Secret of Kells - Am ata caite

Aequanimitas (Kindness)

As far as she remembered, Fiona had been fatherless. She was three years old when she finally asked her mother “what was my daddy like?” and what she recalled the most from her answer was: “he was the kindest man I’ve ever met”. The little girl watched around her, and tried to imagine how could the kindest man be and act. Her family was naturally gentle, generous and caring, so she had an idea.

But one day, she somewhat understood that “being kind” or “being good” was not always acting nicely. Fiona had seen people acting nice but then heard those saying bad things in others’ back, telling they helped only because they wanted something back or because they wanted to “be polite”. And strangely, people who seemed harder and mean were sometimes more benevolent and sincere. Her grand-mother explained that in one sentence:

“Kindness is shown differently according to the person who expresses it, and being harsh on someone can be a kind gesture.”

Fiona did not understand.

She had barely turned four when her village had been attacked. Her family managed to fled, her uncle missing. The girl knew –without anyone telling her- that she would never see him again. They reached a village surrounded by the biggest wall she had ever seen, and the gates opened, revealing a very tall man –the Abbot as they called him- all dressed in red. Fiona stepped shyly, a hand holding their goat, her eyes never leaving him. Silently, the Abbot’s gaze softened and he stepped aside, holding out his hands as he invited them to enter. He did not say or ask them anything, he just let them in and led them to a hut.

Fiona’s heart beat faster, a voice inside her head whispering “this man is your father”.

Amor (Love)

Aisling remembered the stories her parents told her, and their advices about humans. She recalled how her mother marvelled each time she related the story about that knight so noble, so honourable and whose heart was full of love, not only for one person, but for the whole world. Her father was amazed at the strength that man had in his beliefs, and how he was ready to sacrifice himself to help the kingdom he was defending.

“Do you know what I heard him say once, Aisling?” he had smiled at her. “That he didn’t care about honours, or prestige he could earn, that he would rather be an idiot than a heartless man. He clearly claimed that all that mattered to him was the welfare of his King and kingdom. He had little knowledge, but he knew what love was.”

Aisling was confused because most of the humans thought “love” was only between a man and a woman, as they married and have children. Why couldn’t they see how love was wider and deeper than that? Sure, two humans married could love each other truly, and it could be beautiful. But the Faery had seen other kinds of love between humans, there were so many connections.

Then, she met Brendan.

And how beautiful his heart was, how full of innocence and love it was! Despite their differences and her attitude towards him, he had followed her and listened to every word she told him. He shared his own knowledge with her and offered her some of his love, in the form of what humans called “friendship”. Aisling also knew how much he loved his village, his Uncle, his friend Aidan and the people he considered as his family. He was not aware of it, but the beauty of his own heart appeared in his drawings.

And Brendan had such strength, she wondered how she could not have realized it sooner. For he destroyed the Dark One, curing her forest and saving her, and changed the eye of that malevolent creature into a tool to create light and beauty.

“Mother, Father…” she thought as she watched him going back to Kells with the eye of Crom. “I think I have found my own knight.”

Balnea (Bathing)

Brendan bounced and splashed happily in the bathtub, laughing heartily. The hem of Cellach’s robe –most of his clothes actually- was soaked wet. Another wave sprinkled his right sleeve as he kneeled down, and he held back a sigh.
At least, he was not forced to run after his 4 years old nephew to force him to take a bath. Watching other parents struggling with their own child when it came to wash them, he guessed he was lucky for this point.

The boy always pouted a bit when Cellach told him to get out, but he obeyed and grinned while being dried. And his smile was contagious, for his uncle always ended up with a faint smile on his own lips.

Creatus (Child)

Cellach woke up with the feeling he had to do something arduous today, when his eyes spotted the pile of dirty laundry, he remembered what. It was laundry day. Despite being the Abbot, he considered he was not above everyone else and still helped with some chores. Technically, he was not among the people who would wash them, but these days were hard because he had to check (too) often if everyone was doing the work they were supposed to do. Some monks took the opportunity to avoid doing chores they didn’t like –like working on the wall for example- to “help with the laundry”.

After having prepared himself, the Abbot carried the pile out of the tower. His eyes widened in surprise as his feet caught on something and he fell flat on his face –the laundry dispersing in front of him.

“Ah! Sorry Uncle!” a small voice exclaimed behind him.

Straightening up, Cellach saw his nephew holding a small pile of laundry, a blanket dragging on the ground. So that was what he had tripped on, he sighed and rubbed his painful nose.

