told how it was, and what Janet chose to die for.”
Nothing could have prepared me for the expression on Ninian’s face when he closed the volume.
For a long moment he said nothing, and then he began to laugh and laugh.
“Ashlar,” he said, “have you lost your mind, that you would expect me to take this to Father Columba!”
I was stunned. In a small voice I said, “I’ve given it all my effort.”
“Ashlar,” he said, “this is the finest book of its kind I’ve ever beheld; the illustrations are perfectly executed, the text written in flawless Latin, replete with a hundred touching phrases. It is inconceivable that a man could have created this thing in less than three to four years, in the solitude of the scriptorium at Iona, and to think that you have done it here within the space of a year is nothing short of miraculous.”
“Yes?”
“But the contents, Ashlar! This is blasphemy. In the Latin of Scripture, and in the style of an Altar Book, you have written mad pagan verses and tales full of lust and monstrousness! Ashlar, this is the proper form for Gospels of the Lord, and psalters! Whatever possessed you to write your frivolous stories of magic in this manner?”
“So that Father Columba would see these words and realize they were true!” I declared.
But I had already seen his point. My defense meant nothing.
Then, seeing me so crushed, he sat back and folded his hands and looked at me.
“From the first day I came into your house,” he said, “I knew your simplicity and your goodness. Only you could have made such a foolish blunder. Put it aside; put your entire history aside once and for all! Devote your extraordinary talent to the proper subjects.”
For a day and a night I thought on it.
Wrapping my book carefully, I gave it again to Ninian.
“I am your abbot here at Donnelaith,” I said, “by solemn appointment. Well, this is the last order I shall ever give you. Take this book to Father Columba as I’ve told you. And tell him for me that I have chosen to go away on a pilgrimage. I don’t know how long I will be gone, or where. As you can see from this book, my life has already spanned many lifetimes. I may never lay eyes on him again, or on you, but I must go. I must see the world. And whether I shall ever return to this place or to Our Lord, only He knows.”
Ninian tried to protest. But I was adamant. He knew that he had to make a journey home to Iona soon anyway, and so he gave in to me, warning me that I did not have Columba’s permission to go away, but realizing that I did not care about this.
At last he set out with the book, and a strong guard of some five human beings.
I never saw that book again until Stuart Gordon laid it out on the table in his tower at Somerset.
Whether it ever reached Iona I don’t know.
My suspicion is that it did, and it may have remained at Iona for many years, until all those who knew what it was, or knew who’d written it or why it was there, were long gone.
I was never to know whether Father Columba read it or not. The very night after Ninian went on his way, I resolved to leave Donnelaith forever.
I called the Taltos priests together into the church and bade them lock the doors. The humans could think what they liked, and indeed this did make them naturally restless and suspicious.
I told my priests that I was leaving.
I told them that I was afraid.
“I do not know if I have done right. I believe, but I do not know,” I said. “And I fear the human beings around us. I fear that any moment they might turn on us. Should a storm come, should a plague sweep through the land, should a terrible illness strike the children of the more powerful families—any of these disasters could provoke a rebellion against us.
“These are not our people! And I have been a fool to believe that we could ever live in peace with them.
“Each of you, do what you will, but my advice to you as Ashlar, your leader since the time we left the lost land, is go away from here. Seek absolution at some distant monastery, where your nature is not known, and ask permission to practice your vows in