Suffer Little Children

Chapter Twelve

The next morning, as Sister Fidelma was on her way to the library to see if Sister Grella had returned, she received a summons to Abbot Brocc’s chambers.

‘Cousin, I have a messenger leaving for Cashel this afternoon. I wondered whether you might like to take the opportunity to send messages to your brother?’

Fidelma was just about to make a negative reply when an idea occurred to her.

‘Yes. I want my brother to contact the Chief Brehon so that he may order the attendance of the Laigin merchant, Assíd of Uí Dego, at the assembly when the matter of the death of Dacán is heard. It is essential that some questions are put to Assid.’

‘Assid? The merchant who was staying here on the night Dacan was murdered?’ A hope sprang into Brocc’s eyes. ‘Do you think that Assíd … do you think that he may be responsible …?’

She disappointed him by shaking her head.

‘All I require is his presence at the hearing.’

Brocc’s look of hope relapsed into a worried frown.

‘Ah, I thought at least one mystery might now be solved.’

‘One mystery?’ Fidelma caught the nuance.

‘I am given to understand that you were looking for Sister Grella last night?’

‘That is so. What has happened to Sister Grella?’ she asked with foreboding.

‘I wished that I knew. Sister Grella has not been seen sinceshortly after vespers yesterday. The library has not been opened this morning and Brother Rumann tells me that there was no sign of her chamber being slept in. He inquired of Brother Conghus who then told him that you were making inquiries about her last night.’

Fidelma sat down in front of the abbot’s table before continuing. ‘Has she ever disappeared before?’

‘Not to my knowledge,’ replied the abbot. ‘All this is most distressing, cousin. First, we have Dacán’s death; then Sister Eisten is found murdered and now Sister Grella is missing. What am I to make of all this?’

Fidelma momentarily felt sorry for her pompous cousin. He looked like a lost, helpless child, needing someone to tell him what to do.

‘I only wish that I could help you, Brocc. At this moment, I am equally as bewildered. But there are some things that I wish to ask you and which I want treated in absolute confidence.’

The abbot waited expectantly.

‘Do you know much of Brother Midach’s background?’

‘Brother Midach?’ Brocc sounded surprised. ‘He is a good physician. He has been at Ros Ailithir for four years. Let’s see … he came to us from the abbey at Cealla.’

‘And Sister Necht?’

‘She came to the abbey about six months ago.’

‘Also from Cealla?’

‘No. Whatever gave you that idea? I think she came from a village not far from here. Why don’t you question her?’

‘It was a passing thought.’ Fidelma was disappointed. ‘I thought that there was some connection between Midach and Necht.’

‘Well, he did introduce her to the abbey, that is true. He attended her father in one of the villages and when her father died, leaving her an orphan, Midach proposed her induction as a novice here. I believe that he still acts as her soul-friend.’

Fidelma stifled a sigh of disappointment. She had beenwondering whether there was some further link with Osraige and between Midach and Necht. What exactly there might be, she was not sure. Osraige was certainly at the core of the mystery.

The abbot did not press her further.

‘What am I to make of it all?’ he repeated almost pathetically.

Fidelma had considered what ways forward there were and she now realised that, with Sister Grella missing, there was nothing she could do unless she could find some new path to follow. That meant revealing some of the information that she had gathered as a bait to lure other information.

‘Did you know that Sister Grella had once been the wife of the Venerable Dacán?’ she asked innocently.

Abbot Brocc’s jaw dropped expressively.

‘What are you saying? Did she tell you this?’

‘I was told by someone who knew her in Laigin. So you did not know?’

‘I knew only that she came from Cealla and was qualified to the level of sai. But as for being a former wife of the Venerable Dacán — are you absolutely sure …?’

