The Fire in the Oaks: A Novel of St Patrick's Confession
Page 9
I don’t know.
You do. The same thing that has happened the last time we tried, and the time before that. Look at Palladius’ success. He is undone practically in his own lifetime by the influence of the heathen. We have tiny islands of faith surrounded by seas of the worst sort of witchcraft. No, you speak the language, you know their customs as much as any other outsider I could send in, you even look like them. They will accept you in a way they could never accept me or another one of our brothers.
Padraig turns from Germanus and walks a few paces way, looking at the horizon, looking into the west.
I still don’t think I’m the right person to send. You can still find another priest, he says at length.
You wouldn’t be a priest.
What do you mean? I’ve taken holy orders.
You would be a bishop. Given the power to spread the word of God by ordaining those faithful enough in that place to be his priests. Pope Celestine has named you among the newest of the church’s bishops. I’m to consecrate you immediately.
Padraig stares at Germanus. The older man waits patiently. The pause lengthens and at last Padraig realizes he is not speaking.
A bishop? So soon?
I think there’s no one better for the job, Germanus says, putting his hand on Padraig’s shoulder.
But that doesn’t make sense, Padraig says. Why would Celestine have made me a bishop if I was just accompanying you on this mission?
Why indeed? Perhaps much is still hidden to you.
So what am I to do?
A ship will take you from here to there and then I expect you to complete your task. This means converting the population, founding churches, starting religious communities. It will be a great deal of work and you will probably meet much opposition. I am not sure if you will ever be able to leave that place. But you must know that if you are successful, thousands and thousands will be converted by you or your efforts. Think of the glory you will contribute to God’s kingdom through of your sacrifice. Not only that but you will ensure the safety of those already converted in this land. The church has to operate alone now, Patricius. There is no army to watch over us like there used to be, especially this far beyond the borders of the empire. We are alone in our efforts and we will have to rely more than ever on the strength of God.
I understand, Padraig says. He sighs and looks at his feet.
So, you will accept what I ask of you? Germanus says.
Yes, I will, he says, looking back up at the bishop.
Good, I’m glad to hear it. You are a good priest Patricius, and I know you will be a good bishop. Remember that your spiritual ancestors are those who walked with the Christ himself, both of us of the line of Saint Peregrine. It is their footsteps you must follow and like them you must spread our faith to lands which may not want to receive it. Eventually, though, the entire world will have to bow before God, and we will finally rid man of his superstition and his demon worship.
When will I depart? Padraig asks.
You will leave in two days. The captain of the ship has instructions to take you to the north of the island which, based on our previous efforts, we think will be the best place for you to achieve a foothold.
I see.
Patricius, I know you don’t want to do this, but this is the price of your salvation. Remember when I met you?
I’ve made my peace with God, it’s just—I haven’t been back there. It’s been years since I lost them and yet they are always right behind me, as though if I just turned quickly enough there they would be.
I need you to do this, Germanus says.
I know. I will.
Germanus leaves to see to the preparations for the voyage. Padraig continues watching the west, shielding his eyes with one hand as the sun begins to descend. He knows what lies there for him; it is the same thing that awaits when the last rays of the sun are finally obscured behind the horizon. A land of shadow.
Eight
The tide grabs the ship. It is nothing to the eye- the water is superficially calm, the day is fine. The only indication is the struggle of the rowers against the water, the futility of their motion. The coast is close, within their sight, but now they move parallel to it. To their north, the current’s destination, are two pillars of rock on either side of the narrow channel.
The water is pulling them closer to the left, where the rock stands viciously anticipating them. It is ruin and the captain realizes their peril as Padraig does. He shouts to his men to compensate in their rowing. The current continues on unstoppably toward their destruction. The rowers throw the last of their energy into the oars and muscles shred, but it is unfelt as they force their way through the water. Through pure strength they are able to push the ship toward the center of the channel. An oar breaks off against the rock, which Padraig feels a sudden urge to reach out and grab as it passes by, a looming ancient behemoth unknown and unconquerable on the coast.
Once through they are in a great lough, narrow and long and plummeting deep beneath the black murk of the surface. It is a stony, haunting thing without the warm, broad welcome of its cousin meres across the sea. Where the loughs of Padraig’s home are scenic, this does its best to repel all who would seek to master it.
The men rest. Their muscles are torn and useless and they see no danger here. Padraig looks at the shore with its wet stones framing the eerily green grass leading from the water to the hills. The grass looks gentle and soft next to the rocks. There is no sound now except for the vessel moving through the water. The oars are silent and the current still has their ship. There is a river leading into the lough, and as they approach the current begins to lose its power, countered by the force of the river. The ship floats indecisively in the space of water between them.