“…That is very nice of you to help me, Brendan, but please don’t!!”

When only seven years old, Brendan participated in the life of the Abbey already. He was a very nice boy, full of good will and eager to help or learn… but also reckless, absent-minded and quite clumsy. Anyway, Brendan was only a child, which meant Cellach had to stay alert and watch over him –or ask someone to if he couldn’t do it himself. The boy’s shoulders slumped, as they always did when he felt ashamed or guilty (or both).

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled. “Are you hurt?”

Cellach sat up and caressed the child’s cheek with his finger.

“It’s nothing bad.” he stated. “But today, you will stay with Brother Sergei for your lessons and helped him with his chores, alright?” his nephew nodded. “Now, give me that, please. I’ll give it to Brother Assoua with the rest.”

“I really can’t help you?” insisted Brendan, handing him the pile of dirty laundry still.

“Brendan, I don’t want the events from last time to repeat themselves.” the Abbot chose to reply instead of “I don’t want to dive in the tank to get you out of it again.”

Brendan blushed, surely remembering when he fell in the huge tank –trying to take a blanket out- and almost drowned due to the weight of the laundry pushing him under the water. Cellach had been there –fortunately because the two other monks were hanging the clean sheets outside- and had plunged after him. The boy burnt in shame at the memory, feeling ridiculous, while the Abbot mostly remembered how he had freaked out at the idea of losing his nephew in such a stupid accident.

As the morning passed, the Abbot thought about his nephew. Raising a child was not an easy task, but he knew Brendan was a good child. When he thought about his own childhood, he internally asked his late father forgiveness for all the troubles and worries he had given him. Not that Cellach had been a wicked or challenging child, only a bit mischievous and sometimes wilful, but his family was poor and his parents (especially his father) worked hard to feed him and his sister. So he realized now that he had not eased his father’s task. Whereas Brendan was really obedient and never tried to defy him–which had surprised him a lot- he only asked a lot of questions, but it was of his age he guessed. If only he would not let himself get so easily distracted and be more careful, because he knew his nephew had a lot of potential. He had a very good memory for example, two days ago, he had recited how the Abbot had calculated an angle for a plan to help brother Square, and everyone –himself included- had been very impressed.

When lunchtime came, everyone let out a relieved sigh and they all went to the refectory. Cellach was barely seated that Brendan rushed to sit next to him, a huge smile on his face, followed by a grinning Brother Sergei. He found himself smiling back –not as widely as the boy but still. Having to care for a children with all his work could be pretty hard, but it also could brighten up his days.

Ignis (Fire)

Despite appearances or popular beliefs, Cellach was a passionate person -Tang had felt it the moment they met. His Irish brother had a calm exterior, but he sensed a blazing fire inside him. It had been a pleasure to meet someone who had the same element, even if they expressed it differently. Tang himself had a fire nature, and his fire was burning gently but surely –without hurting himself or anyone. However, he understood quickly that Cellach was trying to be someone else, his fire had been smothered in the past and he kept smothering it himself… in vain. For his love and devotion to what he believed in nurtured it. And it could be dangerous, for a flame could suddenly burst and devastate everything around.

It was a shame, really. The new Abbot was a good man but he was so secluded between contradictory emotions that he had forgotten what was most important. If he kept on like this, he would end up scorching himself.

Tang was struggling with the huge pile of books he had to carry to the Scriptorium, when suddenly the weight lessened and he could see before him again.

“It seemed like you needed help, Brother Tang.”

The Chinese monk smiled at Cellach, thanking him as they walked side by side. They went back to the tower together, talking quietly, when suddenly, a terrified scream echoed. The both of them froze, and the Abbot was first to recover.

“Brendan!” he quaked as he raised his eyes up.

Before Tang knew it, his friend was out of his sight. He hurried after him, worried about the boy whereabouts -he had been told the latter was ill. When he reached the little trap door, he glanced inside the cell. Abbot Cellach was sitting on the edge of the small bed, his nephew clinging to his neck and crying against him. The Illustrator vaguely heard the adult soothing the six years old boy as he climbed the ladder down to check on him.

Brendan had a fever. Fortunately, it was not high and Tang knew how to treat it. The three days following were hard for his uncle, he noticed how worried he was and that he could not focus on his duties as much as he would like to. Each morning, the two of them checked on the boy, and each time, Brendan would seize his uncle where he could (arm, waist, leg…) and pleaded him to stay with him –fearing his uncle would leave the cell and never come back.

