The Secret of Kells (8 page)

‘A stubborn child, that Brendan,’ he would say to Tang. Tang would reply quietly, ‘I wonder who he got that from, Brother Abbot?’

I
t was a snowy day in December. Outside the walls of Kells, the forest was covered in a white blanket. The small streams that had raced noisily through the trees during the summer were frozen into silence. The world was very quiet and still, as if holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for it to stop being so very, very cold.

Brendan and Aidan were in the Scriptorium. Even though a wood fire burned in the grate, the Scriptorium was still freezing. It was noon, so the room was very bright. They were working as hard as they could, as the dark days meant that the time they could spend illustrating was very short. They were both bundled up in layers and layers of wool, so that Brendan felt like an onion. When they spoke, their breath was like smoke in the air. They wore woollen gloves on their hands, knitted by Brother Assoua. The woollen fingers had been cut out, so that they could still work, but their fingertips were purple with the cold.

Aidan blew on his fingertips to warm them up and sighed. ‘It will be a hard Christmas this year, with so many mouths to feed and Abbot Cellach pushing so hard to get the wall higher. I wonder will he let you out to join us all for Christmas Day, Brendan? At least to go to the church …’

Brendan shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter. But I wish he would let me talk to him again. I miss talking to him, even though he used to be cross so much of
the time. But Tang says Uncle doesn’t take the time to talk at all now; he’s working so hard. Everyone is working so hard. Brother Assoua said to me yesterday that the monks are saying my uncle will make them work on Christmas Day itself. Though at least the work keeps them warm. Assoua said he dreams at night of being at home, where the sun shines all the time and the lions go running over the golden plains …’

‘These times are hard on everyone,’ said Aidan quietly.

‘Yes,’ Brendan continued. ‘And everyone is really fed up. Brother Friedrich was cracking jokes that it would be easier to be a Northman’s slave after the life he has had here during the last few months. That they should employ Uncle Cellach as a slave-driver …’

Aidan looked pensive. ‘That’s the problem with wars. Sometimes we become the very thing that we are fighting so hard against.’

They went back to work.

Aidan was mixing inks and Brendan was working on the Chi Ro page. His head bent over it, he went deep into the world of the crystal, the
world of tiny detail and bright colour. They were both so caught up in their task that they did not notice that the robin had begun twittering anxiously from the windowsill and Pangur, sleeping at the fire, had raised her head and had begun to miaow a warning.

Abbot Cellach burst into the Scriptorium. His face was deep red with rage, almost the same colour as his cloak. Brother Tang and Brother Assoua were on his heels, closely followed by the rest of the brothers.

‘I’m sorry, Brendan, we tried to warn you,’ said Assoua dolefully.

‘So this is where you are!’ said the Abbot angrily. ‘I might have guessed you would both disobey my wishes! I went to your cell to get you out, Brendan, and found you gone and the door unlocked. And here you are! The Northmen are nearly upon us, and you have nothing better to do than drawing! And you, Aidan. You are no longer a friend. You have betrayed me. Broken faith with the one who offered you refuge.’

He strode over to where Brendan was and snatched up the Book. Not even looking at what
Brendan had done, he angrily tore the page Brendan had been working on and crumpled it up in his hand.

Everyone gasped in horror.

The Abbot himself seemed shocked at what he had done. He stood, looking at the torn fragment clutched in his hand. For a moment, Brendan thought he was really looking at it properly. His face changed, as if the beauty of Brendan’s illumination had made him doubt his action.

Tang said eagerly, ‘Abbot, let Brendan show you what he has made. It is the most beautiful work I have ever seen …’

Cellach closed his hand over the piece of vellum and glared at Tang. ‘Even you, even you, who I thought wise, have been caught up in this nonsense. All any of you can think about is the Book, the Book, nothing but the Book … The Book will not protect us when the Northmen come. And they are on their way. That is why I went to get Brendan. A refugee has just come to me in the chapel. He ran many miles in the snow, barefoot and wounded, to come to warn us.’

