Part 16 (2/2)
Arnault drew a deep breath as he realized what he thought Abbot Fingon was proposing.
”Are you saying that, instead of killing his rivals, this Uncrowned King we are looking for must be prepared to offer himself in sacrifice, in imitation of Christ?”
”In some sense, yes; that is my impression,” Fingon agreed. ”If the demands of the past and the needs of the present are to be reconciled, the old pre-Christian inst.i.tutions must be redefined in spiritual terms.”
”Suggesting that there may exist some spiritual derbfine,” Torquil ventured, ”from whose ranks a tanist will arise to a.s.sume the mantle of the Uncrowned King, in fulfillment of the prophecy.”
”The notion of a spiritual derbfine is apt,” Fingon agreed, ”but it might be more accurate to say that this tanist will be called forth, in the manner of one being called to the priesthood. And of course, in a spiritual sense, a priest offers himself on the altar, along with Christ, every time he celebrates the Ma.s.s.
”But I fear your Uncrowned King may be called upon to make a more literal sacrifice as well as one of spirit-only blood may pay the ransom price. And only after that sacrifice has been offered and accepted will the Stone of Destiny be restored to full power for the benefit of his successors- who, again, must be found amid whatever derbfine emerges from which to reestablish the royal succession.”
Momentarily struck speechless by the abbot's implications, Arnault could only gaze at him in disbelief.
Not for several seconds did he summon sufficient composure to glance at Torquil, who appeared likewise overwhelmed.
”This will require careful contemplation,” Arnault said slowly. ”And even if what you say is true, there are practical considerations that must be addressed. Edward of England is ravaging Scotland even as we speak-and whether he may be a cause of what we believe to be happening, or is only reaping its benefits, the fact remains that if he succeeds in conquering Scotland, it may not be possible to salvage her sovereignty. We must find and identify this Uncrowned King before it's too late.”
”I agree,” Fingon said. ”But if the Uncrowned King is to give himself to martyrdom, he must know what he is doing and why. He must be a willing sacrifice.”
Arnault briefly closed his eyes, still staggered by the enormity of what apparently faced them.
”Father Abbot,” he whispered, ”I have no idea where to begin. I am a Templar, and this is not my land.
But the Temple-the Inner Temple, that is-does have concerns regarding the Stone of Destiny, for it is meant to serve as cornerstone of the Fifth Temple, the New Jerusalem- surely, in some spiritual sense rather than literal. But the Stone itself-or the virtue it is meant to contain-is tied up with the Scottish succession. And for that reason, it is fitting that the Temple a.s.sist in resolving the earthly kings.h.i.+p of this realm-but, how?”
”For that,” Ninian said, speaking at last, ”we may be able to provide some guidance, for it is clear that we, like the Temple, have a decisive part to play in what is unfolding. Why else would Cra-gheal have instructed me to seek you out, if we were not intended to a.s.sist one another in resolving this?”
Abbot Fingon slowly nodded, digesting this declaration.
”I agree,” he finally said. ”And it seems to me that, under the circ.u.mstances, we may be justified in begging the boon of clarification from Columba himself. But it must be done in the proper spirit, and in the proper time.” He glanced up at Arnault and Torquil. ”Such things are best attempted at the time of the full moon, when all holy influences of nature can be marshaled in support of our prayers and supplications. The moon is now a week on the wane. Would you be willing to wait until the cycle turns again?”
The two Templars traded glances, but there could be no question of their answer. ”We will wait,” Arnault agreed. For he could not see how they dared do otherwise.
Chapter Nineteen.
THE THREE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED SEEMED TO REINFORCE what Arnault had sensed as they rowed across from Mull: that Iona was somehow set apart from the outside world and the affairs of men. Abbot Fingon, observing how the Templars' borrowed black robes made them stand out from the rest of his flock, soon gave leave for the pair to adopt his own order's white robes, intending thereby to approximate the more familiar Templar habits they had left behind at Scone; but to Arnault it seemed that by putting on the habit of the Columbans, he was also absorbing some of the spirituality of their community, bringing himself into tune with the heartbeat of the land and being drawn more deeply into its rhythm. It made him no less a Templar; in fact, it made him more.
