I awoke with a thick head and tongue, yet filled with eager anticipation. My position in the King’s court was assured while my father pursued grand plans of his own. Hopes, dreams and aspirations reside within the minds of mortals but are guided to their certain ends by the hands of the gods. It was knowing this truth that held me in prayer to the Dagda that he might influence the spirit of the bishop of Tara to accept my terms for a truce between Christians and Druids. In keeping with my plans and promise to Father Joseph, I wrote letters to noted Druids across the land asking their forbearance toward the Christians, pleading for a cessation of the fighting that all people might dwell and prosper within an atmosphere of peace. Each letter was written on vellum using the Ogham characters and rolled into a scroll for delivery by trusted messengers of my choosing. And then I awaited a response from Tara. * * * Beneath the thatched roof of an open-sided pavilion workmen rolled away the heavy stones covering the village’s six in-ground silos.
