Suffer Little Children

'Inside, quickly, Cass,' she instructed.

He followed her somewhat reluctantly and when he had passed into Sister Grella's chamber she closed the door and fumbled for a candle.

'This is surely wrong, sister,' muttered Cass. 'We should not be in this room uninvited.'

Lighting the candle and standing back, Fidelma regarded Cass scornfully.

'As a dalaigh of the court I can demand the right to search a person or premises where I have a reasonable suspicion of misconduct.'

'Then you do believe that Sister Grella killed her former husband and Sister Eisten?'

Fidelma motioned him to silence and began searching the room. For someone who had spent eight years in the abbey, Sister Grella's chamber was exceedingly sparse in personal objects. A book of devotions was placed by the bed and a few toilet articles, combs and such matter. She examined a large pitcher which was full of liquid. Fidelma sniffed suspiciously at it and her lips narrowed into a cynical smile. It was cuirm, the strong mead fermented from malted barley. It seemed Sister Grella liked to drink in the solitude of her chamber.

She turned to some clothes hanging from a line of pegs but was not really interested in them. There was little here of interest. It was only half-heartedly that she turned to a satchel she had spotted hanging on a peg under some of the clothes and rummaged through merely to complete her search. At first, she thought that it contained only a few undergarments. She drew them out and examined them by the light of the candle. Then among them she noticed a linen skirt which caused her to gasp in sudden satisfaction.

'Cass, examine this,' she whispered.

The warrior bent forward.

'A parti-colored linen skirt,' he began, dismissively. 'What… ?'

He paused and suddenly realized what it was.

'Blue and red. The color of the strips which bound Dacan.'

Fidelma turned to the hem of the skirt. A long strip of material had, indeed, been torn away. She expelled the air from her lungs with a long, low whistling sound.

'Then Grella is the murderess!' announced Cass in excitement. 'Here is the proof.'

Fidelma was equally excited but her legal mind urged caution.

'It is only proof of where the material, which bound Dacan, came from. However, this dress does not look like anything that a librarian of an abbey would wear. But, truthfully, Sister Grella does not seem typical of a librarian. Nevertheless, Cass, you may be called upon to witness where I found this skirt.'

'That I shall,' agreed the warrior willingly. 'I do not see that there is cause for any doubt. Grella lied to you about her relationship with Dacan and now we have found this! Is any more proof needed?'

Fidelma did not reply as she repacked the other materials in the satchel but bundled up the skirt into her marsupium. She walked back to the bed to make a final check. As she did so the toe of her shoe hit something on the floor; an obstruction which did not give but sent a sharp pain into her foot.

She bent immediately to the floor and peered at it. There was a loose flagstone on the floor. It was this that she had stubbed her toe on. It stood slightly proud from the other floor stones and rocked a little as she touched it.

'Help me with this, Cass,' she instructed.

The warrior took out his large knife and inserted it, easing the stone up. There was a cavity underneath. Fidelma held her candle high and peered in. She pulled forth a bundle of vellum.

Fidelma unrolled the vellum and peered at the careful calligraphy.

'The writings of Dacan,' she whispered. 'Grella was hiding them all along.'

'Then no other proof is needed. She must have killed Dacan!' remarked Cass with satisfaction.

Fidelma was too busy examining the contents of the writing to comment.

'It is a letter to his brother, the Abbot Noe.' Then she corrected herself. 'No, it is only a draft of a letter. He talks about searching for the heirs of the native kings of Osraige. But he has spilt ink over it and this is why the sheet is discarded. Listen to this, Cass… 'The son of Ulan, according to the record, has just reached the age of choice. He is old enough to be considered for the kingship. I have discovered my quarry to be hiding in the monastery of Finan at Sceilig Mhichil under the protection of his cousin. Tomorrow, I shall depart from here and go there.' Look when this is dated!' She thrust the vellum at Cass and indicated the date. 'This must have been written a few hours before he was killed.'

'What quarry?' demanded Cass. 'It seems an odd choice of words, as if Dacan was a hunter?'

'Do you know this monastery at Sceilig Mhichil?'

'I have never been there but I know it to be a small settlement on a rock-like island in the sea out to the west.'

'Dacan never set out to Sceilig Mhichil,' she murmured. 'He was dead a few hours after writing this.'

Fidelma did not replace the vellum in its hiding place but put it in her marsupium along with the skirt. She then bent to put the flagstone back in place and stood up.

'Sister Grella will have much to explain,' she observed.

She gazed round the chamber for a moment then blew out the candle and cautiously opened the door. There was no one outside and she moved quickly out, motioning Cass to follow. As she shut the door, she turned sharply on her heel and hurried along the corridor.

'Where now?' demanded Cass, a little aggrieved that he had to ask.

'To find Sister Grella,' she replied curtly.

'Where should we start?'

They started by asking Brother Rumann the steward, but when a full hour had produced no sign of the missing librarian, Cass suggested: 'Perhaps she has left the abbey?'

'Is there no aistreoir in this abbey?' snapped Fidelma.

'The doorkeeper is Brother Conghus,' Cass replied automatically before realizing that she had asked the question rhetorically. He succeeded in receiving a crushing glance of scorn from the fiery green eyes of Fidelma.

'I am aware of that,' she said tightly. 'It seems, however, that people can pass out of this abbey and vanish as they will. Firstly, Eisten vanished; then the two boys from Rae na Serine, and now the librarian is nowhere to be found.'

At least Brother Conghus had not vanished. He was in his small officium next to the gates of the abbey making notations on wax tablets. He glanced up in surprise as Fidelma entered without ceremony.

'Sister? How can I help you?' he asked, slowly rising to his feet.

'I am seeking Sister Grella,' replied Fidelma.

The doorkeeper raised a shoulder and let it fall in a negative fashion.

'Then the library… ?' he began, but Fidelma cut him short.

'If she had been there, we would not be here. Neither was she in her chamber. Has she left the abbey?'

Brother Conghus immediately shook his head.

'It is my task to record the comings and goings of people to and from the abbey,' he said. 'So far as my records show, Sister Grella has not left.'

'Do you keep a record every day?'

'Of course.'

'But this is not the only entrance to the abbey,' she pointed out.

'It is the main entrance,' replied Conghus. 'The rule is that everyone leaving or entering the abbey must report their movements so that we may know who is within the abbey walls.'

'But if she had left by the side entrance… ?'

'She would have informed me. It is the rule,' Conghus repeated.

'Earlier this evening, I left the abbey by the rear gate whose path leads to the shore. Then I returned and brought the captain of the Laigin warship with me. He stayed in the abbey a while before departing again to his ship. Do your records speak of this?'