Once, during the meal, I raised my bowl to my lips and happened to glance down the long refectory table to see a fair few of the brothers watching me. The thought that they should find in me something worthy of remark roused in me a flush of guilty pride. Thus, I ate my broth and barley bread and, for the sake of my well-meaning brothers, tried not to appear too delighted, lest I appear haughty in their sight and thereby give offence.

When the meal finished, Abbot Fraoch summoned me with a gesture. I bent near to hear him. "I expect you will have much to consider, Aidan," he whispered. Having lost his voice to a Sea Wolf's blade years ago, our abbot's utterances were never more than dry whispers and raspy croaks.

"Yes, abbot," I replied.

"Therefore," he continued, "I grant you leave from your duties. Use this day to rest, to think…to prepare yourself." I made to protest, but he continued. "Your pursuit of this opportunity has been most vigorous. Your zeal is laudable, son. But there is more work to come, and a strenuous journey when the weather turns." He laid a hand on my shoulder. "A day for yourself now, Aidan-it may be the last you will have for a very long time."

I thanked him and took my leave, then hurried across the yard to my cell. I entered and pulled the oxhide cover over the door, whereupon I threw myself onto my pallet and lay kicking my feet and laughing. I had been chosen. Chosen! I was going to Byzantium! I laughed until my sides ached and tears came to my eyes and I could laugh no more.

Elation left me exhausted. As I had not slept the previous night, I closed my eyes and composed myself to rest, but my mind whirled. Think, Aidan! Think of the places you will see, the people you will meet. Oh, it is wonderful, is it not?

My thoughts flitted like scattering birds and, tired as I was, I could not sleep.