Every morning, just after the office of Prime, he walked down to the beach where Columba first had landed and stood there alone, watching the pa.s.sing clouds reflected in the changing surface of the sea, as if they could show him the shape of things to come. The weather was halcyon, and yet in his heart of hearts, he knew it was only the calm before a storm. He sensed that once he and Torquil left the island, they would be plunging into the midst of a hurricane.
He spent some of his time meditating on the subject of the Fifth Temple, trying to deepen his understanding of its significance. Hitherto, the building of the Temple had always seemed to him an abstract accomplishment, something reserved for the future. Now he began to envision that Temple of the New Jerusalem as a tabernacle of many doors, suspended midway between heaven and earth. Like Jacob's Ladder, its purpose was to bridge an infinitude of s.p.a.ce and time, so that pilgrim souls hungering for the Light might travel freely between the earthly realm and the divine.
The monks of Iona, like their house itself, seemed likewise to belong in a world set apart. Wearing their habit, Arnault took every opportunity to familiarize himself with their forms of wors.h.i.+p, encouraging Torquil to do the same. While the Columban brothers conformed to a monastic rule that was not unlike the one with which the Templars were familiar, based on Cistercian and Benedictine usage, their meditations and spiritual disciplines and even the liturgies they held in common with the rest of the Church Universal all breathed an air of liberation. To Arnault, now breathing that same air, it somehow seemed that Ninian and Fingon and their fellow monks were gently unbinding things that were too tightly bound elsewhere in the world.
The day of the full moon was spent much as the days leading up to it, moving in the abbey's rhythm of daily prayer and praise and intercession, but also fasting in preparation for the night's work. After Ma.s.s, at which they all received Communion, while Ninian and Abbot Fingon withdrew to the seclusion of their cells and Torquil lingered a while in the serenity of the abbey church, Arnault paid a last visit to his favorite spot on Columba's beach. Down near the waterline, searching among the sea-polished stones, he chose a smooth pebble of the green and white marble that was unique to Iona. Closing his eyes, he fingered it lightly, acquainting himself by touch with its shape and grain.
”Kindly Columba, father and brother,” he said softly, having learned from Brother Ninian that the Celtic saint did not turn away from the familiar pleas of family, ”we need your favor on this night's work. You adopted this land as I have done. Now that land is in danger. I know that G.o.d's hand on earth works through men-and many years ago, I gave myself to be His instrument. I ask that tonight you grace us with your counsel, that I may learn how I and my brethren are to proceed. By the Son of the Mary of graces I ask this, by James and by John the beloved, by Michael Cra-gheal, of the bright-brilliant blades. Amen.”
Just before dusk, the community gathered for Vespers, as was their usual wont. Afterward, instead of dismissing them to the evening meal, Abbot Fingon called Ninian and the two Templars forward and blessed them, in a ripple of Gaelic invocation of which Arnault caught only a few words. Then the abbot handed each of them a cup of glazed clay in which burned a votive candle, previously lit from the Presence lamp during the Phos hilarion. A fourth one he took for himself, before tucking a small flagon of holy water into the bosom of his habit and leading his three companions quietly from the church, heading toward Columba's mound. The rest of the community remained in the church to keep vigil on behalf of the four, softly chanting a litany of invocations to Christ and Mary and Columba and Bride and a host of other Celtic intercessors.
The evening was mild and clear, the face of the sea like gla.s.s, the first stars just beginning to appear. At the summit of the mound, on the site of Columba's cell, lay a smooth, flat boulder about two feet across, its center hollowed and smoothed, sheened with a pool of rainwater, pure and still. The sky to the west bore a lingering s.h.i.+mmer of daylight. To the east, the rugged hills of Mull were haloed with a silvery luminance that heralded the rising of the moon.
After bidding them to put aside their shoes, Abbot Fingon stationed himself on the east side of the stone, mutely signing for his companions to take their appointed places. Arnault moved to the west side of the stone, reverently donning the High Priest's Breastplate and also drawing from out of his white Columban habit the keekstane given him by Brother Ninian at Scone. Torquil and Ninian posted themselves to north and south.
