‘I just wondered. It’s of no consequence,’ she replied. ‘I presume that the obsequies have been conducted for Sechnussach?’
‘He rests among his predecessors and ancestors in the compound of royal graves,’ replied the abbot, a trifle unctuously. ‘It was not possible to wait for all the cóicedach, the kings of the five kingdoms, and their nobles to attend the ceremonies. However, it is the intention of Cenn Faelad to invite all the kings and nobles to a memorial feast once the investigation into his brother’s death has produced its findings.’ He added with emphasis, as if it needed explanation, ‘Your investigation, Fidelma, and your findings.’
‘Sechnussach was a great king and a generous man,’ Fidelma observed softly. ‘I hope Cenn Faelad stands in likeness to his brother.’
‘A wise sentiment and heartily echoed, Fidelma,’ agreed the abbot. ‘I have known him many years and I think the five kingdoms will notice little change, for he and his brother agreed on most things.’
‘And when will be Cenn Faelad’s inauguration as High King? That will certainly need the presence of the cóicedach.’
The worried look on the abbot’s face deepened.
‘It has been decided, on the advice of the Great Assembly, that there must be a delay before Cenn Faelad can take the sword of the High Kings in his hand and place his foot on the Lia Fail to proclaim his accession.’
‘The Lia Fail?’ queried Eadulf, remembering what the old woman had said at the river crossing.
Abbot Colmán smiled indulgently. ‘It is part of our inauguration custom here, Brother Saxon. You probably do not know of it, but those about to be installed in the office take the ancient sword of the High Kings in their hand and place their foot on an ancient stone, which we call the Lia Fail, the Stone of Destiny. It was said in pagan times that when the sacred stone feels the foot of a just ruler it responds with a shout of joy. You may see the stone in the royal enclosure, beyond those buildings …’ he indicated with his hand ‘ … for it stands here still.’ For a moment, the abbot looked embarrassed. ‘Do not think it is merely a pagan custom, Brother. Our ecclesiastical scholars have concluded that the stone was used by Jacob as his blessed pillow, and was brought out of Ancient Egypt by Goidel, son of Scota, daughter of the Pharaoh Cingris, after whom we Gaels take our name. And it was the descendants of Goidel, the worthy sons of Mile Easpain, who brought it hither to this land so that all our rightful rulers can rest their foot upon it and receive the blessing of the one true god.’
Fidelma sniffed impatiently. ‘It is an old legend … ’ she saw Abbot Colmán frown and corrected herself. ‘An old story. The stone is supposed to be of great antiquity — but remember that there is another story about the stone. Four or five generations ago, the brother of the High King Murtagh mac Erc became king of the Dál Riada across the sea in Alba. Fergus mac Erc sent to his brother Murtagh and requested that the stone be shipped to Alba so that he could be crowned upon it. Murtagh obliged his brother and after the inauguration Fergus refused to return the stone and the true Lia Fail now rests in Dál Riada.’
Abbot Colmán appeared irritated. ‘I have heard that story, Fidelma, and the answer is that Murtagh mac Erc sent another stone to his brother Fergus. The true Lia Fail remains here in Tara and always will.’ He turned and glanced at Eadulf. ‘Why are you so interested in the Lia Fail, Brother Eadulf?’
‘Eadulf is always delighted to learn new things about our lands and its legends,’ Fidelma answered for him. ‘Now, Colmán, you were saying that there will be a delay before the inauguration ceremonies for the new High King?’
Eadulf sighed, wondering why Fidelma was apparently unwilling to mention the encounter with the old woman.
They came to a large wooden building at the far end of the royal enclosure. Abbot Colmán indicated that this was the bruden or special guesthouses for the High King’s visitors. He halted outside the doors and turned to Fidelma.
‘With the murder of the High King, even though we know who did the deed, your enquiry into the motives and whether anyone else was involved, is essential before any ceremonies can begin. We have to know all the details. So nothing can be done before you have concluded your investigations. We await your findings.’
‘Surely Cenn Faelad is not suspected of involvement?’ Eadulf asked. ‘After all, Sechnussach was his brother.’
