each corner of the cover was a knotwork panel, and in the centre of each panel a different gem had been mounted. These surrounded a knotwork cross, beset with rubies. In the play of sunlight the silver cumtach seemed a living thing, dancing, dazzling, moving with the rhythm of the King of Glory's creation.

Abbot Fraoch took the book into his hands, raised it to his lips and kissed it. Then he held it above his head and turned this way and that so everyone could catch a glimpse. Two years in preparation, the Book of Colum Cille was a treasure rare and fine-a gift worthy of an emperor. My heart swelled with pride at the sight.

Replacing the book in its humble bag once more, the abbot and bishop walked together arm in arm up the hill to the oratory where they held close conversation until vespers. Many of the monks among us, having formerly lived in either Hy or Lindisfarne, enjoyed close friendships with many of our brother visitors; some were kinsmen. They fell on one another's necks and gripped each other's arms in greeting. Everyone began talking at once. After a while Brother Paulinus, our porter, shouted for the visitors to accompany him, whereupon he conducted them to the guest lodge.

Brocmal, Libir, and I returned to the scriptorium where we worked until supper when the two scribes, failing to discover any other jot to alter, pronounced the work completed at last.

"It is finished," Libir said. "We have done our part. Lord Jesu have mercy."

"Pray God it meets with the bishop's approval." Brocmal finally allowed himself a satisfied grin as his gaze played over all the finished leaves on the tables. "Truly, it meets with my approval."

"You are very bards of vellum," I told them. "Though my part was small, I am proud to have been of service to you."

Both monks regarded me curiously, and I thought they might mention my contribution in their rejoicing at the completion of their labours, but they turned away, saying nothing. We then joined our brothers for the beginning of the Easter celebration-but not before securing the precious leaves.

Bishop Cadoc, as honoured guest, read the Beati and prayed. I listened with utmost attention, trying to determine what manner of man he might be for, though I had seen him once before, I was little more than a boy at the time and remembered almost nothing of that occasion.

Cadoc, like my old teacher Cybi, was a Briton. It was said that as a boy he had studied at Bangor-ys-Coed under the renowned Elffod, and as a young man he had travelled all throughout Gaul, teaching and preaching, before returning to Britain to lead the community at Candida Casa where he often held discourse with the most learned Eruigena. The excellent Sedulius-or Saidhuil, as he was known to us-had once written a poem in commemoration of a fine debate held between them.