Following Fingon's example, they placed their lamps before them on the level surface of the rock, bracketing the wash of rainwater between the four points of a cross. When this had been done, Abbot Fingon blessed himself and each of his companions with the sign of the cross, to the accompaniment of a quadri-part.i.te invocation, spoken in the Latin of monastic usage, for Arnault's sake, but phrased with the imagery of its Celtic origins: ”In name of Michael of the White Steed, Hide us under your s.h.i.+eld And defend us with your bright-brilliant blade.
”In name of Mary the generous, Mother of the Shepherd of Flocks, Enfold us in the mantle of the power of your Son.
”In name of Bride of many blessings, handmaid of the hearth, Sing to us of your Nurseling, That His name in our ears will open our hearts.
”In name of Columba the just and potent, shepherd of souls, Guide us to your vision And reveal what is hidden.”
So saying, he unstopped the flagon of holy water, tipping a brief splash into the pool of rainwater. As ripples briefly disturbed the mirror surface, he said softly: ”Thou Michael Cra-gheal, Ranger of the Heavens, sanctify to us this water, fallen from heaven as the gentle rain.”
A second splash of holy water followed the first, accompanied by a further blessing.
”Thou Mary tender-fair, Mother of the Lamb, sanctify to us this water, tears of the stars.
”Thou Bride, the foster mother, tranquil of the kine,” he continued, letting a third measure of holy water fall, ”sanctify to us this water, dew of the clouds.
”Thou Columba the benign, apostle of sea and sh.o.r.e,” he concluded, emptying out the last of the flagon, ”sanctify to us this water, mirror of heaven.”
He set the empty flask aside, and all four of them waited in silence as the ripples in the pool subsided, leaving the rainwater pool once again as clear and as smooth as a pane of gla.s.s.
Slowly the white rim of the moon appeared above the eastern hills. Rising higher, it patterned the sea with silver dapples. As its lower rim cleared the skyline, Fingon turned to face it squarely, stretching forth his arms in a wide embrace.
”Hail unto thee, Mother of the stars, Fosterling of the Sun, Jewel of guidance in the night, Thou fair lamp of grace and beauty!”
As he spoke, a soft wash of luminance spilled across the mound, touching their robes to silver. Its brilliance quickened the shallow pool of rainwater, transforming the surface into an iridescent mirror.
Beyond any doubt, Arnault sensed the sudden upwelling of power, rising from the pool to a cathedral arch above their heads. It was as if the small lights of their votive candles were become the pediments of four ascendant ribs supporting a soaring vault. The very air became luminous, faintly crackling with invisible energy. A wind stirred amid the surrounding rocks, bringing with it an elusive hint of fragrance and a sense of Presence immanently near.
With one accord, they turned their faces to the wind, Abbot Fingon holding out his hands in an att.i.tude of supplication that recalled Ninian's gesture on the beach at Dunstaffnage.
”Kindly Columba, father and brother,” he said in an almost conversational tone, ”you know what troubles us. Will you not show yourself, that we may seek your counsel, as a wise teacher and shepherd of the heart?”
The fragrant wind lifted, brus.h.i.+ng across the surface of the pool. The moon's bright-minted image dissolved in a haze of ripples. Instinctively Arnault leaned closer, the keekstane closed in his right hand, waiting for the disturbance to subside. As the surface quieted, he caught his breath, for the likeness resolving before his eyes was no longer that of the moon, but of a man's face.
It was a striking countenance, spa.r.s.e of flesh but graceful of mien, its innate asceticism gentled by a gleam of lively intelligence s.h.i.+ning forth from the pale gaze. And it seemed no mere illusion, but a living face, as subtle and expressive as those of the men watching with him. Not for an instant could Arnault doubt that this image was, indeed, a vision meant to convey the real presence of the saint they had invited to be present among them. Though the chiseled lips did not move, he seemed to hear a voice that was not a voice, speaking to his soul.
My Stone has need of your care, Knight of Cra-gheal, it said.
”I know that, Father Columba,” Arnault whispered aloud. ”I have sought the Stone and sensed its sickness, but I seek guidance concerning an Uncrowned King, by whom it can be brought back to health.”
A faint hint of a smile curved one corner of the saint's expressive mouth.
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