Suffer Little Children (4 page)
Fidelma rose slowly to her feet and eased a piece of her head-dress across her mouth to protect her lungs from the billowing smoke.
âWhere are the people?' she demanded, not really expecting an answer from Cass, who was staring in incomprehension as he surveyed the flaming wreckage of what had been a dozen homesteads. She had her answer even before the question was out of her mouth. There were several bodies lying between the burning homesteads; men, women and children. Most of them had been struck down before their homes had been set ablaze. They were certainly not victims of plague.
âSister Eisten's cabin was over that way,' pointed Cass, grimly. âShe ran a small hostel for travellers and an orphanage. I stayed when I journeyed through here six months ago.'
He led the way through the smoke and swirling debris to a corner of the village. There was a building by a rock over which water gushed from a natural well spring. The hostel had not been completely destroyed because it had been built mainly of stones, piled one upon another. But the wooden roof, the doors and what contents the building had once had,
were now no more. Now it was a pile of hot, smouldering ashes.
were now no more. Now it was a pile of hot, smouldering ashes.
âDestroyed,' muttered Cass, hands on hips. âPeople slain and no sign of plague. There is a mystery here.'
âA feud?' hazarded Fidelma. âPerhaps a reprisal for something this village had done?'
Cass shrugged eloquently.
âWhen we get to Ros Ailithir we must send a message to the chieftain of this area telling him of this deed and demanding an explanation in the name of Cashel.'
Fidelma was inclined to agree. She glanced reluctantly at the eastern sky. It would not be long before dusk. They had to be on their way to the abbey or night would fall long before they reached it.
The shrill wail of a baby, at that time and in that place, was totally unexpected.
Fidelma glanced quickly around to try to locate the origin of the noise. Cass was already ahead of her, scrambling up an incline to the edge of a wood on the fringes of the village behind the burnt-out religious hostel.
Fidelma saw no alternative but to hurry behind him.
There was a movement in the shrubbery and Cass reached forward and caught something which writhed and yelled in his clutch.
âGod preserve us!' whispered Fidelma.
It was a child of no more than eight years of age, dirty and dishevelled, yelling with fright.
There was another movement further on among the trees. A young woman emerged from behind some shrubs; her face was fleshy and white where it was not smeared with soot and dirt. Anxiety was engraved on her features. In her arms she cradled the wailing infant while around her skirts, clutching at their folds, were two little copper-haired girls who were obviously sisters. Behind her stood two dark-haired boys. They all appeared to be in a state of distress.
Fidelma saw that the woman was scarcely out of her teens though dressed in the robes of a religieuse. In spite of the baby's near concealment of it, Fidelma noticed she wore a large and unusual crucifix. It was more in the Roman style than the Irish but it was also elaborate and encrusted with semi-precious stones. In spite of her apparent youthfulness, hers was a plump, round-faced figure which, normally, would have had an air of protective motherliness. Now she seemed to be trembling uncontrollably.
âSister Eisten!' cried Cass in surprise. âHave no fear. It is I, Cass of Cashel. I stayed at your hostel six months ago when I was passing through this village. Do you not remember me?'
The young religieuse peered closely at him and shook her head. However, relief began to show in her features as she turned her dark eyes questioningly to Fidelma.
âYou are not with Intat? You are not of his band?' she demanded, half fearfully.
âWhoever Intat is, we are not of his band,' Fidelma replied gravely. âI am Sister Fidelma of Kildare. My companion and I are journeying to the abbey of Ros Ailithir.'
The muscles in the young sister's face, so tightly clenched before, began to relax. She tried to fight back tears of shock and relief.
âHave ⦠have they ⦠gone?' she finally jerked out. Her voice was vibrating in fear.
âThey appear to have gone, sister,' Fidelma assured her as best she could, stepping forward and holding her hands out to take the baby. âCome, you look all in. Give me the child, that you may rest and tell us what happened. Who were they?'
Sister Eisten lurched backward as though she was afraid to be touched. If anything, she clutched the baby tighter to her chest.
âNo! Do not touch any of us.'
Fidelma paused in puzzlement.
âWhat do you mean? We cannot help you until we know what is happening here.'
Sister Eisten stared at her with wide, expressive eyes.
