My little Erna. (mà Erna óc) Daughter of Ernan, who is uncle to Colmcille (St. Columba). Erna accompanies her father and the 11 other chosen monks and their families from Ireland to what will become Iona an island on the west coast of what is now Scotland. They’ve come to establish a base for spreading their understanding of the Christian God and creating a centre for retreat and philosophy that stood for 500 years and the likes of which the west would never see again.
At this time, the struggle within the church to erase the feminine is rising, but it hasn’t yet taken over. Monks were not celibate, there were not only men with spiritual responsibilities in the groups. The Celtic Christian church maintains the teachings of Christ and the Magdalene. But there is a growing competition in philosophy from Rome to erase and subjugate the feminine entirely. But it has not won yet.
“Erna! It is burning!!”
The almost grown girl rips her eyes off the water and the last view of the colours of the sunset painted hills across the loch. A gift from the gods for those who can’t face west at this moment. But the shadows are lengthening and the hares on the spit have indeed singed a bit. She’ll be scolded again by Baodáin for her inattention to serving the men. They agreed she could come on this exploration to the edge of sea loch only as a servant, not one of the explorers. This makes her, and thankfully her father secretively laugh together, because how could one who is there and part of the going and doing not be part of the expedition? Baodáin may tell the story one way, but if she and Eogan and the Dal Riadan were not here caring for them, these particular chosen men of god wouldn’t make it very far!