Suffer Little Children

'I am looking forward to the assembly tomorrow.' Necht smiled. 'Good night, sister.'

She turned and hurried away. For a moment or so, Fidelma stood watching her ungainly carriage as Necht made her way into the darkness of the abbey corridors. Some thoughts stirred in her mind, a confusion of ideas which she could not work out. Fidelma shrugged and turned in the direction of Brocc's chambers.

Fidelma knocked and, in reply to Brocc's summons, entered. Her brother was seated where Brocc usually sat. Colgu smiled as his sister came in. Brocc was sharing a jug of wine with him.

'Did Sister Necht find you, cousin?' asked the abbot unnecessarily.

Fidelma inclined her head in an affirmative.

'She told me that you have Salbach in a cell,' she replied. 'That is good.'

'But we also have to put up with his cousin from Osraige crying to the heavens that no such innocence was ever so scandalously defamed.' Colgu grimaced wryly. 'Yet there is now no doubt of Salbach's role in the hideous crimes at Rae na Serine and the house of Molua. The two companions of Intat were quickly persuaded to place responsibility for their deeds on to others.'

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in anticipation. Her brother nodded his head in confirmation to her unasked question.

'They admitted that they were paid to do what they did by Intat and they further swear that they were witnesses to Intat receiving his instructions from Salbach.'

'This is so,' Brocc added with satisfaction. 'But they disclaim any culpability or knowledge about the murders of Dacan and Eisten. My scriptor has already written out their statements for you to read and we will hold them in the abbey ready to testify before the assembly tomorrow.'

Fidelma smiled in relief and took the wax tablets which Brocc handed her, glancing though them quickly.

'We have taken a good stride along the path to a resolution. I wonder if Salbach will admit the truth if I present him with this evidence?'

'It is worth a try,' Colgu agreed.

'Then I shall go and question him at once.'

Colgu rose and moved to the door.

'Then I'd better come with you.' He grinned at his younger sister. 'You need someone to keep an eye on you.'

Salbach stood defiantly in his cell as Sister Fidelma entered. He did not even bother to acknowledge Colgu, who entered with her and stood just inside the door.

'Ah, I thought you would come, Fidelma of Kildare.'

His voice was cold and taunting.

'I am glad that I have fulfilled your expectation, Salbach,' she replied with equal solemnity. 'The High King's assembly meets tomorrow.'

Fidelma took the solitary wooden chair in the cell for herself. Salbach frowned, hesitating at her assured manner, but continued to stand, feet apart, arms folded before him. He said nothing as Fidelma allowed her appraising gaze to wander over him. She felt repulsed by this man who could order the death of children without a qualm.

'Grella must be much besotted by you, Salbach, not to see beyond the mask which you wear for her,' she finally said.

Salbach's expression changed momentarily to one of confusion only to be replaced as quickly by anger and dislike as he returned her scrutiny.

'Are you sure that I wear a mask for her? Are you sure that she is merely intoxicated with the idea of love or can you allow, in your heart, that she can be in love with me and I with her?'

Fidelma grimaced in distaste.

'Love? The emotion is hard to see in your heart. No, I see before me the suffering of little children. There is no room for an emotion such as love in the heart of the person who could order such suffering.'

Nevertheless, Fidelma could see some perversity in the situation. Perhaps Salbach did, after all, feel an infatuation akin to love for the attractive librarian of Ros Ailithir.

'Would you hold me responsible for the deeds of Intat?' Salbach demanded sourly.

'Yes. You might as well know that if you hire men then their loyalty is not to a chieftain but to his money. Intat's own men bear witness to your leadership.'

Salbach was stony-faced.

'And if I say they lie?'

'Then you must prove it before the assembly. That may be difficult. As for myself, I know that these men do not lie just as you know they tell the truth.'

Salbach grinned bitterly.

'Then we will leave it to the decision of the High King's assembly. It will be my word as chieftain of the Corco Loigde. My word and my honor. And now I must keep silent. We will talk no more.'

Fidelma stood up and glanced quickly at her brother. She could see that there was disappointment in his eyes.

'I expected no less, Salbach. We will meet in the court when it assembles tomorrow. But before we do, think well on the matter, for you stand condemned by the men you hired. Let me leave you to meditate the words of Socrates: 'False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil.' How infected is your soul, Salbach?'

Outside, Colgu gave vent to his disappointment.

'He does not admit anything. If he does not, what then? Even if you prove his culpability, Laigin may still hold Cashel as responsible?'

'I hope I shall have the final piece of the puzzle fitted into place by the time of the assembly,' replied Fidelma. 'In the meantime, I must get some rest. It will be a long day tomorrow and I have much to consider.'

It was well after the completa when Fidelma started awake, still fully dressed and lying on her cot in her darkened chamber where she had fallen asleep. She came awake with one thought clear in her mind; it concerned the uncompleted task that had been nagging at her mind for some days now. She rose and quietly left the hostel.

Fidelma entered the abbey church, which was in total darkness. All the lights had been doused after the last service of the day. She chose not to light a lamp but moved cautiously through the shadows, using the soft light of the moon, casting its pallid light through the tall windows, to illuminate her way. She moved warily towards the High Altar. Making her way around it, she stared down at the shadowy slab of the tomb of the Blessed Fachtna.

She was sure that this was the key to the last piece of the mystery which had been nagging at her mind.

She had been staring at it for several minutes before she realized that something was not quite right. The slab was slightly crooked, at an angle to the back of the altar. She remembered clearly that the slab had originally been at a perfect parallel to the back of the altar.

She dropped to her knees and pushed a little.

To her surprise, the slab moved easily as if on a slide. She stopped when it started to squeak in the darkness and cautiously looked around. She could see nothing in the long shadowy interior of the church.

She moved to the altar and took one of the tall tallow candles, uttering a swift prayer for forgiveness for her presumption in removing it from God's holy table. Then she moved back to the slab, lit the candle, and placed it on the floor. On her knees again, she began to push at the slab. It moved again and then halted as if meeting an obstruction.

She paused frustrated for a moment but then realized that there must be some hidden mechanism.

She moved to the other side of the slab and began to push it back as though to close it.

That was when the mechanism was revealed to her, for she saw, out of the corner of her eye, the small statue of the cherub, which stood at the head of the slab, moving on its plinth.

With a suppressed exclamation, Fidelma moved quickly across to the figurine, seizing it and starting to twist it in the reverse direction.

It was a lever, a clever means of locomotion, for the more she twisted it the more she felt it pulling some mechanism which in turn propelled the slab sideways away from the entrance to the tomb below. A pair of steps