‘I have a witness to answer that. I searched her chamber last night. I have that right,’ she added quickly, as she saw annoyance form on Brocc’s features. ‘Dacán was bound before he was killed. The bindings were, thankfully, preserved by Brother Martan, your apothecary. Last night I found the skirt from which those bindings were torn. The skirt was hidden in a satchel in Sister Grella’s chamber.’

Abbot Brocc’s response, when he realised the implication of this, was to put both his hands to his head and actually whimpered.

Fidelma studied him with a contemptuous eye.

‘The reputation of this abbey is shamed,’ he moaned. ‘What can I do? You are telling me that Grella is the murderess and the motive is for some sordid matter of passion?’

‘You can forget about the shame to the abbey, for the moment, cousin,’ Fidelma replied dryly. ‘Let us solve the puzzle first.’

‘But such news brings a blush to my cheeks,’ moaned Brocc.

‘Then remember that Diogenes once wrote “blushing is the colour of virtue”,’ Fidelma countered cynically. ‘The only shame is to have none.’

Brocc drew himself together as she pricked his conceit.

‘I do not care for myself,’ he sniffed a little contritely. ‘I was only thinking of the reputation of the abbey. So you believe that Grella killed Dacan?’

Fidelma did not bother to comment.

‘Did you know, Brocc, that Sister Grella visited the fortress of Salbach at Cuan Dóir about a week ago? If so, did she have your permission to leave the abbey and visit Salbach?’

The abbot stared at her blankly.

‘No. I gave Sister Grella permission to ride to Rae na Scríne a week ago to visit Sister Eisten who worked there. She was to use the visit to collect a book and take some herbs and medicines from Brother Martan to help fight the plague there. Why would she ride in the opposite direction to see Salbach?’

‘Perhaps she first visited Sister Eisten and then they went together to Salbach’s fortress?’

‘But why?’

An idea abruptly occurred to Fidelma. If Eisten had been seeking passage for herself and Sister Grella then perhaps Grella had fled on board the merchant ship? Fidelma rose and went to the window to look down into the inlet.

Still anchored near to Mugrón’s warship was the Frankish merchantman, with its heavy lines. The abbot had joined her and was gazing down in bewilderment.

‘What do you see, cousin?’

‘I was fearful that the Frankish merchantman had already weighed anchor.’

Brocc frowned.

‘I believe it is due to sail on the mid-morning tide.’

‘Then I want you to give authority to Cass to board and search that vessel before it sets sail.’

‘Search?’

‘Yes. A thorough search now, as we talk,’ Fidelma insisted. ‘I command it under my authority as a dálaigh.’ She unbent a little and added, ‘It is possible that Sister Grella might be on board.’

Brocc looked shocked but he did not reply. Instead he rang his bell to summon the scriptor and then issued the necessary orders to find Cass and give him Fidelma’s instructions.

‘If there is any trouble, tell Cass to inform the Frankish captain that while at anchor in the bay he has to obey the laws of this kingdom,’ Fidelma instructed the scriptor as he hurried off to perform his task.

‘You must explain, cousin,’ Brocc said, reseating himself. ‘You are saying that Grella realises that you have discovered her guilty secret and that she is trying to flee?’

‘I wish I could explain fully, cousin,’ Fidelma responded. ‘But I am not in possession of all the facts. Can you tell me anything about Sister Eisten and her relationship with your librarian?’

Brocc raised his hands as if in supplication.

‘Poor Eisten. There is little to tell. She trained at this very abbey and was initially trained to help the physician, Midach. She specialised in the care of children. She had been with us since the age of fourteen, apart from the three years during which she went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land.’

‘Brother Conghus told me that she also studied in the library,’ Fidelma interrupted.

‘Eisten was no scholar but she did do some studying in the library earlier in the year.’

‘And how did Eisten come to be sent to Rae na Scríne?’

‘So far as I recall, Sister Eisten volunteered to go there and look after the travellers’ hostel we maintain there. This was about six months ago. There were some orphans in the vicinityand Eisten took to looking after their needs as well. She did much good work at Rae na Scríne.’