I’ll land here, Padraig says. How close can you get to the shore?
The captain looks out at the rocks and at the water and back at his men.
We can get close enough, he says. You may have to swim if it’s deep near the shore. It will be cold.
Then let’s approach as far as we can and I’ll disembark.
How are we to return? the captain asks.
Look at the lough. This current won’t last. Wait for it to subside and you’ll be able to sail out.
The captain looks back at the large rocks at the entrance of the lough and considers Padraig’s words. He nods his head and gives the order for the ship to approach the shore.
The lough is deep and they are able to get quite close before the captain fears they will run aground, and has the weary men stop their progress. Padraig thanks him. He takes off his clothes and puts them with his few supplies on the boat, then jumps into the water.
The water is cold, colder than any he has felt before. For a moment he cannot breathe, but even after it passes he cannot control his muscles. He puts his hands over his head and the captain places his belongings into them. Padraig swims toward the shore with difficulty, his arms and head above the water and his feet invisible in the murk. Soon, though, his feet find purchase on a bottom of gravel and he is able to wade to the shore.
When he exits the lough the evaporating water exacerbates the already intense cold. The men on the ship have lost interest and either rest or make preparations for their return journey. Though he is cold and his body is wet, he keeps his clothes off. He wanders a bit from the shore and toward some trees. There he is able to find some scraps and builds a fire to warm himself. When most of the water has dried from his body, he dresses again.
His checks his limbs and feeling has returned. He kicks the fire out and looks around. There is a stone fence crossing by the base of a low hill not a mile from him. He thinks of stone stacking. He thinks of fields in the warm sun. And when he has finished thinking he walks and when his path reaches the fence he follows it.
In the distance, lit by the setting sun, he sees a home atop a h
ill. A house, a small stone fence, and a barn with a grain tower stand in a clearing among the trees on the hill. He stops following the fence and sets out toward the farm. The space between him and it is wide and he knows he will not reach the farm until after dark.
He is right. By the time he reaches the bottom of the hill the sun has vanished from the sky. He has only the moon and a weak flicker of light inside the house to guide him up the steep hill. Several times he slips.
When at last he reaches the home, he is unsure of how to approach and hesitates outside. He hears a sound behind him.
Who are you? a man’s voice asks.
I’m Padraig.
Why are you here?
I saw the light. I thought I would see if anyone was home.
Where have you come from?
From the lough, not far from here.
Turn around.
Padraig turns to face the source of the voice. The man is middle-aged, his hair in the style of his people. He is tall and strong and there is a plainness in his eyes.
How do I know you haven’t come here to steal?
You have only my word that I haven’t.
My family is inside, the man says after a moment. You may go inside with me, but I will kill you if you move against us.
I understand.
The man leads the way into his home. Inside there are a woman and boy. They are startled to see Padraig, though less so when the man walks in behind him. Still, their unease remains in their eyes. The man motions for Padraig to sit opposite of the family and he does so.
Do you know who I am? the man asks.
I do not, Padraig says.
This is my family. My wife is Etain, and my son is Oisin. As for myself, my name is Dichu. I’m chieftain of this area. If you commit any crime here you won’t survive a day.
I believe you.
And who are you?
I’m Padraig.
I mean why are you here, Padraig?
I told you, I saw the light from your home.
But why were you out at all? You said you came from the lough. I should know better than to take in strangers claiming to be from loughs.
I came from the lough, but I’m not of it. I was dropped there from a ship and walked this way.
For what purpose?
To bring the word of the one true God to this place.
Dichu stares at him. His wife and son look from one to the other in confusion.
Some wandering madman, then, Dichu says.
I’m not mad, Padraig says. For years I was captive in this land, then by God’s will I was free and given the chance to serve Him. It’s for this purpose that I’ve returned to this place. I would not have otherwise.
Who is this god? Dichu asks. What does his worship give?
He is the one true God. All others are illusions. His is the promise of eternal life.
No man can live forever.
Through His mercy you can. You will still die physically as consequence of your mortal imperfections, but upon your death, provided you have faithfully served Him, you will be welcomed into His kingdom and there will reside with him forever.
An interesting proposal, but servitude is something all of them offer, Dichu says. I already know the service demanded by the gods.
All of them offer servitude so that you’ll be slaves to their wicked lies and be damned with them. Only the true God offers His love and friendship in exchange for your own.
Dichu does not respond but offers Padraig food. While Padraig eats they talk but there is no more about religion. The wife and son never take their eyes of Padraig during the meal, and Dichu asks questions designed to sound casual, but which Padraig suspects are meant to discover more of his background. After Padraig has finished eating and the conversation reaches a lull, Dichu stands and stretches his back.