He paused and looked around; everyone knew
that he was finally going to say the words that the monks had dreaded hearing for so long.

‘The Northmen are less than a day’s march from here. They have plundered the monastery and the village of Kilchoill, just a few miles east of the forest. There is nothing left there now. Some of the villagers fled before the raiders reached the village and are on their way here. Just a handful – that is all that managed to escape. The rest are either dead or captured. Brother Assoua, I want you to go into the forest with the scout and lead them here. You will find him in the Refectory, where they are giving him hot food and warm clothing. Tang, you must call the villagers together. Tell them to come to the Round Tower. We will take refuge there until the Northmen have passed. Be sure to reassure them that the wall will keep us safe. Once the Northmen realise that they cannot get through it or over it, they will pass us by and go on to some other unfortunate place.’

Aidan spoke, ‘Cellach, you must listen to me. I have seen the Northman attack, you have not. The wall may hold against them, but I am telling you that the gate will not be strong enough. And it is
possible that even the wall, thick and solid as it is, will fall. When they see how strong it is, they will be even more determined to get in. Such a big wall, they will say to themselves, such a big wall must have great treasures behind it. We cannot stay here. We must leave Kells. We must fly before them and leave the monastery to their mercy. Cellach, my old friend, I know that to leave all you have worked so hard for will break your heart. I know that we cannot take the great High Cross or the Round Tower or any of the buildings that you and the brothers have slaved to build. But at least we can save the villagers and ourselves and the Book …’

‘I don’t want to hear one more word about the Book! And of course the walls will hold. In the name of the Lord, man, we do not have time for this!’

Abbot Cellach turned. ‘Get to work, all of you,’ he said sharply to the monks. ‘Bring as much food and water and warm clothing as you can into the tower.’

The brothers took flight down the steps.

The Abbot looked at Brendan and Aidan for a long moment. Then he turned his back on them
and said, ‘You two can stay here. You’ll be safe in here with your precious Book!’

The Abbot left the room. Brendan and Aidan could hear the key turn as he locked them in.

They looked at each other. Aidan sighed. ‘Oh, Cellach, Cellach, why wouldn’t you listen to me?’

He walked to the window and looked out. Far to the east they could see flames reddening the sky. Brendan sniffed the air. He could smell burning on the wind. He looked at Aidan, suddenly realising how old he was. In the light of the window his face was as lined as an old leather book cover.

‘Fire, it is always fire they bring with them, destroying our houses and our churches.’ Aidan’s voice was full of pain. ‘We had no stone walls in Iona,’ he continued. ‘We thought the sea was enough protection. But it did not protect us, and stone walls would not have made any difference either. There were too many of them. No one could build thick enough walls or tall enough towers to keep us safe, for the evil is always there. Will always come back. It was the summer when they came, a lovely blue day. We could see the boats
coming over the horizon, longboats with dragon’s heads at the prows. Do you know the strange thing, Brendan? Their boats were beautiful things, graceful and curved and wonderfully made. They have skills of their own, the Northmen, in boat-building and in weapon-making. Their swords are strong. They have designs on the hilts that you would not be ashamed to have made yourself. They are very fond of their weapons. They give them names, you know, the swords. Names like Chopper and Ironmouth, Leg Biter and Blood Drinker and Death Dealer.’ He sat down and covered his face with his hands.

‘They set the island ablaze. Those that were not burned alive were put to the sword or herded onto the boats like cattle. They tore the gold and silver covers from the sacred books; they knocked over the stone crosses covering the graves of our dead. They laughed as they spat on the holy relics in the church. Oh Brendan, I still see them, hear them sometimes when I sleep at night. We are like animals trapped in a pen here, waiting to be slaughtered …’

Brendan did not know what to say. He felt sick.
Aidan’s story had brought back to him the horrible memory of his own worst nightmares.

Aidan looked up and seemed to pull himself together when he saw Brendan’s face. ‘Ah, Brendan, I should not be talking like this. And you know, as long as I have lived, there is one thing that I have learned. You can never tell exactly what will happen.’

