Suffer Little Children (19 page)

Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #Suspense

BOOK: Suffer Little Children

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âIt is true,' confirmed Fidelma. âThe crucifix was obtained in Bethlehem, for Sister Eisten went on a three-year pilgrimage to the Holy Birthplace of the Christ'

âExactly as she told me at the time, sister,' agreed the captain. âI was told that everyone asks about it. I had asked Sister Eisten's companion to introduce me to assure her that I could be trusted. Alas, the sister valued her cross too much to trade it.'

âWho introduced you?' frowned Fidelma. âYou have implied that you knew this companion of Sister Eisten.'

MugrÃ³n was without any guile.

âOh yes. Of course I knew her. I had met her when I visited Fearna in the service of the old king. And she recognised me right enough. I was astonished that a lady of Laigin was to be found at the fortress of the chieftain of the Corco LoÃgde especially when the lady was none other than the former wife of DacÃ¡n.'

Of all the surprises Fidelma had heard during her investigations at Ros Ailithir this statement came as the biggest shock of all.

âThe former wife of the Venerable DacÃ¡n?' she repeated slowly, scarcely believing what he said. âAre you absolutely sure of this?'

âOf course I am sure. I had known that DacÃ¡n had been
married. It was fourteen years ago but I remembered her. An attractive young girl. They were not long together before she divorced him in order to pursue her religious career. I thought she had gone to Cealla.'

âAnd who was this former wife of DacÃ¡n?' Fidelma asked quietly. âDoes she have a name?'

âWhy, of course. Her name is Grella.'

Chapter Eleven

After MugrÃ³n had duly identified the body of Sister Eisten as being that of the same religieuse whom he had seen at Salbach's fortress, he had returned to his ship. Fidelma and Cass then made their way to the abbey kitchens in search of a meal for, having missed the evening meal, they were both ravenous. It took some insistence on Fidelma's part, and an emphasis of her position and relationship with the abbot, to persuade the surly sister in charge to provide them with a pitcher of ale, some barley bread and cold cuts from a larac or leg of beef. A bowl of apples was also provided and they ate voraciously and in silence at a small table in the corner of the now deserted refectory.

Fidelma had not really expected that MugrÃ³n would fail to recognise the body of Sister Eisten but she wanted to be sure beyond any doubt that Eisten had been at Salbach's fortress. She was now faced with one more frustrating mystery, yet one which seemed to hold a slender link to the murder of Dacan. What caused her excitement was MugrÃ³n's identification of DacÃ¡n's former wife. Why had Grella failed to mentioned that essential fact to Fidelma? The apparent answer was that Grella had been attempting to hide some guilt. Had her relationship provided grounds for DacÃ¡n's murder?

But there was something else that worried Fidelma. What had Grella and Eisten been doing at Salbach's fortress together? And why had Eisten attempted to book two passages on a
ship leaving for Gaul? With whom had she been planning to travel? Was it Grella? And who had tortured and killed Eisten?

Fidelma ruminated on the questions while acknowledging that it was little use asking questions when there was no hope of providing answers.

She glanced across the table to Cass and felt a sense of frustration that she could not even begin to discuss her anxieties with him. She found herself still longing for the presence of Brother Eadulf, wishing that she could thrust and parry with the quick sword of his alert mind; dissecting, analysing and, perhaps, gradually arriving at a truth. Then she immediately began to feel guilty again.

She suddenly realised that Cass was regarding her with a quizzical smile.

âWhat next, sister?' he asked, putting down his empty mug of ale and sitting back, obviously satisfied with his meal.

âNext?'

âYour mind has been working like the water-clock in the bell tower. I could almost hear the mechanism of your mind as it worked.'

Fidelma grimaced awkwardly.

âThere is one obvious person to see next â Sister Grella. We have to find out why she lied, or, rather, why she did not tell me the whole truth.'

She rose to her feet, followed by Cass.

âI shall come with you,' he said. âFrom what you told me there is more than a possibility that she could be the murderess. If so, you should not take chances.'

This time Fidelma made no objection.

They made their way through the gloomy abbey buildings to the dark, deserted library. There was no sign of anyone working in its cold, murky hall. The seats were forsaken, the books were neatly packed in their satchel bags and there were no candles burning.

