of Muman against the claims of Laigin.'
Fidelma set her jaw firmly and said in measured tones: 'Truly, Cass, I do not have to be reminded of my responsibilities. There is worse news than the imminent assembly and that is that someone has stolen some of our evidence from Brocc's chamber. Apparently, the stupid man mentioned the fact that I had left it there to several people and so certain items have been taken from my
Cass raised his eyebrows.
'Certain items?' he repeated. 'Why not steal the entire bag?'
Fidelma jerked her head up as his words registered. She had overlooked the obvious. Only the Ogham stick and the vellum had been taken. Yet the bindings and Grella's skirt, from which they had been taken, were left. What did that signify? Why was the thief so selective about what evidence they had removed?
She considered matters for a moment and then gave a sigh of frustration.
'Where are you off to now?' demanded Cass as Fidelma suddenly began striding away across the courtyard that separated the hostel from the abbey church.
'There is something I should have done before we left for Sceilig Mhichil,' she called across her shoulder. 'Sister Necht had just reminded me of it.'
'Sister Necht?'
Cass trailed after her. He was beginning to be exhausted by Fidelma's abrupt changes and wished she would confide in him more readily than she did.
'It seems that we are running here and there and the more we move the less close we get to our goal,' he complained. 'I thought that the ancients taught that such excessive motion does not necessarily mean progression?'
Fidelma, engrossed in her own anxieties, was irritated by what she perceived as the warrior's bland remark.
'If you can solve this puzzle by sitting in a room, staring at the wall, then do so.'
The sourness in her tone caused Cass to wince a little.
'I am not criticizing you,' he said hurriedly, 'but what good will a visit to the abbey church do?'
'Let us discover,' Fidelma replied curtly.
Brother Rumann, the steward, was coming out of the door of the abbey as they went up the steps.
'I heard that you had returned from Sceilig Mhichil,' he greeted in his wheezy tones, full of affability. 'How was your journey? Have you learnt anything?'
'The journey was fine,' she replied evenly, 'but how did you know we went to Sceilig Mhichil?'
The even tone disguised the fact that she was suddenly on guard. She had, in fact, been very careful not to tell even her cousin, the Abbot Brocc, where she was going. No one in the abbey should have known.
Rumann looked uneasy and frowned.
'I am not sure. Someone mentioned it. I think it might have been Brother Midach. Was it a secret?'
Fidelma did not reply but changed the subject.
'I am told that the tomb of the Blessed Fachtna is contained within the abbey church? Can you tell me where it is located?'
'Of course.' Rumann positively preened himself. 'It is a place of pilgrimage on the fourteenth day of the feast of Lunasa, his feastday. Let me show you, sister.'
Rumann turned and began to move wheezily along the lengthy nave beyond the transept to the High Altar.
'Have you heard the story of how Fachtna was blind when he came to this spot and, thanks to the intercession of a great miracle here at Ros Ailithir, where there was then nothing but open lands, he received his sight back and, in gratitude, built this abbey?' asked Rumann.
'I have heard the story,' replied Fidelma, though not responding to the steward's enthusiasm for his subject.
Rumann conducted them up the steps that surrounded the slightly raised area on which the High Altar stood and then move around behind it into the apse, the vaulted curved recess behind the altar where the officiating priest or abbot usually conducted the rituals of the 'dismissal' in accordance with the rites of the Church. In the apse lay a large sandstone slab which stood three inches above the rest of the floor. Incongruously, at the head of the slab, on a small stone plinth stood a statue of a cherub. At the foot of the slab was a similar plinth with a seraph upon it.
'You will see just a simple cross,' pointed Rumann, 'and the name Fachtna in the ancient Ogham script.'
'Do you read Ogham?' she asked innocently.
'My role as steward of the abbey requires me to be proficient in many forms of learning.' Rumann's fleshy face was complacent.
Fidelma turned back to the stone slab.
'What lies beneath this stone?' she queried.
Rumann looked puzzled.
'Why the sepulcher of Fachtna, of course. It is the only tomb within the abbey walls.'
'I mean, what sort of tomb is it? A hole in the ground, a cave or what?'
'Well, no one has ever opened it since Fachtna was interred there over a century ago.'
'Really? Yet you described it as a sepulcher.'
'It is true that it is known as the sepulcher,' replied Rumann. 'Perhaps it is some sort of catacomb or cave. It would be sacrilege to enter to confirm that. There are several such caves hereabouts. We have other interesting tombs of that sort at Ros Ailithir but most of them lie without the walls of the abbey.'
'Then there is no entrance to this sepulcher from the walled garden at the back of the church?' she demanded abruptly.
Rumann stared down at her in bewilderment.
'No. Whatever makes you ask such a question?'
'So the only entrance to the sepulcher is by the removal of this sandstone slab. It seems too strong and heavy.'
'That it is, sister. And no one has been able to remove it in over a century.'
Cass began asking Rumann about other burial places for he could see that Fidelma wanted to be left to her own devices for a few moments. The plump-faced house steward's attention was distracted.
Fidelma went down on one knee by the great slab. She reached out a hand to touch that which had attracted her attention. It was slippery and cold. Cold candle grease spilt into a crevice by the old stone.
Someone entered the church with a noisy clatter of the great doors. Fidelma rose swiftly and saw that it was Brother Conghus who had entered and was beckoning frantically to Rumann.
The steward excused himself and hurried off down the aisle of the nave.
When he had gone Fidelma turned to Cass with lowered voice.
'There is a way into that sepulcher, I swear it.'
Cass raised an eyebrow.
'What makes you say that? And what has it to do with the investigation?'
'Look at that candle grease and tell me what you observe.'
Cass looked down.
'It's just candle grease. There are plenty of such spots in the church. You can break a leg by slipping on them unless you watch where you tread.'
She sighed impatiently.
'Yes. But they are all where they should be. Under candle holders. This spot is in a place where no candles hang. And see the way it has fallen.'
'I don't understand.'
'Really, Cass. Look. Observe. Deduce. Do you see that the edge of the stone slab is a straight line where it rests on the floor? Around it are splashes of candle grease which have grown cold. Look closer. Look at the join. It is as if the grease had been dropped before the slab was put in place, that the slab was slung back over the top of it.'
Cass rubbed the back of his neck in his bewilderment.
'I still don't understand.'