He stood up and joined Brendan at the window. The gates of Kells were being opened to admit a line of bedraggled, freezing figures, struggling through the snow that lay thickly on the ground. Brother Assoua led them. He carried a child in his arms, a little boy wrapped in a cloak stained with blood. There were young and old in the group, but they all moved very, very slowly, with their heads bent low. Their faces were grey. Some of them collapsed on the ground, as soon as they realised that they had reached the monastery, and the brothers and villagers rushed to help them. Brendan looked at Aidan. ‘There’s so many of them. I wish I could help. Isn’t there anything can we do?’ he asked.

‘We can do nothing but wait and hope,’ said
Aidan. ‘Wait and hope.’

Brendan thought for a moment. ‘I hate the thought of us just sitting here waiting for them to come and get us,’ he said. ‘Do you know what, I think we should get ready to make some more ink.’

Aidan raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you really think it is a good time to be illustrating?’

‘Not illustrating,’ said Brendan. ‘But I have an idea that ink might come in useful.’

They worked, and then they waited. But they did not wait for long; for as the sun climbed high over the forest, the smell of burning became stronger and the Northmen came closer and closer to Kells.

B
rendan and Aidan looked out helplessly from the window in the Scriptorium, watching the black crows circling and shrieking in the sky above the forest as the Northmen moved nearer to Kells.

‘Why can’t we hear them?’ asked Brendan.

‘We’ll hear them soon enough,’ said Aidan grimly.

Inside the monastery, there was frenetic activity that verged on panic.

Brendan searched for sight of his uncle. He spotted him, sheltering a small child under his cloak and rushing desperately backwards and forwards, shouting out instructions.

But as he watched, a crow called out and an arrow came racing through the air, shot from one of the Northmen’s bows.

‘They must be at the gates!’ cried Brendan. ‘And Uncle has been hit! Oh, why can’t I do anything to help!’

The arrow had hit Abbot Cellach in the shoulder, but he continued to run, calling to Tang.

‘Brother Tang!’ he shouted. ‘Open the door of the tower. We have to get as many people as we can inside!’

‘There won’t be time for everyone to get into the tower,’ said Aidan fearfully.

The crowd of villagers and the refugees that had come to the monastery began to rush towards the wooden steps leading to the Round Tower. Brendan could see Tang holding the door open, high up in the wall. As he watched, Brendan realised that the tower could not possibly hold everyone. And some people didn’t want to go in. He could see a child, crying, holding on to the last moment to try to convince his father to bring his puppy into the tower with them, and an old woman stubbornly refusing to leave her cow.

There was a crashing noise as the Northmen’s battering ram pounded the wood of the gate. It could only be a matter of moments before they
were inside the enclosure. The raiders were no longer silent, but shouting out war whoops and calling encouragement to each other in a strange, guttural language. Arrows came flying over the walls, like a shower of hailstones. There was a panicked rush of villagers up the steps. Abbot Cellach was behind them, shouting: ‘One at a time! The steps aren’t strong enough!’

With that, there was a crash and the steps collapsed, bringing dozens of terrified villagers hurtling to the ground.

‘Close the door!’ Cellach shouted at Tang, who was watching from the tower doorway. ‘Save those who are inside!’

Then with a loud, groaning noise, the gates of Kells burst open and the Northmen spilled into the enclosure, swords and battle-axes raised. There seemed to be hundreds of them. They came swarming through the gate and over the walls like giant insects, looking like the pictures of devils in the Book. Brendan could see them quite clearly: their fair and dark and red beards under their leather helmets; their short bows and heavy shields; the black markings on their faces. Many of
them did not carry swords, but short, brutal-looking battleaxes.

‘You were right,’ he whispered to Aidan, who was watching beside him. ‘There are too many of them. The gate could never have held against them.’

