find wisdom. Even still, the Northmen thought that one might meet Odin on the road, a hooded, one-eyed traveller with two ravens on his shoulder. They were called Hugin and Munin, Thought and Memory. And as Aidan told his tales, they walked further and further from Kells. The snow melted and the wind grew warmer. Spring came back to the forest.
They travelled south and west, away from the path of the Northmen. They had many adventures on their travels. Most of the people they met were kind to them, and gave them food and shelter. All of them wanted to hear the story of how they had escaped from the Northmen.
Finally, one day, as they walked through mist and rain up a mountain that seemed never ending, Aidan suddenly grabbed Brendan’s arm and forced him to come to an abrupt standstill. The mist slowly cleared and they found themselvesstanding at the very edge of a rocky cliff. The path ahead of them ended in air, and they were looking down into the most beautiful green valley, bounded on the far side by the arc of a rainbow. A waterfall fell down from the heights of the hills to the valley floor, and formed a lake at the bottom. From the lake flowed a curving silver river. On the eastern edge of this river there grew a small oak wood. To the south and west, the valley opened out. And there, where the land sloped down towards the water’s edge, was the sea. The river flowed into the bay just where a curve of golden beach met the blue water. The sun was beginning to go down over the water and Brendan thought he had never seen anything so beautiful as the light dancing on the waves.
He looked at Aidan and Aidan looked at him. Brendan nodded. ‘It’s here, isn’t it?’ he said.
The three of them made their way slowly and carefully into the valley, and slept that night in the shelter of the oak wood.
The next day Brendan wanted to start gathering berries for ink.
Aidan said, ‘No, first things first. We have to build a proper shelter. A bothy in the trees is all very well for the summer, but the winter will be back soon and the wind and the rain will come at us from the west. We have to be prepared for that. We have to build well. And as your uncle knew, the best buildings are made of stone.’
Brendan groaned. ‘And you are beginning to sound like him. I thought that after I left Kells I would never, ever again have to drag stones around.’
Aidan laughed. ‘Never say never. Ah, come on, lad. It won’t take that long; we are just going to build the basics. Two little cells, that’s all we need.’
So through the summer days they worked, and built two small stone huts to Aidan’s design. They were round and windowless, and reminded Brendan of the beehives he had looked after in Kells. They also planted vegetables and herbs, and they gathered berries and made new ink. They searched for fallen feathers in the forest, and from these they made pens. And by the time autumn came, Brendan was able to begin work on the Book. While he worked, Aidan talked to him,advised him, and told him more stories. The valley was very quiet. Sometimes a hunter or a fisherman would come upon them, and they would feed their visitor and ask for news of the outside world.
One day a wild-looking man with a very hairy face arrived in the valley and asked Aidan to hear his confession. Aidan was very quiet and serious after their conversation. Brendan realised why when he saw the strange man baying at the moon that night.
‘He’s a werewolf, isn’t he?’ he whispered to Aidan.
Aidan nodded. ‘He is. He’s a Kilkenny man, and they are desperately prone to it. But he is a good man. You know St Ronan was a werewolf too, or at least his wife said he was. She used to complain that she could never get a decent night’s sleep because of the racket he made when the moon was full.’
Sometimes they themselves would make a journey out of their forest in the valley and visit one of the tiny villages nearby. They were always made welcome.
They travelled south and west, away from the path of the Northmen. They had many adventures on their travels. Most of the people they met were kind to them, and gave them food and shelter. All of them wanted to hear the story of how they had escaped from the Northmen.
Finally, one day, as they walked through mist and rain up a mountain that seemed never ending, Aidan suddenly grabbed Brendan’s arm and forced him to come to an abrupt standstill. The mist slowly cleared and they found themselvesstanding at the very edge of a rocky cliff. The path ahead of them ended in air, and they were looking down into the most beautiful green valley, bounded on the far side by the arc of a rainbow. A waterfall fell down from the heights of the hills to the valley floor, and formed a lake at the bottom. From the lake flowed a curving silver river. On the eastern edge of this river there grew a small oak wood. To the south and west, the valley opened out. And there, where the land sloped down towards the water’s edge, was the sea. The river flowed into the bay just where a curve of golden beach met the blue water. The sun was beginning to go down over the water and Brendan thought he had never seen anything so beautiful as the light dancing on the waves.
He looked at Aidan and Aidan looked at him. Brendan nodded. ‘It’s here, isn’t it?’ he said.
The three of them made their way slowly and carefully into the valley, and slept that night in the shelter of the oak wood.
The next day Brendan wanted to start gathering berries for ink.
Aidan said, ‘No, first things first. We have to build a proper shelter. A bothy in the trees is all very well for the summer, but the winter will be back soon and the wind and the rain will come at us from the west. We have to be prepared for that. We have to build well. And as your uncle knew, the best buildings are made of stone.’
Brendan groaned. ‘And you are beginning to sound like him. I thought that after I left Kells I would never, ever again have to drag stones around.’
Aidan laughed. ‘Never say never. Ah, come on, lad. It won’t take that long; we are just going to build the basics. Two little cells, that’s all we need.’
So through the summer days they worked, and built two small stone huts to Aidan’s design. They were round and windowless, and reminded Brendan of the beehives he had looked after in Kells. They also planted vegetables and herbs, and they gathered berries and made new ink. They searched for fallen feathers in the forest, and from these they made pens. And by the time autumn came, Brendan was able to begin work on the Book. While he worked, Aidan talked to him,advised him, and told him more stories. The valley was very quiet. Sometimes a hunter or a fisherman would come upon them, and they would feed their visitor and ask for news of the outside world.
One day a wild-looking man with a very hairy face arrived in the valley and asked Aidan to hear his confession. Aidan was very quiet and serious after their conversation. Brendan realised why when he saw the strange man baying at the moon that night.
‘He’s a werewolf, isn’t he?’ he whispered to Aidan.
Aidan nodded. ‘He is. He’s a Kilkenny man, and they are desperately prone to it. But he is a good man. You know St Ronan was a werewolf too, or at least his wife said he was. She used to complain that she could never get a decent night’s sleep because of the racket he made when the moon was full.’
Sometimes they themselves would make a journey out of their forest in the valley and visit one of the tiny villages nearby. They were always made welcome.
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