Suffer Little Children

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Exactly so.’

  ‘What then?’ pressed Fidelma.

  ‘Brother Martan and I were discussing why anyone should want to kill Dacán. Martan repeated that Dacan was not a likable character.’

  ‘That much, at least, we can be sure of,’ she said wearily.

  ‘He told me that Midach once said that there were several whom he would prefer dead, and named Dacán as one of them.’

  Fidelma raised her head a little.

  ‘Midach said that? Why did he say this?’

  ‘Apparently, Martan was witness to one great argument that Midach had with Dacán.’

  ‘The argument about Laigin? I have heard all about that. Midach insulted Laigin, that was all.’

  ‘According to Martan, this was something else.’ Cass looked embarrassed. ‘Apparently, it was a row about Sister Necht.’

  ‘Necht? What was it about?’ Fidelma was suddenly interested.

  ‘It seems that Dacán accused Midach of having a liaison … you know …’

  Fidelma set her jaw firmly when he hesitated as if embarrassed.

  ‘I am aware of what is implied,’ she said tersely. ‘Dacán accused Midach of having an affair with young Sister Necht? Are you sure? No,’ she went on hurriedly, ‘better that I make sure. I think I should speak with Brother Martan.’

  Cass gave a smile of self-satisfaction.

  ‘That is why I have detained him here. He is in the chamber upstairs awaiting you.’

  Brother Martan, now that she saw him under a better light, was rather weak looking, A middle-aged man, with pale skin, bad teeth and the cough of a consumptive which caused his speech to be delivered in short, breathless pants. He rose as Fidelma entered the chamber but she waved him to be seated.

  ‘I would firstly like to thank you, Martan, for keeping the strips of linen. They have served us well.’

  The man’s dull-eyed features did not change.

  ‘You have told my colleague here,’ she gestured to Cass, ‘that Midach had an argument with Dacán.’

  She saw a look of alarm spread across Martan’s features.

  ‘I did not mean to level any accusation …’ he began. ‘The chief physician has been kind to me and I would not want to place him in harm’s way.’

  Fidelma raised a hand to quell his alarm.

  ‘So far as I know you have merely reported some facts. Did he have such an argument? The truth, Martan, is always the easiest path.’ She added this because she saw that he had suddenly realised the implication of what he had said.

  ‘I do not want Brother Midach to get into trouble,’ he said sullenly.

  ‘Did he have an argument or not?’ Fidelma demanded sharply.

  Martan nodded reluctantly.

  ‘Tell me about it,’ invited Fidelma.

  ‘It was the day before Dacán was found. I happened to be walking along the corridor to the library. I was going to collect a copy of the Aphorisms of Hippocrates, which the abbey possesses.’ He spoke with pride. ‘As I passed down the corridor, I heard voices coming from a small side room, the chamber in which Sister Grella has her officium. It is a room off the main library hall which has an entrance leading into the corridor.’

  Fidelma waited patiently while the brother paused to collect his thoughts.

  ‘I heard Brother Midach’s voice raised in anger and so I stopped outside the door. I was surprised to find him at the library. Also it was unusual that anything would cause anger to Brother Midach because he is usually a most happy and mirthful man.’

  He paused, looking awkward.

  ‘Go on,’ invited Fidelma. ‘You halted outside the open door? What then?’

  ‘It was only that it was unusual to hear Midach so angry,’ began Martan repetitiously, as if to exonerate himself from the guilt of eavesdropping. He halted as he saw the annoyance spread on Fidelma’s face. ‘I realised that the person he was arguing with was none other than the Venerable Dacán.’

  ‘And the cause of the argument?’

  ‘It seems that Dacán was accusing Midach of going through his writings, of reading material that he had no right to. Midach hotly denied it, of course. Dacán was so beside himself in rage that he threatened to report Midach to the abbot.