“Brendan, please, let go of me.” Cellach sighed. “I swear I’m not abandoning you!”

His nephew’s grip on his waist did not loosen, and when the boy looked up with eyes full of tears, Tang could tell the Abbot felt like he was a monster. He could not help smiling a bit.

“You can stay with him, Abbot, we can do without you for one day.” he assured with confidence. “Little Brendan needs you more than we do today.”

Cellach hesitated a bit, his gaze going from Brendan to the monk. But when Brendan sobbed and buried his face against the Abbot’s side, Tang noted him tensing and knew his decision was made.

Later in the morning, Tang went back to the round tower and discreetly looked inside the cell. Brendan was cradled in the Abbot’s arms, sleeping soundly as the latter was humming softly. He grinned at the scene. What definitely made his heart warm was the loving expression on Cellach’s face -softening his features- while caressing the boy’s hair and rubbing gently his back.

A vision of a bright fire invaded Tang’s mind, leaving him a bit confused.

Lamentia (Weeping)

Aisling wept after her mother had been taken by Crom. She was all alone, all her people had been taken.

The little princess wandered through the woods, her tears flowing down her cheeks. She walked and walked, she did not feel weariness, only sorrow. She kept on walking, going as far as she could from the cave of the Dark One.

Her tears seemed to never dry up, falling on the grass like the drops of morning dew. Even as she finally sat under a tree, Aisling was still crying. Silently, she laid on the grass and closed her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, she was surrounded by foam and flowers of white potentilla. A smile formed on her face. After shedding a last tear, she blew gently on the grass before her – making Snowdrops bloomed.

Libido (Lust)

Sometimes, people hummed while they worked, it was unusual, but it happened. It was even more unusual when someone actually sang, with lyrics. Brendan was pulling out the weeds in the gardens when he heard a villager singing not too far from where he worked. The song was quite catchy, and even though he didn’t understand most of the lyrics, he thought it was amusing. When he was done with the weeds, he went to the Scriptorium to gather plans for his Uncle –peering at the Illuminators’ work as he waited. The song still in head, the boy started humming, then muttering the lyrics under his breath, while he climbed the scaffoldings to give a plan to the Abbot. He was instructed to give the others to Brother Square, so he went ahead, singing loudly this time. A loud thud and several gasps were heard.

“BRENDAN!!!”

Brendan jumped and spun around. His Uncle dropped the stone in shock, his face was livid, yet his ears were red –from what, he didn’t know. And every monks and workers around were staring at him dumbfounded.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Uncle Cellach stormed. “Who taught you that song!?”

“I-I heard someone singing it and remembered it!” the child stammered, confused at the adults’ reaction.

Brendan was strictly prohibited to sing this song again, when he asked why, the Abbot condensed the explanation to “it is obscene, vulgar and not fitted to clergy, even less to a boy of your age”. He was nine.

Three years later, he met Brother Aidan who took him as his apprentice. And one day, he recalled this song, and thought maybe his master could explain more clearly why it was so shocking.

“I’m afraid I can’t explain anything to you without hearing the song in question.” Aidan replied, taking an apple in hand. “Do you remember it?”

Brendan just needed a moment to think before he started singing. The old Illuminator choked on the bite he had taken and coughed hard. His face was reddened, and something told Brendan it was not only because he nearly stifled.

“Well, I understand why Cellach forbid you from singing it without further explanation!” he laughed nervously, a bit embarrassed. “It is quite… delicate, and you are a bit young. Not that being young is a bad thing or makes you stupid!”

Aidan told him the song was about lust in the most vulgar terms (it was slang, so of course Brendan could not understand most of the words), and that it was quite offensive towards women too. The Illuminator in training was still a bit confused, but satisfied with the answer.

Only after his teenage years, when he became a young man and learnt more about slang, did Brendan really understand the meaning of that song –and why his guardians had frowned upon it. Aidan chuckled as they talked about it, assuring him he didn’t have to feel ashamed; he was only a boy who liked the rhythm and sound of it, that’s all. After he went back to Kells, he was glad to see his Uncle laugh at the memory of it.

But Brendan kept for himself that –without the vulgarity and lack of respect of the song- he understood the desire in the deepest of him. It had been more of a longing, or a yearning, than lust, but his body had been demanding for the touch of one particular woman. The only woman in his heart.