Saint Brigid's Bones (2 page)

“It's true, Sister Anna, that part of the reason I joined the monastery is because I've always been comfortable here. But my desire to be a sister of Brigid's order and to serve God is sincere. I know I'm not like the rest of the sisters. I come from the Irish nobility. I was trained as a professional bard. My father was a great warrior, though a pagan. My grandmother is a druid seer. But my mother was a baptized Christian, as am I. Though, if I may ask, what does this have to do with the fire at Sleaty?”

“Nothing, perhaps. I'm not accusing you of burning down the church because you're unhappy here. I'm simply wondering if the reason such a thing could happen is because you don't have your mind on your work. Don't forget, Sister Deirdre, I've known you since you were a little girl. You were always a joyful person with great focus on what you wanted to achieve in life. You're the best student our school ever produced and, I know, one of the finest bards in Ireland. But since you took your vows I've seen little joy or purpose in you. I know what you lost. I
am sympathetic. But you are like a ship adrift in a storm and I can no longer wait for you to find safe harbor.”

Sister Anna walked over to gaze out the window, then turned back to me.

“I'm not ordering you to leave these walls. But as your abbess, I am requiring that you prayerfully consider what it is you are searching for here. This place is a refuge of sorts for all of us—there's no shame in that. It will be a haven for those in need as long as it exists, which may not be much longer. But the primary mission of our order is to serve God by serving others. We are not a guest house for lost souls, Sister Deirdre. If your focus is not on our Lord and ministering to the needy of this land, then there is no place for you here.”

I didn't know what to say. I simply stood there looking down at the dirt floor.

Suddenly, there was a shout outside the hut and Garwen burst through the door without even knocking.

“Sister Anna! They're gone! They're gone!”

Sister Anna had always insisted on protocol. For someone to rush into her hut uninvited was behavior that would have earned even a child a good lashing.

“Sister Garwen, what is the meaning of this? How dare you enter here without my leave. Get out this instant! I'll see you in the church later to discuss your punishment.”

“But Sister Anna, I've just come from the church and they're gone! I was there to clean and polish them just like you told me to. I brought wine to wash them and a new woolen cloth to wrap them in, but they're gone!”

“What on earth are you talking about, child? What is gone?”

“The bones!” Garwen sank to her knees as she spoke. “The bones of holy Brigid—they're gone!”

T
he first few hours after the discovery of the missing bones were chaotic. Everyone was in shock. Sister Anna immediately told Garwen to send the brothers to the gates of the monastery to stop anyone trying to leave. The abbess then rushed to the church with me two steps behind. I suppose I thought I could be of some help, but mostly I had to see the empty chest for myself.

Sister Anna pushed through the ill-fitting door on the sisters' side of the church and went to the altar in front. It was a simple wooden table with a golden crucifix on top. The silver paten for the Eucharist sat next to it, but both were untouched. On the right side of the altar was a stone slab marking the tomb beneath of Conláed, our first bishop, who had died many years before. On the left side was the small oaken chest holding Brigid's bones. There had never been a lock on it, only an iron latch tied with a crimson ribbon that once belonged to Brigid
herself. The lid was wide open, as Garwen had left it. The small jug of wine for cleaning the bones, a few old rags, and the new woolen cloth all lay beside the chest where Garwen had dropped them before rushing out. The spilled wine had spread across the stone paving of the floor and was already soaking through the joints into the ground beneath it.

“Dear God in heaven,” whispered Sister Anna as she peered into the blackness of the chest.

She knelt and touched the rough wooden bottom. The bones were always kept tightly bound in a leather sack, which was also missing. Sister Anna rested her head against the edge of the chest and closed her eyes, whether in prayer or anguish I couldn't tell. I knelt beside her and worked up the nerve to place my hand on her shoulder in comfort. I felt her stiffen at once. She rose quickly and stared at me with hard eyes. If she had seemed on the verge of tears a moment ago, it had quickly passed.

“Sister Deirdre,” she said sharply, “go and bring Sister Garwen back immediately.”

I ran out of the church and found Garwen weeping on the bench in front of our scriptorium. She was in such distress that I practically had to carry her back to Sister Anna.

“Sister Garwen,” abbess said when we had returned, “did you touch anything after opening the chest? Anything at all?”

“No—no—Sister Anna—I swear—nothing,” Garwen managed between sobs. I thought she was about to collapse.

Sister Anna grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

“Look at me, you fool of a girl. There isn't time for this now! Was there any sign that someone had been in the chest before you? Was the ribbon untied? Was the latch open? Did you see anyone leaving the church?”

“No, no—Sister Anna—I—didn't see or hear—anyone. The church was—empty when I arrived. The latch—was closed and tied—just like it—always is.”

Sister Anna turned away and swore under her breath, something I had never heard her do before.

“Garwen,” I said, as I took her hand and held it gently. “Please, try to remember something for me. Was there any dust on the latch when you opened it?”

The question surprised her and she seemed to calm down as she considered it. Sister Anna turned back suddenly and looked first at me, then Garwen.

“Dust? Well, yes, Deirdre, there was.”

“Are you sure? Absolutely sure?” the abbess asked.

“Yes, Sister Anna, I'm positive. I remember kneeling in front of the chest to untie the ribbon and noticing how much dust had collected on the latch. I was embarrassed that it was so dirty. I untied the ribbon, then dipped one of the rags in the wine and wiped the latch clean before opening the chest.”

“
Mudebroth
!” said Sister Anna, which I took to be a British curse word. I didn't ask her what it meant.