  ‘Midach replied that he would report Dacán for treating the staff at the hostel as slaves, especially young Sister Necht. At that, Dacán was so angry that he accused Midach of having a relationship with Sister Necht. Midach seemed to take this seriously and replied that he simply had acted as foster-father to Necht. And his relationship was only paternal. Anyway, Midach added, it was none of Dacán’s business.’

  Fidelma was not surprised that Midach could be Necht’s foster-father. It was quite common for children to be sent away from home for their education at the age of seven. The process was known as fostering and the foster-parents were required to maintain their fosterlings according to their rank and provide education for them. A girl would often complete her education by the age of fourteen, although some, such as Fidelma herself, could continue to seventeen. Yet fourteen was the age of choice and maturity for a girl. A boy would continue until he was seventeen. Fosterage was a legal contract regarded as being of benefit to both households. There were two types of fosterage in law. One was for ‘affection’ in which no fees were exchanged. The other was where the natural parents paid for the fosterage of their child. Fosterage was the principle method of educating children in society.

  ‘Are you sure he said he was foster-father?’

  ‘The term datán was definitely used.’

  It was the legal term one used for a foster-father.

  ‘Did you know that Midach was foster-father to Sister Necht?’

  Martan shook his head.

  ‘Just what did you think that Brother Midach’s relationship was?’ she prompted.

  ‘To Necht?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Midach was Necht’s anamchara, her soul-friend. That is all I know. As such they were friendly and close with one another.’

  ‘So Midach obviously felt responsible for Necht?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ agreed Martan.

  ‘Did it surprise you that Dacán would accuse Midach of such an affair? Dacán had a reputation of a man of aloof serenity. What made him suddenly attack Midach?’

  ‘He was no saint. He was a strange, ill-tempered man who tested Midach’s temper to the extreme,’ replied Martan. ‘All I know is that I overheard Midach reacting badly. He told Dacan not to interfere and if he continued to do so and insult Midach, then Midach would …’

  He paused and his eyes rounded as he realised what he was about to say.

  ‘Go on,’ urged Fidelma. ‘He obviously threatened physical violence.’

  ‘Midach said he would kill him,’ agreed Martan softly.

  There was a pause.

  ‘Do you think he meant it?’

  ‘I do not,’ protested the apothecary. ‘Nor do I set myself to judge other people in their personal habits of life. If that was the way of it, that was the way of it. Midach would harm no one.’

  ‘That’s not what Midach himself threatened,’ observed Fidelma dryly. ‘When you learnt of Dacán’s death just one day after this argument, did you not find it worrying? I presume that you made no mention of it to Brother Rumann, who had charge of the investigation?’

  A tinge of colour edged Martan’s cheeks.

  ‘I did not report it as I did not believe it of relevance. Midach was not in the abbey when Dacán’s body had been found. If you are asking me to say that I suspect Midach of murder, I shall not. Midach is a man who loves life and enjoys life. He would no more think of destroying another life than he would of taking his own life.’

  ‘So you did not mention this matter to Rumann?’ observed Fidelma. ‘What made you mention the matter now?’

  Martan coloured.

  ‘I wish I had not. My only thought was that you should both know that Dacán was not the saintly man most people supposed. He
could accuse people unjustly.’

  ‘And all this came about because Dacan originally accused Midach of going through his notes and writings in the library?’

  ‘Midach denied that also,’ Martan reminded her.

  ‘Then one more thing. You say that Midach had left the abbey on the evening before Dacán was killed. He returned six days later, so I am told. Do you know why he left and where he went?’

  Martan shook his head.

  ‘I know it was not a journey that was planned. He went by boat. It was probably some medical emergency in one of the villages. It often happens.’

  ‘What makes you think it was not planned?’

  ‘Because he told no one except Sister Necht, who came to inform Brother Tóla only after he had left the abbey.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Just before the completa. He must have sailed on the evening tide or he could not have gone until mid-morning on the next day.’

  Fidelma’s narrowed.

  ‘You are sure of this time?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Well,’ Fidelma leant back, ‘I think you have been of considerable help to us, Martan. You may go but I would appreciate it if you did not mention our discussion to anyone … especially to Brother Midach. Do you understand?’