Aidan put his hand on Brendan’s shoulder. ‘I only wish I could have been wrong. That’s the problem with walls. You always have to leave some way in and some way out, unless you want to wall yourself up altogether. Do you know, I think this lot is the same crowd that came to Iona. I recognise those black marks on their faces; it makes them look like badgers. The leader is called Harald Redtooth. Not a nice character. His sword is called Monk Mincer, one of those not very funny Northmen jokes. Move back a bit from the window, Brendan, we don’t want them to see us.’

Within a few moments the great stone Cross of Kells was knocked over, crashing to the ground and breaking as it fell. The raiders had set the thatched roofs of the village ablaze and Brendan covered his ears so as not to hear the panic-stricken
noise of the horses and cows trapped in their burning stables and byres. Red blood covered the snow and fire burned up the huts as the screaming animals were rounded up by the Northmen. The old woman who had refused to leave her cow had her arms pulled roughly from its neck and was left to lie in the snow, unconscious. The old and the sick they killed, the younger and stronger were herded together to make the long march through the snow back to the raiders’ ships.

‘Uncle, did you see Uncle?’ Brendan could hear the tremor in his voice as he tried to see through the thick haze of smoke that covered the monastery.

Aidan peered. ‘My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, but is that him over there?’ he said, pointing towards a figure in a dark red cloak.

The Abbot was bent over with pain and the arrow was still caught in his shoulder. He was limping towards the Scriptorium. He was so close now that Brendan could see his face. Cellach was looking up towards the Scriptorium windows with an expression of agony on his face. His lips were moving and Brendan was sure that he was saying
his name.

‘He is coming to let us out,’ cried Aidan.

‘No!’ shouted Brendan. He could see what his uncle could not: three Northmen closing in on the Abbot from behind, their swords drawn. Cellach fell to the ground.

‘Uncle Cellach!’ shouted Brendan, ‘No, please don’t let this be happening …’

One of the Northmen came towards the fallen figure and roughly tore something from around his neck. It was the gold lunula the Abbot had always used to fasten his cloak, the sign of his authority in the monastery. The Northman, who Brendan recognised as the one Aidan had pointed out as the chief, Harald Redtooth, pulled his uncle’s cloak from him, and wrapped it over his shoulders like a scarf. Then he looked towards the Scriptorium. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Brendan and Aidan at the windows and he grinned, showing black teeth. They pulled back quickly, but it was too late; the chief had called to his comrades to follow him to the Scriptorium door. Aidan and Brendan looked at each other. They could hear the raiders hacking it down.

Now they had to rely on their last desperate plan. It was not a very good plan, but it was the only one they had.

The two of them went into action. They took up vats of half-made ink and while the Northmen raced up the stairs, they added huge quantities of the final ingredient that always set it alight. The ink exploded in a series of loud bangs, creating a thick wall of noxious green smoke.

The raiders, thundering up the stairs, were met with the smoke when they burst into the Scriptorium. The fire and green smoke blinded them as they came in. The ink mixture continued to explode, each time creating a cloud of smoke and an enormous bang. In the confusion, Brendan, Aidan and Pangur managed to escape past the Northmen through the open door. They raced downstairs, taking nothing with them but the Book and the crystal.

Outside, there was mayhem. Bodies lay everywhere and the Northmen continued to burn and kill. Brendan looked around to where he had seen the Abbot fall. He was still there, stretched on the ground, unmoving. Brendan started to run
towards him, but Aidan grabbed him by the arm and whispered fiercely, ‘Come on, Brendan, there is no time to delay. You must bring me to the secret passage to the forest. The forest is the only safe place to be now.’

But Brendan pulled away. ‘No, we must save him! We must save Uncle Cellach!’ He was sobbing as he spoke. ‘Look, he’s wounded. He might be dead!’

Aidan said desperately, ‘Quickly, Brendan, the passage. We have no time at all to lose.’

‘We have to save him!’ cried Brendan. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

Aidan knew they could wait no longer. A raider was coming towards them, his blood-stained battle-axe, raised, ready to attack.

Aidan lifted Brendan up and started to carry him towards the wall. Pangur was leading the way to the gap, going as fast as she could and occasionally looking over her shoulder to make sure that they were following.