Fidelma led the way into the small chamber where Sister Grella had taken her to talk, the room where DacÃ¡n had studied. She was surprised to see a fire smouldering in the corner fireplace. While Cass bent to light a candle, Fidelma walked quickly across to the fireplace. Something had caught her eye. She leant down to pick it up.

âWhat do you make of this?' she asked.

Cass shrugged as he gazed at the short length of burnt twig which she held out to him.

âA stick. What else do you light fires with?'

She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

âNot usually with such sticks. Examine it more closely.'

Cass did so and saw that it was a piece of aspen with some notches of Ogham inscribed on it.

âWhat does it say?' he asked.

âNothing that now makes sense. The extract here reads “the resolve of the honourable one determines the fosterage of my children”. That's all.'

Fidelma placed the salvaged piece of Ogham wand in her
marsupium
and stared with interest at the remains of the fire.

âIt means that someone has decided to burn an entire book.' She glanced at the holders that Grella had examined earlier in the day. It was as she suspected. âThis was the Ogham book that Dacan had been studying. One wand of it, which I discovered, remained in his chamber after his death. I brought it here to show Sister Grella, who identified it as a poem.'

âDidn't you think it was part of a will?'

Fidelma pursed her lips in a noncommittal gesture.

âNow why did someone think that it was so important that they needed to destroy it?' she asked as if she did not expect Cass to reply.

With a sigh, Fidelma led the way back through the library and into the corridor outside.

A passing cenobite glanced curiously at them.

âDo you seek Sister Grella?' he inquired politely.

Fidelma affirmed that they did.

âIf she is not in the Tech Screptra, Sister Grella will be in her own chambers.'

âWhere will we find her chambers?' Cass inquired a little impatiently.

The cenobite gave them detailed directions which were easy enough to follow.

The chamber of the librarian of Ros Ailithir, however, was deserted. Fidelma had knocked carefully on the door twice. She made sure the corridor was empty before turning the handle. As she fully expected, the door was not locked.

âInside, quickly, Cass,' she instructed.

He followed her somewhat reluctantly and when he had passed into Sister Grella's chamber she closed the door and fumbled for a candle.

âThis is surely wrong, sister,' muttered Cass. âWe should not be in this room uninvited.'

Lighting the candle and standing back, Fidelma regarded Cass scornfully.

âAs a
dÃ¡laigh
of the court I can demand the right to search a person or premises where I have a reasonable suspicion of misconduct.'

âThen you do believe that Sister Grella killed her former husband and Sister Eisten?'

Fidelma motioned him to silence and began searching the room. For someone who had spent eight years in the abbey, Sister Grella's chamber was exceedingly sparse in personal objects. A book of devotions was placed by the bed and a few toilet articles, combs and such matter. She examined a large pitcher which was full of liquid. Fidelma sniffed suspiciously at it and her lips narrowed into a cynical smile. It was
cuirm,
the strong mead fermented from malted barley. It seemed Sister Grella liked to drink in the solitude of her chamber.

She turned to some clothes hanging from a line of pegs but was not really interested in them. There was little here of interest. It was only half-heartedly that she turned to a satchel she had spotted hanging on a peg under some of the clothes and rummaged through merely to complete her search. At first, she thought that it contained only a few undergarments. She drew them out and examined them by the light of the candle. Then among them she noticed a linen skirt which caused her to gasp in sudden satisfaction.

âCass, examine this,' she whispered.

The warrior bent forward.

âA parti-coloured linen skirt,' he began, dismissively. âWhat â¦ ?'

He paused and suddenly realised what it was.

âBlue and red. The colour of the strips which bound DacÃ¡n.'

Fidelma turned to the hem of the skirt. A long strip of material had, indeed, been torn away. She expelled the air from her lungs with a long, low whistling sound.

âThen Grella is the murderess!' announced Cass in excitement. âHere is the proof.'

Fidelma was equally excited but her legal mind urged caution.

âIt is only proof of where the material, which bound Dacan, came from. However, this dress does not look like anything that a librarian of an abbey would wear. But, truthfully, Sister Grella does not seem typical of a librarian. Nevertheless, Cass, you may be called upon to witness where I found this skirt.'

