When they got back to the Main House in the evening, the place was in an uproar.

“This has never happened—never in the whole history of Innis nan Druidneach!” Dáiríne declared.

The Druid declaimed and recalled out loud the history of the island. None of them had ever heard of such a thing.

“It is the will of the gods! He came right around the rock dessel—I saw it myself!” said Amalgáid. He had been searching for sphagnum moss in the forest for the dressing of wounds when he spied the tiny curach spinning dessel around the great rock at the south end.

“I dropped my basket of moss on the trail because I was so surprised!” he added.

“Where is he now? Has he been welcomed properly?” Dáiríne asked.

“I left him outside the earthen bank. I did not want to let him in until I heard everyone’s decision,” Amalgáid said.

“Poor thing, he must be wet and very cold. Bring him in. We’ll ask him how he got here,” said Báetán, the Drui who most often took care of the bees.

It was said that Báetán could speak to bees and understand their language. Sometimes he was seen dancing with the bees on sunny days.

“Those are honeyed words from you, Báetán,” said Amalgáid. “Let’s hear what the young man has to say.”

They ushered the stranger into the Main House. He was wet, cold, hungry, and resembled a lost water creature foundering on dry land.

“How did you come to be out at sea all by yourself in that ridiculously small boat?” Amalgáid asked, opening the inquiry.

Dáiríne was already swinging an iron cauldron over the central hearth to prepare a posset of elderberries, honey, and the Waters of Life to stave off a chill. Báetán ran to the men’s house to fetch warm clothing for the stranger.

“My boat is not ridiculous,” the stranger said, standing straighter for emphasis.

“Where do you come from, and who are your people?” Bébinn asked.

“I am Lucius, a Galli from Inissi Leuca,” he said.

Their faces went blank. No one recognized the place.

“I was raised there as a Cristaide, but I seem to have left that way of life. I no longer know exactly what religion I am … and now I am here.”

“Who brought you here?” Amalgáid asked, concerned that the sanctity of the Druid Isle had been breached, and wondering why and how a Cristaide could have possibly been admitted into their sacred space.

“No one brought me here. I left Inissi Leuca in that curach, and it has borne me safely across the open seas.”

“You came all the way from Gallia in that curach?” asked Amalgáid, aghast. In all his sun-seasons of living, he had never heard of such seamanship.

“I had some help. I escaped the Romani so that I wouldn’t be taken as a slave, then I was blown by a tempest to Cornubia, where I met the tribe of Mamm an Bys. They fed me, gave me clothing, and treated me very well. But I decided to continue on, and with the help of the wind and the currents, I finally washed up on your beach.” Lucius looked Amalgáid directly in the eye, as if defying him to contradict his story.

“What in the name of all the gods made you think you could travel the seas in a tiny boat like that?” asked Bébinn, who was having a hard time keeping her mouth from hanging open in wonder.

He looked around the room and suddenly realized that he was in the presence of holy people. He saw the men’s tonsures, cut from ear to ear across the brow instead of in the circle at the top of their heads, and their simple but elegant robes, all of the same color, either blue or green. He thought maybe they were a hidden community of Druid, so he decided to risk the truth.

“Mamm an Bys came to me and told me I was protected. I trusted her.” He looked slowly from one of them to the next.

They grew quiet and appraised the unexpected visitor. If his arrival was a surprise, his words were stunning.

Báetán had returned with the warm clothing and stood in the back, quietly listening. Aífe was listening too. She understood very well the ordeal of the open sea, and she felt his vulnerability. She also sensed sadness in him, as if he had lost something precious and was on a quest to find it. She quietly took the blue tunic, cape, and woolen socks from Báetán and shyly approached the stranger.

“Put these on. We don’t want you to get sick.” And when she raised her face and gazed into his eyes, she fell into a blue world of peace from which she never wanted to escape.

He in turn looked into her green eyes and tumbled down a verdant hill in springtime. Embarrassed, confused, excited, he tore his gaze away and waited for the crowd to decide his fate.

Amalgáid solemnly laid a hand on the stranger’s shoulder.

“Who is Mamm an Bys?” he asked gently, as a test of the youth’s sincerity.

“She is the Soul of the Earth. She is the Primal Mother from whom all things have sprung. She is as deep as the ocean and as high as the tallest mountain. She is the noblest tree in the forest and the sacred Source of every river.” He hung his head. How could he possibly put her into mere words?

The Druid were convinced.

“It is the will of the gods,” said Bébinn quietly. “For the first time in all the sun-cycles of this island, we have two initiates this summer.”

Everyone nodded in agreement and wonder.

And so it was. The next day, Aífe continued her tests and initiations as the stranger named Lucius began his own training under the tutelage of the senior Drui, Amalgáid.