Chapter One Rome a.d. 470 Brother, I write you in the utmost haste, trusting in God that I will find a safe way to deliver this letter unto your hands. For this very eve, I must leave Rome for an island so far outside the bounds of civilization it has never merited the attention of our dear Republic: the land of the Gaels. That the Lord has summoned me to this mission, I have no doubt. Yet, as dawn broke and I finished my prayers this morning, I would have sworn on the cross that the day would progress like every other. I settled at my desk in the chambers of the papal secretary just as the sun''s rays began their full celebration of God''s good day. Capturing the clarity of the earliest light is as critical to my work as a scrivener for the Lord as it is to your work overseeing the family land; thus I was alone in the study.

I was preparing to record the edicts emanating from a recent council meeting when I heard my name. I turned toward the sound and, to my surprise, saw a papal page in the doorway. He said, "Brother Decius, you are to follow me to an audience in the chambers of His Holiness Pope Simplicius, bishop of Rome." The page started off down the long and winding corridors that lead to His Holiness''s inner sanctum. I raced after him, wary of losing him in the labyrinthine route connecting the church''s official buildings to the palace. I kept his pace, and he left me at the entryway to the pope''s own chambers. A crimson tapestry separated the sacred inner sanctum from the bustle of the rest of the palace. I approached it, and though I pulled the heavy fabric aside with reverence and care, my fingers caught on the pearls and rubies sewn into the silken embroidery.

In that moment of disentanglement, I know not why, I hesitated before crossing the threshold. My body began shaking, as it had never trembled before. Yet I knew I could show no fear. Courage is necessary-nay, mandated-for selection to one of Christ''s missions. And somehow I knew that this was the purpose of my summoning. To expel the devil''s own trepidation from my heart and soul, I steeled myself with the image, oft described by you, of our father and mother stoic in the face of the barbarians. If our parents could suffer at their hands and never flinch before the final swing of the crude battle-axe, then, I told myself, I could take the simple step of entering the private chamber of Saint Peter''s own representative on this earth. Peace descended upon me, almost as though our mother and father spoke from heaven.

I left the tapestry to swing in my wake and immediately knelt before His Holiness. Or so I believed. "Rise, Brother Decius," the order sounded out. I readied myself to confront the intimidating phalanx of aristocratic councillors that accompany His Holiness''s every movement, which I had witnessed during my three prior papal audiences. Yet as I rose from my deep genuflection and lifted my eyes, a single figure greeted me. I knew the man only by sight and rumor, as he would never deign to enter the secretary''s study: it was Gallienus, a priest and the most senior of the pope''s councillors. I bowed my head in respect, yet could not help but note the comfortable, nearly languorous, manner in which he leaned against the empty papal throne. "Your Eminence," I said.

"The twelfth eagle will soon fly," Gallienus said. I did not answer at once, uncertain as to his meaning and even more unsure as to the safest response. "Are you not familiar with the Prophecy of the Twelve Eagles, Brother Decius?" Gallienus asked. "I am, Your Eminence." Indeed, I guess nearly every Roman citizen has heard the divination that the Republic''s supremacy will last twelve centuries only, each one represented by an eagle. Even the masses must have heard it bandied about in the bars and streets of the bustling Aventine Quarter in recent times, as the Visigoths rule Rome in all but name and other hordes conquer more and more of the Roman provinces every day. Oh, but this is old, sad news to us true Romans. "Then you know that twelve centuries of the Roman Empire''s rule as foretold by the twelve eagles are nearly at an end?" I paused before answering.

I hate to speak ill of a fellow Christian, but the elite Gallienus is known for his wiles and I feared that the question was a trap. If I admitted to an awareness of the prophecy and the few years remaining on it, I could well be confessing to giving credence to pagan lore-a punishable confession, since Christianity was proclaimed the state religion almost one hundred years ago, as you know well. I delivered a measured response. "I do, Your Eminence. Yet I also know that such prophecy is but heretical conjecture spoken by the masses." Gallienus stared long at me, never blinking but keeping his eyes hooded in shadow such that I could not read his reaction. Then he nodded slowly and said, "That is true, Brother Decius. Still, we must be prepared.

