The Prophecy

Tristan, the cousins, and the others joined the noisy crowd traveling along the road. Soon they came upon the outskirts of a small village. A group of festive people gathered at the side of the road. A man with a musical instrument stood in the middle of the crowd. The instrument looked like a small harp. The man lifted his head and began to sing.

The man wore a hat in the shape of a cone. It looked as if it had been made from the bark of a tree. His tunic was a colorful assortment of square patches. His leather shoes pointed up at the toes. As the man sang, he danced a merry jig.

“’Tis our friend Dubbach!” Caera said. “He’s a bard.”

Beth looked at Patrick. “A bard?” she asked.

“A bard travels from village to village,” Caera said. “He cheers us all with his singing and clever wit.”

Beth and Patrick drew closer to the bard.

Dubbach the bard finished his song. He stopped dancing. Then he strummed the small harp for a moment. The tune sounded mournful. Then he sang out with a loud clear voice:

A new and bright fire comes.

It burns in the peasants’ hearts.

It turns our people from our gods.

Our altars fall apart.

A fire burns in our land.

Oh, who now brings this flame?

Where does he get his powerful light?

Pray, tell me whence he came!

The sad song made Beth feel strange inside. She asked Caera, “What does the song mean?”

“’Tis the prophecy,” Caera said.

“What prophecy?” Patrick asked.

Caera’s father said, “For ages past, the prophecy has foretold that a fire would come to our land. It would burn away the faith of our fathers. The fire would tear down the altars of our druids. It would change Ireland forever.”

“Aye,” said Caera. “Some say it could happen soon.”

“It’s happening now,” Tristan said. “God has called the bishop to this pagan land. The bishop brings the good news of Jesus Christ.”

“But the bishop is not to be trusted,” Caera’s father said. “He tears down the altars our fathers built. He talks of following new ways.”

“The druids built the altars to sacrifice human lives. The killings honor their false gods,” Tristan said. “Why is it wrong to end such evil practices? They have hurt our people for generations!”

Tristan paused and stared into the farmer’s eyes. “They were going to kill your own child,” Tristan said.

Caera’s father put a protective arm around his daughter.

Tristan continued. “The bishop does not teach evil. He teaches that hope can be found in Jesus Christ.”

By this time, the crowd had turned to Tristan. Some scowled at him. Some clenched their fists.

Finn the squirrel sat up on Tristan’s shoulder. The cute animal seemed to calm the crowd. Dubbach stopped his song. He pushed through the crowd to see who had interrupted him. He saw Caera and her father. His face lit up.

The bard stopping singing. Then the crowd drifted away to go about their own business.

“Erc the farmer! Caera!” the bard cried with merriment. “You have come a long way from home for the festival.”

“We have no home now,” Caera’s father, Erc, said sadly. “It was destroyed by fire.”

Dubbach frowned and shook his head. “That’s a rightful shame,” he said.

Suddenly a smile of joy lit up the bard’s face. “My cousin Bronus works in the castle at Tara,” he said. “He told me yesterday that King Logaire needs skilled workers.”

“What would the workers do?” Erc asked.

“They would farm the fields that provide food for the royal family,” Dubbach said. “Come with me! I’ll take you to meet my cousin. He’ll find work and a new home for you at the castle.”

Caera’s father bowed to Dubbach the bard. Then he turned and bowed to Tristan. “I will repay you one day for your great kindness,” he said.

Tristan nodded with a smile. “God is watching over you,” he said.

Erc turned to Caera and said, “Come, lassie.” He joined Dubbach, and the two men walked away.

Caera looked up at Tristan. “I would like to know more about the bishop and the new ways,” she said.

Tristan nodded and said, “I’ll see to it.”

Caera waved good-bye to Beth and Patrick. She raced after her father.

“This is a strange place,” Beth said to Patrick. “The people don’t know about God.”

Patrick opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly he stopped. He looked beyond Beth, and his eyes grew wide.

Beth spun around. A cart pulled by two oxen headed straight toward them. Shane and the old druid were driving it. Over a dozen people sat tied up in the back. A soldier on horseback galloped beside the cart.

“There they are!” shouted Shane to the soldier. “It’s one of the bishop’s converts. And our slaves. They’re leading a rebellion against the high king! Catch them!”