The first bodies that she saw, sprawled by the entrance, were those of Aíbnat and Molua. An arrow had transfixed Aíbnat’s breast while Molua’s head was almost severed by a sweeping sword cut. They were quite obviously beyond help.
She saw the first child’s body nearby and a cry stifled in her throat. She was aware that Cass had ridden up and dismounted behind her. He still had his drawn sword in hand and he stared about him impassively but with horror mirrored in his eyes.
One of the two sisters who had been helping Sister Aíbnat to take care of the children was slumped against the chapel door. Fidelma realised in revulsion that she was held there by a spear which had been run through her body to transfix her to the wooden door. Half a dozen little bodies were clustered at her feet, some of the children’s hands still clinging to her skirts. Each one of the children had been stabbed or had their tiny skulls shattered by blows.
Fidelma held an overwhelming urge to be sick. She turned aside and could not quell the bile that rose to her throat.
‘I … I am sorry,’ she mumbled as she felt Cass’s comforting arm on her shoulders.
He said nothing. There was nothing one could say.
Fidelma had seen violent death many times in her life but she had seen nothing so heartrending, so poignant as these dead little bodies who, a few moments ago, she had seen happy and laughing, singing and playing together.
She attempted to quell her loathing, pull herself together and move on.
There was the body of the other sister of the Faith who had been playing the pipes, lying still under the same tree where Fidelma had seen her, the pipes now broken in two and lying near her outstretched and lifeless hand, obviously crushed by the foot of some maniacal assassin. There were more bodies of children near her.
The buildings were burning fiercely now.
‘Cass.’ Fidelma had to force the words, through the tears and heartache she felt. ‘Cass, we must count the bodies. I want to know if the children from Rae na Scríne are among them … whether everyone is accounted for.’
Cass signalled his acknowledgment.
‘The little boy certainly is,’ he said quietly. ‘He lies just over there. I’ll look for the girls.’
Fidelma went forward to where Cass had indicated and found the twisted body of Tressach. His head had been cleaved with one blow. Yet he lay as if asleep, a hand carelessly flung out before him with the other still held tightly to his wooden sword.
‘Poor little warrior,’ muttered Fidelma, kneeling down and letting her slim hand stroke the fair hair of the child.
Cass appeared after a while. His face was even more grim than ever.
Fidelma raised her eyes to his.
His expression was enough.
‘Where are they?’
The warrior jerked his thumb behind him.
Fidelma rose and went round the corner of the chapel. The two little copper-haired girls, Cera and Ciar, were clasped in one another’s arms, as if trying to protect each other from the cruel fate which crushed both their skulls without any compassion.
White-faced, Fidelma stood and stared at the once idyllic farmstead which Aíbnat and Molua had given over to the purposes of an orphanage.
Tears gathered in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks.
‘Twenty children, three women religieuses, including Sister Aíbnat, and Brother Molua,’ reported Cass. ‘All dead. This is senseless!’
‘Evil,’ agreed Fidelma vehemently. ‘But we will find some twisted sense behind it.’
‘We should get back to Ros Ailithir, Fidelma.’ Cass was clearly worried. ‘We dare not tarry in case that barbaric horde returns.’
Fidelma knew that he was right but she could not resist carrying the body of little Tressach over to the side of the chapel so that he could be with the two little girls from Rae na Scríne. There she said a prayer over them and then she turned and said a prayer for all who had met their deaths at Molua’s farm.
At the gate she paused and gazed down at Molua’s body.
‘Was there a just cause in the minds of the people who perpetrated this infamy?’ she whispered. ‘Poor Molua. We will never discuss philosophy now. Were you just animals to be driven out from the land under some terrible plough-share working for some mysterious greater good?’
‘Fidelma!’ Cass’s voice was fearful but his fear was for her safety alone. ‘We should leave now!’
She clambered back on her horse while he mounted his and they cantered away from that place of death.
‘I cannot believe that there are such barbarous people inthis land,’ Cass said as they paused on the top of the hill and gazed back to the burning settlement.
‘Barbarous!’ Fidelma’s voice was a whiplash. ‘I tell you, Cass, that this is evil. There is a terrible evil at work here and I swear by those tiny, mangled remains down there that I shall not rest until I have rooted it out.’
Cass shivered at the vehemence in her voice.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Where to now, sister?’ Cass demanded as Fidelma, instead of turning her horse along the track that led to the abbey of Ros Ailithir, continued westward.
‘Back to Salbach’s fortress,’ Fidelma replied, tight-mouthed. ‘We shall confront him with this atrocity.’
Cass looked troubled.
‘This might be a dangerous course, sister. You say that Intat is Salbach’s man. If so, then Salbach himself has ordered this crime.’
‘Salbach is still chieftain of the Corco Loígde. He would not dare harm a dálaigh of the courts and sister of his king!’
Cass did not respond. He did not point out to the angry young woman that if Salbach had sanctioned Intat’s violence then that same violence proved that he had forgotten his honour and oath of chieftainship. If he was involved, and could condone the slaughter of innocent children and religious, he would not hesitate to harm anyone else who threatened him. Only after they had continued for a while along the path to Cuan Dóir did Cass venture to suggest: ‘Wouldn’t it be better to wait until your brother, Colgú, arrives with his bodyguard and then question Salbach from a position of strength?’
Fidelma did not bother to grace the question with an answer. At that moment, her mind was too filled with anger and a determination to track down Intat. If Salbach stood behind Intat, then he, too, must fall. She allowed anger toblind her to logic and in her anger she was not prepared to pause and reflect.
Cuan Dóir seemed as peaceful as ever as they rode directly up to the entrance of Salbach’s fortress. It seemed impossible that a short ride away an entire farmstead and over twenty people, adults and children, had just been massacred.
The same disinterested warrior, still standing nonchalantly leaning against the gatepost, was keeping guard. Once more he denied that Salbach was in the fortress but this time he gave a knowing wink at Fidelma.
‘He is probably out hunting in the woods again, sister.’
Fidelma restrained her bubbling anger.
‘Know me, warrior, for a dálaigh of the courts,’ she said tightly. ‘Know me also for the sister of Colgú, king of Cashel.’
The warrior stirred uneasily and shifted his stance into one of respectful attention.
‘That information does not change my answer, sister,’ he replied defensively. ‘You may dismount and explore the halls of Cuan Dóir yourself but you will not find Salbach. He was here for a while earlier but rode back towards the forest of Dór again.’
‘When was this?’ demanded Cass.
‘No more than a few minutes ago. I presume he had an assignation in the woodsman’s hut. But that is all I know.’
Fidelma dug her heels into the sides of her horse, signalling Cass to follow.
‘Back to the woodsman’s cabin?’ called Cass as they cantered along the track.
‘We will start there first,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Salbach obviously went back to find Grella.’