âIt is the plague, sister,' she whispered. âWe had the plague in this village.'
The grip in which Cass absently held the young boy, who was still wriggling, seemed suddenly powerless. His body stiffened. The boy wrenched himself away.
âPlague?' whispered Cass, taking an involuntary step backwards. In spite of his previous attitude, faced by confirmation of the presence of the plague, Cass was clearly troubled.
âSo there is plague in the village after all?' demanded Fidelma.
âSeveral in the village have died of it during the last few weeks. It has passed me by, thanks be to God, but others have died.'
âIs there any among you here who are sick?' pressed Cass, peering anxiously at the children.
Sister Eisten shook her head.
âNot that Intat and his men cared. We would have all died had we not hid â¦'
Fidelma was staring at her in growing horror.
âYou would have been struck down whether you suffered the plague or not? Explain! Who is this Intat?'
Sister Eisten stifled another sob. She had nearly reached breaking point. With some gentle prompting, she explained.
âThree weeks ago the plague appeared in the village. First one person and then another caught it. It spared neither sex nor age. Now these children and myself are all that remains of the thirty souls who once dwelt in this place.'
Fidelma let her eyes travel from the baby, scarce more than a few months old, to the children. The two copper-haired little girls were no more than nine years old. The young boy, who had fair hair, who had removed himself from the side of Cass to stand defensively behind Sister Eisten, was also about their
age. The two taller boys, scowling faces, black hair, and grey, suspicious eyes, were older. One could not be more than ten years old while the other was perhaps fourteen or fifteen. They seemed to be brothers. She returned her gaze to the plump, trembling young religieuse.
age. The two taller boys, scowling faces, black hair, and grey, suspicious eyes, were older. One could not be more than ten years old while the other was perhaps fourteen or fifteen. They seemed to be brothers. She returned her gaze to the plump, trembling young religieuse.
âYou have not fully explained, sister,' Fidelma cajoled, knowing that the young woman might break down in a flood of tears. âYou are saying that this man Intat came and killed people, burnt your village, while there were still many healthy people here?'
Sister Eisten sniffed loudly and apparently tried to gather her thoughts together.
âWe had no warriors to protect us. This was a farming settlement. At first I though the attackers were frightened that the plague would spread to neighbouring villages and were trying to drive us into the mountains so that we might not contaminate them. But they began to kill. They seemed to especially delight in slaughtering the young children.'
She gave a low moan at the memory.
âHad all the menfolk of this village succumbed to the plague, then?' demanded Cass. âWas there no one to defend you when this attack came?'
âThere were only a few men who tried to prevent the slaughter. What could a few farmers do against a dozen armed warriors? They died by the swords of Intat and his men â¦'
âIntat?' queried Fidelma. âAgain, Intat. Who is this Intat whom you keep mentioning?'
âHe is a local chieftain.'
âA local chieftain?' She was scandalised. âHe dared to put a village to fire and sword?'
âI managed to get some of the children and take them to safety in the woods,' repeated Sister Eisten, sobbing as she recalled the scenes of carnage. âWe hid while Intat did his evil work. He fired the village and â¦' She stopped, unable to continue.
Fidelma gave a sharp exhalation of breath.
âWhat great crime has been committed here, Cass?' she asked softly, staring down to the still burning houses.
âCould someone not have gone to the
bó-aire,
the local magistrate, and demanded protection?' demanded Cass, visibly shaken by Sister Eisten's tale.
bó-aire,
the local magistrate, and demanded protection?' demanded Cass, visibly shaken by Sister Eisten's tale.
The plump sister grimaced bitterly.
âIntat
is
the
bó-aire
of this place!' she exclaimed with anger. âHe sits on the council of Salbach, chieftain of the Corco LoÃgde.' She seemed about to give way to exhaustion. Then she drew herself up, thrusting out her chin. âAnd now you have heard the worst; now that you know that we have been exposed to the plague, leave us to perish in the mountains and go your way.'
is
the
bó-aire
of this place!' she exclaimed with anger. âHe sits on the council of Salbach, chieftain of the Corco LoÃgde.' She seemed about to give way to exhaustion. Then she drew herself up, thrusting out her chin. âAnd now you have heard the worst; now that you know that we have been exposed to the plague, leave us to perish in the mountains and go your way.'
