Suffer Little Children

'Then someone did remove at least one of the rods of this 'Son of Mugain,' ' Fidelma pointed out. 'How else could it have been found in Dacan's chamber?'

'I can make no answer to that question.'

'And are you saying that he never left his notes or writings here in the library?'

Sister Grella sat stiffly before her.

'I can assure you that I know nothing of that matter.'

'Did you know Assi'd, the merchant?'

The change of tack was so abrupt that Sister Grella asked her to repeat the question.

'I saw him at the evening meal on the night of Dacan's death,' Sister Grella replied. 'What has this man to do with the matter?'

'Did you observe if Dacan knew Assi'd?'

There was no reaction on Grella's features.

'Assi'd was from Laigin. Most people knew, or at least knew of, Dacan in that kingdom.'

'I believe that it was Assi'd who must have taken the news of Dacan's death directly to Fearna,' Fidelma continued. 'The news of his death traveled swiftly and only a fast sailing barc, taking the coastal route, could have reached Fearna in such a time.'

'I could not make a comment on that.'

'Well, could it be that Assi'd might have taken Dacan's notes with him?'

'Are you saying that Assi'd stole them?' demanded Grella. She did not seem surprised nor outraged.

'It is a possible explanation.'

'Possible, yes,' agreed Sister Grella. 'But you are surely implying that Assi'd killed Dacan?'

'I have not reached such a conclusion yet.'

Fidelma rose from her seat.

Sister Grella regarded her impassively.

'Such an explanation would allow the king at Cashel to wriggle off the hook of responsibility.'

Fidelma looked down at her with a trace of a smile.

'How so?'

'Why, if Dacan was killed by a man of Laigin then the Laigin claim for Osraige as Dacan's honor price would become irrelevant, wouldn't it?'

'Exactly so,' agreed Fidelma solemnly.

She turned and left Sister Grella still seated in her chair and walked back through the stillness of the Tech Screptra, amid the sighing breaths, rustle of vellum leaves and scratching of quills.

A figure caught her eye among the racks bearing the book satchels. The figure attracted attention mainly because it was obvious that it did not wish to be observed by her, Had it been examining the books she might not have taken any notice. But the figure was so ostentatiously trying to look like an earnest reader in the library that it was immediately worthy of a second glance. Well, if the figure so obviously did not want to be seen by her, Fidelma reasoned that she should not give notice that she had spotted it.

It was the young, eager Sister Necht.

Outside the gloomy, candle-lit Tech Screptra, the day had turned chill, the storm clouds suddenly bunching up from the west again, bringing a slow drizzling rain with them.

Fidelma groaned softly and began to hurry towards the hostel.

In the entrance chamber Brother Rumann had ensured that a slow-burning fire had been lit in the great hearth. Fidelma was glad of its warmth, for the weather was truly disheartening. She wondered if Sister Eisten or the children had reappeared yet and made her way along to their chambers. The doors were open but the chambers stood empty.

Fidelma compressed her lower lip a moment. She realized that not only were the children's chambers empty but there was no sign that they had ever been occupied.

Frowning, Fidelma hurried along the corridor to the chamber which Brother Rumann used as his officium.

The plump cenobite was seated before his brandubh board apparently working out some moves.

He glanced up in surprise as Fidelma entered after only the briefest of knocks.

'Ah, it is you, sister.' His face wreathed in a smile and he glanced down at the board. 'Have you come to challenge me to that match we spoke of?'

Fidelma gave a quick negative shake of her head.

'Not for the moment, Brother Rumann. I am more interested in where the children are.'

'The children?'

'The children of Rae na Serine.'

His face seemed to reshape itself as if bewildered.

'Why, the children were taken to Brother Midach after the midday meal. Did you want to see them before they left?'

'Left? For where?'

'Brother Midach was going to give them a final examination, to ensure that there were no signs of the plague, and then Sister Afbnat was to take them to the orphanage along the coast which is cared for by the good sister and Brother Molua. I think that they must have left by now.'

'Have they all gone?'

'I think so, sister. Brother Midach would know.'

Fidelma found herself hurrying in search of the abbey's chief physician.

Brother Midach turned out to have the rounded features of an entertainer rather than those commonly associated with a physician. They were certainly in keeping with Fidelma's general prejudice that all physicians were possessed of humor, for they were creased with many laughter lines. He was balding, so it was hard to see where his tonsure began and what was natural baldness. His lips were thin, the eyes warmly brown and humorous and there was a careless stubble on his cheeks.

Fidelma entered his chambers without knocking. The physician was alone, apparently engaged in mixing some herbs. He glanced up with a frown.

'I am Fidelma of Kildare,' she began.

The physician examined her carefully before replying, but did not pause in what he was doing.

'My colleague, Brother Tola, has spoken of you. Are you seeking him?'

'No. I am told that you examined the children from Rae na Serine this afternoon. Is that so?'

The physician raised his dark, bushy eyebrows.

'That is so. The abbot thought it was best to send them on directly to the care of Brother Molua, who has a house along the coast and cares for orphans. Sister Afbnat was instructed to take them there. I was asked to examine them to see if they were fit.'

Fidelma showed her disappointment.

'So they have all gone?'

Midach nodded absently as he continued to pulp leaves by grinding his pestle in a mortar.

'We have no facilities for children here,' he explained in a conversational tone. 'The two little girls were very healthy,' he smiled. 'And the sooner the young boy, Tressach, is with others of his kind, the happier he will be. Yes, they will be better off in the house of Molua.'

Fidelma was about to turn for the door when she hesitated and frowned at the chief physician.

'You say nothing of the two brothers—Cetach and Cosrach?'

Midach raised his head from the mortar, his eyes suddenly dark and fathomless.

'What two brothers?' he demanded. 'There were two sisters…'

'The black-haired boys,' she interrupted impatiently.

Midach pulled a doleful face.

'I know nothing of any black-haired boys. I was asked to examine the two girls and a young lad of eight years old.'