by John David Coupland.            

                                                                                                         www.johndavidcoupland.co.uk

Background.

At the turn of the 5th century, with the power of Rome on the wane, Britannica was still remarkably Roman in may respects, particularly in place and personal names. Unfortunately Pax Romana, the Roman peace was disappearing along with its legions and the unity of the nation was once again torn asunder by warlords and brigands.

Into this uneasy situation was born one Patrick, son of Calpornius, a deacon and grandson of Potitus the priest. These were the days before the clergy were required to be celibate, although one wife at a time was deemed quite sufficient.

The place of his birth was the village of Bannavem Taburniae near which Patrick’s father held a country seat. Now exactly where this village lay is not known and while Wales holds the traditional claim, the Lake District and Galloway are also strong contenders.

The boy Patrick was no saint and in his own writings admits not only to running his father ragged but also to being the bane of the local priest. The boy’s mother in particular found this a heavy load to bear and was forever invoking the Trinity on behalf of her son and, all the while, urging him to accept the love of God.

A mother’s prayer.

The dear lady’s urgings were to no effect and so the young Patrick seemed destined to the sort of life that beckons to us all, a life of worldly cares and pleasures which consider the things of God rarely if at all. Yet at this stage, when all seemed lost, Patrick’s mother prayed the most courageous prayer any parent can ever offer to God. She prayed that the Lord would place his hand on Patrick’s soul and lead him by whatever path, be it through Heaven or through Hell itself until Patrick found peace with his God. Little did she know how quickly her prayer would be answered.

The raid.

It was a misty, grey October morning when disaster struck. The first to see the trouble coming were the rough, red cattle whose hot breath added to the mist rolling in from the sea. Through the cattle pens crept the Irish raiders, swords of iron in their hands and painted faces peering out from their studded leather helmets. Flints were being struck, torches were spluttering into life and at the sound of a ram’s horn, the battle began. Dwellings and farm buildings were set ablaze and the smoke from their dry thatched roofs covered the sky while the flames of the morning sunrise echoed the destruction down below.
I will not dwell on the details of the raid, these things were never pleasant but the result was that before the Sun had risen to its zenith, a hundred or more towns folk were being herded like cattle along the shore road to the sea where they were loaded onto the black ships which would soon take them to the end of the known world, Ireland!

Slavery

So at the age of sixteen, Patrick had little to look forward to except slavery among the pagan Scots of Ireland. (The Scots were originally an Irish tribe who would give their name to the northern third of Britain in the following centuries.) Now the raiders had taken only those who would fetch a good price in the slave markets, those between ten and thirty in years. Once on board ship any who objected to this arrangement were given the opportunity to go home; provided they could walk on water! Not even the most pious took up the challenge and their captors found it most amusing that that these Christians would not attempt to follow in their master’s footsteps.

After two days at sea they arrived at their destination and Patrick found himself the property of a farmer called Miliucc who bound his hands and led him for three days behind his horse through what would have been beautiful countryside, had Patrick been in a better position to appreciate it. Incidentally the price paid for Patrick is not recorded but a female slave was valued at three heifers!

So started the hardest chapter of the boy’s life by far. For the next six years in summer heat and winter cold, Patrick tended the sheep of Miliucc on the Mountain of the Eagle and it was there, while enduring the frosts of that first winter that our hero’s thoughts started to turn towards God. At first a tentative prayer, anger and sadness giving way to guilt and remorse, till at last came the day when this most unlearned of men, because he was a man now, this most unlearned of men came to that place where all men must come, to the cross of Jesus where many stand and mock but a few, a precious few, fall on their knees and find their sins forgiven.

Over the next few weeks Patrick’s heart which had once been as hard as the ground on which he slept, was wonderfully changed by the Lord. So much so that the youth who had once found it impossible to say the Lord’s name without cursing, could now be found at prayer every moment of his waking day. He records in his letters that he would pray a hundred prayers a day and as many at night, all different and all glorifying to God.

Freedom

The months turned to years until there came a day when the Lord spoke to Patrick. Now you should not be surprised at this, for what sort of father is it who never talks to his children? Feeling the guiding hand of the Lord is part and parcel of being a Christian, although I have heard it said that those who hear an audible voice are either giants like Moses or just so plain thick that it is the only way the Lord can get through to them!

So what did the Almighty say? Well he told Patrick it was time to go. The lad had to leave Miliucc and head for a port some two hundred miles to the south where a ship would be waiting to take him back home. Now the running away was no problem for Patrick was left alone with his sheep for weeks at a time, all the more so since he started his incessant praying but not all prisons have bars of iron. The penalty for absconding was death and fear was the chain that bound him.

The ship.

