Suffer Little Children

'I enjoyed that,' he commented almost in a tone of regret that there was no more. 'Oatmeal, milk and leeks, I think. Is it delicious or is it my ravening hunger that adds zest to the food?'

Fidelma grimaced in amusement at his enthusiastic change of conversation.

'It is said that this broth was a favorite dish of the Blessed Colmcille,' she observed. 'And you are right about its ingredients, but I think anything would taste as magnificent when one has not eaten for a while.'

Cass was already cutting a slice of cheese and Fidelma indicated that she would also like a piece. The young warrior placed the slice on her platter and cut another. Then he broke off a hunk of bread. He chewed thoughtfully, at the same time as pouring a cup of wine apiece.

'Seriously, sister, how can you hope to solve this mystery? It happened over a fortnight ago and I doubt whether the perpetrator of the deed has remained within miles of this place. Even if they have, then there appears to be no witness, no one who saw anything, nothing to lay a path to the culprit.'

Fidelma calmly took a sip of her wine.

'So, Cass, if you were me, what would you do?'

Cass paused in the act of chewing and blinked. He gave the question some thought.

'Find out as many details as one can, I suppose, in order to report back to Cashel.'

'Well,' Fidelma replied with mock seriousness, 'at least we appear to be agreed on that. Is there any further advice you would give me, Cass?'

The young warrior flushed.

Fidelma was a dalaigh. He knew that. And she was surely mocking him for presuming to tell her how to do her job.

'I did not mean…' he began.

She disarmed him with a grin.

'Do not worry, Cass. If I believed that you spoke with consideration then you would find my tongue sharp and bitter. Perhaps it is good you do not flatter me. Though, truly, I know my capabilities as I also know my weaknesses, for only fools take to themselves the respect that is given to their office.'

Cass gazed uneasily into the ice-fire of those green eyes and swallowed.

'Let us agree, though,' she continued, 'that I shall not tell you how to wield your sword in combat if you do not advise me how to perform the art for which I was trained.'

The young man grimaced, a little sulkily.

'I only meant to say that the problem seems an insurmountable one.'

'In my experience, all problems start out from that viewpoint. But solving a problem means that you have to start out instead of staying still. Once your viewpoint changes then you change your view.'

'How then do you propose to start out?' he asked quickly, trying to pacify the feeling of friction which still lay below Fidelma's bantering tone.

'We will start out by questioning Brother Conghus, who found the body, then the physician who examined the body and finally our flustered house-steward, Brother Rumann, who made the initial investigation. All or any of these might have pieces of the puzzle. Then, when we have gathered all the pieces, however small, we will examine them, carefully and assiduously. Perhaps we will be able to fit them together to form a picture, who knows?'

'You make it seem rather easy.'

'Not easy,' she promptly denied. 'Remember that all information helps. Gather it and store it until you have a use for it. Now, I think I shall get some sleep before…'

As she began to rise a piercing shriek of terror shattered the silence of the guests' hostel.

Chapter Five

When the penetrating shriek echoed a second time, Fidelma was on her feet and moving down the corridor of the hostel with a rapidity which surprised the young warrior who followed closely on her heels. The cry had come from the first floor of the building. It had sounded high pitched, like the cry of a woman in pain.

At the foot of the stairs Fidelma almost collided with Brother Rumann. He, too, had been hurrying towards the sound of the cry and, without a word, Fidelma and Cass turned after the corpulent steward of the abbey as he made his way along the lower corridor, along which were a series of doors.

The three of them halted abruptly, astonished by the sound of a soft crooning issuing from the stillness.

Brother Rumann stood before a door and pushed it open. Fidelma and Cass peered questioningly over his shoulder.

Inside was the figure of Sister Eisten, seated on the edge of a cot with one of the black-haired lads from Rae na Serine in her arms. Fidelma recognized him as Cosrach, the younger of the two boys. Sister Eisten was holding him and crooning a soft lullaby. The young boy lay quietly sobbing in her embrace. The sobs were now soft, gulping breaths. Sister Eisten seemed oblivious to the three of them crowding at the door.

It was the elder brother, the other black-haired lad, who, standing behind Sister Eisten, glanced up, saw them and scowled. He moved across the small chamber floor and, without appearing to do so, forced them back through the doorway into the corridor, following them and swinging the door shut behind him. He thrust out his chin; his expression seemed defiant, scowling at their intrusion.

'We heard a scream, boy,' Brother Rumann wheezed at him.

'It was my brother,' replied the boy with a surly tone. 'My brother was having a nightmare, that is all. He will be all right now. Sister Eisten heard him and came in to help.'

Fidelma bent forward, smiling reassuringly, trying to recall his name.

'Then there is nothing to be worried about, is there… your name is Cetach, isn't it?'

'Yes.' His tone was sullen, almost defensive.

'Very well, Cetach. Your brother and you have had a bad experience. But it is over now. There is no need to worry.'

'I am not worried,' the boy replied scornfully. 'But my brother is younger than I. He cannot help his dreams.'

Fidelma had the feeling that she was speaking to a man rather than a boy. The lad was wiser than his years.

'Of course not,' she readily agreed. 'You must persuade your brother that you are among friends now who will look after you.'

The boy waited a moment and then said: 'May I return to my brother now?'

Both boys would need time to get over the experience, thought Fidelma. She smiled again, this time a little falsely, and nodded assent.

As the door of the chamber closed behind the boy, Brother Rumann gave a distressed clucking sound before waddling back along the corridor.

Fidelma slowly retraced her steps to the stairway. Cass measured his pace to her shorter one.

'Poor little ones,' observed Cass. 'A bad thing has happened to them. I hope Salbach will find and punish Intat and his men soon.'

Fidelma nodded absently.

'At least the boy's need seems to have stirred a response in Sister Eisten. I was more worried about her than the children. Children have a resilience. But Eisten took the death of the baby badly this morning.'

'There was nothing she could have done for it,' replied Cass logically, dismissing the emotional aspect of the event. 'Even if we had not been forced to camp in the open last night, the child would surely have died. I saw it had the plague symptoms.'

'Deus vult' Fidelma replied automatically with a fatalism which she did not really believe. God wills it.

The chiming of the bell for vespers, the sixth canonical hour, brought Fidelma reluctantly from a deep sleep. Listening to the chimes, she realized that it was too late to join the brethren in the abbey church and so she dragged herself out of bed and began to intone the prayer of the hour. Most of the rituals of the church in the five kingdoms were still conducted in Greek, the language of the Faith in which the holy scriptures had been written.