Once over the crest of the hill, the wind dropped and I could hear the night sounds of the wood around us: a cuckoo called from an overhead limb, answered by another a little distance away; small, furtive rustlings in the winter detritus around the roots of the trees; the sudden flapping of unseen wings among the new-leafed branches.

It became difficult to see more than a pace or two ahead; I put out my hand to the barbarian from time to time-as much to reassure myself that he was still there, as to guide him. In each instance, the warmth and solidity of the touch surprised me; I half expected to reach out and find that he had vanished.

The wood thinned as we neared the settlement and the path widened, so that we stepped from the trees and into a clearing-the field that Brynach had glimpsed from above-to view the cluster of low, reed-thatched huts a short distance away. We halted to look and listen before moving on, but the steading remained peaceful and quiet, our arrival, as yet, unobserved.

This quiet did not last long, however, for upon reaching the middle of the field, a dog started barking, and immediately every dog in the valley had joined in, raising a din that roused the settlement dwellers and brought them running-difficult to count them in the dark, but I reckoned more than twenty men and boys in all-torches, spears, and hay forks at the ready. They did not appear overjoyed to see us.

Stand easy, brothers," Brynach said, watching the torches hasten over the field. "Say nothing until we see how they will receive us." He gestured to Dugal to come stand beside him, and the big monk took his place at the fore.

When the first rank of valley folk had drawn near, Brynach raised his empty hands and stepped slowly out to meet them. "Pax, frater," he called, speaking Latin. This, added to his dress and tonsure, gave them to know that they addressed a holy man.

The head man took one look at Bryn and called to his fellows. "Hold, men. It is only some monks."

This was spoken in a tongue which, though it sounded very much like that of south Eire, used many British words and others I did not know-but the Britons amongst us understood perfectly well. "They are Cernovii," Ciaran explained later. "At least, they once were."

"We are distressed clerics," Brynach said, directing his speech to the chieftain. "We are peregrini, and have been shipwrecked in the bay. Have you food and a place to rest?"

"Aye, that we have," the man said with a nod. "And you are welcome here. Is it from Dyfed you have come?"

"Yes-that is, some of us have come from Dyfed. The rest," he indicated our huddled group behind him, "are priests of Lindisfarne and Cenannus in Eire." The men of the settlement edged closer for a better look.

Brynach now gestured for the bishop to join him; as Cadoc approached, he said, "I would have you greet our superior. My friends," the well-spoken Briton called, loud enough for all to hear, "I give you Cadocius Pecatur Episcopus, Holy Bishop of Hy."

This produced an instant and gratifying response. Many of the valley dwellers gasped in amazement; several of those crowding close reached for the bishop's hand and pressed it to their lips in reverence.

"Peace, friends," the bishop said. "In the name of the most holy and blessed Jesu, I give you good greeting. Rise and stand on your feet. We are not such men as should be venerated in this way."

"You are welcome in our village," said the head man, using a word I had not heard before. "Come, we will take you there now."

Lifting high his torch, the chieftain led us across the field and into the settlement. It was larger than I first imagined: fifty or more huts, grain stores, a fine big hall, and an enclosure for cattle. There was no wall or ditch; the wood served them for protection, I suppose. And they did seem most vigilant men.

They conducted us directly to the hall where the fire burned brightly on a wide and generous hearth. We crossed the threshold and hastened to warm ourselves at the fire. Since no one gave me instruction, I brought the barbarian with me and stood beside him. He looked at me curiously, and seemed always on the point of speech-I could feel the words about to burst from him-but he kept his mouth firmly shut and said nothing.

We all stripped off our cloaks and spread them on the hearthstones all around, and then stood as close to the flames as we might, revolving slowly front-to-back. I spread my mantle before the flames and soon my damp clothes were steaming from the heat. The fire did warm me wonderfully well.

To one side of the hearth was an enormous table made from the split log of a tree. The remains of a meal still strew the tabletop, but a command from the head man and the leavings were quickly removed. Women scurried to prepare another sitting.

"Ale!" the chieftain cried. "Ale! Tylu…Nominoe, Adso! Bring jars for our thirsty guests."

While boys scampered for the ale jars, our host turned to us and said, "Friends, sit and take your ease. You have had a tumultuous day, I think. Rest now. Share our meal." Placing a broad hand to his chest, he added, "My name is Dinoot, and I am leader of this tuath, as you would say. My people and I are happy you have found your way to us. Fear nothing, my friends. No ill can befall you here."

So saying, he led the bishop to the table and bade him sit in the prime place. The rest of us found places at the benches and, since no one told me otherwise, I brought my barbarian with me to the board.

As we moved to take our places at the far end of the table, however, Dinoot noticed the man with me was not a priest. "Bishop Cadoc," he said, putting out a hand to halt the barbarian, "forgive my curiosity, but it seems to me that a stranger has come among us."

"Ah, yes," the bishop said, remembering the warrior suddenly, and with some embarrassment. "Your eye is sharp, Master Dinoot."

"Not so sharp as some," the head man allowed, the selfsame eye narrowing slightly. "Still, I know a Sea Wolf when I see one."

"We lost our rudder to the storm," Brynach explained, "and were coming on to land-"

"Would have made a fine landfall, too," said Fintan, speaking up, "if not for a most cowardly attack." The pilot told about the Sea Wolves and shook his head with utmost regret. "Little Ban Gwydd is tied with ropes down on the strand."

Dinoot frowned. "The storm we knew. But I was not aware there were barbarians coursing our shores." He rubbed his whiskered chin. "Lord Marius will want to know of this."

"Your lord," asked Brynach, "he is not here?"

"His caer is but a half-day's walk," explained Dinoot. "There are five villages under his protection." Turning to the barbarian, who stood mute and resigned beside me, the chieftain asked, "What is to be done with that one?"

"We thought to leave the matter with you," Bishop Cadoc suggested. "We ourselves are strangers here, and are persuaded that your lord would know best what to do."

"Then I will send someone to inform him at once." So saying, the chieftain summoned one of the tribe's young men, and, after a brief word, the youth left the hall, taking two others with him. "The machtiern will hear of this regrettable incident by morning." His lip curled cruelly as he regarded the captive. "Trust this turd of a Dane will trouble you no more."

Rising, Dinoot clapped his hands and called for assistance. Four men hurried to him, and he said, "Throw this garbage in the midden pit and keep watch over him until Lord Marius arrives." Two of the men laid hold of the barbarian roughly and began dragging him away.

The Sea Wolf made no sound, nor offered the least resistance, but looked longingly at the table where baskets of bread and jars of ale were being laid. I saw this and my heart moved within me.