Suffer Little Children

you killed him to prevent him finding the heir of Ulan in order to please your lover, Salbach.'

'No! This is not true. You cannot claim that I am guilty of that deed!'

'No? Perhaps not. It seems that it will be for the High King's assembly to decide.'

'Yet you know, in the heart, Fidelma, that it is not true,' pressed Grella angrily.

'I am appointed by the king of Cashel. I can only follow my duty. I have a war to prevent. Cass!'

The young warrior came into the cabin. He looked from Grella's white, pinched face to Fidelma's stern expression.

'Cass, Sister Grella will be returning with us to Ros Ailithir as our prisoner.'

'Then she has confessed?' The relief on Cass's face was obvious.

Grella hissed angrily.

'Confess to something I did not do? Take me as a prisoner to the abbey. Salbach will free me—one way or the other!'

'Don't count on it.' Cass smiled without humor.

They returned together to Ros Ailithir. Fidelma led the way while Cass rode close beside Sister Grella. Fidelma was quiet during the short ride, deep in thought. There was something nagging at her. If Sister Grella was being truthful then she was no nearer to Dacan's killer than before. She had not even proved the link between Salbach and Intat. Even if Grella had killed Dacan, betrayed her soul-friend Eisten, could she have also killed her? And where were the sons of Ulan? Why had Dacan been so sure that there was an heir at the age of choice? Where were these boys called 'Primus' and 'Victor'… ? 'Victor' and 'Primus'… 'Primus'…

Chapter Sixteen

Victor!

That was the name which kept troubling Fidelma; it had been tumbling around in her mind since Sceilig Mhichil. The images of the two black-haired boys from Rae na Serine were also in her mind's eye. But the sons of Ulan had been described as copper-haired. Yet the name, the name Victor… Hie est meum. Victor. Didn't the name mean 'triumphant' and 'victorious' and wasn't the equivalent in Irish— Cosrach?

She suddenly gasped at the ease of the solution to the conundrum. The sons of Ulan had been called Primus and Victor. Primus meant 'first' and wasn't Cetach just a pet form of cet which also meant 'first'? Cetach bore the name of a son of the legendary prince who founded the kingdom of Osraige. Primus—Cetach. Victor—Cosrach! Although the two boys had vanished, surely the other children from Rae na Serine might be able to identify or describe the religieux who had brought them to Sister Eisten for safekeeping.

She halted her horse, abruptly causing a startled Cass to draw rein lest his steed collide with her. Sister Grella's mount, almost impacting with his, shied and nearly stumbled.

Fidelma cursed softly under her breath, blaming herself for a fool that she had not seen that simple solution before.

'What is it?' Cass demanded, a hand snaking to his sword hilt, looking around as if expecting an attack from an unseen enemy.

'An idea!' she replied happily. She knew now whom Dacan had been searching for and why Cetach had been so afraid of Salbach. It must have been Cetach and Cosrach whom Intat had been sent to kill when he set fire to Rae na Serine.

'Only an idea? I thought there was danger,' Cass complained in annoyance.

'There is nothing more dangerous than an idea, Cass,' laughed Fidelma, intoxicated with the simple logic of her conclusion. 'A single idea, if it is right, saves us years of laborious experience, the harsh learning of trial and error.'

Cass glanced around nervously.

'Ideas may not threaten our lives with swords and arrows.'

Fidelma chuckled dryly, still happy with her thoughts.

'They may be more harmful than that. Come on.'

Without further explanation, she urged her horse to break into a canter along the trail leading down into Ros Ailithir.

Brother Conghus met them at the gate and, as they arrived, the abbot himself came hurrying up.

'Sister Grella!' he gasped, looking from Grella to Fidelma in astonishment. 'You have captured the culprit, cousin?'

Fidelma, to Cass's surprise, made no effort to dismount. She leant forward across the pommel of her saddle and spoke quietly to her cousin.

'Grella is to be held securely on my authority. She has much to answer for before the assembly of the High King when it meets here. What she wants to tell you as an explanation for her disappearance is entirely up to her.'

Abbot Brocc looked anxiously.

'Does this mean that you have reached a conclusion?' He glanced across his shoulder at the abbey with an almost conspiratorial air. 'The High King and his retinue have already arrived. Barren, the Chief Brehon, has been asking about you and…'

Fidelma held up a hand to silence the worried abbot.

'I can say no more at this time. We will return as soon as possible.'

'Return? Where are you going?' Brocc's voice was almost a wail as Fidelma urged her horse away from the abbey gates.

'Guard Sister Grella well, if for nothing less than her own safety,' Fidelma called across her shoulder.

Cass, his face showing that he was equally as perplexed as the abbot, urged his horse after her.

'If you cannot tell the abbot, sister,' he complained, after he had caught up with her, 'perhaps you can tell me? Where are we going now?'

'I need to find the orphanage where the children from Rae na Serine were taken,' she replied. 'I know it lies along this coast to the east.'

'You mean the place run by Brother Molua?'

'Do you know it?' She was surprised.

'I know of it,' Cass asserted. 'I spoke to Brother Martan about it. It should not be too difficult to find. It lies about ten miles to the east of here along the coast near a tidal estuary. But why do you want to go to this orphanage? What knowledge can we pick up there?'

'Oh, Cass!' muttered Fidelma, 'if I knew that, I would not need to go!'

Cass shrugged helplessly but followed as Fidelma urged her horse along the highway.

It proved, as Cass said, not more than ten miles across a broad headland. There were several stone and timber buildings which rose above the mud banks of a large tidal estuary into which a river pushed sedately from the mountains to the north. They had to cross the river at a narrow ford which led to the cluster of buildings which, Fidelma noticed as she grew nearer, were surrounded by a wooden fencing. A broad-shouldered man met them at the gates. He wore the clothes of a forest worker but Fidelma noticed the crucifix which hung around his muscular neck.

'Bene vobis, my friends,' he called out as they halted their horses before him. He had a loud baritone voice, full of joviality, and a smiling face to match it.

'And health to you,' replied Fidelma. 'Are you Brother Molua?'

'My given name is Lugaid being named after Lugaid Loigde, the progenitor of the Corco Lofgde. But as it is such a distinguished name, sister, why, I merely answer to its more gentle diminutive. Molua suits me better. How may I serve you?'

Fidelma slid from her horse and introduced herself and Cass.

'It is not often that we have such distinguished visitors,' the big man said. 'An advocate of the court and a warrior of the king of Cashel's elite. Come, let me first stable your horses and then, perhaps, you will allow my house to offer you hospitality after your journey?'

Fidelma did not protest as the man insisted on leading off their horses to a stable. She gazed about the small complex of buildings with interest. There were several children playing around what was a chapel, in fact no bigger than an oratory. An elderly religieuse was sitting under a tree further on with half a dozen children round her. She was playing a small wooden reed pipe, a cui-sech, and she played it well, so Fidelma