though I wanted to shout my frustration at his indifference to the rooftop. Finally, I blurted, “Christians are our natural enemies! Are they not dedicated to the destruction of our gods and Druidism itself?”
“Enemies?” He continued bobbing up and down as blood circulated through his legs. “We must not think of Christians as enemies, for within the meaning of the word there can be no mutual acceptance or respect. They are our adverseries, of course, and some will follow the standard raised by their fanatical priest Patrick who during his lifetime was relentless in trying to push us out.”
He frowned, leaned across the table and brushed tiny speckles of ash from a manuscript. “That is unfortunate, for there is no place for unyielding intolerance among thinking men. Always remember, within our world there can be disagreement, but in the end there must be room to accept all manner of beliefs. We Druids must try to understand that, and while you might find a few rabble rousers among them, you will discover that most Christians believe it as well.”
A lifetime of training held my emotions in check so my face remained calm while my stomach roiled. A disrespectful display of my growing sense of futility before the Master would never do. “You have also taught us that ignorance breeds intolerance and fear begets violence. This new darkness has sown ignorance and fear among all the people. My father’s message speaks to those things and urgently warns that Christians plan violence against us.”
The Master walked around the table, settled into his chair and sighed. “It is true your father speaks to those terrible things.” His hands scoured his weary face. “Yet, his warning is weighted by his intolerance of Christians. I sense no urgency.”
I stepped toward him, placed my hands on his table and leaned forward. “The message reveals my father’s knowledge of pending danger, not his opinion.”
“As a true son you support your father.” A small smile flickered across his face. “Very well, I shall reply to his message and ask further clarification. Meanwhile, I see no reason to disrupt the harmony of the school or needlessly frighten the students. In the end, I am confident that even during these dark times reason will be the torch that leads us into the light of wisdom and peace.”
Another chill ran down my spine, but at least he agreed to further investigate the warning. “It will soon be time, I think, for my afternoon alchemy lecture, and my students will be gathering. With your permission, Master Tóla, I must go prepare for it.”
He nodded, and read the worry on my face as he handed the scroll back to me. “Yes, thank you for sharing your father’s warning. Do not allow it to weigh on your heart. Though we must remain vigilant as he says, I doubt there will be serious trouble.”
I bowed again. “As you say. Thank you, Master. May the Lordly Ones smile upon you.”
“And you, Ossian. Indeed, may the gods smile upon us all.”
I trudged down the hill, my thoughts in turmoil. My father’s strong views and message haunted me, as did the defiant words of the Christian bishop, which, despite the Master’s assurances, were sure to inflame his followers.
Foreboding stopped me, and I looked back up the hill. I must go back, urge the Master to write King mac Dúnlainge. Leinster warriors must secure the school and the sacred shrine of Knockaulin. In my frustration I kicked a stone to send it bounding down the hill, but yelped and hopped up and down on my uninjured foot when I simply managed to stub my toe. Augh, saying more to the Master now would do no good. I would merely look foolish in his eyes and he didn’t expect that he must explain himself twice. Perhaps he would be more open to my suggestion at a later time.
* * *
Weeks passed, more weeks of unrelenting darkness. There had been no opportunity to again discuss my father’s warning with the Master. Whether he wrote my father, I did
“Enemies?” He continued bobbing up and down as blood circulated through his legs. “We must not think of Christians as enemies, for within the meaning of the word there can be no mutual acceptance or respect. They are our adverseries, of course, and some will follow the standard raised by their fanatical priest Patrick who during his lifetime was relentless in trying to push us out.”
He frowned, leaned across the table and brushed tiny speckles of ash from a manuscript. “That is unfortunate, for there is no place for unyielding intolerance among thinking men. Always remember, within our world there can be disagreement, but in the end there must be room to accept all manner of beliefs. We Druids must try to understand that, and while you might find a few rabble rousers among them, you will discover that most Christians believe it as well.”
A lifetime of training held my emotions in check so my face remained calm while my stomach roiled. A disrespectful display of my growing sense of futility before the Master would never do. “You have also taught us that ignorance breeds intolerance and fear begets violence. This new darkness has sown ignorance and fear among all the people. My father’s message speaks to those things and urgently warns that Christians plan violence against us.”
The Master walked around the table, settled into his chair and sighed. “It is true your father speaks to those terrible things.” His hands scoured his weary face. “Yet, his warning is weighted by his intolerance of Christians. I sense no urgency.”
I stepped toward him, placed my hands on his table and leaned forward. “The message reveals my father’s knowledge of pending danger, not his opinion.”
“As a true son you support your father.” A small smile flickered across his face. “Very well, I shall reply to his message and ask further clarification. Meanwhile, I see no reason to disrupt the harmony of the school or needlessly frighten the students. In the end, I am confident that even during these dark times reason will be the torch that leads us into the light of wisdom and peace.”
Another chill ran down my spine, but at least he agreed to further investigate the warning. “It will soon be time, I think, for my afternoon alchemy lecture, and my students will be gathering. With your permission, Master Tóla, I must go prepare for it.”
He nodded, and read the worry on my face as he handed the scroll back to me. “Yes, thank you for sharing your father’s warning. Do not allow it to weigh on your heart. Though we must remain vigilant as he says, I doubt there will be serious trouble.”
I bowed again. “As you say. Thank you, Master. May the Lordly Ones smile upon you.”
“And you, Ossian. Indeed, may the gods smile upon us all.”
I trudged down the hill, my thoughts in turmoil. My father’s strong views and message haunted me, as did the defiant words of the Christian bishop, which, despite the Master’s assurances, were sure to inflame his followers.
Foreboding stopped me, and I looked back up the hill. I must go back, urge the Master to write King mac Dúnlainge. Leinster warriors must secure the school and the sacred shrine of Knockaulin. In my frustration I kicked a stone to send it bounding down the hill, but yelped and hopped up and down on my uninjured foot when I simply managed to stub my toe. Augh, saying more to the Master now would do no good. I would merely look foolish in his eyes and he didn’t expect that he must explain himself twice. Perhaps he would be more open to my suggestion at a later time.
* * *
Weeks passed, more weeks of unrelenting darkness. There had been no opportunity to again discuss my father’s warning with the Master. Whether he wrote my father, I did
Similar Books
