expecting the cousin to be this aging Father Superior.
'I am not in the habit of lying, woman,' snapped the old man. 'Now, do you believe me to be in danger of my life?'
Fidelma slowly shook her head. Father Mel himself was certainly no threat to the security of the current petty kings of Osraige nor a possible rallying point for any future insurrection.
'No. There is no danger for you. But I am told that there is a young heir of Illan. That his cousin, obviously yourself, was taking care of him.'
Father Mel's face was set like stone.
'There is no young heir to Ulan on this island,' he said firmly. 'You may take my holy oath of office on it.'
Could this long, arduous journey have really been for nothing? Had Dacan made that same mistake? Father Mel could not take such an oath unless it were true.
'Is there anything else?' came Father Mel's curt tone.
Fidelma rose to her feet trying to hide her disappointment.
'Nothing. I accept the truth of what you say. You shelter no young heir of Ulan.' She hesitated. 'Have you been visited by a merchant named Assid of Laigin?'
Father Mel met her gaze evenly.
'There are many merchants that land here. I do not recall all their names.'
'Then does the name of the Venerable Dacan mean anything to you?'
'As a scholar of the Faith,' replied the Father Superior easily. 'Everyone has surely heard of the man.'
'Nothing else?'
'Nothing else,' affirmed the old man. 'Now, if that is all… ?'
Fidelma led the way from the building, bitterly disappointed. Cass followed with bewilderment on his features.
'Is that all?' he asked. 'Surely, we did not come all this way for this?'
'Father Mel would not have taken oath that there was no young heir of Ulan in this monastery if there was,' Fidelma pointed out.
'Religious have been known to lie,' countered Cass darkly.
They were suddenly aware of an anchorite, a flat-faced, lugubrious-looking man of middle age, blocking their path.
'I…' The man hesitated. 'I overheard. You asked if there was anyone from Osraige here. Refugees.'
The monk's face mirrored some deep conflict of emotions.
'That's right,' she agreed. 'What is your name?'
'I am Brother Febal. I tend the gardens here.'
The monk abruptly took out of his robes a small object and handed it with all solemnity to Fidelma.
It was a corn doll. It was old, weather-worn, with the stuffing bursting out from broken joins where the weave had burst or torn.
'What's this?' demanded Cass.
Fidelma stared at it and turned it over in her hands. 'What can you tell us about this, brother?'
Brother Febal hesitated, throwing a look towards the hut of the Father Superior and he motioned them to follow a little way down the path, out of sight of the main complex of buildings.
'Father Mel has not told you the exact truth,' he confessed. 'The good Father is afraid, not for himself but for his charges.'
'I was sure that he was being frugal with the truth,' Fidelma replied gravely. 'But I cannot believe he would lie so blatantly if there was a young heir to Ulan of Osraige on this island.'
'There is not, so he spoke the truth,' Brother Febal replied. 'However, six months ago he brought two boys to the island. He told us that their father, a cousin of his, had died and he was going to take care of them for a few months until a new home could be arranged for them. When the younger child became bored here, as young children would, the elder boy made him this corn doll to amuse him. When they left, I found that the boy had left it behind.'
Fidelma looked puzzled.
'Two boys. How old?'
'One about nine years old, the other only a few years older.'
'Then there was not an older boy with them? A boy reaching the age of choice?'
To her disappointment, Brother Febal shook his head.
'There were only the two lads. They were from Osraige and cousins of Father Mel. That I know.'
'Why do you tell us this?' demanded Cass suspiciously. 'Your Father Superior did not trust us with the truth.'
'Because I recognize the emblem of the king of Cashel's bodyguard and because I overheard that you, sister, are an advocate of the courts. I do not think that you seek to harm the boys. Above all, I tell you because I fear great danger may come to them and hope that you will help them.'
'What makes you think that danger threatens?' Fidelma asked.
'Just over two weeks ago a ship arrived here with a religieux who took the two boys away with him. I heard Father Mel address the man as 'honorable cousin.' Yet within days another ship arrived here on the same mission as yourself. There was a man who demanded the same information as yourself.'
'Can you describe him?'
'A large, red-faced man, clad in a steel helmet and woollen cloak edged in fur. He claimed he was a chieftain and wore a gold chain of office.'
Fidelma swallowed in amazement.
'Intat!' cried Cass triumphantly.
Brother Febal blinked anxiously.
'Do you know the man?'
'We know that he is evil,' affirmed Fidelma. 'What did he learn about these boys?'
'Father Mel told him the same story as he told you. But one of the brothers, just as this man was departing, unintentionally mentioned the two lads and the fact that they had been taken away a short time before by a religieux.'
'And Intat went away?'
'He did. Mel was outraged. He demanded that each of us forget the boys. But I have faith that you act in the children's best interests. But not the man who came searching for them. If he finds the children…' The monk ended with an expressive shrug.
'We do seek to protect them, brother,' Fidelma assured him. 'It is true that they are in grave danger from that man, Intat. Do you know who the boys were, what their names were and where they have gone?'
'Alas, even Father Mel would not pronounce their names but called them by the Latin forms of Primus and Victor. See on the doll, that piece of rag is marked with the words '
'Can you describe them?' Fidelma did not point out that she knew well what the words meant.
'Not really. They both had burnished copper-colored hair.'
'Copper-colored?' Fidelma felt frustrated, hoping to hear something which she might have recognized.
'Did you learn where they were sent when they left here?'
'Only that the religieux who took them was from an abbey somewhere in the south. The young one, Victor, was a nice child. Return this doll to him and I shall pray to Michael the Archangel, guardian of our little monastery, for their safety.'
'Can you tell us about the religieux… what did he look like?'
'That I cannot. He kept his robes wrapped around his body and head for the weather was inclement. I did not observe his features well. He was not young but neither was he old. That is all I can say.'
'Thank you, brother. You have been most helpful.'
'I will lead you down the path and signal your ship. My conscience is easy now that I have made confession to you of this burden.'
Cass laid a restraining hand on Fidelma's arm.
'Why don't we go and confront that old goat again?' he demanded. 'Let's tell him what we know and demand
