Legend of the Celtic Stone

by Michael Phillips

No response met Aedh’s attempt to gain entry to his brother’s palace.

  Surely, Aedh thought, Brudei’s council of seven, and his five druid priests—none of whom had been heard from since the two boats had first been seen approaching almost an hour ago—surely they were not . . . afraid to show themselves.

  He knew his brother too well to imagine such a thing. Superstitious perhaps, but afraid—not Brudei macMaelchon, king of the Picts!

  The singing of the newcomers by now rose to a level which could be heard throughout the entire village. Their presence could not be unknown behind the doors of the king’s residence and hall. And now at last the musical tones awakened action behind its walls.

  Suddenly the doors before Aedh opened sharply. Five long-robed bearded druid priests strode out. In the lead came Broichan, stern faced and ominous. The doors closed behind them with a thud. A clanging of iron bolts followed from within where someone had obviously remained hidden behind the walls.

  Ignoring the king’s brother, Broichan walked briskly toward the convocation near the well.

  Seeing his approach, and sensing by his long robes and bearing that he must be an important personage—perhaps King Brudei himself—Columba rose to face him. The rest of his party continued to sing in soft tones. The expression on the druid’s face indicated that his mood was anything but friendly.

  “You are commanded by the power of the dark sea, in the name of Brudei, king of Caledonia, to silence.”

  Columba met the man’s forceful gaze. He displayed no surprise at hearing the words in his own tongue. Behind him, the singing of his men at their vespers now increased slightly in volume.

  “Silence!” repeated the druid angrily, finding himself ignored in full view of the entire population. Columba continued to stare into the man’s eyes. Each felt in the other a repository of power, though from vastly different sources.

  Only a moment more did the silent confrontation last.

  The druid sensed this was no man to be easily cowed. Broichan turned slightly and nodded to his four priestly companions. They now moved to positions surrounding the small circled assembly of visitors.

  When they were in place, the five began intoning a chant invoking the powers of the air, the sea, and the earth to their aid in cursing the wicked tongues of these who had come among them. They would compel them to silence.

  Now did Columba’s spirit rise up against the pagan deities which held these people captive. He had come to proclaim the gospel. He would therefore demonstrate its power for all to see.

  He raised a hand to still his men. For a brief moment no sound could be heard but the low chants of the druids.

  In a loud tone that reverberated throughout the enclosed courtyard, Columba now raised his voice and began loudly to sing out the words of the Forty-sixth Psalm.

  Is e Dia ar tearmunn agus ar neart, ar cabhair ro dheas ann an teanntachdaibh. Air an aobhar sin cha bhi eagal oirnn, ged ghluaisear an talamh, agus ged atharruichear na beanntan gu meadhon na fairge. Ged bheuc a h-uisgeachan, agus ged chuirear that a chéile iad, ged chriothnuich na beanntan le a h-ataireachd.

  The thunderous chant of his first words was still echoing from the surrounding walls of stone when the maledictory dirges invoked against him ceased.

  Ghabh na cinnich boile, ghluaiseadh na rìoghachdan—chuir e mach a ghuth, leagh an talamh.

  Columba paused again and gazed around him. Throughout the courtyard, the eyes of his listeners were wide, their tongues dumbstruck. Curiosity now passed into fear. The five druid priests stood still as statues. They had now been commanded into silence.

  Columba continued to the end of the psalm.

  Tha Dia nan slògh leinn, is e Dia Iacoib a’s dìdean duinn.

  Thigibh, faicibh oibre an Tighearna.

  Bithibh sàmhach, agus tuigibh gur mise Dia.

  Ardaichear mi am measg nan cinneach.

  Ardaichear mi air thalamh.

  Tha Dia nan slògh leinn.5

  His words ceased.

  The native Picts stood awestruck. The tongue they heard was related to their own. Some of the older men of the village grasped a few words and phrases. But even after Columba’s assistant had translated the verses of Scripture into their own Gaelic dialect, the words conveyed little meaning. These were new sayings, and strange.

