HAIL TO THE KING - Music by Adrian Von Zeigler.

As the monastery awoke before dawn, wind lashed the walls of the buildings and a howling gale swirled around us. Rain tumbled down in torrents and showed little sign of abating - an inauspicious day to crown a new king, to say the least.

The High King of Dalriada is crowned in Comgaill at the centre of the Kindred in a ceremony performed on the hill-top at the sacred footstep rock. Each new king places his feet in the dint in the rock, a hollow caused by the kings who walked his path before him. As he stands there, an endless link in the chain of history he promises to be honest and true and to follow in the footsteps of his ancestors.

Our king, the king of the Oengusa, is always crowned here at the Destiny Stone on the top of this mountain - right at the end of the sacred grove of oaks. The service is old, performed since memory began by the druids and this time, for the first time, by the new priests and brother's of our kindred – of this monastery – the centre of religious life in Oengusa and Dalriada – the most sacred place. Though the brothers will perform it, the ceremony will have all the elements and traditions of the old religion.

Despite the appalling weather the Monks preparations are still underway for the ceremony and as I sit here in the kitchen the place is already springing to life. Monks are coming and going gathering food and mead before the long day.

The Abbott himself has already risen and he is strutting around the kitchen nervously murmuring the words he will recite to my brother as he paces. He looks regal, though a little old and tired. Wearing his white undergarment over purple and white robes, the golden sickle of the Druids hung at his waist - the cross of our Lord around his neck in a strange hybrid of both religions.

I sit across the table from him and watch. It had been difficult to sleep with the gale doing it's worst (although as I am island-born, I should be very used to its sound and effects) but nerves about today and the future made it all sound so much louder and so much more fierce. And I'd tossed and turned on my hard wooden pallet – glad for once I wasn't sharing my bed with my sister and my old mentor back in our little cottage.

As a holy woman, sister to the new king – daughter of the old, I will be one of the few women there - along with Eavan - to witness the event. My sister is set to bless the new king and I, as our bard, will sing our history. It has been playing on my mind all night, will I get it right, will I repeat the kings' names in order. I've done it a thousand times but never at an occasion like this. I am more than a little overwhelmed, farewelling my father one day and then turning around just two days later to install my brother as the new king. And through it all is the uncertainty that now washes over me, like the furious waves that crash on our shore, a wave of change that washes over me, our kingdom and our family.

I stand up to get some mead. It had been put into jugs on the main benches last night ready for the morn. An early morning tonic for the brothers before we all head out into the cold morning and our new destiny.

I need it, not to help stave off the cold, but to soothe my nerves so I pour out a full cup, offering some to the Abbott who looks in need too.

"Bless you sister," he says taking the cup and sipping it thoughtfully.

"This is a great day for our kingdom," he offers after a few seconds but it feels more like a question than a statement.

He looks at me with inquiring eyes as if he is seeking my opinion of the new king in some unspoken way. I am apprehensive but that is my personal and private view not one I would share with him or anyone outside my inner inner circle. It is not that I don't trust the Abbott but I didn't want to say anything that will sound disloyal to my brother and my family in general. I also know that there is no real point in worrying. In the end, it is what it is, Conal is to be king and stressing about it was not going to stop it. Wishing that my father had lasted a few more years until Dom was older doesn't help either. By the end of the morning, my eldest brother will be the true and rightful king – whether I agreed or not.

I didn't say any of that.

"Aye," I say instead, noncommittally looking up to smile reassuringly at my companion.

The Abbott and I look like a matching pair, concerned faces and similar clothes. I am dressed in the same white and purple leint and I wear a purple cloak, borrowed quickly from my older sister and rushed up to the monastery to me. It is decorated with the broaches of my people and my station and there is a cross around my neck while a purple veil hides my atrociously red hair which is plaited and curled around my head like a serpent in the manner of a married woman. Single in the world of men, but in truth I am married – wed to the church and to our god.

"Hopefully the weather will abate long enough for you to perform the main ceremony," I add trying to make small talk and ease both our nerves. My brother had been blessed last night in a smaller intimate ceremony in the chapel here by candlelight in front of just the other kings and high clergy. This morning he will take the oath before his people, an oath that will formally make him our king..

"I will only be one part of the event," the Abbott comments sipping his mead again.

"As the senior priest for this Island, Brother Tam, well Father Tam really will share duties."

"Father Tam?" I say in surprise. He is once again one of the major players, he'd always seemed like just another one of the monks during my previous visits but now he is the leading light.

"Yes?" a deep warm voice asks behind me and I turn to see Tam walking into the kitchen. Like us his robes are white and purple, accented with gold broaches set with purple stones and his own gold cross, long purple hose accentuated his impossibly long legs. All in all the effect is both breath-taking and regal.

