More than once the young Irish monk Thomas learned
the hard way that St. Brendan’s loyalties were for sale
to the highest bidders. It happened in the Toltec jungles
of the hot southern lands as Brendan’s spirit crumbled
from addiction to the coca leaves, again in the lands
of the Chin, on the Silk Roads of the Middle East, and
in the new Christian empire of Rome. Thomas was
determined history would not repeat itself.
I had avoided being the instrument of Mad Brendan’s
demise on our journeys around the world of this sixth
century after the death of Christ . . . usually against the
protests of my beloved friend and fellow traveler Brosius.
So far, I have never regretted letting Brendan live. Now
everything I had striven for in my life stood balanced
on the actions I would shortly take. My Filid-Spirit
ancestors encouraged me to move swiftly against both
Brendan and the evil Roman Cardinal Barozia.I would use their shrewd talents in my final blow for freedom
from the coming intellectual darkness. But I would determine
my victims and my timing.