  Still the villagers stared, mesmerized even more than by the content of the man’s words, by the tone and volume, cadence and timbre of his voice.

  This newcomer possessed a force they had never seen. He spoke as one having authority, and not as the druids. Never had Broichan been silenced by any man. Surely there was some terrible and mighty power here.

  Young Fintenn, who in his very innocence had perhaps been listening more attentively than many of the older tribesmen, whispered a question to the man at his side.

  “Father, what does the Lord of hosts mean?”

  “I do not know, son,” whispered Aedh in reply.

  Meanwhile, Columba began walking slowly toward the doors through which the five priests had emerged. Broichan moved to stop him but remained powerless to speak. Columba paused before the large wooden doors.

  He lifted his right hand and slowly indicated the sign of the cross in large exaggeration before the entryway.

  “In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” he said in calm but loud voice, “I command thee, kingdom of Caledonia, to be opened to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God!”

  With his hand still raised, he took two steps more forward, placed his hand against the large rough wooden slabs, and again made the symbol of the crucifixion over them. He clenched his hand into a fist, then knocked forcefully and deliberately against it three times.

  Columba now lowered his hand, stepped back, and waited.

  The entire courtyard was deathly still. The people of the village stood transfixed. Their five priests fain would have moved, but their feet were anchored to the ground. Columba’s men stood calm and expectant.

  A moment more the silence lasted.

  Suddenly—and though the sound was small, it seemed to echo throughout the courtyard as if thunder had shattered the silence of the sky signaling victory to the man of God—the metallic bolts clanked back.

  The two doors swung wide. Columba stepped back.

  The next instant, to the magnified astonishment of his druids and the disbelief of his citizens, King Brudei himself strode out, followed by the seven members of his council.

  Without hesitation, he approached Columba, extended his hand reverentially, and spoke words of respectful welcome.

  The spell was broken. The entire village broke into spontaneous movement and animated voice.

  Once friendly relations had been established with their king, all clamored now for a closer look at the new arrivals. Somehow in the movement and excitement, Broichan managed to slip from the courtyard unnoticed and was not seen for many hours. So too did Diorbhall-ita shrink back to her lonely hovel at the edge of the village, which was the only home she knew. All the people of Pictland struggled to survive, for in this land merely to eat and keep from freezing meant victory. But the poverty of this poor lonely soul was more grievous than all the rest.

  A great feast was held that night in the palace. All the important men of the settlement were invited that they might hear from their honored guest.

  In a surprising show of respect for his brother, Brudei asked Aedh also to attend.

  As he was leaving his own enclosure, young Fintenn approached. “Father,” he asked, “what does the Lord Jesus mean?”

  Aedh gave the same answer as earlier. “I do not know, Fintenn,” he said. “The holy man from the south speaks of many new things.”

  Twelve

  Two weeks passed.

  Columba and his men had been treated with honor and respect since their arrival in Inbhir-Nis, and had been shown every courtesy and luxury possible. After their questionable reception, a more satisfying turn of events could hardly be imag
ined. Columba and his companions visited in many homes, of both rulers and peasants, explaining to them the Christian faith. Not a few from throughout the region believed, for these were a people anxious after the supernatural.

  Broichan the Magus and his fellow druids were angry with the obvious affection of the people toward the Dalriadic abbot and did their best to thwart Columba’s every move. The king himself took delight in the contests between the two, desirous to see which man possessed the greater power. Broichan had maintained an uncomfortable control over Brudei all his life, and the king now enjoyed seeing the druid squirm. In King Brudei’s eyes, whoever’s magic proved superior was the one whose religion must be the more formidable.

  Even as a tense interview between priest and druid was taking place in Brudei’s palace, in her hovel the prostitute Diorbhall-ita scrubbed at her body, hair, face, hands—doing what she could to make herself presentable. Strange feelings had risen up within her. She had given herself to no man since the priest’s arrival. She desired to be clean in every way.

