my own people. Even if I did not stay with them, I could at least remain there until I found a better place. I was still a nobleman of my clan, after all; though it had been many years since I had visited the settlement, they would not turn me away.
Slowly, the days dwindled down, and like a slow, white tide the long winter receded. Spring came and, with the approach of Eastertide, I began to think what I would tell Dugal; he knew nothing of my decision to leave the abbey. Yet, as often as I prepared myself to raise the subject with him, when the moment came I found better reason to refrain.
Nevertheless, as the land warmed to a mild and pleasant spring I determined that come what may, I would tell him at the first opportunity. Three days before Easter, I went looking for him, but I could not find him anywhere. One of the brothers told me he thought Dugal was following his seasonal custom, helping the shepherds with the lambing in the next valley.
I found my friend there, sitting on the hillside, watching the flock. He greeted me warmly, and I sat down beside him. 'Brother,' I said, 'I have a burden on my heart.'
'Speak then,' he said, 'if it would lighten the load for sharing.' I noticed he did not look at me, but kept his eyes on the sheep as they grazed. Perhaps he already sensed my leaving in the way I had behaved towards him all winter.
'Dugal, I-' the words stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard and pushed ahead. 'Dugal, I am leaving. I cannot-'
I broke off just then, for Dugal leapt to his feet. 'Listen!' he cried, pointing across the valley.
Looking where he pointed, I saw the figure of a man-a monk, one of the shepherds-flying down the hill as fast as he could run. He was shouting as he ran, but I could not make out the words. 'What is he saying?'
'Shh!' Dugal hissed urgently, cupping a hand to his ear. 'Listen!'
The shout came again and I heard it this time. 'Wolves!' I said. 'He has seen a wolf.'
'Not a wolf,' Dugal replied, already turning away. 'Sea Wolves!'
Together we raced back to the abbey, stumbling over the winter stubble in the unploughed fields. We arrived breathless to raise the alarm; within three heartbeats the entire monastery was in well-ordered upheaval as monks scurried everywhere in a grimly determined effort to hide the abbey's treasures: the cups and plate used for the Holy Sacraments; candleholders, the altar cloth; the manuscripts and those books precious to us whether or not their covers had any value.
Fortunately, the warning was timely so that when the dread raiders came in sight, we were ready. Abbot Fraoch would meet them at the gate, and offer the cattle and grain, if they would but leave the buildings unmolested.
Accordingly, he summoned me to him. 'You can speak to them in their own tongue, I believe,' he said.
'Aye, he speaks like a very Sea Wolf himself,' replied Dugal helpfully.
'Good,' said the abbot, and related the message I should convey.
'I will try,' I replied, 'though it may not be of any help. They are difficult to persuade at best, and will not listen to anyone when the silverlust is on them.'
'Do what you can,' the abbot said. 'We will uphold you in prayer.'
Ruadh, taking his place beside the abbot, said, 'We will all be praying for you, Aidan.'
I thought how best to meet the raiders, and decided that if I went out a little way from the gate alone, I might stand the best chance of blunting the attack. Once they reached the abbey, they would not likely hear a word anyone said. So, as the rest of the monks gathered at the gate to watch, I walked out along the trail to meet the marauders face to face.
I could see them now. Having crossed the stream, they were already striding up the long sloping hill: a raiding party of at least thirty Vikings, the leaf-shaped blades of their long spears glinting in the sunlight as they came.
I heard a softly rumbling noise behind me. Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw the brothers of the abbey kneeling, hands clasped, their voices raised in fervent prayer, beseeching God on my behalf.
When I turned back, the Sea Wolves were closer. I could make out individuals in the foreranks, and tried to establish which one might be their war leader. The huge, hulking Dane towering over his swordbrothers seemed a likely choice, and then I noticed that beside this giant strode a figure whose gait, whether in daylight or darkness, I would always recognize.
An instant later, my feet were flying to meet them, shouting, 'Harald! Gunnar! It is me, Aidan!'
The next thing I knew, Harald Bull-Roar's voice was bellowing in reply, and I was swept into the familiar bone-crushing ritual that passed for welcome among the sea-braving Danes. 'I knew we would find you if we kept looking,' Gunnar said proudly. 'I told them, and here you are.'
'Indeed, he told us so often that we could not rest a day until we found you,' Jarl Harald explained. 'We have been looking for you since the ice began to melt.'
The monks, having seen me beswarmed by Vikings, now came running to my defence-though what they thought to do, I cannot guess. Dugal was among the first, and I called to him, 'All is well! Tell the others, there is nothing to fear. It is Jarl Harald come to visit!'
Dugal succeeded in slowing the onrushing monks, who approached uncertainly, gawking at the strange- looking barbarians, and murmuring in low, astonished voices. Taking Harald and Gunnar each by the arm, I led them to where Abbot Fraoch and Ruadh were standing, and said, 'I present Jarl Harald Bull-Roar, King of the Danes of Skania, and his karl, Gunnar Warhammer.'
'Give the king our best greeting, and welcome him in the name of our Lord Christ,' the abbot said. 'Tell him he and his men are to be our honoured guests.'
This I told Harald, resplendent in a blue cloak and handsome trousers of deepest red. He stepped before the assembled monks gleaming with gold and silver at throat and wrist; his long red beard was brushed and its ends braided. He wore seven silver bands on each arm, and seven silver brooches secured his cloak.
Upon receiving our good abb's greeting, he inclined his head regally, and motioned to one of his karlar to come near. The man handed him a bulky leather bundle, which Harald took and commenced unwrapping. A moment later, the white blaze of silver dazzled our eyes.
The monks gasped and murmured in amazement at the sight, and it took me a moment to understand the significance of what I was seeing. 'A cumtach?' Yes, but what a book cover! It was solid silver embossed with the image of a cross; a square-cut ruby adorned each of the arms and a cluster of emeralds decorated the centre. 'Jarl Harald, truly! I have never seen its equal.'
'It is for your holy book,' the king declared, placing the treasure in Abbot Fraoch's hands. He made a bow and explained, 'The first cover was lost to the Jarl of Miklagard, a fact which vexes me sorely. This one will serve to replace it, I think. It is made from some of the silver we got in the Sarazen mines. If not for Aeddan, none of us would be alive now to enjoy our treasure.'
The abbot could hardly believe his ears when I translated the jarl's words. 'It is a rare and magnificent gift, Lord Harald,' replied Fraoch, impressed almost beyond reason. 'And completely unexpected. We are at a loss to thank you properly.'
To this, the Danish king replied, 'Do not thank me,' he said. 'The treasure is not a gift; we have come to trade and bring that in payment.'
'Trade?' wondered the abbot when I told him what Harald had said. I looked to Gunnar, who stood at the king's shoulder fairly trembling with suppressed excitement.
Turning to me, Harald Bull-Roar declared, 'Ever since Aeddan returned to fetch us from the slave pit, Gunnar has not ceased telling us of this God of yours. It is all he talks about. He will have it no other way but that we must build a church for the Christ, and begin worshipping him in Skania.
'I have vowed to build the church, but we have no one to teach us what to do. Therefore, if we are to get any peace, you must come with us, I think.'
Before I could think what to say, Gunnar seized me, 'Come, brother. I want Ulf to be a priest, and there is no better man to teach him.'
I looked at Gunnar, the bright happiness of our reunion fading at his words. 'Would you had said anything but that,' I told him. 'I cannot go with you. I am no priest anymore.'
'Not a priest?' wondered Gunnar, still smiling. 'How can this be?'
Before I could explain further, Abbot Fraoch spoke up and asked me to entreat the Danemen to stay with us
