Saint Brigid's Bones (26 page)

“Her labor was long and difficult, but both mother and child were in better shape at the end than I was. She had given birth to a beautiful baby girl we named Ara. I know I was a proud father, but you have never seen such a gorgeous child. She had her mother's eyes and dark hair, with a way about her that made me laugh with joy whenever I held her. I carved a doll for her from tamarisk wood, even though I wasn't very good with a knife. Maryam made a little dress for it that was much better.”

“Abba,” I interrupted, “is that the doll that was on the shelf in your hut? The one you gave to Caitlin?”

He nodded.

“Yes. I've carried it with me all these years. It's all I had left to remember her by, but I wanted Caitlin to have it.”

After a moment, he continued his story.

“As the months passed, I often took Ara with me on walks through our little valley and introduced her to the goats I had traded for with the Bedouin. I told her tales of gods and heroes before bedtime, even though she was too young to understand me. Still, I think she liked the sound of my voice.

“It was the Bedouin boy who was the cause, though it wasn't his fault. Little Ara was just over a year old when his parents came to me seeking help for their young son. He had suddenly become sick the day before with a high fever and swollen glands in the groin and armpits. I had never seen plague before, but I knew the symptoms. I told them sadly there was nothing I could do, but that he might survive if they could keep his fever down. They bathed him in the cool water of the spring that night while Maryam brought them what little wine we had and some rabbit meat, but by morning he was dead. They
buried him there with songs of such sadness I wept to hear them. I held my own daughter close and prayed the disease would pass us by.

“Three days after the Bedouin had left, my wife spoke of being chilled even though it was the height of summer. Soon Ara was sick as well. I took them both to the spring and lay them gently in the water, wiping their faces with wet rags. Maryam was the first to die, quietly with a last smile for me in spite of the terrible pain. Ara just lay in my arms silently, looking up as if wondering why her papa couldn't help her. At last she put her little head against my shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I buried my family there beside the Bedouin boy and marked their graves with a wooden cross facing east toward the rising sun. Then I sat down and waited to die. I prayed that the plague would take me away to be with Maryam and Ara in heaven, but it seems that God had other plans for me. My penance has been to live every day since then knowing what I did to Maryam and remembering the eyes of my little girl.”

Tears rolled down my face as Father Ailbe finished his story. I thought of my own son and how I had prayed to die after that terrible day. I suppose God has other plans for all of us.

“Abba, I'm so sorry. I never knew. But I still don't understand why you took the bones of Brigid. What happened to your family was terrible, but that was over fifty years ago and far away.”

He nodded his head.

“Yes, it was long ago. I tried to run away from the memories, all the way here to Ireland, but of course that isn't possible. Even though I have never forgotten my wife and daughter, I was able to live with the pain until a few months ago when I treated young Caitlin for the first time. Her eyes, Deirdre! She has the same eyes as my Ara. I took one look at her and all the
memories came flooding back. I knew I had to save her. To let her die was like losing Ara again. I tried everything, but none of my medicines or prayers worked. I knew the only hope for her were the bones of holy Brigid. I snuck into the church in the early hours of Michaelmas morning while it was empty and took them. I didn't think about the problems it would cause, I just did it. May God forgive me, but nothing mattered to me except saving that precious little girl.”

“Did you tie the new ribbon on the latch of the chest?”

“Yes. It was a gift I received years ago as a gift from a king in Munster. I took Brigid's ribbon because it has healing powers as well as her bones. You can add a second theft to my sins.

“I went a roundabout way to Caitlin's hut after I left you on the road and buried the bones beneath her bed while the family was out in the fields. Her parents never knew. I had hoped the bones would work quickly, but when they didn't, I was afraid she would die if I took them away. The bones and ribbon are still there, wrapped safely in oilcloth. I thought having Brigid's bones so close would heal Caitlin, but I was wrong. Now she will soon die just like Ara. I couldn't save either of them, Deirdre. I couldn't save them.”

He began to weep. I held him in my arms, not knowing what to say.

“Deirdre,” he said at last as he pulled away, “I'm so sorry for everything I put you through, you and everyone else. I'll go now and retrieve the bones. I'll return them to Sister Anna, then I'll resign my office and submit myself to the synod of bishops for punishment.”

“Abba, no, you can't.”

“I'm afraid there is no other way, my child. I have gravely sinned.”

“Abba, wait. What you did may have been wrong, but think about the consequences if anyone finds out what happened.”

“I can't hide what I did. A man can only live with so many lies.”

“Yes, Abba, you can hide it and you must, for the sake of the monastery and for all of us. If the abbot of Armagh hears about this he'll destroy Kildare. He'll deny he ever tried to steal the bones himself. He'll have the bishops shut down the monastery. The abbot will take the bones to Armagh. Everything we've worked for will come to an end. The brothers and sisters will be scattered, the school will be closed, and the widows will starve to death. Abba, I know you want to do what you think is right, but you have to make one more sacrifice, maybe the hardest one of all. No one must ever know about this—not Dari, not my grandmother, and certainly not Sister Anna. You and I must keep this secret to ourselves, forever.”

