Suffer Little Children

warship. As they drew nearer, she could see that there were several lanterns illuminating the deck of the sleek- looking vessel. There were signs of men moving here and there.

They were within a few yards when a voice challenged their approach.

'Respond,' muttered Fidelma, as Cass hesitated at the oars.

'Laigin ship, ahoy!' called the warrior. 'A dalaigh of the court of the Brehons demands to come aboard.'

There were several seconds of silence before the same voice that had hailed them responded.

'Come aboard and welcome.'

Cass brought the small craft alongside, under a rope ladder which led up to the side rail. A rope was thrown down for Cass to make the boat secure while Fidelma swung agilely up the ladder and over the rail.

She found half a dozen tough-looking men waiting on the deck and staring at her in surprise.

She heard Cass climbing up behind her. A man with indistinguishable features came forward with the rolling gait of a seaman and stared from Fidelma to Cass. Then he fixed his eyes on Cass.

'What do you want, dalaigh?' he demanded roughly.

Fidelma hissed in irritation.

'It is me whom you should address,' she snapped. 'I am Sister Fidelma of Kildare, dalaigh of the court of the Brehons.'

The man turned in astonishment which he hastily checked.

'From Kildare, eh? Do you represent Laigin?'

Fidelma was annoyed by the complication that her foundation of Kildare was actually situated in the kingdom of Laigin.

'No. I am of the community of Kildare but I represent the kingdom of Muman in this business.'

The sailor shuffled his feet a little.

'Sister, I do not wish to appear inhospitable, but this is a warship of the king of Laigin, acting under his orders. I do not see that you have any business here.'

'Then let me remind you of the Laws of the Sea,' Fidelma replied slowly, with careful emphasis. She wished she had a greater knowledge but was banking on the sailor having a lesser knowledge than her own. 'Firstly, I am a dalaigh investigating the crime of murder. Secondly, your ship, even though it is a ship of Laigin, lies at anchor in a bay of Muman. It has not sought the permission or hospitality of Muman.'

'You are wrong sister,' came the voice of the sailor; his triumphant tones were undisguised. 'We lie at anchor here with the full permission of Salbach, chieftain of the Corco Loigde.'

Fidelma was glad that the light of the lanterns did not fall directly on her face. She swallowed in her total astonishment. Was it true that Salbach had given permission to the Laigin ship to intimidate the abbey of Ros Ailithir? What could this mean? She would certainly not discover if she were forced to leave like a whipped cur with its tail between its legs. A bluff was worth trying. What was it the Brehon Morann had once said? 'Without a degree of deception, no great enterprise can ever be concluded.'

'The chieftain of the Corco Loigde may well have given you permission but that permission is not legal without the approval of the king at Cashel.'

'Cashel is many miles away, sister,' sneered the sailor. 'What the king of Cashel does not know, he cannot rule upon.'

'But I am here. I am the sister of Colgu, king of Cashel. And I can speak in my brother's name.'

There was a silence as the sailor digested this. She heard him exhale his breath slowly.

'Very well, lady,' replied the man, with a little more respect in his voice. 'What do you seek here?'

'I seek to talk to the captain of this vessel in private.'

'I am the captain,' the man replied. 'Come aft to my cabin.'

Fidelma glanced at Cass.

'Wait for me here, Cass. I shall not be long.'

The warrior looked unhappy in the light of the swinging deck lanterns.

The sailor led the way to the stern of the vessel and conducted her to a cabin below deck. It was small, crowded and smelt strongly of a man living in a confined space, body odors permeated together with the stench of the oil lamps and other smells which she could not place. For a moment or two she regretted not conducting her business on the deck in the fresh air but she did not want to let the eager ears of the sailors and warriors hear what she had to discuss.

'Lady,' invited the captain, indicating the only chair in the small crowded cabin while he himself sprawled on the end of a bunk.

Fidelma lowered herself gently into the cramped wooden seat.

'You have the advantage of me, captain,' Fidelma began. 'You know my name, yet I do not know your name.'

The sailor grinned easily.

'Mugron. A fitting name for a sailor.'

Fidelma found herself answering his smile. The name meant 'lad of the seals.' Then she brought her thoughts back to the matter in hand.

'Well, Mugron, I would firstly like to know the purpose of your presence in the inlet of Ros Ailithir.'

Mugron waved a hand as if to encompass his surroundings.

'I am here at the request of my king, Fianamail of Laigin.'

'That does not explain matters. Do you come in peace or war?'

'I came to deliver a message to Brocc, abbot of Ros Ailithir, telling him that my king holds him responsible for the death of his cousin, the Venerable Dacan.'

'You have delivered the message. What do you seek here now?'

'I am to wait to ensure that, when the time comes, Brocc answers to his responsibility. My king would not like him to vanish from Ros Ailithir until the High King's assembly meets at Tara. My king's Brehon has told us that this is within the law of distraint. As I said, we also have the permission of Salbach to anchor here.'

Fidelma realized, dredging some half-forgotten law from her memory, that under this pretext the ship of Mugron was acting legally. In legal terms the ship was anchored outside the abbey in order to force Brocc to concede his responsibility for the death of Dacan, even though his hand did not commit the deed itself, and until proof was offered that he was not responsible the ship could sit there. The law went further and entitled the Abbot Noe, as closest relative to Dacan, to make a ritual fast against Brocc until culpability was admitted.

'You delivered a message to Brocc when you arrived here. Was that the official apad—the notice of this act?'

'It was,' agreed Mugron. 'It was done according to the instruction of the Brehon of my king.'

Fidelma compressed her lips angrily.

She should have realized the situation sooner when she saw the bunch of twisted branches of osiers and aspens hanging at the gate of the abbey. This withe, as it was called, was the sign of a distraint against a monastic superior. It was a long time since she had had recourse to the text known as Di Chetharshlicht Athgabala setting out the complex rituals and law on distraint. What she did remember was that she was allowed to make three mistakes in the law without fine because it was so complex. She conceded that her first mistake was in her lapse of memory of the law of distraint.

The weather-beaten face of the sailor creased cynically as he saw the expression on her face.

'The king of Laigin places the law above all things, lady,' he said with gentle emphasis.

'It is the law that I shall speak to you about, now that I know your purpose here,' Fidelma replied spiritedly.

'What would a simple sailor, such as I, know about the law?' countered Mugron. 'I do as I am told.'

'You have admitted that you are here as an instrument of the law, instructed by the Brehon of your king,' Fidelma responded quickly. 'You know enough law for that.'

Mugron's eyes widened at the way she refused to be intimidated and then he grinned.

'Very well. Of what would you speak?'

'A sister of the Faith was pulled out of the water near your ship a short while ago. She was dead.'

'One of my men reported the incident to me,' agreed Mugron. 'It happened just before nightfall. Two fisherman had snared the body in their nets. They rowed it to the shore.'