" "Of course, Your Eminence." Wary of this man, I was apprehensive of accusations that I had discounted the empire''s military might with my answer. So I said, "Though the empire maintains a vast army." "We cannot leave the fate of the Roman Christian Church to Emperor Anthemius''s troops, can we, Brother Decius?" Understanding that Gallienus''s question brooked no response other than agreement, I said, "No, Your Eminence. We cannot leave the fate of the Roman Christian Church to the Roman army." "I am glad we are of like mind, Brother Decius. Heartily glad." I watched Gallienus saunter around the pope''s chamber as if it belonged to him, pausing to touch the gilt arms of the papal throne and the intricate wall mosaic of birds in flight.

As he gazed out between columns to the surging metropolis below, still crowded with marble temples and colonnaded forums dedicated to the pagan gods, despite the edict banning their worship, I waited for my mission. "We must secure the land of the Gaels, Brother Decius," Gallienus pronounced without turning back toward me. "The desolate isle beyond Britannia, Your Eminence?" My brother, I regretted the question the moment it slipped from my tongue. I knew, of course, where the Gaelic land lay, but I could not believe that the church would trouble itself with the unimportant, rocky outcropping on the precipice of the known world, an island so inconsequential that Rome did not bother to colonize it even in the Republic''s prime. Not to mention that with Gael''s lack of a central ruler, subduing its countless chieftains would have required more than fifty thousand troops, which Rome could ill afford due to mounting pressures on nearly all other frontiers. But I did not want the man to think I was a fool or, worse, an insubordinate in need of punishment. "The very same," Gallenius answered, without rebuke or surprise at my response. He faced me.

"Rumors are surfacing that its chieftains are uniting in power under the newly formed Christian monasteries. This news would be hailed-indeed, we always embrace new sheep in our flock- but for the reports that the Gaelic brand of Christianity is rife with heresy. We would not want Gael to unify under a Pelagian Christianity, now, would we? We must determine whether these reports bear truth." Gallienus did not continue with any details, though, of course, I had long heard rumblings about Pelagius, the rebel monk from Britannia who had maintained that original sin does not exist and that man has free will, a belief condemned by the church''s Council of Ephesus in 431. "Would Bishop Patrick not be able to serve in this regard?" The Roman Christian Church had sent Patrick to Gael as a missionary some years before, in an unprecedented posting. The church had never before assigned a missionary to an uncolonized land, but Patrick had made constant, persuasive arguments about God calling him to convert the people who had once enslaved him. "Inexplicably, Bishop Patrick is too enamored with the Gaelic people to report upon them objectively." Gallienus then made a broad gesture toward me.

I finished for him, as he clearly wished: "You would like me to make this appraisal, Your Eminence." "Yes, Brother Decius. I wish you to study a particular abbey that grows in power, the Abbey of Kildare which is run by a woman, Brigid, no less." He paused and then asked, "Do you understand the critical importance of this work?" "I welcome Your Eminence''s wisdom." I felt the need to remain guarded in my responses, though I had begun to intuit his designs. "If, in fact, the Gaelic monasteries and churches preach heresy as charged, we must stamp out the leaders of this profanation and replace them with our own. Only then can we unite this disjointed, backward land under the true Christian faith and present it as a tribute to the emperor. To help him bolster the empire and .

" He left the sentence unfinished. "And, in turn, bolster the church, Your Eminence?" He seemed to want me to say this aloud. "You do see, Brother Decius. I am well pleased." And see I did, when he put it so plainly. The Roman Church stands on increasingly unsteady ground as the Roman government falters. It needs to shore itself against the barbarian onslaught by routing out all heresy. Efforts to keep the remote island fully Roman Catholic could prevent it from becoming barbarian-and create a fitting honorarium for the Roman emperor in the process.

Gallienus sidled up near me, drawing so close that, despit.