Suffer Little Children

ford of the river, with their prisoner. They joined the track into the forest north of Cuan Doir. On the way, Fidelma explained as much as she could to her brother. Particularly, she spoke of the slaughter of the innocents by Intat at, so she now fully believed, Salbach's instigation.

'How does this fit in with Dacan's murder?' demanded Fidelma's brother.

'I have not worked out every detail but, believe me, there is a connection. And I will argue that connection at the High King's assembly.'

'You know that the assembly will be any day now? In fact, as soon as we arrive at Ros Ailithir. I am told that the High King is already there and Fianamail of Laigin's ships have been sighted off the coast.'

'Brocc has already warned me,' Fidelma acknowledged.

Colgu looked far from happy.

'If you are claiming that Salbach is involved and responsible for Dacan's killing then we might as well acknowledge that Laigin has a just claim to demand an honor price from this kingdom. Salbach is a chieftain of Muman, answerable to Cashel.'

'I am claiming nothing, as yet, brother,' Fidelma replied sharply. 'And it is the truth I seek, whatever that truth is.'

They halted before the now quiet cabin in the forest. The unconscious form of Intat's other henchman still lay sprawled among the fragments of the heavy barrel where Fidelma had thrown him. He was only just beginning to groan and stir into consciousness.

Her heart lurched when she saw Cass's horse still tethered and standing patiently outside the cabin.

Two of Colgu's bodyguard immediately dismounted and, with drawn swords, pushed into the interior of the cabin.

One of them returned to the doorway after a moment with a steely expression on his face.

Fidelma knew just what the interpretation of that expression was.

She slipped from her saddle and hurried inside.

Cass lay on his back. There was one arrow embedded in his heart and another in his neck. His attackers had not even allowed him the honor of a warrior's defense. All he had was his sword but they had shot him down from the doorway. Now he lay with his eyes opened, staring unseeingly upwards.

Fidelma bent down, her face cold and set, and closed the sightless eyes of his once-handsome face.

'He was a good man,' Colgu said softly as he came up behind her and gazed down.

Fidelma's shoulders heaved imperceptibly.

'Good men are so often destroyed by evil,' she muttered. 'I wish he had been alive to see this matter resolved.'

She stood up, both fists clenched tight in her anguish. She turned a sorrowful face to her brother, unable to prevent the tears. An inner voice told her that she had committed her third mistake. Her own vanity had led Cass to his death. She had made three mistakes and now she was allowed no more.

'He died defending me, Colgu,' she said quietly.

Her brother inclined his head.

'I think he would have wanted it that way, little sister. So long as his efforts were not wasted, his soul will be satisfied. His death will not cancel your investigation?' he added anxiously, as the thought occurred to him.

Fidelma's lips compressed for a moment.

'No,' she said firmly, after a moment. 'Death cancels many things but never the triumph of truth. His soul will soon rest easy for I believe that I am near to reaching that truth which has evaded me for so long.'

Chapter Eighteen

Fidelma perched on the top of the bastion, by the walkway which ran around the exterior wall of the abbey, and gazed thoughtfully down into the inlet before Ros Ailithir. The quiet bay had suddenly become a forest of masts and spars rising from countless ships. Warships and coastal barca had congregated in the sheltered harbor, like a shoal of fish in a spawning ground, bearing dignitaries from the High King's own royal domains of Meath as well as from Laigin itself. The annalists, who would record the proceedings, had also arrived with the Chief Brehon. There was the ornate vessel which had brought Ultan, Archbishop of Armagh, Chief Apostle of the Faith in the five kingdoms, and his advisors.

Only the representatives of Muman had arrived overland by horse. And it had been a lucky thing for Fidelma that they had. In her life Fidelma had seen and been associated with many violent deaths. Indeed, death seemed a constant companion to her in her profession. Then death was not too far removed from anyone living close to nature and attuned to the realities of life. It was as natural to die as to be born and yet many still feared death. Even that fear was natural, conceded Fidelma, for children often fear to go into the dark and death was an unknown darkness. In spite of her reflections, it did not alleviate her intense sadness at the death of Cass. He had had much to live for, much to learn. She felt a terrible guilt that it had been her stubborn will that had caused his death. Had she listened to his warning not to go rushing into Salbach's lair, he might still have been alive.

She regretted having been so harsh with him in argument and deplored her sin of vanity in that she had prided herself on intellectual superiority. Yet, even now, that small voice in the deep recesses of her mind asked her whether she was sad for Cass or sad for her own mortality. She felt uncomfortable at that insistent little voice. She remembered a line from her Greek lessons, a line from Bacchylides: 'The hardest of deaths to a mortal, is the death they see ahead of them.'

She tried not to dwell on the sadness she felt but attempted to bring her thoughts to the immediate matter in hand, seeking comfort with an axiom of her mentor, the old Brehon Morann of Tara: 'He who is remembered is not dead for to be truly dead you must be forgotten entirely.'

The sun was lowering now across the distant western mountains and tomorrow, at tierce, the bell would summon those concerned to the abbey church where the High King's court would be assembled to hear the claims of Laigin concerning the death of Dacan.

'Sister Fidelma?' She raised her head and found young Sister Necht standing a little way off, regarding her with a solemn face. 'I do not want to disturb you.'

Fidelma indicated the wall beside her.

'Seat yourself. You are not disturbing me. What is it that I can do for you?'

'Firstly, I wanted to tell you that I was sorry to hear of the death of your companion, Cass,' the novice said as she seated herself awkwardly, her voice made deeper by emotion. 'He was a good man. I would have liked to have been a warrior like him.'

Fidelma found herself unable to prevent a gentle smile of amusement on her lips at the concept.

'Surely a vain ambition for a young novice?'

The girl blushed furiously.

'I meant…'

'No matter,' Fidelma pacified. 'Forgive me an indelicate humor. It is but a self-defense for my own sadness. You said there was something else?'

The young girl hesitated then nodded.

'I came to bring you some news. Your brother's warriors have captured Salbach and brought him to Ros Ailithir.'

'That is good news, indeed,' confirmed Fidelma with satisfaction.

'Apparently he was found with his cousin in a secret rendezvous.'

'His cousin? Do you mean with Scandlan, the king of Osraige?'

Sister Necht nodded emphatically.

'Have they brought Scandlan here as well?'

'He came of his own accord, crying out that it was an outrage that his brother should be so treated.'

'Has Salbach admitted that Intat acted under his command?'

'That I do not know, sister. Abbot Brocc told me to find you and give you this news. I think that Salbach is refusing to answer any questions. But Brocc asks whether you wish to attempt to question Salbach before the hearing tomorrow.'

Fidelma rose immediately.

'That I do. Where are Brocc and my brother Colgu now?'

'They are in the abbot's chambers,' replied Sister Necht.

'Then I shall find my way there.'