“Sister Garwen, go and tell the sisters to search all the buildings. Look everywhere. Send someone back here immediately if you find anything unusual, anything at all.”

“Yes, Sister Anna.” Garwen bowed and left the church.

The abbess and I were alone in the church once again.

“Sister Deirdre, you realize of course this makes matters much worse. If there was dust on the latch, it could have been weeks since the chest was opened and the bones stolen. The last time the bones were cleaned was early August. They could be anywhere on the island by now.”

“Yes, Sister Anna.”

The abbess began to search around the altar. I knelt by the chest again and looked inside. It was as empty as a tomb.

“Close the chest, Sister Deirdre. It will be too painful for everyone to see it empty.”

“Yes, Sister Anna.”

I pulled the heavy lid over on its hinges and brought it down gently. It made a lonely, hollow sound as I shut it and fixed the latch. I started to tie the ribbon when I noticed something strange.

“Sister Anna, look at this. It's different!”

The abbess knelt by the front of the chest and looked at the latch.

“It seems the same latch to me, Sister Deirdre. What are you talking about?”

“No, Sister Anna, not the latch, the ribbon. We've always used Brigid's ribbon of fine red linen to tie the latch shut. But feel this.”

She took the ribbon from my hands and ran her fingers along it.

“Sister Anna, it looks exactly like the ribbon we've always used. Even by touch most people couldn't tell the difference, but this isn't linen, it's—“

“Byzantine silk,” she said. “My mother had a ribbon made from it. I still remember the smoothness of the weave. It was her greatest treasure.”

“Yes, Sister Anna.”

“But why, Sister Deirdre, would someone replace the linen ribbon with a piece of silk?”

“They must have wanted the original ribbon as well as the bones—perhaps for the healing properties her possessions are thought to possess.”

Sister Anna considered my words for a moment.

“Yes, I suppose it would make sense to take the ribbon. It belonged to Brigid and was close to her bones every day for ten years.”

“Sister Anna,” I said hesitantly, “I think this tells us something about the thief. Maybe more than one thing.”

“Go on, Sister Deirdre.”

“Silk ribbons are a luxury item. They come only on the few ships that make their way from Constantinople to Gaul and then on to Britain and Ireland. This one ribbon would cost more than any Irish farmer could afford.”

“Yes,” she said, “my father saved everything he could for months to buy one for my mother, and that was in Britain where such things are more common.”

“Exactly. The only people in Ireland who can afford such an item are the nobility—landowners, cattle lords, and kings. Whoever took the bones was wealthy.”

I owned such a ribbon myself, though deep blue in color. It was given to me by a local lord for composing a song of praise. It was stored away now with my bardic robes in my grandmother's hut.

“What else do you think the ribbon tells us, Sister Deirdre?”

“That whoever took the bones had been here before. This ribbon was chosen ahead of time because it's almost identical to the one it replaced. The thief didn't want anyone to notice, at least not right away, that he had switched them.”

“Yes, Sister Deirdre, that makes sense as well, but it doesn't narrow down the suspects in any helpful way. Hundreds of people come to this church every month to pray before Brigid's bones. Many of them placed their hands on this chest and saw her ribbon.”

“Well, I suppose you're right.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I mean, of course you're right, Sister Anna.”

Someone had stolen the bones of holy Brigid. I could hardly make myself believe it.

It wasn't a matter of who could have gotten into the chest—everyone had access to the church day and night—but who
would dare to do such a terrible thing. To steal the bones of Brigid was an unthinkable blasphemy.

After the search of the monastery grounds yielded nothing, we spread out to the neighboring farms questioning everyone, even children. Had they seen anything suspicious? Had they heard anything about the bones?

I went to the landholdings southeast of the monastery on the broad grasslands stretching toward the Liffey River. Most people I talked to hadn't seen anything unusual. No one had heard a word about the bones. When I told them what had happened, they were in shock. Christian or not, they couldn't believe anyone would dare to disturb the bones of Brigid.

The last farm I came to that evening was on the border of the monastery lands and belonged to Tamun, a crusty old widower who raised apples and chickens. I knocked on his door and waited for an answer.

“You'll be standing there the whole damn night if you're waiting for me to come out.”

Tamun was coming up the path from the stream with a bucket of water.

“Greetings to you, Tamun. I'm sorry to disturb you but I—“

“Yes, yes, the bones of Brigid were stolen and you're asking everyone if they saw anything. News travels fast around here.”

He put the bucket down by the door but didn't invite me inside.

“Have you seen anything? You've always had a sharp eye, Tamun.”

“Don't bother flattering me, Deirdre. I'm a mean old man, just like everyone says. It doesn't seem like that long ago since I set my dogs on you and your friends for trying to steal apples from my trees.”

“I was six years old, Tamun.”

“Humph. Well, I don't know who took the bones. Though there was something strange recently—a man hiding in the bushes by my stream a couple of weeks ago. It was a night when you nuns kept ringing that damn church bell.”

“On Michaelmas?”

“Whatever. Anyway he was a tall fellow with a big sword. I chased him out from behind a hawthorn tree with my hoe and nearly caught him!”

“You chased an armed warrior with a hoe?”

“By the gods, yes! I don't let any damn stranger on my lands without asking, and even then I always say no. You should have seen him run! He flew out of there so fast a piece of his cloak was torn off on the thorns. I'll chase him out again if he ever comes back.”

“Tamun, what did his cloak look like? What color was it? What pattern?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rag.