"The Abbott was saying you will be part of the ceremony today, " I say trying not to stare. If a man can be beautiful then this one is. Even in the gloom of the predawn morning lit by candlelight, the purple of his clothes make his eyes seem more violet than blue and his auburn hair is swept back in a braid, making his cheekbones more prominent than ever. He smiles widely at me and I blush looking away in case my face burst into flames.

"Aye," he says grabbing a hunk of fresh warm bread and his own cup of mead. The man is always eating and yet he is lean and muscular with the wide-set shoulders of a man who had spent hours practising swordplay – though surprisingly I have never really noticed this before. I am seeing him in a new light this trip, one that, as a holy woman I probably shouldn't. Maybe Mother Eavan is right, it is time to go home.

"That's if we don't all drown in the attempt!" he adds as he sits down next to me on the long bench that served as seating around the table.

The Abbott, who must be a good twenty summers older than Tam and at least a foot shorter, laughs.

"Yes, so far this is only the type of weather frequented by ducks and madmen, not royalty and holy men. But a kingdom must have a king and our men must return to their villages. With our best warriors all here it leaves the rest of the Kindred in danger. We can't wait for God to smile on us with a fine day! We must have a king today even if we all get washed away."

More and more Monks and sisters, including my own, make their way to the kitchen. It will be dawn soon and as first light comes so will the official party. We down the rest of our mead and prepare to make our way out to the dawning of not just a new day but a new era.

The religious party slosh through the mud the short distance to the sacred rock, several holy brothers leading the way with torches held high. We are a solemn if slightly soggy party as we stand there atop the hill awaiting our high king and this Kindred's new king. Two Monks with torches stand either side of the sacred stone while the Abbott and Mother Eavan stand behind it in the middle with Tam and I flanking them. Behind us are a big group of monks all fanned out around the main party. The wind has calmed a little and the rain eased off, though it still isn't the pleasant spring day we'd had for my father's funeral.

We stand there in silence, watching and waiting until a flicker of light appears. More and more lights joining the first until a bright red caterpillar of flame slowly make its way up the hill. The beating of drums the only sound permeating the quiet dawn.

And finally they come into view – my two youngest brothers dressed in the royal colours leading the way with torches held high, flanking a lone drummer. Each brother held an item in their other hand – Dom a cape and Ali a cushion bearing the brooches of the high king, brooches echoing my own (which I will present to my sister-in-law when I return across the sea).

Behind them came the high king and then Eiric and the other kings with Conal walking in the middle of the group. He looks tall and strong – taller than most of the other kings around him. His beard is freshly trimmed and his hair pulled back and plaited lightly down his back. He wears the purple of the royal house though his costume is less elaborate than those around him.

The ceremony dictates that Con will approach the stone as a humble ordinary man and leave a king with all the trappings and adornments.

As the royal party reach us, most peeled off to the left and right leaving just Conal and the High King in the middle. Behind them the warriors of the kingdom and several more drummers gather and torches are extinguished until we are in almost pitch black – the only light coming from the four torches at the front – two held by my brothers and two by the monks.

Any murmuring stops as the Abbott and Eavan stepped forward handing the High King the royal sword and staff before blessing each item as he then bestows each item on my brother.

I feel Brother Tam stiffen beside me, knowing that as the blessings end he will have to take his place centre stage.

Tam is the real kingmaker, the one charged with turning the man in front of him into something more than a simple man – something greater. An overwhelming urge comes over me to reach out and reassure him, to hold his hand and let him know that I believe in him. Instead, I turn to look at Tam and offer him a reassuring half smile. His face remains solemn but his eyes round in an unspoken thank you before he steps forward.

And there in front of the stone of destiny, the High King presents Conal to Brother/Father Tam who recites the oath and the blessing – clear and concise – looking more regal than the man in front of him, more in charge, more commanding. Conal looks more like the young boy I'd grown up with than the great warrior king he is supposed to become as he kneels kissing the stone and pledging himself to our kingdom, our people and all the people of Dalriada. And as he kneels, I step forward and sing our history, the list of kings that he follows. The first rays of sunlight struggle feebly through the grey skies and clouds before streaking across the sky, casting eerie rays of light over Con, myself and Tam making it feel even more surreal, even more, holy and spiritual.

He stayed kneeled before king and stone and holy man – because that's what Tam is and looks like standing there taller than the rest of the party self-assured and strong. My heart thuds hard in my chest as I recited our story and the men in front of me stay still and stoic until the last strains of our history are sung and Conal's name is added to the list of kings. He rises then, newly anointed king of the Oenegas, his new sword, the sword of kingship raised high over his head. Drums beat and the warriors cheer.

