He led us in a simple prayer of thanksgiving, and then dismissed us to our duties. We left the cave, stooping low as we crawled from the narrow passage, and stepped into the dawnlight of a brisk, windswept day. Moving into the pale rose-red light, it seemed to me that we were corpses reborn. Having passed an eternity under the earth, we now awakened, rose, and quit the grave to walk the world once more. For me, it seemed a world vastly changed-new-made and potent with promise: Byzantium awaited, and I was among the chosen to undertake the journey. White Martyrdom they call it, and so it is.
2
We walked along the Blackwater and sang a hymn to the new day, reaching the gates of the abbey as the rising sun touched the belltower. After prime we assembled in the hall to break fast. I sat at the long table, much aware of my new prominence. Brother Enan, who read the Psalms for morning meal, could not contain his elation at the fact that our community was, as he put it, "to send our most revered members to help bear the great book across the seas to the Holy Emperor." Enan asked a special prayer of thanksgiving for the three chosen ones-a request the abbot granted. Then, in a mood of reckless jubilation, he read the Magnificat.
Listening to the cadence of those well-known words, I thought: Yes! This is how it is! This is how it feels to be chosen, to be called of God for a great undertaking: My soul praises the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant. Yes!
It was, as Abbot Fraoch maintained-and everyone else agreed-a great honour for us all. Truly, it was an honour I had sought as ardently as any of the others. Now it was mine, and I could scarcely credit my good fortune. Listening to Enan pray thanks to God for this exalted boon of a blessing, my heart soared within me. I was humbled, pleased, and proud-all three at once-and it made me giddy; I felt I must laugh out loud, or burst.