Saint Brigid's Bones (24 page)

“Yes, thank you.”

“And I hope the sisters have taken good care of you during your stay. They are such dear ladies.”

“They have been most hospitable.”

“Excellent, excellent. Please take a seat and make yourself comfortable. Brother, you may go.”

The clerk bowed to the abbot and left.

“You must forgive me for making you wait so long. This has been such a busy week for us.”

“I'm grateful that you could make the time to see me today, Abbot. I know you have many things to do.”

“Of course, of course. I believe it's important for the churches of Ireland to work together. After all, Patrick would have wanted all his children to labor as one in the vineyards of the Lord.”

“Yes. I'm sure God himself smiles when the churches of Ireland work together in one spirit.”

“Indeed, indeed. Well, Sister Deirdre, I don't want to delay you any longer. How may I help you?”

“Abbot, I'm sure you have heard that we haven't yet been able to find the bones of holy Brigid.”

“Yes, I was grieved, deeply grieved, to hear that you haven't been successful.”

“I was hoping, Father, that you might have heard something in the last few weeks that could help us. I thought that Armagh, with its great influence and many daughter churches, might by now have had some word.”

I studied his face looking for some change or clue, but could see nothing. He never glanced at the chest beneath his shelf.

“You know, Sister Deirdre,” said the abbot, “such a theft could never have happened here at Armagh. We maintain a constant vigil of prayer before our altar. There are always at least two members of our community in the church kneeling before the relics of Patrick day and night, not counting the women praying in their own chapel.”

He continued to stroke the cat.

“But to answer your question, alas, I must report that I have heard nothing. It is most unusual that I haven't since we have so many friends and supporters, even in Leinster. And it goes
without saying that we at Armagh would never be involved in such a nefarious deed.”

“Yes, of course, Abbot.”

I reached into my cloak and withdrew the golden cross I had found at Sleaty and handed it to the abbot.

“Father, I found this cross when I returned to the ruins of our church at Sleaty. I was wondering if one of your men might have lost it?”

“Sister Deirdre, you found my cross! Oh, I've been wondering where I lost it. Our smith here has never been good at making proper chains. This is the second cross I've lost since becoming abbot. But now, like a lost sheep, it's found its way home.”

“I'm glad I could help, Abbot. Do you think you misplaced it when you passed through Sleaty on the way to visit the king at Cashel?”

“No, Sister Deirdre, I still had it then. We passed through Sleaty again briefly on our return trip. I got off my horse to answer nature's call and must have lost it then.”

“Was that before the church had burned down?”

“Yes, it was still standing. It looked like it had just been completed.”

I wanted to press him about the fire, but I had to remember why I was here. The church was gone. What mattered was the bones.

The abbot continued to look at me with the same placid smile on his face.

I took the letter Cormac had given me and placed it on the abbot's desk. He looked at the seal and opened the letter. His face once again betrayed nothing.

“And what might this be, Sister Deirdre?”

“Abbot, this was found near a ford on the upper Liffey. I was wondering if the seal on the front might be from the church at Armagh?”

He pretended to study it.

“I confess it does resemble ours, but I think it's a poor facsimile. Perhaps one of your pagan priests was inspired, however imperfectly, to imitate the emblem of our Lord in his own seal.”

“Perhaps, Abbot. But I'm troubled by the contents in any case. The Ogam writing inside the letter contains the words
Armagh, Michaelmas, Lorcan
.”

The abbot shook his head slowly.

“I can read the words, Sister Deirdre, but I'm afraid someone is playing you for a fool. This is obviously a forgery composed by some misguided soul who wants to implicate the monastery of Armagh in the theft of the bones—as if we would be involved in such a wicked scheme! I would suggest you look instead to your own people in Leinster. It's well known that the sons of King Dúnlaing have long resented their father's donation of tribal lands to your monastery.”

“The letter was found on a trail to the house of the king's eldest son.”

“Really? Well, there you go. May I ask who found it?”

“Border guards of King Cormac.”

“Ah yes, the ambitious new ruler of Glendalough. But doesn't that seem a bit too convenient? A young king seeking to expand his realm discovers a letter that could stir up discord in Dúnlaing's kingdom and turn your king against his sons. That would leave him vulnerable to outside forces. And if Cormac could raise suspicions against Armagh in the lands of the Uí Néill, well, that could be useful to him as well.”

“Abbot, King Cormac swore an oath that it was genuine.”

“Oh, my dear, I'm sure he did. A thousand oaths! And I'm sure they were convincing, especially to a woman who was once so close to him.”

I wasn't surprised the abbot knew about Cormac and me. He collected information he could use against his enemies like a squirrel hoards nuts for winter.

“Be that as it may, Abbot, I heard something else during my investigation that has troubled me.”

“Heard from whom, Sister Deirdre?”

“Lorcan, the pirate lord.”

For the first time, the abbot began to look nervous. He tried to maintain his calm demeanor, but I saw a nerve twitching on his temple.

“And how did you hear something from him?”

“I travelled to his island, Abbot, and talked with him myself.”

The Abbot swallowed hard. I could tell he was both impressed and scared.

“That was either very brave or very foolish, Sister Deirdre.”

“Undoubtedly the latter, Abbot, but what I learned was most interesting. He said an agent representing you and the sons of King Dúnlaing had approached him about stealing the bones of holy Brigid. He said he turned down the job.”

The abbot pushed the cat off his lap and rose up from behind his desk. For a pasty little man, he managed an impressive display of wounded outrage.