And so in the gloom of that spring morning, we now have a new king.

"God bless the new king Oenegas," Tam's voice booms through the cheers.

"God bless our king!" the crowd around us calls back – drawing their swords and raising them in answer to their new ruler.

And with that, the ceremony is over.

Conal makes his way down through the crowd which parts like the Red Sea of our scriptures to allow him through. The High King, Tam and I follow behind with everyone else falling into step behind us. I briefly look back and catch Prince Eiric his dark beady eyes boring into me causing me another brief feeling of unease.

I turn back quickly to watch the retreating figure of my brother – his sword still unsheathed and held high. The drums beat behind us and the procession marches as one down the hill.

Although I am apprehensive about Con's suitability as king, I am still caught up in the sense of occasion, in the history of this moment a moment that has occurred only a few times over the centuries as a new king takes his place in history. I shiver at the thought.

"Are you cold lassie?" the old king asks and beside him I see Tam take his cloak off handing it to the king for me.

I laugh a little.

"No just caught up in the moment."

"Aye the crowning of a new king is always such a blessed event and you two handled it well, you make a fine pair," he says smiling at both of us. A strange look passed between the king and Tam but it passes before I can read or understand it and then the cloak is settled around me and I am enveloped in the scent of Brother Tam – a heady mix of mead, leather and a touch of a herb I can't quite put my finger on,

"Thank you, sire," Tam says then bowing his head slightly without missing a step before we continue on in silence. We are almost there, almost to the bottom of the hill. A crowd has gathered to welcome the new monarch to herald in this strange new time when Aenagus is no longer king – when King Conal takes his place as the leader of men in our Kindred. It seems foreign at that moment – too new to comprehend. But that newness makes it exciting to the men, women and children who line the village ready to welcome their new King.

They cheer as first Conal and then the whole party pass by. In a plentiful year, they may have thrown offerings at my brother's feet but we are still teetering on the brink of disaster too much rain now will be as harmful as too little and so every morsel, every grain, every piece of greenery counts. I suddenly realized, with total clarity what a hard job it is that Conal has inherited - keeping his people safe and seeing the people, his people through this difficult time. It is a task that I didn't envy and one I pray he is up to.

"And now to drink toasts and feast!" our high king laughs as we reached the banqueting hall.

"Not me, unfortunately, I must return to the monastery," Tam says.

"Nor us, we have to return the monastery to prepare to leave the moment the tide is favourable," my sister adds as she and the Abbott drew level with us.

"Nonsense!" the High King says loudly – clearly not going to take no for an answer.

"Do you think this is wise?" Tam asks quietly and I am shocked that he would question the king and worried what the consequences of such an action might be even for a holy-man such as Tam.

"It is Father Tam – the clergy must drink a toast to the new king – they must give him their blessing. I'm sure whatever you have to do at the monastery can wait can't it Abbott?" the king says commandingly.

"Of course sire and I can send someone back to the Monastery to collect Mother Eavan and Sister Enat's belonging Sire," the older man adds in a far more reverent and respectful way than Tam, tripping over his tongue to please the king.

"As you wish sire – but I would not wish to miss our passage home," Eavan sighs.

"I need to get home to my flock – we have crops to plant and bless and holy days and events to plan. It won't do to have the two most senior members of our order away too long."

The old king smiles affably.

"I realise that you holy folk have a lot to do – and you will not be kept from home long in fact, I leave on the tide tonight for your isle and insist you travel with me and your two younger brothers. I must inspect my kingdom and I know the young laddie Dom needs to say his goodbyes and fetch his belongings before joining my Warband and I would be honoured to have two such holy sisters on board."

My sister nods in agreement and a weird knot that has somehow lodged in my stomach in the day and hours since we were attacked the other night, suddenly loosened.

"Thank you, sire," I say bowing my head.

"Of course my Lassie – it would be greatly remiss of me not to escort the daughters of my old friend back home," he smiles though he is not looking directly at me but at Tam who nods in agreement.

"Now let us go in and bless this new king," he adds as we turn and follow the great throng of people who are already heading in.

Before the sun is at it's pinnacle in the sky, after toasts, food and stories the king is true to his word and we are setting out to sea finally on our way home. Conal, and his party, follow behind while each of the other kings head out in all the directions of our kingdom – back to what is now the new normal of our ever-changing lives.

Back on shore, I watch the diminishing forms of Tam, Brother Mal, Brother Ambrose and the Abbott as they bid us farewell and I wonder when I would be back to the monastery – if I'd be back.