The rest of the day was very busy. Brendan had a long list of chores to do. One of the Abbot’s favourite sayings was: ‘The devil finds work for idle hands.’ So he made very sure that there were no idle hands in Kells. As well as their daily tasks in the monastery, the monks had other duties. They met at regular times in the chapel, to sing and to pray. Brendan spent many hours there, crammed in with the monks in the dark candlelit space. He quite liked the long ceremonies, so long as he didn’t have to sit beside Brother Friedrich, whose feet were a bit smelly. The time in the chapel gave his mind a chance to wander wherever it chose to go. Nobody noticed, so long as he didn’t forget to take part in the chanting and praying. The monks also all met at dinner, where they sat at long wooden tables in the Refectory, with the only light coming from rush-lights and the great open fires, where half-trunks of forest trees flamed brightly. Tonight, there was extra food and the Abbot sat at the top table with Aidan. For once, Abbot Cellach smiled and laughed during the meal. He seemed to be sharing jokes with Aidan, old jokes that no one else knew. Brendan tried to remember the last time he had heard the Abbot laugh, and found that he could not. Everybody ate the same simple meal: a dish of lentil soup and coarse brown bread. Very often the monks were not allowed to speak at meals, but this evening, in celebration of Aidan’s arrival, the Abbot had allowed conversation. So Brendan got a chance to ask his particular friends about Aidan.
‘Ah, the great Aidan!’ said Brother Tang. Brother Tang was small and round and very kind. He had come to Kells from far in the east, travelling mile after mile in his search for wisdom. And he was very wise. The Abbot trusted him more than anyone else in the monastery, and sometimes even followed his advice, although as a general rule Cellach did not listen to anybody.
Now Tang sounded unusually excited about the new arrival. ‘Brother Aidan is an old friend of Abbot Cellach – they were young monks together in Clonmacnoise. Aidan is the perfect illuminator, a master, one of the most skilful of our times. His work outshines what we do in the Scriptorium here in the same way the sun outshines that rush-light on the table. We are greatly honoured to have him here among us.’
‘If only Abbot Cellach would let him teach us!’ said Brother Assoua. Brother Assoua was large and black. He had come to Kells from the south, from Africa. He had the best sense of humour of anybody in the monastery. He told Brendan marvellous tales of his country – about the beasts there that you could never find in Ireland: huge elephants, and monkeys that swung from the branches of trees and seemed almost human, and about the great golden lions who wandered over the sun-baked plains. Brendan particularly loved Assoua’s stories about the lions.
Now, as he spoke, the rest of the monks nodded. There was Brother Friedrich, who was from the north, a Goth. He was wide as a door and as strong as an ox. He was seated beside Brother Leonardo, who was from Italy and did all the cooking in the monastery. Leonardo was a brilliant cook, even if he was a little over excitable. Next to him was Brother Jacques from France. He was the bell ringer and spent most of his time napping. Brendan had known all the monks ever since he was a baby. They were like his family, although they were all much older than he was. Like a family too, they often squabbled, especially
Brother Leonardo and Brother Assoua. Brother Assoua continued, ‘You know that Aidan comes from Iona. Have you heard about Iona, Brendan?’
Brendan shook his head.
‘Iona is one of the greatest monasteries in the world. It is – it was – built on a tiny island to the east and to the north of us, near Scotland. The monks thought that they were safe because they were on an island. But Northmen came by the sea and attacked it. ‘
‘My uncle says islands are never really safe.’ Brendan’s voice was wistful. He knew he would never see Iona, or any other island. His uncle would never allow him to travel so far beyond the walls of the monastery. He was not even allowed to go out into the forest that surrounded Kells. Brendan knew that his uncle had made these rules to protect him, to keep him safe, as he had tried to do ever since he had saved him from the Northmen. But he still longed to see the world outside the walls of Kells.
There was a silence after Brendan spoke, and then Leonardo continued, ‘But Iona was safe for a long time. The monastery had been there for over two hundred years. It was founded by the great Colmcille himself.’
‘The same Colmcille our church is called after?’ asked Brendan.
Brother Leonardo nodded. ‘Yes, the same. Colmcille was from Donegal, from a royal family. He would have been a prince if he had not decided to become a monk. And he became one of the greatest saints and greatest abbots the world has ever known. He made the most beautiful books, over three hundred of them. You know, that was why he left Ireland in the first place, because of an argument over a book. He was a man with a terrible temper, and a great warrior. He copied a book that a monk called Finnian had illustrated, and Finnian was so angry with him they ended up fighting one another. Of course, all that was before he became a saint. Other people joined in the row so that in the end there was a huge battle. Colmcille won, but many, many people were killed. After the battle, when Colmcille saw what had happened because of his anger, he punished himself by leaving Ireland. He swore never to set foot on Irish soil again, though he loved the country with all his heart. He went across the sea to Iona. They say he started to make a book there, and that book is the most beautiful one ever created. It is called the Book of Iona and to look into it is to gaze into heaven. Sinners are blinded if they dare to look inside. No one has ever matched the way Colmcille was able to draw, the details of the designs he made. That was because …’
Brother Leonardo stopped for a moment and then whispered, ‘Colmcille was only able to draw the way he did because he had a third eye.’
