Before dawn, on the morning of the hundredth Sabbath after Colum the
White had made glory to God in Hy, that was theretofore called Ioua
and thereafter I-shona and is now Iona, the Saint beheld his own Sleep
in a vision.
Much fasting and long pondering over the missals, with their golden
and azure and sea-green initials and earth-brown branching letters,
had made Colum weary. He had brooded much of late upon the mystery of
the living world that was not man's world.
On the eve of that hundredth Sabbath, which was to be a holy festival
in Iona, he had talked long with an ancient graybeard out of a remote
isle in the north, the wild Isle of the Mountains where Scathach the
Queen hanged the men of Lochlin by their yellow hair.
This man's name was Ardan, and he was of the ancient people. He had
come to Hy because of two things. Maolmòr, the King of the northern
Picts, had sent him to learn of Colum what was this god-teaching he
had brought out of Eiré: and for himself he had come, with his age
upon him, to see what manner of man this Colum was, who had made Ioua,
that was "Innis-nan-Dhruidhneach"--the Isle of the Druids--into a
place of new worship.
For three hours Ardan and Colum had walked by the sea-shore. Each
learned of the other. Ardan bowed his head before the wisdom. Colum
knew in his heart that the Druid saw mysteries. In the first hour they
talked of God. Colum spake, and Ardan smiled in his shadowy eyes. "It
is for the knowing," he said, when Colum ceased.
"Ay, sure," said the Saint: "and now, O Ardan the wise, is my God thy
God?"
But at that Ardan smiled not. He turned the grave, sad eyes of him to
the west. With his right hand he pointed to the Sun that was like a
great golden flower. "Truly, He is thy God and my God." Colum was
silent. Then he said: "Thee and thine, O Ardan, from Maolmòr the
Pictish king to the least of thy slaves, shall have a long weariness
in Hell. That fiery globe yonder is but the Lamp of the World: and sad
is the case of the man who knows not the torch from the torch-bearer."
And in the second hour they talked of Man. Ardan spake, and Colum
smiled in his deep, gray eyes.
"It is for laughter that," he said, when Ardan ceased.
"And why will that be, O Colum of Eiré?" said Ardan. Then the smile
went out of Colum's gray eyes, and he turned and looked about him.
He beheld, near, a crow, a horse, and a hound.
"These are thy brethren," he said scornfully.