  Whether she was a pretty woman, she had not stopped to ask since Gairbhith had made her what she was. It had never mattered before. She stood a head taller than most women, which made her recognizable to everyone, even had she not been an outcast. She had always wanted to hide from the stares of all who saw her. But her very size prevented obscurity. Never could she escape the looks of revulsion and disgust which had followed her.

  But now something new had suddenly come into her heart, something that did not feel like hiding, but singing. Never had anyone shown her such kindness as the priest from Dalriada. With heart beating and unknown melodies seeking to rise within her from places in her heart long sealed, she tied her hair back from out of her face. She would go down to the river and wash more thoroughly.

  As Columba and his men departed from the palace, they made their way down to the shores of the River Ness. As they walked along, a white pebble caught Columba’s eye. He stooped to pick it up where it lay at the water’s edge. As he rose, in the distance he beheld the figure of the sad young woman he had not seen since the day of his arrival. She stood alone some distance away.

  Motioning his companions to remain where they were, he walked toward her. How different she now appeared.

  As Columba approached, she could not prevent a smile breaking out on her face.

  “My child,” he said, “you have changed since I saw you. How lovely you look.” Already he had learned enough of the Pict sister tongue to converse freely with the people.

  His words plunged straight into her soul, and her heart leapt for joy.

  How much is the kingdom of God advanced in unseen ways by simple kindness between his creatures. It is the invisible power that opens doors for the reception of the gospel. Jesus commanded his followers to be good people and to do kind things to their fellows . . . in order that the world might believe.

  And now did the ministry of kindness send its transforming power into the soul of this Caledonian prostitute, who was, after the fashion of the time, about to become a child of God.

  “Thank you,” said Diorbhall-ita shyly. She glanced toward the ground. “I have been following . . . listening to what you say.”

  “I can see the change in your eyes and your smile.”

  “I want to believe,” she said simply.

  “Then come,” said Columba.

  He took her hand and led her to the water’s edge, then a few steps into it to the depth of his ankles.

  “Kneel in the water, my child.”

  She did so.

  Columba stooped, placed his hand in the river, scooped out a handful of water, and brought it up and let it fall over her forehead. It dripped down over her eyes and onto her face. With thumb and forefinger he made the sign of the cross on the wet skin of her forehead.

  “Diorbhall-ita,” he said, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”

  He now took her head and clasped it gently between his two large hands, lifted his eyes to the sky, and uttered a silent prayer for the woman he had just baptized. Then he took her hand again and pulled her up.

  She rose, radiant and weeping.

  “You are now whole, my child,” said Columba. “You are a child of the God who created you in his image. Go, sin no more, and live as his daughter, pure and spotless from this day forward.”

  He turned. Diorbhall-ita watched him go, then herself turned and walked along the river’s bank away from the village, pondering many things in a heart slowly being made new.

  Thirteen

  As Columba rejoined his companions, he took back out the white stone he had picked up earlier. He opened his palm and contemplated it a moment. A vision awoke in his mind’s eye of his adversary the druid gasping for breath.

  “Broichan is being severely chastised,” he said. “An angel has been sent from heaven and has broken the glass from which he was drinking into many pieces. One of them has lodged in his throat. The king will send messengers to us, asking us to return to help.”

  He had not yet finished this speech when two horsemen galloped down from the fortress to meet them.

  In haste they related events exactly as Columba had predicted them. “The king has sent us,” the messenger concluded, “to request that you would return to his hall and cure his tutor Broichan. A jar broke as he was drinking. He choked on a piece of its glass. His breathing has now stopped. He appears at the point of death. The king is greatly afraid.”

  For reasons known only to himself, Columba sent two of his men back to the king. “Take the white pebble,” he said, handing it to them, “and tell this to the king: If Broichan shall immerse this stone in water and drink from it, he shall be cured.”

