The Leper's Bell Read Free Page B

head. ‘It is true. Sárait was well regarded by both Fidelma and me. Fidelma trusted her to the extent that she made her wet nurse to our baby. When we were asked to journey to Rath Raithlen, we entrusted Alchú without qualms into her care.’
    Colgú glanced at Capa. ‘Sárait was sister to your wife, Capa. What would you add to this?’
    The commander of the warriors pushed back his fair hair with a slightly vain gesture and leant back in his chair. His blue eyes were penetrating and serious. He looked sombre now.
    ‘Sárait was a handsome woman, a mature woman,’ he said slowly, clearly thinking about his choice of words. ‘She was neither frivolous nor thoughtless and took her responsibilities seriously. She was a widow. Her husband Callada had been a warrior who gave his life defending this kingdom against the Uí Fidgente in the battle at Cnoc Áine. I can vouch for Sárait’s probity. She had one relative and that was a sister called Gobnat, who, as everyone here knows, is my wife. We dwell in the township below the Rock. Sárait served at the palace, as Brother Eadulf has said. Her own baby had died and so the lady Fidelma took her to be wet nurse to their child.’
    Colgú glanced round the table. ‘When the news of the finding of Sárait’s body was brought to me, I asked for the facts. I gathered that a child had come to the fortress with a message for Sárait. The message purported to come from her sister, Gobnat, asking Sárait to go to her immediately.’
    ‘Was any reason given as to why Gobnat wanted to see her sister so urgently?’ intervened Brehon Dathal. The old judge had a pedantic manner and took his position very seriously.
    ‘The reason is not known,’ replied Colgú. ‘We presume that, not finding anyone to look after her charge, Sárait had no other course but to take the baby with her when she left the fortress. We also presume that she intended to go down to the township to see Gobnat in response to that message. An hour or so later, a woodsman, Conchoille, on his way home, discovered the body of Sárait in the woods outside the township. There was no sign of the baby.’
    No one spoke. They had heard these facts before.
    ‘And, for the record, Capa, what had your wife to say about this summons to Sárait?’ prompted Brehon Dathal.
    ‘That she did not send any summons at all to her sister. She and I knew nothing until we were told of Sárait’s death,’ answered Capa immediately.
    ‘Which was how?’ the old judge demanded.
    ‘The first Gobnat and I knew that anything was amiss was when Conchoille, the woodsman, knocked on our door close on midnight and told us that he had found Sárait’s body. I went back with him, but not before sending a message to the fortress to alert the guards. It was only later that we discovered that Sárait had left the palace with the baby.’
    ‘And what of the child who came to the fortress with the message that purported to come from your wife?’ queried Brehon Dathal.
    Capa raised his arms in a gesture that indicated a lack of knowledge.
    ‘The child has not been identified and enquiries in the township or immediate countryside have failed to find any such child.’
    ‘Surely the guard who passed the child through…?’ Eadulf began.
    Capa was shaking his head.
    ‘All that is remembered is that a small child, in a grey woollen robe on which the cowl had been drawn up, almost in the manner of a religious, came to the gates. The child appeared to be a mute for a piece of bark was handed to the guard on which was written “I am sent to see Sárait”. The guard could not swear to any distinguishing features save that it was a thickset child who walked with a curious gait.’
    ‘Such a child is surely not hard to find,’ muttered Brethon Dathal.
    ‘Nevertheless,’ repeated Capa, ‘the child has not been found.’
    ‘And the piece of bark?’ demanded Eadulf. ‘Was that retained?’
    ‘It was not.’
    Eadulf shook his head with a