Saint Brigid's Bones (15 page)

He pushed the wolfhound away with his foot and poured me another glass of wine.

“You don't think I stole them, do you, Deirdre?” His face was a mask of innocence.

“I think you would do almost anything to increase your power. If possessing those bones would somehow help you, then yes, I think you might have done it.”

He smiled and drank his wine in one gulp before calling for another flask. I had seen him drink men under the table at feasts without showing the slightest sign of fading.

“I'm honored you think me so devious. I confess that as soon as I heard the news, I almost wished I had stolen them. Moving the shrine of Brigid to our valley would be a coup for me. All the pilgrims who used to go to Kildare would find their way here instead. You know I don't believe in the Christian god, but I am intrigued by the potential of Christianity. Even though I'm still not convinced much will come of your faith in Ireland, I do like to hedge my bets. We get a fair number of religious visitors even now worshipping at the well of Moccu near the upper lake. He was a holy man, a druid, you know, in my great-grandfather's day, who could supposedly heal the sick. He was terribly afraid of fire for some reason and asked that his bones be placed in the well so that they would always be surrounded by water. People do have strange notions. But the peasants who visit the well report that the water flowing over his remains is good for healing, especially eye diseases.”

I had once visited Moccu's well with my grandmother, who had never been able to see anything clearly at a distance. After dunking her head in the freezing water all morning, the only thing she had to show for it was very wet hair. I think she would
have thrown the old druid's bones to the dogs if she could have torn away the heavy slab covering the mouth of the well.

Cormac continued. “Yes, a church with the bones of Brigid would make a fine addition to the shrines of my little valley. Visitors would come here from all over Leinster and beyond. And if the remains of Brigid didn't work for them, ailing pilgrims could walk to the far side of the lake and give Moccu a try.”

So that was it. He wanted to use the bones of Brigid to make Glendalough a pilgrim destination, pagan or Christian, take your pick.

“You seem to have considered this carefully, Cormac.”

“Oh, I'm just thinking out loud. You realize, of course, it wouldn't do me much good to have the bones here without a good Christian to oversee the shrine. And I don't mean some bumbling fool of a monk. I would need someone of real intelligence who knows how to run things properly and get results. Someone respected by the common people. A Christian, of course, but one who doesn't shun the old ways when there's a tidy profit to be made. And since Brigid is of particular interest to women, I would need a woman to manage my new church.”

It took me a moment to realize what he was suggesting. I was on my feet.

“You can't be serious, Cormac. You think I would leave the monastery at Kildare and come into these mountains to serve you? You think I would betray Sister Anna and Father Ailbe to be your token Christian?”

I took the piece of tartan cloth out of my pocket and slammed it on the table in front of him.

“How do you explain this?”

Cormac took the cloth and looked at it, turning it over in his hands.

“Tamun chased away one of your men hiding in his bushes on Michaelmas and he lost this on a hawthorn tree. I saw the very man last night here with his torn cloak. Now, do you want to give me the bones now or do I bring Sister Anna here? She would eat you alive.”

“It belongs,” he said, “to Techmar, one of my best warriors. His farm is on the borderlands near Dúnlaing's territory. He told me some crazy old farmer near the monastery had chased him away. I thought it might be Tamun. He once took after me with pitchfork when I tried to steal some eggs from his chickens.”

“Well, I'm glad you at least admit to stealing the bones.”

“I'm not admitting anything.”

“Cormac, I swear, if you don't give me those bones I will call on God himself to strike you down! I will compose a satire so fierce you will die of shame! I will get my grandmother to curse you with such impotence that you'll never come near a woman or horse again! I will—”

Cormac raised his hand.

“Deirdre, before you continue, I have something to show you.”

He pulled a small piece of parchment from under his cloak and handed it to me. It was folded and bore a broken seal. I pushed the two outer flaps of the letter together and saw the seal:

It was a Chi-Rho, a first two letters of the name of Christ in Greek, an ancient sign used by a few bishops and monasteries, but in Ireland only by the churchmen of Armagh.

“Where did you get this, Cormac? Why are you showing it to me? If you're trying to shift the blame—”

“Deirdre, Techmar and some of my border guards came across a stranger passing through the northern edge of our lands by night several weeks ago. They killed him and found this on him. Please open it.”

I opened the letter and saw the writing was in Ogam letters. It had no salutation or closing signature, only three words:

“My God, Cormac.”

“So you can read it?”

“Of course I can read it. I'm a druid, remember?”

“Yes, I know. The sender was really quite clever. Only druids and royalty know Ogam. I'm sure the messenger didn't know what it said nor would almost anyone else who found it.”

“Are you sure this is genuine?”

“Positive. Techmar found it in the stranger's satchel and brought it to me that same night. I trust him completely. I broke the seal and read it.”

I looked at the words again:
Kildare—Michaelmas—Lorcan
.

“Why didn't you send word to us? Give us some kind of warning? You saw Lorcan's name!”

Lorcan was a notorious outlaw who lived on Lambay Island just off the eastern coast. He was a cruel and murderous man who controlled all the pirates, brigands, and thieves in Ireland.

“I didn't tell you because I wanted to find out what was going on first. Don't worry, I didn't leave you unprotected. I sent a dozen of my best warriors to watch in the woods around the monastery on Michaelmas. That's why Techmar was hiding in Tamun's bushes. As it turned out, nothing happened.”

“Where did this messenger your men killed come from? Where was he heading?”

“From what I can tell, he must have come south from Armagh through the forests along the coast before he turned west into the mountains. He was taking the long way around, skirting Dúnlaing's lands. He didn't want the king to find him. Care to guess whose farm he was on the path to?”