‘Brother Saxon, family feuds are not uncommon,’ Abbot Colmán said. ‘The killer, Dubh Duin, was a member of the southern Ui Néill. Sechnussach was of the same Uí Néill ancestry as Dubh Duin. So, of course, is his brother Cenn Faelad. Some might suspect that there is an internal family quarrel here. A grasping for power. No one is above suspicion here. You can see why it was thought proper that Cenn Faelad should not be named as High King until this matter is resolved.’
Fidelma had already appreciated the point.
‘Where is Sechnussach’s sister, Ornait?’ she asked suddenly.
When Sechnussach was about to be inaugurated as High King, the sacred sword of office, the sword said to have been fashioned by Gobhain, the smith god for the ancestors of the Uí Néill, had been stolen. For a High King not to be inaugurated with the sword and with his foot placed in the Lia Fail, the sacred Stone of Destiny, could have brought chaos and dissension in the five kingdoms. It had been Fidelma who had discovered that the culprits had been Ornait, the sister of Sechnussach, and her lover, Ailill Esa Flann, who had then been the tánaiste or heir apparent.
Abbot Colmán’s eyes sparkled in amusement. ‘I was awaiting your question about Ornait. Her name did cross my mind at the time of the murder,’ he admitted. ‘But, as you know, the Chief Brehon exiled Ornait and her lover Ailill and they went to the kingdom of Rheged on the island of Britain. To my knowledge they have remained there ever since.’
Eadulf was looking bewildered at this exchange and Fidelma relented.
‘I will tell you the story later, Eadulf,’ she promised before turning back to the abbot. ‘The shore of Rheged is only a day’s fair sailing from these shores,’ she said. ‘Ornait and Ailill were ambitious for power five years ago. They could be equally ambitious today and might have a hand in this matter. They would not be the first to be driven into exile and then return to be acclaimed in triumph.’ Fidelma was actually thinking of her own ancestor, Conall Corc, who returned to Muman after his exile not only to become King but also to establish Cashel as his great capital.
‘We would surely have heard some rumour of Ornait’s return if return she has,’ Abbot Colmán argued.
‘Anyway, these are just speculations,’ Fidelma summed up impatiently. ‘There is much to be talked of, but later with Cenn Faelad. Once we are refreshed, and start to gather all the facts, we can put our minds to this problem.’
The abbot nodded and, turning to the bruden doors, he clapped his hands to attract attention.
At once, they were opened and a tall, slim, dark-haired girl came forward to greet them. Her dark eyes seemed to have an angelic quality to them, or so Eadulf thought, and she had a ready smile. ‘Pretty’ was a word that came to his mind. She carried herself with a certain grace.
‘This is Báine,’ Abbot Colmán announced. ‘She will attend to your wants while you are staying in the guesthouse. There is no one else here at the moment and so I have presumed that you will want your escort,’ he nodded at Caol and Gormán, ‘to be on hand. There is room enough for all.’
The girl Báine made a deferential move of her head towards Fidelma. ‘Water is heated, lady, and the dabach is filled ready.’
The dabach was the wooden vat in which one bathed.
‘Good,’ Fidelma said. ‘Then I will seize the opportunity to bathe first.’
Abbot Colmán made his excuses. ‘After you have refreshed yourselves,’ he said, ‘I will come for you and Brother Eadulf to escort you to see Cenn Faelad. He is staying in my house on the other side of the royal enclosure. It was thought better not to move into the royal residence until after things have been settled. The t�
�naiste has arranged a private meal for you so that we may discuss the matter that brings you hither. Báine will see to it that your warriors are fed.’
He turned with a wave of his hand and moved away towards the central buildings of the royal enclosure.
They followed the young girl into the guests’ hostel. She was thorough and efficient, showing Fidelma and Eadulf to the chamber they would share and then conducting Caol and Gormán to rooms close by. Like most of the buildings, the guests’ hostel was a rectangular structure of wood, mainly oak beams and yew panels, with a thatched roof. It was fairly dark in the interior without seinester or windows to admit light, so the place reeked of the heavy fumes of tallow candles and oil lamps, even though it was still light outside.