It is late now. There is work to be done in the morning and we must sleep now. You, Padraig, remember what I have said. If I were you I would not leave the spot where you sleep.
Padraig heeds Dichu’s advice and remains in the area he is given throughout the night. The woman and the boy soon sleep despite their discomfort around him. Dichu sits watching Padraig and in the dark. It is not possible to tell if he ever sleeps or if he maintains his vigil all night.
In the morning Padraig is kicked awake.
Come, Dichu says. Padraig detects no weariness in him.
Where?
I must cut wood, and you will help me in return for my kindness.
They walk out of the home and to a group of trees nearby. They work for a time. It has been some years since Padraig has worked so intensely, and though the years with Milchu mean his mind and his arms remember what they must do, his muscles still ache from the exertion. It is not long before Dichu has doubled Padraig’s own amount of work, and when the former’s pile of wood is embarrassingly larger than the latter’s, they stop to rest.
What’s to keep me from killing you here where you won’t upset my wife and child? Dichu asks.
There is nothing to stop you, Padraig says.
Tell me how you came to be here again, Dichu says, his hands searching for a better grip on his axe.
I was sent here across the sea, Padraig says, his eyes purposely avoiding looking at the tool.
You have lived here before, though.
I have.
You were a slave, he says, his eyes narrowing.
I was. Padraig takes care to keep his voice even, his eyes never leaving Dichu’s.
And there is nothing keeping me from returning you to slavery. I might have slaves of my own if I had need of them.
Or the inclination.
You may find out. If I do.
There is nothing keeping you from returning me to slavery. Just as there is nothing keeping you from killing me.
It’s strange that you’re so calm.
And you have a strange way of speaking to a man you might kill.
Tell me more about your God.
I’ve told you what you need know.
You tell me that he gives us life after this life.
I do say so.
Not difficult that. The people of the mounds give us as much if we can travel to their land.
These are false promises. And indeed not promises. Your heroes may be able to travel among the people of Danu, though they are shades and deceivers, but what of the common people? What of you and me? And what life is it?
And what does yours offer?
Eternal paradise. You want for nothing but exist in bliss in his glory.
Leave the wood and your axe there, Dichu says, pointing at the ground by the two piles. Follow me, there’s something I want to show you.
Dichu leads and Padraig follows, though Dichu walks in such a way that Padraig is never out of his periphery. They are not too much further from the home when Dichu stops and points to what appears to be a shrine.
In the middle is a large slab of rock, weathered by the years, and into the rock is carved an immense bull with the faded lines of something perched upon its back. At the base of the rock is another stone laying on the ground, the side facing up smoother than sanded wood. All around the two stones are tall grass and weeds. When the two men approach they must wade through the grass, as there is no trail.
What is this place? Padraig asks.
Dichu spits.
This is the god of my parents, he says.
But not your own?
I hate all the things here. I have for years. It’s why I never participate in the festivals, though some of my men do.
Why not destroy it? Padraig asks.
Dichu shrugs.
Not out of fear. I don’t think that. There’s something that appeals to me about it letting it sit out here, forgotten, no one to ever come to honor it
. No one to give it what it wants.
What does it want?
My parents lived here before me. Their parents, too, at least my father’s. We’ve been here for generations. In all that time, the land has been good to us, most years. We’ve watched our family prosper, grow, split off into branches as families will, and with our wealth we’ve managed to become important, prosperous, well-respected. If I am raided, I have men who will answer the raider in kind.
Padraig says nothing.
There was a time, though, one of the few, where things did not go well. And this period compensated for all the years of good. It was one disaster after another, between the livestock and the crops, and there was no food. For a time we ate what we had saved for lean times, but those stores soon ran out. I was the first son of six children, so I remember the eight of us trying to survive. My father began going to men who owed him favors and using his status to provide us with food. Some men turned their backs on us, respecting us only when we had the power to force them. Others did what they could, but the famine hit everyone and even those who remembered their friends simply didn’t have food to spare. There were some days that we ate the soil itself just to fill our stomachs.
My parents were desperate, Dichu continues. All of us were starving and they were worried the younger ones especially would die. So they took my older sister here. To that thing. They took her and they...Well, I’ve never done, will never do, what they did. When they finally died I left this place to itself, whether the thing curses me or not.
I’m sorry, Padraig says. Let’s go back.
We’ll go, Dichu says. The wood still needs to be taken to the house.
They work together the rest of the day and they take the wood to the house and place it in a pile. Etain and Oisin are inside the house and Etain looks out of the door as they finish piling the wood. She informs them that the food is ready and they all gather together to eat. She serves beef and wheatbread and honey and the whole of their house is filled with the smell of it even though it was cooked outside.
Etain, Padraig says once they have their food. Like the woman loved by Midir turned into a scarlet fly.