Father Ailbe sat with his hands folded and his head bowed for a long time. Finally he spoke.

“Deirdre, my child, you're much wiser than I am. I will yield to you in this matter, for the sake of the monastery. I owe you all this much. I will pray to God and blessed Brigid for forgiveness, though I don't deserve it.”

“Thank you, Abba. I'll go to Caitlin's house right now and get the bones.”

“And what will you tell Sister Anna?” he asked.

“Only that whoever took them did so because of love.”

I
left Father Ailbe and went back down the road to Caitlin's hut. I knocked on the door and found only her mother inside.

“Sister Deirdre,” she said with surprise. “I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon, but welcome.”

“Yes, Caitlin was so on my mind as I walked to the monastery that I had to see her again. I wondered if I could have a few minutes alone with her to pray?”

“Of course, Deirdre. I need to feed the chickens anyway. But I don't think she'll know you're here.”

After she left, I went to the girl's bedside and sat next to her. I held her hand and spoke gently to her, but there was no response. Her breathing was shallow and her face was as pale as snow. I prayed that God would spare her any more pain, then I knelt on the floor and reached underneath her sleeping platform. I dug away the loose dirt with my hands
until I felt the top of a leather bag. I pulled it out and looked inside.

There were the bones of holy Brigid. The linen ribbon was on top of them.

I placed the bundle reverently in my satchel and covered up the hole. Outside I could heard a nightingale singing.

“Forgive me, little one,” I said as I kissed Caitlin on the cheek. “I wish the bones could have made you well. No one should have to die so young.”

Then I left the farm and headed back to the monastery and the hut of Sister Anna.

“Come in.”

I entered and stood before the desk of the abbess. I could see she was busy tallying numbers on her abacus again.

“Sister Deirdre, I've heard the report of Sister Darerca, but I'm afraid I'm too busy to discuss your trip to Armagh at the moment. Unless you've come to tell me there's a wagonload of food outside, I'll have to ask you to leave.”

“I'm afraid I don't have any food, Sister Anna, but I do bring good news. I've recovered the bones of holy Brigid.”

She looked up at me from her desk, then frowned.

“If this is some sort of joke, I'm not amused.”

I opened my satchel and took out the leather bag, laying it gently on her desk. She stared at it for a moment, then slowly untied the drawstring and opened it. She carefully removed the ribbon, then each bone, placing them on her desk. She removed the skull last of all with its unmistakable polished surface and the words SANCTA BRIGIDA carved on the top in Latin. She made the sign of the cross on her chest and prayed silently with her eyes closed. Then she put each bone back in the bag and looked at me.

“Where did you find them?”

“They weren't far away. They were hidden safely the whole time.”

“That wasn't what I asked. Where were they and who took them?”

“With the greatest respect, Sister Anna, I'm afraid I can't answer your question. I can only say they were taken with the best of intentions by someone who meant no harm to the monastery.”

“That isn't sufficient. I need to know who took them and why.”

“It was because of love, Sister Anna.”

“Love?”

“Yes. Perhaps it was misguided, but the intentions of the one who took them were pure.”

“And you refuse to tell me the identity of this thief?”

“I'm sorry, but I can't. It's for the sake of the monastery and all that we do that I must keep silent.”

“And if I insist on pain of expelling you from our order?”

“Then I would leave the monastery.”

She looked at me closely before she spoke again.

“Sister Deirdre, you have been a thorn in my side since you put on the veil. You resist authority, you lack discipline, and you seem to think rules are something you need follow only at your convenience. When I put you in charge of finding these bones, I did so only because of your unique status outside these walls. You were willful and difficult then—qualities you still possess in abundance. But as much as I am tempted to remove you from our monastery, I can't ignore the fact that you have accomplished what I asked of you. I'm not yet sure that you were meant to be a nun, but I will tolerate your disobedience on this particular occasion. Nonetheless, let me warn you that my beneficence in this matter isn't to be taken as license. I am grateful you have found the bones and I will
allow you to keep your secret, but I expect you to obey me in all things in the future.”

“Yes, Sister Anna, of course I will.”

“Good. Now go. Tell the sisters and brothers I'll meet with them in the church immediately. We may yet be able to save this monastery.”

T
he celebration that year on the eve of holy Brigid's day was more joyous than ever before. Word had spread quickly that the bones had been recovered. Everyone from miles around came to celebrate, Christian or not. We had little of our own to offer our visitors, but the pilgrims brought so much themselves it scarcely mattered. We set up tables in the yard and served up more food than any of us had seen in months. There was a bonfire in the center of the monastery yard, with singing and dancing and feasting.

Dari and I walked through the crowd that evening and saw most of the younger brothers and sisters gathered at one table. Macha had just told some story that had everyone in stitches. I was pleased to see how quickly she had fit in. They all greeted us cheerfully as we passed, except for Eithne, who was as hostile as ever.

My grandmother was sitting at another table with a few of the local druids and a couple of the older nuns she had known for years. They were all laughing about something as they drained yet another cup of mead from a barrel Brother Túan had brought. He was sitting near the school, telling a group of children yet again of his life in ages past.