  Martan rose uncertainly.

  ‘I think so, sister. I just hope I have not said the wrong thing …’

  ‘How can truth be the wrong thing to say?’ inquired Fidelma gravely.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning, as Sister Fidelma was on her way to the library to see if Sister Grella had returned, she received a summons to Abbot Brocc’s chambers.

  ‘Cousin, I have a messenger leaving for Cashel this afternoon. I wondered whether you might like to take the opportunity to send messages to your brother?’

  Fidelma was just about to make a negative reply when an idea occurred to her.

  ‘Yes. I want my brother to contact the Chief Brehon so that he may order the attendance of the Laigin merchant, Assíd of Uí Dego, at the assembly when the matter of the death of Dacán is heard. It is essential that some questions are put to Assid.’

  ‘Assid? The merchant who was staying here on the night Dacan was murdered?’ A hope sprang into Brocc’s eyes. ‘Do you think that Assíd … do you think that he may be responsible … ?’

  She disappointed him by shaking her head.

  ‘All I require is his presence at the hearing.’

  Brocc’s look of hope relapsed into a worried frown.

  ‘Ah, I thought at least one mystery might now be solved.’

  ‘One mystery?’ Fidelma caught the nuance.

  ‘I am given to understand that you were looking for Sister Grella last night?’

  ‘That is so. What has happened to Sister Grella?’ she asked with foreboding.

  ‘I wished that I knew. Sister Grella has not been seen since shortly after vespers yesterday. The library has not been opened this morning and Brother Rumann tells me that there was no sign of her chamber being slept in. He inquired of Brother Conghus who then told him that you were making inquiries about her last night.’

  Fidelma sat down in front of the abbot’s table before continuing. ‘Has she ever disappeared before?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge,’ replied the abbot. ‘All this is most distressing, cousin. First, we have Dacán’s death; then Sister Eisten is found murdered and now Sister Grella is missing. What am I to make of all this?’

  Fidelma momentarily felt sorry for her pompous cousin. He looked like a lost, helpless child, needing someone to tell him what to do.

  ‘I only wish that I could help you, Brocc. At this moment, I am equally as bewildered. But there are some things that I wish to ask you and which I want treated in absolute confidence.’

  The abbot waited expectantly.

  ‘Do you know much of Brother Midach’s background?’

  ‘Brother Midach?’ Brocc sounded surprised. ‘He is a good physician. He has been at Ros Ailithir for four years. Let’s see … he came to us from the abbey at Cealla.’

  ‘And Sister Necht?’

  ‘She came to the abbey about six months ago.’

  ‘Also from Cealla?’

  ‘No. Whatever gave you that idea? I think she came from a village not far from here. Why don’t you question her?’

  ‘It was a passing thought.’ Fidelma was disappointed. ‘I thought that there was some connection between Midach and Necht.’

  ‘Well, he did introduce her to the abbey, that is true. He attended her father in one of the villages and when her father died, leaving her an orphan, Midach proposed her induction as a novice here. I believe that he still acts as her soul-friend.’

  Fidelma stifled a sigh of disappointment. She had been wondering whether there was some further link with Osraige and between Midach and Necht. What exactly there might be, she was not sure. Osraige was certainly at the core of the mystery.

  The abbot did not press her further.

  ‘What am I to make of it all?’ he repeated almost pathetically.

  Fidelma had considered what ways forward there were and she now realised that, with Sister Grella missing, there was nothing she could do unless she could find some new path to follow. That meant revealing some of the information that she had gathered as a bait to lure other information.

  ‘Did you know that Sister Grella had once been the wife of the Venerable Dacán?’ she asked innocently.

  Abbot Brocc’s jaw dropped expressively.

  ‘What are you saying? Did she tell you this?’

  ‘I was told by someone who knew her in Laigin. So you did not know?’

  ‘I knew only that she came from Cealla and was qualified to the level of sai. But as for being a former wife of the Venerable Dacán – are you absolutely sure … ?’