  They did according to Columba’s instructions.

  By the time Columba’s two men arrived, the king and his druidic tutor were so beside themselves that they immediately did all exactly as he had said. As the pebble was immersed, the king saw that it floated on the water.

  “What kind of trickery do you bring into my palace?” cried Brudei.

  “No trickery, Honorable King,” replied the other. “Our priest and abbot blessed the stone. It now contains holy powers. Tell your priest to drink of the water while the stone floats.”

  With trembling hand, Brudei took the cup. He handed it to Broichan. He could barely sip at its edge. After two or three sips, he managed a full swallow.

  Suddenly a violent cough erupted. Several pieces of glass flew out of Broichan’s mouth. He choked again, struggled for a breath, then another and deeper. Gradually he began to breathe more easily. He now took a large drink from the cup. Within minutes he was restored and breathing freely.

  The king took the cup from his hand and peered inside it.

  The white stone still floated on what water remained.

  Thereafter, and for many years, Brudei preserved the astonishing pebble among his treasures, and used it on water to the same effect many times among his people. Thus was the king himself able to administer a cure for various diseases.

  Fourteen

  After that day, Diorbhall-ita followed Columba’s party wherever it went, until all the settlement came to regard her as one of those who were always with the great man. She walked about everywhere unafraid to be seen, taller than most of the men of the company except for Columba himself and two or three others. Wherever he taught, she sat at Columba’s feet, and would have washed them with perfume if she had possessed any and dried them with her hair as Mary of old. In her eyes glowed adoration and unembarrassed devotion. No longer did the villagers torment her, for none could deny that a great change had taken place. Most still moved away if she came close. But now they more feared than despised her.

  A certain highly respected man among the Picts listened eagerly to Columba’s preaching and believed in the word of life. Along with many in Inbhir-Nis, he and his family were baptized—wife, children, and slaves. Only a few days afterward, one of the man’s sons was att
acked with a serious illness. The attack was so sudden that even as word of it spread, already the boy was nearly gone.

  When the druids heard of it, they marched in solemn procession to the home. They began bitterly to upbraid the distraught father and mother.

  “You have brought this on yourselves,” they said. “You have forsaken our gods. This is the result. The spirits are angry. The boy will die, the rest of you will die. There is nothing we can do.”

  Word of Broichan’s visit to the house of their most recent convert came to Columba. Immediately he proceeded to the house with some of his companions. He found the parents mourning and the mother weeping disconsolately.

  “It is too late,” the father said. “He is dead.”

  “Be contented, dear parents, “ said Columba. He took the mother’s hand and gazed tenderly into her face. “Do not doubt the power of God,” he said. “What room is your son lying in?”

  The father conducted him to it. Columba entered alone. He fell on his knees and began to pray.

  “Oh, Lord,” he whispered, “has such occurred by your command? Surely this cannot be your intent. What would you have me to do, Lord Christ?”

  A few moments more Columba remained on his knees. Slowly he opened his eyes, then rose and approached the body of the boy. He placed his hand on the forehead. In appearance he might indeed be dead . . . yet warmth still seemed present.

  Suddenly Columba recalled to mind the words of the Lord himself. Had he not copied them over by his own hand countless times? The girl is not dead, but sleeping.

  A great swelling rose up in his breast as he remembered the next words to fall from the Lord’s lips. Did not the Lord say that greater works would his disciples do than he had done? Who was he, a mere servant of the Lord, to doubt what Jesus had said?

  Columba placed his hand again upon the boy’s forehead, then spoke in a bold voice: “In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, arise, and stand upon your feet.”

  The boy’s eyes opened. He glanced around and saw Columba, then smiled feebly.

  Columba took his hand and lifted him to a sitting position. He waited a few minutes for the boy to regain his breath, for he was still very weak, then pulled him to his feet. He now led him out of the room and took him to his mother. Gasps of astonishment erupted throughout the house. Tears of weeping became those of disbelief and joy.