…In Columba,s absence had become national nuisances. Brimming over with pride of office , they had begun to drive hard bargins for their services. They meddled with politics, asked enormous prizes for presiding over a victory or a marriage and in general paraded their power lke officials until the always prickly natives rose against them, eventually forcing the King to put an end to bardic misconduct, who in turn decided to exile them. Terrified by the sentence, the bards could think of nothing to do except enlist Columba on their side.
“You are one of us,” they told him by messenger. “Without you we perish.”
Then came the problem. The saint in his tolerant solitude could realize better than his exploited countrymen how Ireland would miss its praisers. Besides, he loved a well-turned verse. But how could he “look again on Ireland’s shores” when he had made the solemn pledge?
Well, he could go without looking, could travel blindfolded to court. And that, of course, is what he did.
Once at tara he spoke with such eloquence to the gathering that they changed their stubborn minds.
“Meddlers and muddlers these bards might be,” he reminded them. “But without their songs, who will remember your glories? Who will harp the tales of your wars, the beauty of your women? You will lose your history.”
So the poets were allowed to stay, and Columba went back to Iona, blindfolded as he had left it, to live out his days in peaceful, God-fearing austerity. …