It seemed that Fidelma and Eadulf had hardly had time to look roundthe chamber assigned to them and unpack their few belongings from their saddlebags before the girl, Báine, returned.
‘I will take you to your bath, lady,’ she announced. ‘I have laid out all the toiletries you may need; even a comb is provided so you have no need to bring anything else. We have fragrances and items for all your needs.’
Fidelma glanced at Eadulf with an amused expression. ‘Hospitality indeed,’ she murmured, as she left the room to follow the girl.
Hardly any time passed before the girl was back again, knocking gently at the door of the chamber.
‘Excuse me, Brother, but I wonder if you would like a beaker of the juice of crushed apples to slake your thirst while you are waiting for your bath to be prepared?’
‘Indeed, that I would.’ Eadulf smiled gravely.
The girl went to pour the drink and Eadulf followed her into the side room where she was preparing it.
‘Have you served in the guests’ hostel long, Báine?’ he asked.
The girl looked anxious. ‘I hope nothing is amiss, Brother?’
‘No, no.’ He shook his head reassuringly. ‘Nothing at all is wrong. You are very efficient in your work, that is all.’
Báine looked relieved. ‘This is my first time attending to the needs of the guests here. You are my first guests.’
Eadulf raised his eyebrows a little. ‘I would not have realised it. I thought that you had been born to the task.’
The girl handed him the drink and grimaced prettily. ‘I was raised to service — but not in a guests’ hostel. I usually serve in the High King’s household.’
‘Ah?’ Eadulf said, putting a question into the soft breath.
‘I was sent here today by Brother Rogallach especially to look after the lady Fidelma and yourself.’
‘Brother Rogallach?’
‘He is in charge of all those who serve in the High King’s household. He is the bollscari — the High King’s factotum.’
‘And you have served in the royal household long?’
‘Since the age of choice.’
Eadulf knew that girls reached the aimsir togú or age of choice when they came to their fourteenth birthday.
‘That cannot be long ago,’ he mused.
‘Five years ago,’ the girl replied in seriousness, not recognising that Eadulf was paying a clumsy compliment.
‘A lifetime,’ he smiled indulgently.
‘It seems so … now,’ Báine replied with a curious pause.
‘Were you serving in the household when the High King was slain?’
She blinked and nodded dumbly.
‘It must have been a shock for you?’
Báine swallowed and said, ‘A great shock. Sechnussach was a … a kind man to serve. He was gracious and generous to those who attended him.’
‘Then it is a great sadness. You were actually in the house when the assassin broke in?’
‘I was in my bed, asleep.’
‘Quite so. I had heard it was not long before dawn that it occurred. So undoubtedly you were woken by the sounds of that awesome discovery.’
To his surprise the girl shook her head. ‘I was roused from my bed by Brónach who told me what had happened. I slept through the noise of the discovery.’
‘Who is Brónach?’
‘She is the senior female attendant in the High King’s household. There are only three of us in the immediate household. She is older than us and so takes charge of us.’
Eadulf was about to press the girl for further information when Fidelma’s voice hailed her from the bathing room.
With a muttered apology, Báine turned to answer the call. Eadulf remained, thoughtfully sipping at his apple juice. A few moments later the door of the guests’ hostel opened and another girl entered. She was slightly built, wearing dowdy clothes, with unremarkable brown hair and almost plain features. It made her seem younger than she actually was which, in Eadulf’s estimation, was not more than eighteen. Her whole stance seemed that of someone who wished they were anywhere else but here. She regarded Eadulf with one quick frightened glance before dropping her gaze to the floor.
‘Forgive me,’ she muttered, clasping her hands before her, her shoulders slightly bent as if to make herself as small as possible.
‘Absolvo te a peccatis tuis,’ responded Eadulf jocularly. ‘I forgive you all your sins.’
For a moment the girl was startled, raising her gaze to his before quickly looking down again.
‘You are making a joke, Brother,’ she said, then added: ‘I am looking for Báine. I was told to ask if she needed help.’
Eadulf smiled kindly. ‘She is attending in the bathhouse at the moment. And who are you?’
‘I am Cnucha.’
