Prayers finished and I went to my cell and a disgruntled sleep. The next morning, after maiden prayers, we broke fast with our visitors and, since normal duties were suspended for the Eastertide celebration, everyone gathered in the yard to sing. The day had begun cool and bright, with a sky full of white clouds. As we sang, the clouds knit themselves together and closed in; a spit of rain began to fall, which eventually persuaded us back into the hall, where we settled in clumps to talk with our visiting brothers over the board.
Unlike most of Cenannus' brotherhood, I knew no one from Hy or Lindisfarne. Nevertheless, as Dugal and I moved among the tables, one of the strangers called out to me. "Aidan mac Cainnech!"
I turned to see a short, square-faced man with wiry brown hair and dark brown eyes, sitting with two other strangers. All three were watching me with evident interest.
"Go to them," urged Dugal. "They want to talk to you." He left me and went on to another table.
"I give you good greeting," I said as I approached.
"Sit you down with us," said the visitor. "We would speak with you, nothing preventing."
"I am at your service, brothers," I said taking my place at the board. "I would gladly give you my name, but it seems you have it from someone else."
"Do not think us over bold," said one of the others. "We are Cymry and curiosity is a very plague with us." The two with him laughed-clearly it was a cheerful plague. I liked them at once.
"I am Brynach," said the stranger who had called to me. "These are my brothers. No! My anamcari," he raised a hand to the two with him. "This long lanky reed is Gwilym." He indicated a tall spare man with thinning fair hair. "And this is Morien," he said, presenting a young man with thick black curly hair and blue eyes. "Although," he warned, "if you call him that he will never answer, for he is known to one and all as Ddewi."
"Brothers," I said, envying their easy way with one another, "I am glad to meet you. I pray your Easter with us is meat and drink to your soul." I paused, feeling the awkwardness of the question before I spoke it, but I could not help myself. "Please do not think ill of me, but I have never visited Hy or Lindisfarne, and I would know which of those two fine places is home to you."
"Neither," replied Gwilym happily. "Our home is Ty Gwyn, but lately we have spent some years at Menevia and Bangor-ys-Coed."
"Indeed," I replied. "I did not know the book was also being readied there."
"It was not," answered Brynach. "We learned of the book too late to be of material service in that part of the enterprise."
Again, my senses pricked to the suggestion of an alternate purpose for the journey-a purpose which many seemed to know. "You seem well apprised of these matters," I suggested. "Am I right in thinking that you are among those chosen for the travelling party?"
"We are, yes," Brynach affirmed.
"But you are not scribes," I blurted in surprise. "Forgive me, that did not sound as I meant it. I mean no disrespect."
"Be at ease, brother," tutted Gwilym. "Truth is a constant delight to those that love her; such beauty holds no power to offend."
"The truth is," Brynach confided, "we are not scribes. And yet, the Great King, in his infinite wisdom, has seen fit to include us in your exalted company. I hope you will accept us also." He made a little bow of his head, and put an amiable hand on the tall man's shoulder. "Gwilym, here, is an artisan for whom gold and precious stones were especially created." The monk inclined his head in easy acknowledgement of the compliment.
Brynach turned to the black-haired youth. "Ah, and this stripling you see before you is a leighean of rare and extraordinary gifts."
"My family have been physicians for seven generations," Ddewi explained, speaking for the first time. "And I am the seventh son of my father, who was also a seventh son." His voice and manner were quiet, hinting at unseen depths.
"Alas," said Brynach, "I myself claim no such talents or abilities enjoyed by my brothers here. My sole occupation has ever been study, and now I find I am no longer fit for anything else."
Although his modesty was genuine, I doubted that he would have been chosen if he were as humble as he professed. Before I could enquire of him further, however, he said, "Now then, Aidan, they tell me you are the finest scribe Kells can boast-"
"And not only scribe, but scholar too," put in Gwilym.
"Kells does indeed maintain many fine scribes," I allowed, "and it is true that I am one of them-albeit, the youngest and least experienced of all. My own contribution to the book is but small when compared to that of Brocmal and Libir and some others."
"But your pen has touched the blessed book," Gwilym said. "Your hands have laboured over it. I wish I could say as much."
