His words made a powerful impression on the assembly, for the wisdom of Brendan was known to all; and there was a deep silence as Columba entered. After a short pause one of the elders arose and stated the case in words that were brief and simple. Columba, he said, was under the censure of his brethren for having stirred up strife in the King's dominions, which had led to a fierce and bloody battle. "The King's behaviour was unjust," replied Columba, "and it is hard for a man to bear injustice patiently." "Truly, as you say," answered the speaker, "it is hard for a man to bear injustice; yet judge yourself if it is more fitting that one who has dedicated his life to the service of Christ should bear injuries patiently, or that he should avenge them at the point of the sword." He went on to speak of the duties of a Christian and of a priest; of the insults and humiliations offered to Jesus Christ, their Master and their model. The words were of one who had himself striven and conquered--of one who had a right to speak. The silence deepened, for the Spirit of God was with him. Alone in their midst stood Columba, but his head was bowed upon his breast, and the grey eyes that had dashed so stormily at the Court of Tara were dim with tears. The cry that burst from his heart when the old man ceased to speak was the cry of another great penitent--one who in spite of human frailty had deserved to be called a "man after God's own heart." "Against Thee only have I sinned and done this evil in Thy sight: For I acknowledge my fault, and my sin is ever before me." The fault had been great, but the sincerity of the repentance was evident to all. "Go in peace," was the verdict of the Council, "and for every man that fell on the field of Cuil-dreimhne win a soul to the faith of Christ." Sentence had been given, but Columba was not content. He had grieved that Lord Who from his childhood had been the sole love of his heart, and no penance was great enough to satisfy him. Moreover the fate of the men who had fallen at Cuil-dreimhne was an intolerable burden on his soul. Through his fault they had been hurried--perhaps altogether unprepared--before the judgment-seat of God. The thought that they might be lost for all eternity was a perpetual torture to him, and he went from one to another of the Saints of Erin seeking advice and help. In due time he went to St. Abban, like himself a monk, and the founder of many religious houses. Men called him the "Peacemaker," such was his power over turbulent and violent men. Not long before, he had gone alone and unarmed to meet one of the fiercest barbarians of the land, the heathen chief of a reigning clan, and the terror of the surrounding country. Such was the influence of Abban that the marauder laid down his arms, and became in course of time not only a Christian, but also a monk of exceptionally holy life.