Eadulf reflected for a moment. ‘I thought that meant a small hill? I have heard a legend of how the great warrior Cumal, the father of Fionn of the Fianna, was killed at the Battle of Cnucha.’
The girl, eyes still focused on the floor, added to this: ‘It is also the name of the wife of Geanann, one of the five great kings of the Fir Bolg who first divided this island into the five kingdoms.’
Eadulf felt guilty at his amusement in reaction to the slight note of pride that entered into this drab servant’s voice.
‘And who were these … what did you call them — Fir Bolg? Who were they who divided this land into five kingdoms? I have heard only that your people were descended from the children of Milesius and are called Gaels.’
The girl raised her chin a little. Eadulf heard a note of pride again. ‘The children of Milesius were the last people to arrive in this land. The Fir Bolg had conquered this island back in the mists of time, many generations before the coming of the children of the Gael. The five kings met at Uisnech, the sacred centre of the land, and it was from there that they divided it so that each one would rule a fifth.’
Uisnech again. Fidelma had explained its significance to him after the old woman had mentioned it at the bridge. Even the coming of Christianity had not displaced it as a great sacred ceremonial site, for it was thought to be the ‘omphalos’ or navel of the five kingdoms of Éireann, the point where the five kingdoms met. It was the spot where the goddess Eire, whose name had been given to the entire island, was venerated in ancient times. And it was the place where the Druids of the Old Faith gathered to light the ritual fires at the time of Beltane, the fires of Bél, marking the end of the dark half of the year.
‘So you are proud of your name?’ he observed.
Once again the girl’s eyes flickered to his and this time he saw some tiny sparks of emotion.
‘My name is all I have,’ she said simply. ‘I am a servant in this place. And, if you will forgive me, I will now go to Báine and see if she needs my help.’
She left as Caol and Gormán entered. Eadulf motioned to the jugs of drinks and suggested they help themselves.
Caol sprawled on a chair and stared moodily at his drink while Gormán leaned against the wall.
‘You two do not look happy,’ observed Eadulf.
Gormán shrugged indifferently. ‘I can’t say that I am happy to be here,’ he acknowledged.
Caol smiled thinly. ‘I think he
is worried by the old woman at the ford.’
Gormán did not seem offended. ‘You have to admit it was an unusual welcome to Tara. We have received better ones. I was raised on the old legends of the goddess of death and battles waiting at a ford and warning people of their death.’
Eadulf was not going to confess that he, too, had felt an apprehension about the old woman. He merely said: ‘Well, she did not foretell our deaths. She merely told us to return to Cashel, which I am sure we will do as soon as possible. After all, this affair cannot keep us here long. Sechnussach is dead, we know who killed him and we know that the assassin took his own life. There is little enough to investigate.’
‘Then why did the Great Assembly send for the lady Fidelma?’ demanded Gormán.
‘Merely to have someone unconnected with the events pronounce the findings,’ replied Eadulf calmly. ‘It seems a logical enough request.’
‘There is a feeling of gloom in the place,’ Gormán sighed, not assuaged.
‘Why wouldn’t there be? Is it often that a High King is murdered?’ countered Eadulf.
‘True. Neither is it so often that religious are slain in an attack for no good reason.’
‘You are thinking of the deaths on the Plain of Nuada?’ mused Eadulf. ‘There does seem some atmosphere of restlessness in this kingdom of Midhe.’
Caol drained his beaker with a decisive motion. ‘Well, there are robbers and outlaws in every kingdom. Even in Muman. Mind you, things have become very quiet now since the Uí Fidgente have decided to pay their respects to Cashel.’ He grinned wryly and added, ‘In fact, I quite miss the conflict.’
Eadulf shot him a look of disapproval. ‘You miss conflict? That is not a good thing to-’ he began, but Caol held up a hand, stopping him.
‘I should be specific in that I miss the excitement that is attendant on the conflict. Of course it is not right to be addicted to death and battle. So, when will you and the lady Fidelma start to consider this matter?’
‘Probably not until tomorrow. My guess is that we will be here a few days at the most. We shall know better after we have seen the heir to the High Kingship, Cenn Faelad, this evening.’
Dancing With Demons sf-18 Page 6