  ‘I have a witness to answer that. I searched her chamber last night. I have that right,’ she added quickly, as she saw annoyance form on Brocc’s features. ‘Dacán was bound before he was killed. The bindings were, thankfully, preserved by Brother Martan, your apothecary. Last night I found the skirt from which those bindings were torn. The skirt was hidden in a satchel in Sister Grella’s chamber.’

  Abbot Brocc’s response, when he realised the implication of this, was to put both his hands to his head and actually whimpered.

  Fidelma studied him with a contemptuous eye.

  ‘The reputation of this abbey is shamed,’ he moaned. ‘What can I do? You are telling me that Grella is the murderess and the motive is for some sordid matter of passion?’

  ‘You can forget about the shame to the abbey, for the moment, cousin,’ Fidelma replied dryly. ‘Let us solve the puzzle first.’

  ‘But such news brings a blush to my cheeks,’ moaned Brocc.

  ‘Then remember that Diogenes once wrote “blushing is the colour of virtue”,’ Fidelma countered cynically. ‘The only shame is to have none.’

  Brocc drew himself together as she pricked his conceit.

  ‘I do not care for myself,’ he sniffed a little contritely. ‘I was only thinking of the reputation of the abbey. So you believe that Grella killed Dacan?’

  Fidelma did not bother to comment.

  ‘Did you know, Brocc, that Sister Grella visited the fortress of Salbach at Cuan Dóir about a week ago? If so, did she have your permission to leave the abbey and visit Salbach?’

  The abbot stared at her blankly.

  ‘No. I gave Sister Grella permission to ride to Rae na Scríne a week ago to visit Sister Eisten who worked there. She was to use the visit to collect a book and take some herbs and medicines from Brother Martan to help fight the plague there. Why would she ride in the opposite direction to see Salbach?’

  ‘Perhaps she first visited Sister Eisten and then they went together to Salbach’s fortress?’

  ‘But why?’

  An idea abruptly occurred to Fidelma. If Eisten had been seeking passage for herself and Sister Grella then perh
aps Grella had fled on board the merchant ship? Fidelma rose and went to the window to look down into the inlet.

  Still anchored near to Mugrón’s warship was the Frankish merchantman, with its heavy lines. The abbot had joined her and was gazing down in bewilderment.

  ‘What do you see, cousin?’

  ‘I was fearful that the Frankish merchantman had already weighed anchor.’

  Brocc frowned.

  ‘I believe it is due to sail on the mid-morning tide.’

  ‘Then I want you to give authority to Cass to board and search that vessel before it sets sail.’

  ‘Search?’

  ‘Yes. A thorough search now, as we talk,’ Fidelma insisted. ‘I command it under my authority as a dálaigh.’ She unbent a little and added, ‘It is possible that Sister Grella might be on board.’

  Brocc looked shocked but he did not reply. Instead he rang his bell to summon the scriptor and then issued the necessary orders to find Cass and give him Fidelma’s instructions.

  ‘If there is any trouble, tell Cass to inform the Frankish captain that while at anchor in the bay he has to obey the laws of this kingdom,’ Fidelma instructed the scriptor as he hurried off to perform his task.

  ‘You must explain, cousin,’ Brocc said, reseating himself. ‘You are saying that Grella realises that you have discovered her guilty secret and that she is trying to flee?’

  ‘I wish I could explain fully, cousin,’ Fidelma responded. ‘But I am not in possession of all the facts. Can you tell me anything about Sister Eisten and her relationship with your librarian?’

  Brocc raised his hands as if in supplication.

  ‘Poor Eisten. There is little to tell. She trained at this very abbey and was initially trained to help the physician, Midach. She specialised in the care of children. She had been with us since the age of fourteen, apart from the three years during which she went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land.’

  ‘Brother Conghus told me that she also studied in the library,’ Fidelma interrupted.

  ‘Eisten was no scholar but she did do some studying in the library earlier in the year.’

  ‘And how did Eisten come to be sent to Rae na Scríne?’