Saint Brigid's Bones by Philip Freeman Read Free Book Online

more precious to her than gold.
    She had sifted the wheat and barley flour together in equal amounts with warm water, then placed the dough on a wooden board to work. After she had kneaded it, she worked in the leavening and put it into a clay pot to rise. The smell of yeast soon filled the air.
    When I had finished with the butter, I pulled the silk ribbon out of my pocket.
    â€œGrandmother, whoever stole the bones replaced the ribbon on the chest with this.”
    She wiped the flour off her hands and took the ribbon from me, holding it up to the light streaming in through her window to examine it closely.
    â€œSilk, the best quality too. Whoever the thief was has good taste.” she said.
    â€œCan you sense anything from it?”
    She held it in the flat of her palm as she looked at it closely.
    â€œStrange,” she said. “All I sense from this is sadness.”
    â€œBut can you tell anything about the thief from it?”
    â€œNo, it does narrow down the suspects considerably though. Only a member of the nobility could afford this.”
    â€œSister Anna and I thought so too. What about this?”
    I handed her the piece of tartan cloth. She studied it for a minute.
    â€œA Leinster weave, though I’m not sure about the pattern. It looks like one of the clans on the southern edge of Dúnlaing’s kingdom or maybe across the border in the Wicklow Mountains. Where did you get it?”
    â€œFrom a hawthorn tree on Tamun’s farm. He chased a warrior away with a hoe on Michaelmas evening.”
    â€œThat sounds like Tamun.”
    She held it as she had the silk ribbon and closed her eyes.
    â€œHmm. A tall man, dark hair, confident, loyal.”
    â€œGrandmother, that describes half the warriors in Ireland.”
    â€œTrue, but you don’t know the owner was connected to the theft of the bones in any case, though it is strange to have someone like that skulking around the monastery.”
    I left my grandmother while the dough was rising and went outside to feed her chickens. Then I walked down to a small grove behind the hut and picked a basket of wild apples for her. These were small sour fruits unlike the sweet red apples we grew at the monastery, but they were quite tasty when dried and sprinkled with honey.
    I put the apples in her pantry and sat down on the bench near her.
    â€œGrandmother, do you have any idea who might have taken the bones?”
    â€œNo, but perhaps you do.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? If I knew who took them I wouldn’t be here having dinner.”
    â€œI mean that you’re a smart girl. Think about who has something to gain from taking them.”
    â€œThat’s the same thing Sister Anna said.”
    â€œA wise woman, for a Christian.”
    Grandmother was actually on very good terms with Sister Anna and the rest of the members of the monastery in spite of her aversion to our religion. She and Father Ailbe were fond of each other as well, which pleased me greatly.
    â€œAt least I know that whoever took the bones couldn’t have been a Christian,” I said. “A believer would see them as sacred objects. It would be like defiling the Eucharist or cursing God to his face.”
    â€œMy child, I think you have too much faith in the presumed goodness of Christians. I’ve known many of your faith in my time, some of whom I wouldn’t trust to milk my cow. Don’t you remember that Christian King Coroticus from Britain back in Patrick’s day who kidnapped all the young Irish women in Ulster and sold them into slavery?”
    â€œAnd Patrick roundly condemned him for it,” I countered. “He wrote him a scathing letter threatening the wrath of God on him and his men if they didn’t return them.”
    â€œSo, did he bring the women back?”
    â€œNo.” I sighed. “Coroticus said he was within his rights as a king to do whatever he wanted in Ireland. He also got the British bishops