Suffer Little Children

stood revealed by the flickering light of her candle.

Taking up the light, she began carefully to descend the steps into the tomb.

They led into a crypt, dank and musty-smelling.

In all it was no more than twenty feet below the floor of the church. It was a single plain chamber, so far as the light from the candle showed her. It was about thirty feet long and fifteen feet wide. It was built almost as a small scale replica of the large church above, with a raised stone platform at one end which parodied the High Altar. Except, as Fidelma noticed, it was not an altar at all but a stone sarcophagus with a stone slab for a lid. On it were engraved words in Ogham and in the Latin script both in Irish and Latin. It told the reader that Fachtna, son of Mongaig, rested there.

She saw that there were candle-holders in the sepulchre and in curiosity she went to examine them. The grease was not cold although it was not pliable. The candles had certainly been in use and quite recently.

In one corner she suddenly realized that there was a pile of clothes. She went to examine them and also found a bundle of blankets, as if someone was sleeping in the vault. There was also a pitcher of water and a bowl of fruit. On one of the beds her eye caught a piece of vellum.

It took a moment for her to find the missing items from her marsupium: Dacan's draft letter to his brother; the burnt Ogham stick and some other items from the library which related to the family of Ulan. They were just lying as if discarded.

She smiled grimly.

At last everything was coming together; all the little items of information were beginning to fit and form a pattern. It was a pity that Cass was not here to appreciate the fulfillment of her exhortation to make sure all the fragments were gathered and stored until such time as a pattern emerged.

A noise above her made her start.

Someone was at the High Altar in the church above. They were standing by the open tomb.

She realized that her way back up into the church was now blocked off if she wished to avoid discovery. Whoever it was, they were beginning to descend the stairs into the tomb. She moved quickly towards the sarcophagus, thinking to conceal herself.

Now she could hear voices above her.

'Look at this,' she heard a familiar voice say. 'I thought that I had told you to close the slab when we left?'

A younger voice, she recognized it as Cetach's, answered: 'I thought I had, brother. I was sure I had not left it as wide open as this.'

'No matter. Go down. I shall come and let you out at the usual time. But be absolutely quiet tomorrow for the court will be meeting above you. Not a sound. Remember, you nearly gave the game away during the service last week. One cry and they will find the way down to you. If they do then we shall all rue the day.'

Another child's voice began to sniffle in protest.

The voice of Cetach admonished the whining one, who was surely Cosrach.

'It will not be for long,' Fidelma heard the first voice say in a more cajoling tone. 'Father and I will be able to get you away from this place within the next day or so.'

'Will Father be coming with us?' asked Cetach's voice.

'Yes. We will soon all be home in Osraige.'

Fidelma moved behind the sarcophagus as she heard soft steps begin to descend into the vault. It was pointless confronting the sons of Ulan at this time. There were some final links to be put into place before the mystery was completely resolved.

Behind the sarcophagus she was surprised to see a dark opening and instead of dousing her candle, as she had been poised to do, she moved into the darkness. It was a passageway which twisted and turned a few times until it came to a flight of stone steps. They led sharply upwards.

Curiosity led her up until the steps ended about four feet from a rocky ceiling. She thought for a moment that she had come to a dead end but she became aware of a small aperture, two feet in width and three feet high. A faint flickering light came through it. This time she did douse her candle and she saw a pale moonlight. Carefully she leaned through the aperture.

She caught her breath in surprise as she observed what was beyond it.

She was leaning out into a circular well some ten feet below its opening to the sky. She turned her head and saw nearby, in the gloomy light, iron rungs running close by the aperture; close enough for her to reach out and swing herself up onto them. In a few minutes she was clambering over the lip of the well up into the moonlit herb garden behind the back of the abbey's church.

She sat for a moment or two on the edge of the well's circular stone wall, smiling with a genuine satisfaction.

She had all the main pieces now. It was a question of sorting them and fitting them into place.

Time enough to reveal the tangled skein at the assembly in the morning.

Chapter Nineteen

The abbey church itself had been turned into the Dal, or court, for the purpose of the High King's great assembly. The building was bursting with people, both religious and others, who spilled through the doors. The occasion was regarded as momentous; for never in the memory of the people had a High King held an assembly outside his personal territory of royal Meath. On a specially constructed dais before the High Altar sat the Chief Brehon of the five kingdoms of Eireann. He was the one person who was so influential that even the High King was not allowed to speak at the great assemblies until he had spoken. Fidelma had never seen Barran before and she tried to gauge his personality in spite of his ceremonial robes of office which disguised his features. All she could make out were bright, unblinking eyes, a stern, thin-lipped mouth and a prominent nose. He could have been any age at all.

Next to him on the dais, at his left hand, sat his personal ollamh, a learned advocate to consult with him on matters of law, then sat a scriptor and an assistant to keep the record. On the Chief Brehon's right hand sat the High King himself—Sechnassach, lord of Meath and High King of Ireland. He was a thin man, in his mid-thirties, with scowling features and dark hair. Fidelma knew from her own experience at Tara that Sechnassach was not the stern, authoritarian ruler that he appeared to be. He was a thoughtful man, possessed of a dry sense of humor. She wondered whether he would recall that without her aid, in solving the mystery of the theft of the High King's ceremonial sword, Sechnassach might never have sat on the throne. Then she felt guilty for allowing such a thought to come to her mind as if some personal bias would influence the High King in her favor.

Next to the High King sat Ultan, Archbishop of Armagh, Chief Apostle of the Faith of the five kingdoms. He was a dour, elderly man, with white, untidy hair. Fidelma knew that Ultan had the reputation of being supportive to the Roman faction and had often favored the idea that the ecclesiastical laws should displace the civil laws of the five kingdoms.

Directly in front of this impressive gathering of judges was a small lectern which had been set up in the manner of the cos-na-dala, the tribune from which each dalaigh, or advocate, would plead their case.

On the right-hand side of the High Altar, in the transept, the benches were occupied by the representatives of Laigin with their fiery young king, Fianamail, and his advisors. Fidelma had already picked out the grim, gray-visaged Abbot Noe of Fearna. And she saw that in front, seated next to his king, was the thin, cadaverous Forbassach, who would be presenting the claims of Laigin.

Fidelma's brother Colgu and his advisors filled the benches in the transept on the left-hand side of the High Altar. Fidelma, as their dalaigh, sat alongside her brother, awaiting her turn to be called before the cos-na-dala to state the case for the kingdom of Cashel.

The rest of the church, along the broad nave, was packed with spectators of every degree and station, filling it with a stuffy, airless atmosphere in spite of the grandeur and sweep of the tall building. Fidelma had noticed several warriors bearing the insignia of the High King; these were his fianna or bodyguard. They were stationed at strategic points around the church and were the only armed warriors allowed at the assembly. The warriors of Colgu and Fianamail were confined to quarters outside the abbey walls.

The proceedings opened abruptly with Barran, the Chief Brehon, rapping on the wooden table before him with his staff of office and calling for silence.