âThat I shall,' agreed the warrior willingly. âI do not see that there is cause for any doubt. Grella lied to you about her relationship with Dacan and now we have found this! Is any more proof needed?'

Fidelma did not reply as she repacked the other materials in the satchel but bundled up the skirt into her
marsupium.
She
walked back to the bed to make a final check. As she did so the toe of her shoe hit something on the floor; an obstruction which did not give but sent a sharp pain into her foot.

She bent immediately to the floor and peered at it. There was a loose flagstone on the floor. It was this that she had stubbed her toe on. It stood slightly proud from the other floor stones and rocked a little as she touched it.

âHelp me with this, Cass,' she instructed.

The warrior took out his large knife and inserted it, easing the stone up. There was a cavity underneath. Fidelma held her candle high and peered in. She pulled forth a bundle of vellum.

Fidelma unrolled the vellum and peered at the careful calligraphy.

âThe writings of DacÃ¡n,' she whispered. âGrella was hiding them all along.'

âThen no other proof is needed. She must have killed DacÃ¡n!' remarked Cass with satisfaction.

Fidelma was too busy examining the contents of the writing to comment.

âIt is a letter to his brother, the Abbot NoÃ©.' Then she corrected herself. âNo, it is only a draft of a letter. He talks about searching for the heirs of the native kings of Osraige. But he has spilt ink over it and this is why the sheet is discarded. Listen to this, Cass â¦ “The son of Illan, according to the record, has just reached the age of choice. He is old enough to be considered for the kingship. I have discovered my quarry to be hiding in the monastery of FÃnÃ¡n at Sceilig Mhichil under the protection of his cousin. Tomorrow, I shall depart from here and go there.” Look when this is dated!' She thrust the vellum at Cass and indicated the date. âThis must have been written a few hours before he was killed.'

âWhat quarry?' demanded Cass. âIt seems an odd choice of words, as if DacÃ¡n was a hunter?'

âDo you know this monastery at Sceilig Mhichil?'

âI have never been there but I know it to be a small settlement on a rock-like island in the sea out to the west.'

âDacÃ¡n never set out to Sceilig Mhichil,' she murmured. âHe was dead a few hours after writing this.'

Fidelma did not replace the vellum in its hiding place but put it in her
marsupium
along with the skirt. She then bent to put the flagstone back in place and stood up.

âSister Grella will have much to explain,' she observed.

She gazed round the chamber for a moment then blew out the candle and cautiously opened the door. There was no one outside and she moved quickly out, motioning Cass to follow. As she shut the door, she turned sharply on her heel and hurried along the corridor.

âWhere now?' demanded Cass, a little aggrieved that he had to ask.

âTo find Sister Grella,' she replied curtly.

âWhere should we start?'

They started by asking Brother Rumann the steward, but when a full hour had produced no sign of the missing librarian, Cass suggested: âPerhaps she has left the abbey?'

âIs there no
aistreÃ³ir
in this abbey?' snapped Fidelma.

âThe doorkeeper is Brother Conghus,' Cass replied automatically before realising that she had asked the question rhetorically. He succeeded in receiving a crushing glance of scorn from the fiery green eyes of Fidelma.

âI am aware of that,' she said tightly. âIt seems, however, that people can pass out of this abbey and vanish as they will. Firstly, Eisten vanished; then the two boys from Rae na ScrÃne, and now the librarian is nowhere to be found.'

At least Brother Conghus had not vanished. He was in his small
officium
next to the gates of the abbey making notations on wax tablets. He glanced up in surprise as Fidelma entered without ceremony.

âSister? How can I help you?' he asked, slowly rising to his feet.

âI am seeking Sister Grella,' replied Fidelma.

The doorkeeper raised a shoulder and let it fall in a negative fashion.

âThen the library â¦ ?' he began, but Fidelma cut him short.

âIf she had been there, we would not be here. Neither was she in her chamber. Has she left the abbey?'

Brother Conghus immediately shook his head.

âIt is my task to record the comings and goings of people to and from the abbey,' he said. âSo far as my records show, Sister Grella has not left.'