Needless to say he managed to get to the ship without too much trouble, otherwise I would not be telling this tale yet it was here that the clash of cultures threatened to wreck all of God’s plans. It was the custom among the seafaring Celts that you should swear allegiance to the ship’s captain by sucking on his breast! Patrick, a Romanised Briton, reacted by saying, “The last breast I sucked belonged to my mother and you don’t even wear the same size of frock!” Only some very fancy footwork on Patrick’s part saved him from the captain’s fist.
Then as he turned away from the ship in complete despair he offered up a silent prayer to God. All at once the passengers on board called to him saying that if he agreed to offer his hand in friendship they would vouch for his loyalty to the captain. So it was with thankful heart that Patrick said farewell to Ireland forever, at least that is what he thought!

The shipwreck

The adventures of Patrick were by no means over for on the second day of their voyage they ran into a tremendous storm. The captain tried to run his ship before the gale, all the while getting further and further away from Britain until the sturdy vessel came to grief somewhere in the Bay of Biscay and, with the last rag of sail, they beached on the shores of Gaul which is now the land of the Franks. Man had still to make his mark on this land and there were none of the farms and vineyards which you would find today. Food was a priority especially as the ship’s cargo had been saved, and the cargo was hungry.

It turns out that the ship was engaged in the trade of exotic animals and the cargo was none other than a pack of Irish Wolfhounds. Not the sort you want to keep waiting for their elevenses! The sailors in fact started to tease Patrick saying, “If your God is so great then pray to him for food before we starve to death.”
Patrick, young in the faith though he was, did remember enough of his bible to know that Jesus had promised that the believer would never have to worry about food or clothes or the like, but he was not too sure if this would also apply to his companions and a pack of hungry dogs? In the event he need not have worried, for no sooner had his prayer been said than the sound of distant grunting could be heard and what should come into view than a heard of wild boar. Well the dogs made short work of them and the crew ate their fill. For the uneducated among you I can vouch that wild boar tastes much like gammon except a little stronger.

Some time later the sailors found a hoard of wild honey and made of it an offering to their gods before eating the rest but Patrick refused to eat his share lest he insult his own God and Creator. Yet again this caused the sailors to taunt him saying that he would be better off fleeing back to the Mount of the Eagle where he had come from!

The attack

That night Patrick did however have his first taste of Satan’s fury, for he awoke to find an enormous pressure on him, as if the Devil himself was sitting on his chest. In his anguish Patrick cried out, not to God, but to Elijah. On his third cry the Devil took flight and left him when the glory of the rising sun lit up the hollow where Patrick lay.
Still Patrick was somewhat puzzled by the name which he had found on his lips in his hour of need. Elijah was the name of one of Israel’s greatest prophets, one who was said to be the forerunner of the Lord. On the rising of the Sun and the calling on this name Satan had given way and, perhaps, there is a lesson for us that, the way to defeat the Devil is to throw light upon his works and, like Elijah, to be a faithful witness to the one true God.
The ordeal was now over and with it his time of wanderings for, within a matter of weeks, Patrick was returned to his home village and his loved ones.

The vision

We now enter into Patrick’s hidden years, hidden in the sense that we know nothing of them except that the lad entered holy orders and was educated in the things of God and the ways of the Church. After a period of some twenty years, two incidents took place which were to set the scene for the rest of Patrick’s life.

In the first of these Patrick had a vision in which a man named Victoricus appeared to him. This messenger of God told him that he had to return to the land of his captivity, across the Western Sea, and take the Good News to his former captors.

The accusation

Hot on the heals of this revelation came Satan’s counterblow. The very next day an accusation was made to the church authorities concerning some dark deed done in Patrick’s youth. Now what this sin was has never been revealed and while it may have been a theft, a murder or, more likely given Patrick’s rebellious streak, the desecration of a holy place, it may also have been something which by today’s standards would be regarded as a relatively minor offence.

In the writings of Saint Augustine of Hippo, the venerable man hints for some chapters at some dark deed in his own past before revealing all. He stripped a pear tree of its fruits and threw them to the pigs. As I say, in our eyes, this seems almost trivial but what it really says is that we have lost our horror of sin. Our hearts are so hardened to it that we are no longer shocked by what could have been a great loss to the orchard man.

Patrick was tried in front of his fellow monks but that night, as the abbot who was to sit in judgement slept, he had a dream in which the Lord not only affirmed Patrick’s calling but reminded the abbot that he too had been forgiven a great deal. The next day the abbot took this revelation to Patrick and threw all the charges against him out of court.

Bishop Patrick

So, at the age of forty five, Patrick was made bishop to Ireland. His task was to revive the failing attempts of Bishop Paladius who had been sent by the Pope to the Irish. Paladius was by all accounts an excellent choice but he was of Man’s choosing, not God’s so against all expectations and perhaps against all common sense, Patrick found himself once more on board a ship bound for Ireland.

The Druids

It is at this point that we leave Patrick’s own writings and come to those tales ascribed to him by others.