‘He hadn’t a third eye!’ interrupted Brother Assoua loudly. ‘He had a third hand. And he had twelve fingers on each of them.’
The two brothers looked as if they were going to have one of their arguments, so Brendan blurted out quickly, ‘Whichever he had, he must have been a strange-looking character!’
Everyone laughed.
‘And what happened to all the books they illustrated on Iona after the Northmen started to come and raid the monastery?’ asked Brendan.
Brother Assoua sighed. ‘They must have been destroyed, lad. The Northmen have no respect for reading or the beauty of art. They are all gone, lost, like so many other treasures.’
Brendan said nothing. Because of the conversation he had overheard, he knew better. There was one book, at least, which had escaped the Northmen, and that book was in Aidan’s satchel. All through dinner and all through the service in the chapel afterwards, Brendan thought about the Book. It was surely the one that Colmcille himself had begun, the most beautiful book in the world.
Brendan crept through the darkness to the Scriptorium. When he had gone to his cell, he had found that he couldn’t sleep. He had tossed and turned, thinking about the Book and imagining what it would look like. He finally decided that he had to see it. He had noticed that Aidan had left the Book in the Scriptorium when they went to pray in the church. As he sneaked up the stairs, he saw that there was a glow of light coming from under the door. He opened the door very carefully in case someone was there. If it was his uncle, he would be in trouble again. But then his uncle hardly ever went to the Scriptorium. When he entered the room there was only one faintly shining rush-light left on one of the tables. But a golden glow seemed to come from the worn leather satchel that Brother Aidan had carried. Brendan crept a little closer. There was something there, a black shape against the light, but he could not make out what it was. As he groped his way through the half-darkness, it seemed to expand, growing bigger and bigger until it became huge and monstrous. The shadow of a dark, beast-like demon. A shadow which leapt for his throat and shrieked at him like a banshee!
Brendan yelled. The cat leapt on top of the satchel. Her back was arched and her fur stood on end as she hissed at him, warning him to keep away.
‘You nearly killed me with fright, Pangur Bán,’ whispered Brendan, taking a deep breath. ‘I don’t mean the Book any harm. I know you are just trying to guard it. I just want to see it. All I’ve ever seen is inside the walls of Kells. If I could just see one page … please?’
The cat looked hard at Brendan. Then she seemed to make up her mind. She stopped hissing and moved down from the satchel. She seated herself nearby, looking at Brendan with what seemed almost a smile on her face. Brendan realised that Pangur had accepted him and that they had suddenly become friends.
And so, very gently, Brendan started to pull the Book from the bag. It was heavy, and he needed both hands to do it. He could feel metal and leather. But he had only pulled it out a little way when a voice behind him said, ‘Well if it isn’t the little brother with the big questions!’
Brendan nearly dropped the Book in fright. It was Aidan, looking rather sleepy, but not at all cross. But Brendan felt dreadful. He could feel his face go very red as he stuttered, ‘I’m … I … I didn’t mean to …’
Aidan interrupted, ‘I understand. You got bored eavesdropping on the Abbot’s private conversations and decided to rummage through my things.’
Brendan was horrified. He didn’t know what to say.
Aidan smiled. ‘Calm down, lad, calm down. I won’t tell on you.’
Brendan’s face went even redder.
‘I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, honestly – it was Pangur that ran away and I chased her up the stairs.’
‘Blaming the cat, now, is it?’ said Aidan. But he smiled as he said it so Brendan knew he was only joking. The old monk continued, ‘That cat, now, is a very wise cat, and might well have known what she was doing when she led you up those stairs. So, you want to see the Book? Go on then, take a look.’
Brendan looked at him. Did he mean it?
‘Go on then,’ Aidan said again. ‘Take a look.’
But now Brendan stopped. He had just remembered something.
‘The brothers say that sinners are blinded if they look at the Book …’
Aidan’s smile grew wider. ‘Is that what you really believe will happen?’ He paused for a moment. ‘I can’t tell you what will happen when you look, Brendan. It’s up to you to make the choice. There’s nothing in this life but mist, is there, lad? It’s your decision, no one else’s.’
Still Brendan hesitated. He could stop now, because he was afraid, but then he would never see the Book. And more than anything else in the world he wanted to see it.
Slowly, Brendan pulled the Book out from the satchel. He gulped when he saw the magnificent cover. It was covered in gold and silver, and studded with jewels. Rubies and emeralds and amethysts sparkled in the light. He ran his fingers over the gold.
‘The cover is not the real treasure,’ said Aidan. ‘Go on, open it up …’
Very slowly, very carefully, Brendan opened the cover and looked inside.