‘Very well,’ said Brendan in a small voice. ‘Let me down, Aidan. I’ll walk now.’

‘Don’t walk,
run
,’ said Aidan breathlessly. ‘We must hope that we will be able to run far enough and fast enough to escape the Northmen, or all your uncle’s efforts will have been for nothing!’

The sun was beginning to go down over the trees as they struggled through the snow. It was cold and still, as cold and still as death, thought Brendan. Tears came to his eyes as he thought of his uncle. From somewhere in the shadows, a wolf howled.

Behind them, smoke still rose from the enclosure of the monastery. There was a terrible smell of burning in the air. At least the screams of those who had been caught in the path of the Northmen had died down. Now only the crows called.

Brendan stopped in his tracks.

‘I have to go back,’ he said to Aidan.

‘The Northmen left no one on Iona, and they will leave no one in Kells,’ said Aidan sadly. ‘You can do nothing for Cellach now. He lived to protect you, and now I must do the same. For Cellach and for the Book.’

They walked on a little and Aidan continued, ‘The Northmen will feast in the ruins of the monastery, offering sacrifices to their gods in
thanks for a successful raid. That is what they always do. And they always wait to see if those that went into hiding will return. They have their code of conduct. They will not want to leave anything alive in their …’

Aidan never got to finish his sentence. A dark figure loomed over him and he was lifted into the air and flung to the ground. The satchel was ripped from his hands. Pangur, hissing wildly, flew at the attacker and was batted away, and the Book and the Eye fell from the satchel. The crystal rolled towards Brendan, who quickly slid it behind him so that it was hidden in the roots of a tree.

It was the Chief Northman, the one who had attacked Cellach. Two other Northmen were with him, looking as if they would be more than happy to run Aidan and Brendan through at a word from their leader. The Chief wore the Abbot’s lunula, and around his waist were tied the gold and silver treasures of the monastery; jewelled chalices and silver bells and ivory statues. Even from the distance, Brendan could catch the stench of his breath. It reminded him of the smell in Crom Cruach’s cave. Redtooth’s eyes had lit up when he
saw the shining cover of the Book. He muttered something in his strange language: the only word Brendan could make out was what sounded like ‘Gold!’

Brendan held his breath while the Northman lifted the Book and turned it over. He seemed to think it was some kind of bag. But nothing fell out. He shook it roughly. Still nothing. Giving a grunt of disgust, he tore the cover roughly from the Book. The pages of vellum fell and scattered on the ground. The Chief, as he turned to go, muttered some words to the two other Northmen. They came closer to Aidan and Brendan and drew out their swords. But just as they raised them, ready for the kill, there was a sound that made them hesitate – the sound of clawed feet running and deep growls. Before the two Northmen could bring down their swords on Aidan and Brendan, they themselves had been brought to the ground.

They turned and twisted, their swords still in their hands, trying to plunge them into the wolves’ necks. But the wolves were too quick for them. Teeth fastened on the Northmen’s throats. Fighting for their lives, the invaders battled with the
wolves, moving away from the clearing and into the wood as they struggled. One especially large wolf raced after the Chief where he had fled through the trees. The rest of the pack surrounded Aidan and Brendan. Brendan began to wonder if they had escaped the Northmen only to be eaten by wild wolves. But then there was a howl from deep in the trees, and, just like the first time Brendan had visited the forest, the wolves raised their heads, as if answering a command. In a moment, they had turned tail and taken flight, disappearing into the darkness, as quickly as they had come.

Brendan took Pangur in his arms and said cautiously to Aidan, who was lying with his eyes closed and breathing heavily, ‘Are you hurt?’

Aidan opened his eyes and shook his head. ‘I will be grand. I can’t believe those wolves didn’t attack us, only the Northmen.’

‘Me neither,’ said Brendan, who had his own ideas as to who had called off the wolf pack. ‘At least the Northmen didn’t get the crystal or the Book. The cover is gone, but the Book is still there.’