There was only one farmstead on the border between the small kingdom of Glendalough and Dúnlaing's realm.

“Illann, the king's son.”

“Yes.”

“Cormac, the abbot comes from an Uí Néill royal family. He would know how to write Ogam letters. He's probably the only one at Armagh that does. And Illann certainly could read them. Do you realize what this means?”

“Yes, it means Illann and Ailill are working with the abbot of Armagh to bring down the monastery at Kildare. It wasn't just the king's sons who were behind the theft of the bones, it was the abbot too.”

I had to have another cup of wine.

“Cormac, this was on the latch of the empty chest that held Brigid's bones.” I handed him the silk ribbon from my pocket.

“I thought it must have been a member of the nobility who stole the bones, but pirates would have plenty of these, wouldn't they?”

He took the ribbon.

“Very high quality. You don't see many like this anymore. But yes, Lorcan probably has more Byzantine silk than all the kings of Ireland.”

“Cormac, may I keep the letter?”

“Of course. It could be useful to you.”

I folded it and placed the letter inside my cloak pocket along with the ribbon.

“No wonder Illann and Ailill looked like they were going to soil themselves when I showed up at the Samain feast. They must have thought I knew something and was going to expose them that night.”

“Yes, I heard about what happened.”

“Cormac, could the thief have slipped past your guards at Kildare that night?”

“It is possible,” he said. “Professional thieves are very good at their job. We couldn't risk putting a man inside the monastery to guard the church itself. Sister Anna, bless her heart, doesn't completely trust me. She might have thought I wanted to steal the bones myself.”

“But even if the bones weren't stolen on Michaelmas,” I said, “we know the abbot and Dúnlaing's sons hired Lorcan to take them. I should go to the king. He'll deal with his sons and ransom the bones of Brigid, which must be on Lorcan's island.”

Cormac shook his head.

“Deirdre, think for a moment. The only proof you have of a conspiracy is a piece of parchment with a broken seal and a few Ogam words on it. And remember, the message never got through to Illann and Ailill. The bones are missing, so they must have arranged the theft somehow, but we don't have proof. The letter is certainly incriminating, but it's not enough. Illann will claim I made the seal and forged the letter. The abbot will back him up. They'll say I'm just trying to sow discord in Dúnlaing's kingdom so I can expand my own power. Remember, Dúnlaing is old, but he's no fool. He doesn't trust me.”

“I'm not sure I trust you either, Cormac,” I said. “
Did
you forge the letter?”

“If I took an oath that I didn't, would you believe me?”

“Maybe.”

He stood up from his chair and looked me straight in the eye.

“Deirdre, daughter of Sualdam, I am Cormac, son of Domnall, king of the tribesmen of the glen of the two lakes. I swear by the god by whom my tribe swears, this letter is genuine.”

Cormac was the most cunning man I had ever met, but he knew that a tribe depended on the power of its king to speak the truth. A ruler who swore falsely would bring down disaster on his people, if not by the will of the gods, then by the very fabric that held the universe together. He might not believe in much, but Cormac was a man of honor in this respect.

“I believe you, Cormac. I'm sorry I doubted you.”

He sat back down.

“Don't be. If I were in your place, I would doubt me too.”

“But what should I do now? If I can't go to Dúnlaing with this letter, then I need to find better proof. Should I go to Lorcan's island?”

“No! He would kill you the moment you set foot there. I've already started to make inquiries among some men who have contacts with Lorcan. It may take time, but I'll find out if he has the bones.”

“I don't have much time, Cormac.”

“Then look for other kinds of proof. We know now that Dúnlaing's sons are working with Armagh. You'll never pin anything on the abbot, he's too clever, but the king's sons might make mistakes, especially Ailill. You've got my eyes and ears working for you too. And please, Deirdre, be careful.”

Cormac stood up and walked around the table to sit beside me, stepping over the dog.

“You know, I meant everything I said before. Whether you find the bones or not, it would be wonderful to have you here in my valley. I still think about the nights together when we were in school. I was a fool to ever let you go. You're smart and courageous and, like I said yesterday, quite beautiful. I wasn't
proposing you come here to live alone in some dark church. I would like you to be my wife.”

I was so taken back by his words that all I could do was stare at him.

“I'm serious, Deirdre. And I don't mean just to share my bed, but to work with me as a trusted advisor. I would marry you
lánamnas comthinchuir
—the highest form of marriage with full rights and joint authority. You would be entitled to half my goods and property. If I displeased you, you could divorce me and still be a rich woman. I know my kingdom is small now, but I have plans. Old Dúnlaing is right to be worried about me. Leinster is weakened after our losses in recent years, but it's still a powerful province—if only someone can unite it. The lands of Muiredach to the south are rich with cattle. He's grown lazy over the years and his kingdom is ripe for conquest. Then there's the territory of Eógan to the east on the sea. His port on the mouth of the Avoca River brings in trade from Britain and Gaul, even Constantinople and Alexandria. Whoever manages those imports properly could be a very wealthy man. Then there's your tribe. They might join me willingly when they see one of their own people standing with me as queen. Dúnlaing's sons certainly don't inspire much confidence. After that there's Munster, a sleeping giant and natural ally against Ulster. We could retake the Boyne Valley that your father gave his life for fighting against those Uí Néill bastards. I could go far, Deirdre, once I have placed my hands on the Stone of Fál and taken the high kingship at Tara. I know that title is worthless now, but I could make it mean something. This whole island could someday be mine, Deirdre, and you could be there beside me.”