thought. The sister seemed to be teaching the children short airs, happy and joyful.
Brother Molua returned smiling.
'This is a peaceful spot, brother,' Fidelma observed approvingly.
'I am content with it, sister,' agreed Molua. 'Come this way. Aibnat!'
A round-faced, homely woman came to the door of one of the buildings. She seemed to share Molua's bluff, smiling features.
'Aibnat, we have guests. This is my radiant wife, Aibnat.'
Fidelma saw that Molua was possessed of a sense of humor for the meaning of the woman's name was 'radiant girl.'
'I heard that you were both at Ros Ailithir,' the woman greeted them. 'Were you not there to investigate old Dacan's death?'
Fidelma nodded affirmatively.
'Enough time to talk when our guests have eaten, Aibnat,' chided Molua as he ushered them all into the building. They found themselves in a warm chamber in which an oven threw out heat. On it were great pots simmering with aromatic ingredients. Molua motioned them to be seated at a table and produced a pitcher and several pottery goblets.
'Let me offer you some of my special
Cass readily agreed while Fidelma gazed approvingly around at the kitchen.
'How many do you have to feed here?' she asked, interested in the large number of cooking pots.
It was Afbnat who replied.
'At the moment we have twenty children under the age of fourteen here, sister. And there are four of us to look after them. My husband, myself and two other sisters of the Faith.'
Molua poured the drinks and they sipped the rough but pleasant-tasting spirit with relish.
'How long has this orphanage been here?' asked Cass.
'Since the first devastations of the Yellow Plague two years ago. Some communities were so badly hit that entire families were wiped out and there was no one to care for the children who remained,' explained Afbnat. 'That was when my husband sought permission of the Abbot Brocc at Ros Ailithir to turn his small farmstead here into a place of refuge for the orphans.'
'You seem to be succeeding very well,' Fidelma approved.
'Will you eat, after your journey?' invited Molua.
'We are hungry,' acknowledged Cass, for they had not eaten since that morning.
'But it lacks several hours before your evening meal,' Fidelma pointed out, with a sharp, reproving look at the young warrior.
'That's of little consequence.' Afbnat smiled. 'A plate of cold badger meat or… I know… I have a meat pudding, the meat of the sheep, cooked with rowan berries and wild garlic. That complemented by kale and onions and barley bread. Then a dish of sloes and honey to finish with. What would you say to that?'
Molua was smiling happily.
'My wife has a reputation as the best cook of the Corco Lofgde.'
'A well-deserved one if the choice of food is anything to go by,' applauded Cass.
Afbnat was blushing with pleasure.
'We have hives here, so the honey is our own.'
'I had noticed that you have an abundance of beeswax candles,' Fidelma observed. In many poorer homes the usual form of candlewax was often meat grease or melted tallow into which a peeled rush had been dipped.
'Now while Aibnat prepares the food,' Molua said, sitting down and refilling their goblets from the pitcher of mead, 'you may tell me why my poor house has been so honored by your presence.'
'A week ago Aibnat brought some children here.'
'Yes. Two little girls, no more than nine, and a boy about eight years old,' agreed Molua.
Aibnat turned from her culinary preparations, frowning.
'Yes. They were the children rescued from Rae na Scrfne. Didn't you have something to do with that?'
Cass smiled grimly.
'Indeed. We were the ones who rescued them.'
Molua was shaking his head.
'We heard of that terrible crime. It is beyond understanding that people can be so cruel to their neighbors in time of distress. Such injustice has been condemned by everyone.'
Fidelma could not help airing her cynicism.
'It was Plato who wrote that mankind always censures injustice but only because they fear to become victims of it and not because they shrink from committing it.'
Molua's face was sad.
'I cannot believe that, sister. I do not believe that man sets out purposely to commit injustice. He always does it because he is blinded by some distorted image of a perceived morality, or of a just cause.'
'What morality or just cause, however distorted, could have been raised at Rae na Serine?' demanded Cass.
Molua shrugged.
'I am but a simple farmer. When I cultivate a field, turning it with my plow, I destroy life. I destroy the natural grasses and growths in that field. I destroy the natural habitats of field voles, of badgers and other creatures. To them, that is injustice. To me, it is a just cause—the cause of feeding starving people.'
'Animals!' Cass muttered. 'Who is concerned about justice for animals?'
Molua looked pained.
'Are they not also God's creatures?'
'I see the point that you are making, Molua,' Fidelma intervened. 'In intellectual discourse, we would doubtless agree. There was a reason why the deed was done at Rae na Serine but whether the reason was thought justifiable the action is not and cannot be.'
Molua inclined his head.
'I accept that.'
'Very well. There were two boys named Cetach and Cosrach, also from Rae na Serine, who were supposed to be brought to this orphanage. But they disappeared. One was about ten and the other was older—perhaps fifteen. They had black hair.'
Aibnat and Molua exchanged a look and both shook their heads.
'No children answering those descriptions have turned up here.'
'No. I did not think they would. But perhaps I might be allowed to question the other children?' pressed Fidelma. 'They might know some details about these boys.'
Aibnat frowned slightly.
'I would not like the children to be upset. Remembering that terrible event may unsettle them.'
Fidelma tried to be reassuring.
'I would not ask these questions if it were not important. I cannot guarantee that they will not get upset. Nevertheless, I must insist in this matter.'
Molua nodded slowly.
'She has the right,' he explained to his wife. 'She is a
Aibnat looked unpersuaded.
'Then let me be with them when you ask these questions, sister.'
'Of course,' Fidelma agreed readily. 'Let us go now and speak with them, just the two of us. Then they will not be intimidated.'
'All right,' agreed Aibnat, glancing at Molua. 'You can finish preparing the food for our guests while we do so,' she instructed.
Afbnat led the way to the small chapel and called to the children playing there. At her call, two little girls and a sulky-looking boy detached themselves reluctantly from the throng of playing, shouting children. Fidelma could barely recognize them as the terrified children she had found among the ashes and ruins of Rae na Serine. They
