The blask rood

'This stranger asked me to walk with him, and truth to tell, I did not want to go,' Eirik said. 'But, he said, "Fear nothing, brother. No harm will come to you." So I said, "Who are you, lord?" For I thought it might be an angel speaking to me.'

'Oh, aye,' murmured the vassals, knowingly- as if they were well used to conversing with angels.

Eirik raised his hands for quiet, and continued. 'The stranger looked at me, and said, "I am a friend, and well known to your family." And I did not know what to say to this. "How can this be?" I ask. "I have never seen you before." This brings a smile to my strange visitor's lips. "Brother Eirik," he says to me, for he knows my name, as I say. "Come, I must be about my business."

'He turned and walked a little away from the camp, and bade me to follow. I did, and he said, "The day is coming when the church your father builds will be my home. Tell Murdo to look for me."

'I agree to deliver the message, and ask, "What name shall I give him?" And this is the strangest part of all, for the stranger merely raised his hand in farewell, and replied, "Tell him the Lord of the Promise is well pleased with his servant."

'And then,' Eirik concluded, 'he disappeared into the wood the way he had come.'

The vassals gabbled in astonishment and, when it was certain the bishop had no more to tell them, they went away shaking their heads in awe of this miraculous occurrence.

'I have delivered the message, father,' Eirik said. 'What does it mean?'

'It was yourvision,' Murdo replied sharply. 'You tell me.' With that, he turned on his heel and walked quickly away.

The bishop sent his monks along to the abbey, and I walked with Eirik to the hall. 'That was well done,' I told him when we were alone. 'How did you find out about the White Priest?'

He stopped in midstep and turned to me. 'How did you know he was a priest?' he demanded.

'You must have said it just now.'

'I said nothing about that,' he insisted adamantly, and I felt a sudden tingle raise the hairs on my arms.

'Was he a priest?' I asked.

'You know very well that he was,' Eirik said. 'But I kept that part of my tale back on purpose. You have had it from someone else.'

'And so have you,' I accused. 'I know what you're trying to do. The vassals may be gulled by your talk of visions in the night, but I am not. I doubt Murdo will be taken in by it, either.'

Eirik regarded me with a look of exasperated pity. 'Duncan, Duncan, what are you saying? Do you think I made up a tale? Is that what you think?'

'Of course you did,' I told him. 'It is nothing to me one way or the other, but -' He rolled his eyes and shook his head. 'What? Are you telling me now it was true?'

'In the name of all that is holy, it is the very truth,' he declared. 'It happened just as I told it. Why would I concoct such a tale?'

'To discover the secret -'

The light of understanding broke over my brother just then. 'Murdo and Emlyn's secret-is that what you mean? You believe I made up a story to try to draw them into confession?'

'Yes,' I admitted. 'That is what I thought. And I hope it works, too.'

'Brother,' replied Eirik with a smile, 'you are far more devious than I imagined. I do believe you have the guile of the young Lord Murdo himself about you, and no mistake. But surely as God is my witness,' he vowed earnestly, 'it happened just as I said.'

'Very well,' I allowed, accepting him at his word. 'But will it work, do you think?'

'It might,' replied Eirik, thoughtfully tapping his lower lip with a fingertip. 'We will have to be shrewd about it. Say nothing to either of them. Leave it with me. I think I know a way.'

We parted company then, and he hurried off to the abbey.

'When?' I called after him.

'Soon,' he answered. 'Leave it with me.'

That night at supper, Eirik came to the table, dour-faced and grim of aspect. He said little and stared at his food as if he suspected poison. When anyone spoke to him, all they received was a cheerless nod, or a half-hearted grunt. His doleful humour so permeated the meal that conversation ceased half-way through and people began to speak in furtive whispers so as not to disturb the melancholy cleric.

Murdo, as host of the meal, at first tried to ignore his son's gloomy demeanour. When at last that became impossible, he finally gave in and asked, 'Is it ill you are? You seem to have the weight of the world around your neck.'

Eirik raised his eyes slowly, as if contemplating at the cause of all human misery. 'Take no thought for me, father,' he intoned solemnly. 'The weight I bear is mine alone.'

'Is there nothing we can do for you, my son?' asked Lady Ragna.

'I fear not,' he said with a heavy sigh. 'The vision was given to me, and it sickens inside me ere I discern its meaning. This I will do, though I fear the effort will drive me to madness.'

He rose from the bench and made to depart. 'I am sorry. I should not have come to table tonight. I have spoiled a good meal, and beg your forgiveness, my lord.' He made a bow towards mother. 'My lady. I wish you a good night.'

A glance passed between the lady and lord. Ragna urged her husband with her eyes. 'Wait,' said Murdo, calling Eirik back. 'There may be a remedy for your ills. Come back and sit down. Eat something. I will summon the abbot and we will talk when you are feeling better.'

'My lord,' said Eirik resuming his place once more, 'dare I hope that you know something to help put my mind at rest?'

'Perhaps,' allowed Murdo. 'Perhaps. But this is not the place to discuss it. Eat something, son, recover your appetite if you can, and the abbot will be here shortly.'

Murdo dispatched one of the serving-boys to fetch the abbot, and the meal continued in a more convivial spirit than before. Eirik, I noticed, recovered his appetite wonderfully well. By the time Abbot Emlyn arrived, my brother was well into his third barley loaf and second bowl of stew.

The ample abbot settled at the board, declining an offering of meat, but accepting a bowl of brown ale. The other guests, eager to learn the outcome of the curious affair, fell silent and all eyes turned towards the head of the table.

'Good abb,' began Murdo, somewhat uncomfortably, 'it seems our bishop has been suffering for the sake of his extraordinary vision.'

'Indeed?' replied Emlyn, turning sympathetic eyes on the young churchman. 'I would that you had come to me, my friend. What is the matter?'

Eirik explained briefly, whereupon Emlyn turned to Murdo. 'If this is not a sign from our Lord and Saviour, I do not know what it can be.'

'It was my thought, too,' replied Murdo. He stood and called to the serving-boy. 'Bring a jar of ale to my treasure room.' Turning to his other guests, 'I beg you forgive our absence, friends. This matter is best discussed in private. Please, linger as long as you like. My lady wife will see the jars remain filled.'

With that the three of them rose from the board and started from the hall. Those left at table were suddenly stricken with the knowledge that they were to be left out of the discussion and never discover the mystery's resolution. I include myself in that number, for I was not invited to share their private deliberations. I watched them walk away, and felt a mighty disappointment pinch me hard.

The meal ended and the guests drifted away. I sat for a time with my mother, glumly watching the fire on the hearth, and feeling as forlorn as a hound banished from my master's side. Haldi, the serving-boy, appeared after awhile with the jars of ale. Ragna called to him as he moved towards the door at the far end of the hall.

'Bring the tray to me, Haldi,' she said. He came and lay the tray on the table. She dismissed him, saying, 'They will be some time at their talk, I think. Help cook in the kitchen and then you can go to bed. I will see to the lord's ale.'