Aengus mac Fergus, lord of the realm, sent some of his men with Easter gifts: great haunches of venison and boar to grace our feast. They wasted not a moment setting the meat to roast on spits over fires in the yard. Divested of this duty, they quickly devoted themselves to the cellarer, and became his willing slaves, labouring mightily with the oaken vats of rich dark ale and sweet yellow mead. The vats were placed on tripods outside the entrance to the hall. Also, since it was Easter, crocks of wine were provided.

When all was ready, Secnab Ruadh called for silence and prayed God's good blessing on our festal meal. Then, taking up our wooden bowls, we broke our long Easter fast-partaking of those dishes each found most appealing. The day was given to the satisfaction of eating and drinking and harmonious conversation with friends and kinsmen. And all who gathered within the abbey walls were brother and sister, parent and child, one to the other.

After the pangs of hunger were well and truly banished, we played games. Urged on by the children of our guests, we engaged in contests of strength and skill: throwing the well-stone, lofting spears, hand wrestling, and the like. Some of the lord's men, warriors all, devised a horse race in which the riders must sit backwards in the saddle. This proved such an enjoyable spectacle that the race was run several times to accommodate everyone who wished to take part. The last race was the best, for many of the older children insisted on being allowed to ride. So that the younger ones would not feel aggrieved, some of the monks joined in, each taking a child before him so that no harm could befall the little one. This made for even more confusion and the resulting laughter made the valley resound. Oh, it was a splendid diversion!

All through the festivities, I remained at Dugal's side, painfully aware that the time for our parting was hard upon us; but, as I did not like unhappy thoughts to intrude on that glorious Eastertide celebration, I tried my best not to dwell on it. If Dugal held similar feelings, he gave no sign, enjoying himself to the full, going from ale vat to race to table and back again. Of the three mysterious visitors-Brynach, Gwilym, and Ddewi-I saw little. They seemed always to hover in the bishop's shadow, often engaged in close conversation with one or another of our elder brethren. Though the festivity flowed easily around them, the three, and Brynach especially, held themselves aloof-looking on, smiling, but seldom entering into the merriment.

So the day passed, and the sun began to drift low, flaming the western sky with red-gold. Our good abb summoned all the people to follow him, and we made a great procession around the cross in the yard. Once, twice, three times around, whereupon he gathered everyone in a ring around the cross and said in his grating whisper of a voice: "Behold this cross! Sure, it is naked now, but it was not always so. I would have you remember, friends, that dire and dreadful day, when the Great King's Son took the weight of the world upon his back as he hung upon Golgotha's tree!

"Woe and shame, I say! O, Heart of my heart, your people seized you; they bound you; they struck you: green reed on firm flesh, hateful fist on ruddy cheek! Wicked thorns became a crown for the sacred head; a borrowed robe mocked the shoulders of him who bore the grievous stain of mankind's sin.

"And then, no stopping the bloodlust, they took you, piercing hands and feet with cold, cruel nails. They raised you high above the ground to die in bitter agony, your people helpless, watching.

"Hideous deed, the World Creator was spat upon as death stole the light from his eyes." Fraoch's voice cracked as the tears rolled down his cheeks. "Thunder and wind did not constrain them, rain and hail they heeded not-neither the broken voice crying out: Abba, forgive them! They know not what they do!

"Up came the sharp-bladed spear, biting deep into your wounded heart. Water and blood poured down your gleaming sides-the wine of forgiveness spilled out for all-and the Beautiful One of God breathed no more.

"Then it is down from the cross-they cannot wait to have you away! Dragged through the streets, you were, tied in a sack! Common wrappings for the corpse of the High King of Heaven, never fine linen or soft furs.

"The rock-cut tomb becomes your home, Beloved. The solitude of the turf house is your new domain, there in the bone grove. Caesar's soldiers stand guard at the doorstone lest the murderers disturb your deathsleep.

"Do they fear you even yet? They have done you to death, Lord of All, and they stand guard, looking right and left, hands trembling. Darkness falls over the earth. How not? The Light of Life has been shut up in a grave, and the greedy night is full of demon smiles.

"Friends," the abbot whispered, his voice small in contemplation of that awful night, "the enemies of light and life held great celebration then. Their revelry resounded loud in the Halls of Heaven. And the Father God gazed down in his sore grief. 'See here, Michael!' he called to his Champion. 'They have killed my beloved son. That is bad enough, but they should not rejoice so. Can this be right, that evil should exult in the death of the Only Righteous?'

"And Michael, Servant of Light, replied, 'Lord, you know it is not right. Say the word, my king, and I shall slay them all with my fiery sword.'

"Oh, but the Ever Merciful lays a finger to his lips. And it is: 'Patience, patience, all in good time. I would not be God if disaster should find me unequal to the task. Only stand you back and watch what I shall do.'

"The High King of Heaven, his great heart breaking, gazed down into that bleak grove. A single tear from his loving eye fell into that dark tomb where lay the body of his blessed son, the Prince of Peace. That tear struck the Christ full on his battered face, and sweet life came flooding back.

"The Great King turned to his Champion and said, 'Why do you tarry, friend? You see how it is. Roll aside that stone and let my son go free!' Michael, striking like lightning to the earth, put his hand to the accursed rock and, with a flick of his finger, hurled the great millstone aside.

"Up you arose! Christ Victorious! You threw aside the sack and stood. Death, that weak, contemptible thing, lay shattered at your feet. You kicked the shards aside and strode from the tomb, brave soldiers falling on their faces, slain by the sight of such undiluted glory!"

Abbot Fraoch spread his hands wide. "A thousand welcomes, O Blessed King! A thousand welcomes, Eternal Youth! Hail and welcome, Lord of Grace, who suffered all that death could do-for Adam's willful race, you suffered, yes, and gladly died. Firstborn of Life, it was ourselves you carried from the tomb, each and every one clinging to your broad back.

"So look upon the cross and rejoice, friends. Think of it, and praise Him who has the power to raise the dead to life. Amen!"

And everyone gazed at the high cross in the fiery sunset, and cried, "Amen, Lord!"

Brothers with harps, awaiting this moment, began to play. We sang: hymns, of course, but other songs as well-ancient songs, older than any of the tribes or clans that claimed them, older than the wooded hills themselves. As night enfolded us, we sang, and heard again the age-honoured stories of our race.

We went to our rest that night satisfied in body and soul, and rose the next day to continue our celebration. Through the three days of the Easter feast, I tried to prepare myself for leaving. I saw Dugal but rarely; if I had not known him better, I would have imagined he was avoiding me.

It was late the third day by the time all the visitors had gone. At vespers, I joined my brothers for prayer for the last time. The sun had set and it was dusky within the abbey walls, but the sky was still pale blue overhead. Two bright stars gleamed low in the east. They say the sky in Byzantium is gold, Dugal had said. And the very stars are strange.