Suffer Little Children

came clustering round the skirts of Aibnat and she led them towards a more isolated part of the compound where a felled tree provided a great seat by a small, gushing stream which ran through the settlement to join the bigger river beyond.

'Sit down, children,' instructed Aibnat, as she and Fidelma seated themselves on the log.

The boy refused, continuing to stand and kick sullenly at the log. Fidelma noticed that the boy had a little wooden toy sword in his belt. The two little girls immediately sat cross-legged on the grass before them and stared up expectantly.

'Do you recognize this lady?' inquired Aibnat.

'Yes, she is the lady who took us away so the wicked men would not find us,' replied one of the little girls solemnly.

'Where is Sister Eisten?' chimed in the other. 'When is she going to visit us?'

'Soon.' Fidelma smiled vaguely, after Aibnat had shot her a warning glance, shaking her head slightly. The children had clearly not been told what had happened to Eisten. 'Now there are some questions I want to ask. I want you all to think carefully about them before you answer. Will you do that?'

The two girls nodded seriously but the boy said nothing, scowling at the log and not meeting Fidelma's smiling gaze.

'Do you remember the other two boys who were with you when I found you?'

'I remember the baby,' said one of the little girls gravely. Fidelma recalled that her name was Cera. 'It went asleep and no one could wake it.'

Fidelma bit her lip.

'That's right,' she said encouragingly, 'but it is the boys that I am interested in.'

'They wouldn't play with us. Mean, spiteful boys! I didn't like them.' The other little girl, Ciar, set her face sternly and sat with folded arms.

'Were they mean, those boys?' pressed Fidelma eagerly. 'Who were they?'

'Just boys,' replied Ciar petulantly. 'Boys are all the same.'

She gave a look of derision toward the little boy who ceased kicking at the log and sat down abruptly.

'Girls!' he sneered back.

'Remind me what your name is,' Fidelma encouraged with a smile. She had recalled the girls' names but she could not remember what the boy had been called.

'Shan't say!' snapped the boy.

Aibnat clucked her tongue in disapproval.

'His name is Tressach,' she supplied.

Fidelma continued to smile at the boy.

'Tressach? That name means 'fierce and war-like.' Are you fierce and war-like?'

The boy scowled and said nothing.

Fidelma forced her smile to broaden.

'Ah,' she said, with a little sarcasm, 'perhaps I misheard the name. Was it Tressach or Tassach? Tassach means idle, lazy, one who can't be bothered to speak. Tassach sounds more like you, doesn't it?'

The boy flushed indignantly.

'My name is Tressach!' he grunted. 'I'm fierce and war-like. See, I already have my warrior's sword.'

He drew the carved toy sword from his belt and held it up for her inspection.

'That is a fearsome weapon, indeed,' Fidelma replied, attempting to sound solemn though her eyes were dancing with merriment. 'And if you are, indeed, a warrior then you will know that warriors have to obey a code of honor. Do you know that?'

The boy stared at her in uncertainty, replacing the sword in his belt.

'What code?' he demanded suspiciously.

'You are a warrior, aren't you?' pressed Fidelma.

The boy nodded emphatically.

'Then a warrior is sworn to tell the truth. He has to be helpful. Now if I ask you about the boys named Cetach and Cosrach, you must tell me what you know. It is the code of honor. You were obviously named Tressach because you are a warrior and bound by that code.'

The boy sat still seeming to ponder this and at last he smiled at Fidelma.

'I will tell.'

She breathed a sigh of relief.

'Did you know Cetach and Cosrach well?'

Tressach grimaced.

'They wouldn't play with any of us.'

'Any of you?' queried Fidelma, frowning.

'Any of the children in the village,' supplied Ciar. 'Boys!'

Tressach turned on her angrily but Fidelma interrupted.

'Didn't they come from the village?'

Tressach shook his head.

'They only came to our village a few weeks ago to live with Sister Eisten.'

'Were they orphans?' demanded Fidelma eagerly.

The boy looked blankly at her.

'Did they have a mother or father?' pressed Fidelma.

'I think they had a father,' the little girl named Cera chimed in.

'Why so, darling?' prompted Fidelma.

'She means that old, old man who used to come to the village to see them,' supplied the boy.

'An old man?'

'Yes. The old man who brought those mean boys to Sister Eisten's house in the first place.'

Fidelma leant forward eagerly.

'When was this, darling?'

'Oh, weeks ago.'

'What did he look like?'

'He had a cross, like the one you're wearing, around his neck.' Cera gave a look of triumph toward Tressach.

The boy grimaced in annoyance at her.

'Who was he?' Fidelma did not really expect the children to answer the question.

'He was a great scholar from Ros Ailithir,' announced Tressach with an air of complacence.

Fidelma was astonished.

'How do you know this?' she asked.

' 'Cos Cosrach told me when I asked. Then his brother came up and told me to shut up and go away and if I told anyone about his aite he would hit me.'

'His aite! He used that word?'

'I'm not making it up!' sniffed the boy petulantly.

Fidelma knew that the term of endearment, aite, was an intimate form of address for a father. But because, for centuries, young children in the five kingdoms of Eireann had been sent away for fosterage, to gain their education, the intimate words for 'father' and 'mother' were often

transferred to the foster-parents, so that the foster-mother would be addressed as 'muimme' and the father as 'aite.'

'No, of course you are not making it up,' Fidelma reassured him, many thoughts racing through her mind. 'I believe you. And how would you describe this man?'

'He was nice looking,' supplied Ciar. 'He would not have hit us. He was always smiling at everyone.'

'He looked like an old wizard!' declaimed Tressach, not to be outdone.

'He was not! He was a jolly old man,' chimed in Cera, evidently fed up with being left out of the conversation for more than her fair share of time. 'He used to tell us about the herbs and flowers and what they were good for.'