Chapter 11. A People from Hell. Year after year, Patrick kept praying, and he kept imploring his seniors in the church, but the only answer he ever received was to keep waiting. The years kept slipping by. His parents were now white-haired, and his father walked with the help of a carved oak walking stick. Patrick's own hair was turning gray. The people of Bannavem Taburniae could scarcely believe that this peculiar man was still talking about going to Ireland.
Of course, Patrick's mission in life was the least of their worries. They had enough to worry about with the crumbling of Roman Britain. Britain used to be one of the most prosperous and well-governed provinces of the Roman Empire, Calpurnius commented one evening during supper. But what is it now? Nothing but a motley collection of walled city-states, petty kingdoms, and vast stretches of no-man's lands ruled by bands of robbers and brigands. More and more peasants are fleeing to the walled cities for protection.
But you can't blame them for that, Patrick interrupted. No, of course not. I would do the same if I were in their shoes. But as a result, we're now dealing with the new problem of overcrowding, and devastating plagues are running rampant through our crowded cities. These things are terrible, all right, Patrick said calmly, but I think the biggest problem our nation is facing right now is its lack of faith. Most of our people profess to be Christians, but very few of them trust in God anymore.
They certainly aren't turning to God in this hour of crisis. Calpurnius was quiet for a moment. I'm afraid your mother and I don't see things the way you do, Patrick, he finally responded, glancing at his wife for support. We respect you for your faith, but I'm afraid that most of us are looking for some more practical solution than simply praying. In fact, this week the leaders of the various city-states and petty kingdoms are meeting together in council in London to try to find a solution.
I'm too old to attend such meetings anymore, but I should be hearing next week what solution, if any, they come up with. The following week, Calpurnius received a full report on the council, and one evening he sat down with his entire household and told them what he had learned. It seems that a new leader emerged from the council, a man named Vortigern. Who's he? Patrick asked.
I had never heard of him myself, but I've learned that he is one of the petty kings who has enjoyed a measure of success in fighting the Scots. He made a dramatic speech before the council, reminding them that our enemies grow stronger year after year, and we grow weaker. We've demonstrated that we can battle the barbarians and win, he told them. But for how long? He said he had a better plan. What was this better plan? Conchessa asked anxiously, leaning forward.
Well, Vortigern asked the councilmen, who among the invaders are the strongest and most feared? That would be the Saxons, from what I've heard, Patrick interjected. Exactly, Calpurnius continued. The whole assembly acknowledged that. The Saxons must come from Hell itself. At least the Irish, Scots, and Picts take captives, but the Saxons slaughter everyone without mercy. But what do the Saxons have to do with Vortigern's plans? Conchessa asked with a puzzled expression.
Well, there's an old saying that the best way to fight fire is with fire. Vortigern argued that the only way to permanently keep the Scots and Picts out of our country is to pit against them a race of men who are even more cruel and evil than they are. Don't tell me Vortigern wants to make a deal with the Saxons, Patrick asked in disbelief. Maybe his plan isn't so absurd, Calpurnius countered.
Vortigern suggested that we invite the Saxons to settle in northern Britain, that is, in the countryside that has largely been abandoned because of the ravages of the Picts and the Scots. He says we should offer the Saxons free land to farm. That way, they will no longer have to live off of piracy. Instead, they will have enough good farmland to support their families. The only condition that will attach to this offer is that they leave us alone and protect us from our enemies.
You mean invite savage barbarians to settle in our lands? Conchessa asked with a note of alarm. Does that really make sense? Maybe it doesn't, Calpurnius confessed, shrugging his shoulders. But what Vortigern is suggesting is nothing new. For a hundred years now, the Roman emperors have permitted different Germanic tribes to settle in Gaul and other parts of the empire. Those tribes have quickly become civilized and have provided a buffer zone, protecting the frontiers of the empire from other Germanic peoples.
In fact, right now, these former barbarians make up a sizable portion of the Roman armies. What did the council have to say about Vortigern's plan? Patrick inquired. Many of the men were skeptical, but in the end, the assembly agreed to his plan. So they've sent a Saxon-speaking delegation to the Jutland Peninsula. Where's that? One of the servants asked as he cleaned the dining table. It's along the eastern coast of the North Sea, in the northern parts of Europe, Calpurnius explained.
Once the delegates arrive there, they will speak to the two primary Saxon chieftains, Hengist and Horsa, and lay out Vortigern's plan to them. So all we can do now is to hope and pray. Yes, I'll definitely pray about this matter, Patrick responded as he went off to bed. A few weeks later, the men at the local barbershop could talk about nothing else than the arrival of the Saxons. Patrick quietly listened while the men discussed the matter.
I hear that a whole fleet of long ships have arrived, carrying thousands of them, one man remarked. What do they look like? Another man asked. I hear they've come straight from Hell, with fiery coals instead of eyes and a mass of twisted snakes instead of hair. That's silly, Taylor the barber interjected. The Saxons are handsome, fair-skinned people. They brought with them their wives and children, their household goods, and their farming implements.
I bet they also brought with them their swords, their battle axes, and their pagan religion, Patrick added skeptically. Oh, don't pay any attention to Patrick, Taylor replied as he finished trimming Patrick's hair. He's got his head up in the clouds. He criticizes us for bringing in the Saxons, but he wants to go and live with the Irish. All the men laughed. But how do we know the Scots and Picts won't drive the Saxons away? One of the men asked.
Well, from what I've heard, our delegates specifically talked to the Saxons about the Picts and Scots, and the Saxon chieftains assured our delegates that they don't fear the Scots and Picts in the least, Taylor answered. But are they willing to live with us in peace? Another man chimed in. Yes, Taylor replied. Our delegates asked them if they were willing to become farmers instead of raiders. The Saxons assured the delegates that such a thing had always been their desire.
The only reason they raid and plunder is that there's no longer enough land in their ancestral homeland for them to farm, so they have turned to raiding out of necessity. But they would far rather farm than to raid other peoples. So we're putting our trust in an alliance with people who don't even know God, Patrick interjected, wiping hair off of his clothes. If my memory serves me correctly, that's exactly why God punished the Israelites. They put their trust in foreign alliances instead of in Him.
Look, I'm finished with your hair, Taylor retorted, cleaning off the barber's chair. So you'd best be on your way. Patrick left the barbershop and rambled back home. His primary concern was neither the Saxons nor the states of Britain. His heart and mind were still in Ireland. He thought of the hundreds of people who were dying every day over there, never having had an opportunity to hear of Christ. He continued to pray to God. He continued to implore the other church leaders. Still, the answer was the same.
Not yet, Patrick. Not yet.