He paused and picked up a jug of water, raising his eyebrows in inquiring fashion towards Fidelma. She shook her head. Brocc then poured himself a drink and sipped it slowly.

‘Go on,’ Fidelma prompted.

‘Well, we knew that the Yellow Plague had reached the village earlier this summer. There seemed no rhyme nor reason as to who its victims were. I and Brother Midach, for example, have had a touch of it but have recovered. So has Sister Grella. But Eisten had not. Yet she did not succumb to it.’

‘There is no accounting for it,’ Fidelma agreed solemnly. ‘Go on.’

‘Eisten insisted on remaining in the village but we heard that things were getting worse. Midach went to visit her there several times this last week. Finally you brought us the terrible news of Intat’s destruction of the village and its surviving inhabitants.’

‘You knew Intat, of course?’

‘Not personally. But I knew that Intat was one of Salbach’s right-hand men. You saw how angry Salbach was when he came to the abbey after I had reported what you had told me. At first he seemed to refuse to believe the story. He only accepted it when you told him who you were and he was therefore unable to challenge your authority.’

Fidelma leaned forward a little, anger showing on her features.

‘It is a poor chieftain who accepts truth only when told him by an authority greater than his. Did it occur to you that Intat might, for some reason, have been acting with Salbach’s approval?’

Brocc was horrified.

‘Of course not. Salbach is of an ancient line of chieftains of the Corco Lofgde. He traces his line back to …’

Fidelma was openly sarcastic.

‘I know; he traces his line to Míl Easpain, the founder of the race of the children of the Gael. Yet he would not be the first distinguished chieftain to go contrary to the laws of God and man. Might I remind you that perhaps the very reason we have this situation is because we are prisoners of history? It was a king of Laigin, who was also a descendant of a line of ancient and distinguished kings, who took it upon himself to murder Edirsceál, the High King? That was when this drama began.’

‘That is ancient history, almost legend.’

‘As this will be a thousand years from now.’

Brocc sat back in his chair slowly shaking his head.

‘I will not believe this of Salbach. Besides, what gain is there in this matter for him?’

Fidelma smiled thinly.

‘Gain? Indeed, that is a good motive for all our actions. What do we gain from some action or another? Well, if I knew the answer to that, I would know the answer to many a question. I suppose you have known Salbach for a long time?’

‘For eighteen years, from the day I came to this abbey. I have known him more closely for the last ten years, since I was elected abbot by the brethren here.’

‘And what do you know of him?’

‘Know? I know that he is regarded as a good chieftain. He has the pride of his ancestry and perhaps he is a little too autocratic at times. All in all, however, I think it may be said that his rule is fair and just.’

‘I was told that he had ambition.’

‘Ambition? Don’t we all have ambition?’

‘Perhaps. And perhaps Salbach’s ambitious eyes have looked beyond Corco Loígde?’

‘As is his right, cousin. If he is descended of the line of Ir, related to Míl Easpain who conquered this land at the dawn of time and peopled it with the children of the Gael …’

Fidelma grimaced as if in pain.

‘Spare me from the boredom of genealogy. Ambition is fineso long as the sparrow does not crave to become the falcon,’ she commented dryly. ‘Anyway, what else can you tell me of Salbach? Did he know Sister Eisten?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

‘It would surprise you to know that Eisten was at Salbach’s fortress with Sister Grella just over a week ago?’

Brocc’s expression showed that it did surprise him.

‘So you do think there is some connection, then, between poor Sister Eisten’s death and that of the Venerable Dacán?’ he demanded.

‘A connection — yes. How strong, I do not know. But that I am determined to discover.’

Abbot Brocc’s face had been growing longer as he surveyed the perplexities of the situation.

‘It does not seem that you are closer to solving the mystery of Dacán’s death, though. And time is not on our side, cousin.’

‘I am well aware of this, Brocc,’ replied Fidelma softly.