Fidelma shook her head sympathetically.
âOur way is now your way,' she said firmly. âYou will come with us to Ros Ailithir, for I presume that these young children have no other family who will nurture them?'
âNone, sister.' The young religieuse was staring at Fidelma in wonder. âI ran a small house for the orphans of the plague and they are my charges.'
âThen Ros Ailithir it is,'
Cass was looking slightly worried.
âIt is still a long way to Ros Ailithir,' he whispered. Then he added more softly: âAnd the abbot may not thank you for exposing the abbey to any contact with the plague.'
Fidelma shook her head.
âWe are all exposed to it. We cannot hide from it nor burn it into non-existence. We have to accept God's will whether it passes us by or not. Now, it is getting late. Perhaps we should stay here tonight? At least we will be warm.'
The suggestion drew instant protest from Sister Eisten.
âWhat if Intat and his men return?' she wailed.
Cass agreed: âShe is right, Fidelma. There is that likelihood. It is best not to stay here in case Intat remains close by. If he
realises that there are survivors then he may wish to finish this terrible deed.'
realises that there are survivors then he may wish to finish this terrible deed.'
Fidelma reluctantly gave in to their objections.
âThe sooner we start out then the sooner we shall arrive. We shall ride as far as we can towards Ros Ailithir.'
âBut Intat has driven off our animals,' Eisten protested again. âNot that there were any horses but there were some asses â¦'
âWe have two horses and the children can sit two or three together on them,' Fidelma assured her. âWe adults will have to walk and we may take turns carrying the baby. Poor thing. What happened to the mother?'
âShe was one of those whom Intat slew.'
Fidelma's eyes were steely cold.
âHe will answer before the law for this deed. As
bó-aire
he must realise the consequences of his actions. And answer he shall!' There was no vain boast in her voice; merely a cold statement of fact.
bó-aire
he must realise the consequences of his actions. And answer he shall!' There was no vain boast in her voice; merely a cold statement of fact.
Cass watched with undisguised respect as Fidelma quietly but firmly took charge, collecting the children and placing them on the horses, taking the baby to give the exhausted young Sister Eisten a chance, so far as she was able, to recover herself. Only the younger of the two black-haired boys seemed reluctant to move from the shelter of the woods, doubtless still terrified of what he had seen. It was his elder brother who finally persuaded him with a few quiet words. The elder boy was disinclined to take the opportunity to ride on the horse but strode alongside it, insisting that as he was approaching the âage of choice' they should regard him as an adult. Fidelma did not argue with the solemn-faced lad. They set off along the track in the direction of the abbey of Ros Ailithir with Cass silently hoping they would not encounter Intat and his band of cut-throats along the way.
Cass could understand, however, the fears that drove villagers to turn on their fellows. He had heard many a story of
the Yellow Plague devastating whole communities not only among the five kingdoms of Eireann but beyond its shores from where the virulence was said to have originated. Cass realised that any genuine fear of the spread of plague did not absolve Intat and his men from their responsibilities under the law. To burn out an entire community because of fear of contagion was understandable but wrong. What he also knew, and realised that Fidelma knew it also, was that, as
bó-aire,
Intat would appreciate that if word reached Cashel of this terrible deed then he would have to face the consequences. He had only let Fidelma and Cass continue their journey unmolested in the belief they would not find out what had happened. If Intat realised that they had doubled back and come across survivors of his horrendous slaughter then their lives might be forfeit. Best to put distance between this place and themselves.
the Yellow Plague devastating whole communities not only among the five kingdoms of Eireann but beyond its shores from where the virulence was said to have originated. Cass realised that any genuine fear of the spread of plague did not absolve Intat and his men from their responsibilities under the law. To burn out an entire community because of fear of contagion was understandable but wrong. What he also knew, and realised that Fidelma knew it also, was that, as
bó-aire,
Intat would appreciate that if word reached Cashel of this terrible deed then he would have to face the consequences. He had only let Fidelma and Cass continue their journey unmolested in the belief they would not find out what had happened. If Intat realised that they had doubled back and come across survivors of his horrendous slaughter then their lives might be forfeit. Best to put distance between this place and themselves.
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