“I will do that,” Finnian replied, “but I must first meditate deeply on you, and must know you well. Tell me your past, my beloved, for a man is his past, and is to be known by it.”
But Tuan pleaded: “Let the past be content with itself, for man needs forgetfulness as well as memory.”
“My son,” said Finnian, “all that has ever been done has been done for the glory of God, and to confess our good and evil deeds is part of instruction; for the soul must recall its acts and abide by them, or renounce them by confession and penitence. Tell me your genealogy first, and by what descent you occupy these lands and stronghold, and then I will examine your acts and your conscience.”
Tuan replied obediently: “I am known as Tuan, son of Cairill, son of Muredac Red-neck, and these are the hereditary lands of my father.”
The saint nodded.
“I am not as well acquainted with Ulster genealogies as I should be, yet I know something of them. I am by blood a Leinsterman,” he continued.
“Mine is a long pedigree,” Tuan murmured.
Finnian received that information with respect and interest.
“I also,” he said, “have an honourable record.”
His host continued: “I am indeed Tuan, the son of Starn, the son of Sera, who was brother to Partholon.”