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."
