sensual and perhaps very sensitive man.

"Until tomorrow, your grace." Prince Marchudd turned

to go.

"Mv anticipated pleasure, my lord."

Bishop and priest inclined their heads as Marchudd

hurried away, wrestling with his toga.

"So that is Marchudd Rhys, prince of Parisii and Brigantes." Patricius dropped it like an accusation. "Why does he style himself in the pagan manner when he is

baptized?"

The bishop waved him gracefully to the vacated chair.

"Sit down, Father. Some wine?"

"No. Thank you."

"Well-1 will in any case." His goblet hardly needed

refilling, but Meganius felt a need to turn aside the rigid intensity of the young man. "You and 1 are priests with one allegiance. Father. The prince has many to deal with, not all of whom have seen the light of God."

"Germanus noted that. And deplored it."

"And rightly, perhaps, but Germanus is in Auxerre.

You, Father Patricius, might at least attempt the patience of the Church that ordained you and give our prince a year or two to convert them." Meganius raised his goblet.

"Long life-which hardly needs my invocation by the sturdy

look of you, Sochet."

"No one has called me that since I left home. Your

grace is a Brigante?"

"Born and bred. Cai meqq Owain. I thought I recog- nized the accent. We northerners have a prickly sound

that doesn't tade."

"With your leave, I would speak of my mission."

Mentally Meganius riffled through the letters from

Caerleon. "Yes . . . Ireland?"

"Will you sponsor me?"

As a bishop. Meganius was of necessity a diplomat.

"Well, I will certainly consider it- Ireland surely needs a mission. Meanwhile-"

39.

"It is my calling." The young priest thrust forward in ,the chair, serious and intent. "Frozen and burned into me ;lhrough six years. And in a vision at Auxerre, I heard Irish voices calling me back to preach to them."

"Yes ... so said the bishop of Caerieon. Admirable."

And an annoyance. Meganius saw some malice on Caerleon's part for sending this bristling avatar to him; they were hardly personal friends. Meganius felt his irritation rising.

The priest's rude'y direct glance might be unsettling to Some. Patricius gave the impression that he was weighing tone's every word-one's sou!-against the feather of his truth and Finding you light in the balance. Strength was there but that pitiless youth as wetl-

"You doubt my catling, your grace?" Yov dare?

"No, no." Meganius found his usual courtesy an ef- fort. There is nothing more rancorous to an older man at .^peace with an imperfect world than a young one remind- mg him of unsullied verities, especially when the young one may be essentially right. Canonical volunteers for -Ireland did not crowd the western ports. "My boy, if I , Sponsor you and Auxerre sends you a consecrated pal- f^um, you will be bishop of Ireland."

And while he was not yet an experienced parish priest, ^'no more than a year in Germanus' charismatic wake, no f, doubt Patricius saw himself in Meganius' robes with the I pliant Irish kneeling to kiss the diocesan ring. Meganius ^ saw them boiling him alive for his callow arrogance. Pagan ^or not, the Irish kings and their shamans were men of ^experience, appalling as much of it could be. Reason, wis- i