“I must say, Sister Deirdre, I don't care for the direction this conversation has taken. You come to my monastery, receive my hospitality, and then accuse me of conspiring to steal the bones of Brigid. And what is your evidence? A forged Ogam document and the secondhand testimony of a notorious outlaw. You'll never get Lorcan to testify to the synod of bishops. Even if you did, do you think they would believe his word against mine? You have no proof!”

I rose up opposite him. When necessary, I could put on quite a display myself.

“Listen to me, you sniveling little troll. I know you stole the bones. I know you'd like to turn the sisters of Kildare into the same sad creatures as the nuns here, but it will never
happen! Do you think you're better than Christ? He came to save women no less than men. He died on the cross for us just as much as you. Women faithfully stood by Christ when even Peter turned his back on him. We were the first to his tomb on the morning of his resurrection and we've been first to serve him ever since. You are a disgrace to God, a disgrace to Patrick, and a disgrace to the mother who bore you!”

The abbot stood with his mouth wide open. I don't think anyone had ever spoken to him like that before, especially not a woman. I kept going while he was off balance.

“I saw the letter Fergus sent you describing how you solicited him to steal the bones. Your clerk tried to scrape away the writing, but I'm afraid he didn't do a very good job. I'm going to take the letter to the bishops and have you removed from your post. You'll be lucky to get a job emptying the latrines here when I'm done with you.”

“You—you have that letter? How did you get it? I want to see it,” he demanded.

“I don't have it with me, and if I did I wouldn't be foolish enough to give it to you.”

He sat down slowly and put his head in his hands.

“Abbot, the one thing that might buy you a modicum of mercy from the bishops is to give me back the bones now. Are they in that chest?”

“I don't have the bones,” he cried.

“The time for lies is over, Abbot.”

“I don't have the bones!” he shouted. “Yes, Dúnlaing's sons and I tried to hire Lorcan. Yes, I tried to hire that fool Fergus when Lorcan refused me. But somebody else got to them first.”

“I don't believe you. I think they're in that chest”

“Look for yourself.”

He took an iron key on a chain around his neck and handed it to me. I bent down, turned the lock, and opened the chest.

Gold.

It was full of what must have been hundreds of gold coins, rent from the sweat and blood of all the poor farmers of Armagh. I plunged my hands deep into the chest until I touched the bottom. There was nothing inside but gold.

I had only turned my back on the abbot for a moment when I heard the sound of a sword being pulled from a scabbard. He must have had it hidden under his desk. I jumped up just as the blade came crashing down on the chest where my head had been. I tried to make it to the door, but he cut me off and held the tip of the sword against my throat.

“You little fool,” the Abbot sneered. “Did you think I was going to let you walk out of here and ruin me? I may not look like much of a warrior, but I know how to use a sword. I trained with my brothers when I was younger. They laughed at me and thought I'd never amount to anything. They went on to be princes, heroes in battle, but I'm going to outshine them all. I'm going to rule over the churches of this land and bend the kings of Ireland to my will. And you, woman, are not going to stop me. I almost killed you at Sleaty, but you won't get away this time.”

“It was you in the church at Sleaty?”

“Of course it was me. I couldn't let you nuns open that church. I knew it would be the first of many if you succeeded. And when I went inside to set the fire, what a joy it was to find a sister of Brigid asleep at the altar. You looked so beautiful there, so vulnerable, almost like an angel—or a devil. I'd burn all of you if I could.”

He gripped the hilt of the sword tightly for the thrust.

“Killing me won't help, Abbot. That letter is safely on its way to Kildare. The bishops are going to see it. We'll get the bones back from you even if I'm dead.”

“I already told you, Sister Deirdre, I don't have the bones. That was one thing I wasn't lying about. Somebody really did
steal them before I could get to them. They've vanished like smoke in the wind. I'll admit, I was greatly surprised, but it works out almost as well for me. If I had the bones, don't you think I would have told the world by now? I would have proudly claimed to have ransomed them from the evil thieves and declared that the good sisters of Kildare were obviously not up to protecting such precious relicts themselves. I'd have no reason to hide them from anyone. I'd display the bones on the altar of our church for all to see.”

He pressed the razor-sharp blade against my skin. I felt a trickle of blood run down my neck.

“That letter you found is an inconvenience, but it won't stop me. I'll claim it was a forgery. Some of the bishops have a weakness for gold and can be bought rather cheaply. Without you alive to testify against me, the matter will soon be forgotten. The bones of Brigid may never be found, but neither will yours.”

“Abbot,” I spoke with some difficulty against the sword, “isn't there something I could do for you to spare my life? Something only a woman could give you?”

I took my hands and slowly began to pull my robes up above my calves, then my thighs. He didn't lower his sword, but he glanced down with a hungry look in his eyes.

In one swift move I pulled out the knife I had strapped to my thigh and rammed my knee into his groin. He collapsed on the ground in agony and I was on top of him in an instant. I kicked the sword aside and held my knife to his throat.

“No—don't kill me—take the gold.”

“I don't want your dirty gold, Abbot. Give it back to the starving farmers if you expect any mercy from God someday.”

I pulled the linen handkerchief out of his pocket and stuffed it in his mouth while he lay moaning on the ground. Then I bound his mouth tightly with the sash of his robe and tied the rest of him like a trussed pig.

“Abbot, if I were you, I'd lie there quietly for a while until you feel better.”

I knelt beside him and flicked my knife gently against his throat, drawing just a drop of blood.

“And Abbot, if you ever mess with the sisters of Brigid again, I will come back and finish this.”

With that I left his hut, walked quickly out of the gates of Armagh, and headed off into the woods.