At the Hill of Tara in the court of the Irish king Leogaire even the Druids were beginning to have visions of the gathering storm. Druid Lochru himself found several of his seers coming to him with tales of a man with a shepherd’s crook and a shaven head standing over all Ireland while the people chanted, “Amen, amen.”

The old master

Now before anything else Patrick had to buy back his freedom from his old master Miliucc for as far as the locals were concerned, Patrick was still a runaway slave. This required Patrick to pay the old rogue twice the price that he had paid for Patrick all those years before, so Patrick’s first port of call was to his old master.

On hearing that Patrick was coming and that he had already converted one of the neighbouring farmers, Miliucc gathered all his possessions and the heads of those whom he had slain in battle. He then had his servants set fire to the roof over him as he sat there with all he owned rather than face his former slave. This was part of the Celtic code of honour that when facing certain defeat the only honourable way out was to take your own life and, even today, there are many who would rather die than admit that Christ is Lord.

King Leogaire

After the shock of this incident Patrick’s next task was to meet King Leogaire and attempt to persuade him that God’s call for Ireland lay, not in the words of the Druids but in the Word made Flesh, Jesus, the Son of God.

Patrick and his men made camp below Tara, where King Leogaire had his castle and lit a great fire to celebrate Easter. At the sight of this the Druids warned the King that if this fire was not extinguished it would consume all Ireland. The King therefore summoned three groups of nine chariots and road down the hill to put an end to this bare faced challenge.

The King and his men arrayed themselves for battle before Patrick’s tent in order that the Druids should argue with him. In those days you see, it was the custom to harangue your opponent before sending him to the next world. This foreplay being concluded with the cry, “Shut your face,” which means, “Pull down the visor of your helmet and let’s fight!”

So where was I? Oh yes, a Druid priest by the name of Ercc was put forward to make his case but instead announced to all that he wanted to become a Christian and promptly defected to Patrick’s side. The King was none too pleased and at his command Druid Lochru sent forth a torrent of abuse against the Christ but as he stood back with a smug look on his face, the earth beneath his chariot shook like a lamb, throwing him to the ground. The quake also destroyed the pagan army while the poles of Patrick’s tent did not even tremble. The King feigned homage and retreated to his stronghold.

Now to the educated men of those days everything which existed was made up of four elements, namely, earth, water, wind and fire. In their eyes the quake had shown Patrick’s command of earth but he would now have to vie with the Druids to show his rule over the other three.

In the castle

Patrick and his companions entered the castle at the time of the mid day meal, only the bard rose to greet them. They were grudgingly invited to eat but the Spirit of God warned Patrick that the wine was poisoned. Patrick blessed the wine and it froze. He then turned the glass upside down and the poison trickled to the floor. Again he blessed the wine, it turned back to liquid and he drank his fill thus showing his rule over water.

Then the contest began in earnest. Druid Lochru challenged the Christian to bring snow thus showing his mastery of the Wind. Patrick refused saying that he would not bring evil on the land so Lochru summoned the winds and within an hour the plain below was waste deep in snow.
“Very impressive,” said Patrick, “But can you get rid of it as well?”
“Not for 24 hours,” came the reply. Even the king thought this was a pretty useless answer. Patrick nodded slowly and prayed to the Lord of Heaven. Within a few minutes the snow had disappeared, now only his rule over Fire remained.

Trial by fire

Within the castle lay a small two room out house with a door at each end. The half sheltered by the castle wall was dry and the other half exposed to the rain was green and wet. Patrick suggested that one of his monks named Benignus be dressed in Druid garb and locked in the dry half while one of the Druids should don the monk’s robe and be locked in the half that was green and wet. The hut should then be set on fire and whoever came out alive would be the winner. The King thought this a splendid idea while both the Druids and the monks looked somewhat unsettled at the prospect.

Benignus of the golden voice was indeed the bishop’s favourite but this could be something of a mixed blessing. Before leaving for Ireland a young nun had feigned illness so that she might receive care from Benignus in the abbey hospital. Patrick, ever vigilant in prayer, burst into the room just as the girl was about to bare all, thus saving Benignus from all that guilt. Exactly what Benignus thought of his master’s timely intervention has not been recorded!

Anyway Benignus was chosen and the fire was lit. As you might have guessed, the Druid came to grief and the Christian survived unscathed, although he emerged in his underwear as the druid garment had burned to a cinder. So with that picture of what a monk wore under his habit in the Dark Ages our story nears its end. The Druids began a long retreat into the pages of history and the Fire of Easter did indeed engulf the land.

Epilogue

The miracles which Patrick called forth were but for a season and in later years he had to resort to diplomacy and threats of excommunication to enforce justice on a people whose Christianity was often only skin deep.

In the century after Patrick’s death came a great famine which killed half the population but a few years after that a child named Columba was born who would take the Gospel to the land of the Scots and the Picts, ah, but that is another story. May the God of Patrick reveal himself to you and be with you evermore, amen, amen.

 

©John David Coupland 2000