‘Well, remember that I am held ultimately responsible, under the law, for the death of Dacán. I cannot afford to pay the compensation or fines.’

‘Be at peace, Brocc,’ Fidelma reassured him. ‘Laigin is not interested in you nor the seven cumals of the éric fine. They are interested in the honour price and their eyes are set on the land of Osraige. They will be content with nothing else.’

‘Yet their warship sits there still.’ Brocc flung out at hand to the bay beyond the window.

‘You can’t begrudge Laigin its right under law,’ Fidelma replied. ‘The ship will do nothing. It is there only to remind you of your responsibility as abbot in charge of the community where Dacán met his death.’

There was a tap on the door and, in answer to Brocc’s call, Cass entered.

Fidelma knew from his glum face that he had no news.

‘Nothing,’ he confirmed. ‘No sign at all of Sister Grella. The captain was angry but he did not prevent my searching, eveninto the stinking hold of the vessel. I pledge my honour that she is not on board.’

Fidelma felt a heavy burden sinking on her shoulders.

She rose and went to the window again.

The sails of the Frankish merchantman were being unfurled. She could hear the sounds of the cracking and filling of the canvas sail before the morning offshore breeze; she could hear the cry of the orders rising to mingle with the scream of the gulls as they circled and wheeled around the sedately moving vessel.

‘Another blank wall,’ she said almost under her breath. ‘Yet somewhere there is a door. Somewhere,’ she added vehemently.

‘What path will you follow now, cousin?’ asked the abbot anxiously.

Fidelma was turning away from the window when she caught sight of a barc under full sail, sliding swiftly into the inlet, negotiating a course around the heavy merchantman like a dolphin around a ship. An idea formed quickly in her mind and she wondered why she had not thought of it before. She reached her decision almost immediately.

‘I shall be leaving the abbey for a while, Brocc,’she said. ‘The path that I must follow is not here.’

‘Where will you go now?’ Brocc looked astounded.

‘I need the services of a good swift barc,’ Fidelma responded, ignoring the abbot’s question. ‘Where can I charter one?’

‘A sailor named Ross owns the swiftest barc on the coast,’ Brocc said, without need for deliberation. ‘But he knows it and his knowledge is reflected in his price. I see his ship is anchored below. Any fisherman will tell you where he may be found.’

‘Excellent. While I am away there are some items which I want you to safeguard for me. They constitute evidence in my investigation and I cannot afford to take them on my journey.’

Brocc pointed to a large oak cabinet on the far side of his chamber.

‘It has two locks,’ he assured her, ‘and is quite secure. I usually place the valuables of this abbey in it.’

Fidelma took her marsupium, which she had become in the habit of carrying, from her shoulder and placed it on the table. Wordlessly, the abbot took from under his table a set of keys on a ring, which she presumed had been hanging on some secret hook, and went to the cabinet and opened the door. He gestured for Fidelma to bring the marsupium to him and placed it inside. She watched as he secured the door and returned the keys to their resting place.

‘Should Sister Grella reappear, I want her to be placed under guard, on my authority, until I return. Is that understood?’ she asked Brocc.

The abbot indicated that it was.

Satisfied, Fidelma turned to Cass.

‘Come, then, let us seek out this Ross and negotiate a price with him for our journey.’

Brocc was standing uncertainly.

‘But where are you going? How long shall you be away? If I must imprison Sister Grella, I must have some idea.’

Fidelma paused at the door and once again felt sorry for her cousin’s woebegone expression. Again she had the feeling of a little boy lost.

‘Better that no one knows of where we have gone until we return. In the meantime, if you are able to detain Sister Grella, simply tell her that she is being held as a material witness to the death of her former husband, the Venerable Dacán. With God’s help we shall return before a week is passed.’

Brocc’s jaw dropped in anxiety.

‘A full week?’ His voice was full of distress but Fidelma had already left his chamber with Cass trailing behind her.