Byzantium

"Therefore," he continued, "I grant you leave from your duties. Use this day to rest, to think…to prepare yourself." I made to protest, but he continued. "Your pursuit of this opportunity has been most vigorous. Your zeal is laudable, son. But there is more work to come, and a strenuous journey when the weather turns." He laid a hand on my shoulder. "A day for yourself now, Aidan-it may be the last you will have for a very long time."

I thanked him and took my leave, then hurried across the yard to my cell. I entered and pulled the oxhide cover over the door, whereupon I threw myself onto my pallet and lay kicking my feet and laughing. I had been chosen. Chosen! I was going to Byzantium! I laughed until my sides ached and tears came to my eyes and I could laugh no more.

Elation left me exhausted. As I had not slept the previous night, I closed my eyes and composed myself to rest, but my mind whirled. Think, Aidan! Think of the places you will see, the people you will meet. Oh, it is wonderful, is it not?

My thoughts flitted like scattering birds and, tired as I was, I could not sleep.

So, I thought to meditate. As the abbot suggested, it was an arduous journey and I must prepare myself spiritually and mentally. It seemed right to bring before my mind all the dangers and hardships that might befall us on our way. But instead of dangers, I saw vast mountain ranges swathed in cloud, and strange seas sparkling under foreign skies; I saw people thronging the streets of great cities and the courtyards of shimmering palaces. Instead of hardships, I saw eastern potentates, kings, queens, bishops, and courtiers-all arrayed in splendour to rival the glory of the sun.

Failing my meditations, I set my mind to pray instead. I began by asking forgiveness for my wayward thoughts. Very soon, however, I was thinking of meeting the emperor-how I should address him, what I might say to him, whether I should kiss his ring, or kneel…any of a thousand different things other than the prayer I had begun.

Since I could neither sleep nor pray, I decided to go out into the hills. The solitude and exertion, I thought, might calm my restless spirit and bring me to a more tranquil mind. I rose at once and left my cell. Quickly crossing the yard, I made my way to the gate, passed by the guest lodge and out. Continuing along the path outside the wall, I descended the shallow ditch and made my way up the opposite side, then turned onto the hill path. The once-bright day had faded under a dull sky, but the wind remained fresh and I relished the bitter bite of the cold air on my face as I walked, my breath coming in steamy puffs. The path rose steadily and soon I ascended the heights above the abbey and began making my way along the hilltop.

I walked a long time, letting my footsteps take me where they would. It was a joy to feel the fresh wind on my face while I filled my soul with the green beauty of those beloved hills. I came at last to the edge of the great wood. Not daring to enter that dark domain alone, I turned and started back the way I had come-but my mind roamed far, far ahead on unknown paths.

Thoughts of alien lands and exotic customs filled my head, and I imagined what it would be like to tread foreign soil, to taste foreign food, to hear foreign tongues speaking words I had never heard before. Even as, in my mind's eye, I clearly saw myself striding boldly through unfamiliar fields, standing before the Pope, or kneeling before the emperor, I could hardly believe that the man I saw was me.

In all, it was a pleasant enough, if frivolous, exercise, and it occupied me until I reached my favourite perch: a rocky outcrop just below the crest of the hill overlooking the monastery and the broad valley with its dark river beyond. In the windshadow of the rocks, I sat down on the grassy turf as the monastery bell tolled sext.

Though it was only midday, the late winter sun was already low, bathing the valley in a soft, misty light. The abbey was as I had known it from my earliest memory-unchanged and unchanging: like its oratory and scriptorium, a place of solitude and safety, where not even time, the Great Ravager, dared intrude.

Cenannus na Rig, they call it: Kells of the Kings. In an earlier time it had served as a royal fortress-a hillfort set within protecting rings of earth and timber. But the kings long ago abandoned the stronghold in favour of Tara. Thus, while the ancient seat of Eire's monarchs boasted a sovereign presence once more, Cenannus' ditches and walls protected a monastery, and the folk of several nearby settlements as well.

I had come to the abbey as a boy. It was my father's wish that I should become a priest. Cainnech was a king and I his second son. As it was deemed auspicious for the clan to have a priest of noble blood, I was sent for fosterage, not to a noble house, but to the monastery.