Dancing With Demons sf-18

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘Then we will announce ourselves,’ Fidelma said firmly, moving off to the room with Eadulf following.

  Cenn Faelad was peering over some papers with Abbot Colmán as Fidelma and Eadulf entered after a cursory knock.

  ‘Ah, we were just examining the protocols for the hearing before the Great Assembly,’ Cenn Faelad said, glancing up. Then, seeing her expression, he asked: ‘Have you some news for me?’

  Fidelma’s voice was flat: ‘Not the news that you are wanting, I am afraid.’

  Abbot Colmán had also straightened up from the papers that he had been showing to the tánaiste.

  ‘We cannot delay the report to the Great Assembly indefinitely, Fidelma. They will want something soon.’

  ‘Then they will get it.’

  ‘But we should already be sending couriers to announce a date when the Great Assembly can convene to hear your findings.’

  To Eadulf’s surprise Fidelma did not argue but said: ‘Tell the couriers to announce that the Great Assembly should be able to meet in about a week’s time. That will give them time to alert all in the five kingdoms who will send delegations to hear the result.’

  Even Cenn Faelad looked astonished. ‘You will be able to give a full report in a week’s time?’ he asked.

  ‘I would not have suggested it if I did not think I could do so,’ replied Fidelma waspishly. ‘But I have come to say that, for the time being, we must conduct our enquiries elsewhere for a while.’

  ‘Elsewhere?’

  ‘We plan to travel west to Delbna Mór and then on to the Cinél Cairpre to see what we can learn about the character of Dubh Duin.’

  Cenn Faelad frowned. ‘The journey to see Ardgal of the Cinél Cairpre … that I can understand. But why Delbna Mór? There is nothing there but a few farmsteads and a religious community run by Bishop Luachan.’

  ‘It is Bishop Luachan I wish to see.’

  Cenn Faelad shook his head to express his bewilderment. ‘How long do you intend to be away from Tara?’

  ‘No more than a few days.’

  ‘And you can tell me nothing as to how things are progressing?’

  ‘I can only say that they are progressing in spite of the inability of some to volunteer information. Getting at the facts has been like drawing teeth, and that applies to some I would not have expected to be reticent.’

  ‘Are you referring to Brehon Barrán?’ smiled the young King confidently.

  Fidelma raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Barrán is a good man, a fine man and wise counsel. That is why I am nominating him as my tánaiste. But like all professional men he is jealous of his abilities and reputation. That was why he may be reticent in responding to your questions. He told me that he had neglected to keep you fully informed.’

  ‘He told you?’

  ‘Of course. He is an honest man. He warned me that you might be criticising him because of his choice to pursue a diplomatic frugality of information.’

  ‘Is that how he sees it?’

  ‘You heard him say that it was the Great Assembly that decided we should send for a Brehon or dálaigh who was unconnected with our Uí Néill family? As Chief Brehon, he felt the investigation of the High King’s death should have been his. In honesty, I think he resented your coming to take charge of it.’

  ‘That is a natural enough response, I suppose,’ replied Fidelma, unperturbed.

  ‘Indeed,’ Abbot Colmán joined in. ‘But I understand that you have both reached an understanding now.’

  ‘I hope we have.’

  ‘Irél has told me of the flight of Cuan, a member of the Fianna,’ said Cenn Faelad. ‘I advised him to report that matter to you. I hope it is not because of him that you leave? Irél could easily send warriors to overtake him and bring him back, no matter where he is hiding.’

  ‘There are other things that must claim my attention.’

  ‘So you are not concerned with Cuan?’

  ‘I am very much concerned with Cuan. He was part of the conspiracy and he deliberately acted as a decoy, getting Lugna to desert his post that night. Furthermore, he took your key to a smith and had it copied.’

  ‘So it was Cuan?’ Cenn Faelad started in surprise. ‘That is a serious charge.’

  ‘Which is obviously why he fled,’ confirmed Fidelma.

  ‘Yet you stop Irél from the pursuit. Why?’

  ‘As I have said, I have other matters to attend to. Cuan is heading west.If my suspicions are correct, I think that we may well encounter him before too long.’

  Cenn Faelad gave her a hard look. ‘Do you know something that you are not telling me?’

  She shook her head. ‘If I knew anything of pertinence, I would tell you. But it is no use to theorise at this stage.’

  ‘Who are you taking on your trip?’

  ‘Eadulf, of course, and Caol and Gormán, the warriors who accompanied me from Cashel.’

  ‘Only two warriors? Come, I can give you a cóicat, a company of fifty warriors, or a céit, a hundred warriors, to escort you.’

  Fidelma, smiling, declined. ‘It will not be necessary.’

  ‘Then take Irél, at least, for he has the authority of the Fianna behind him.’

  She shook her head decisively. ‘As we started out, so we’ll go on, Cenn Faelad. It is better. But an authority from you might be welcome. Will you provide me with a wand of office on your behalf, in order that I can act accordingly when we get to the territory of the Cinél Cairpre?’

  ‘Willingly.’ Cenn Faelad gestured to Abbot Colmán. The latter moved to a locked cupboard that he opened with a key, and withdrew a wooden box. The box was locked also and another key opened it. From it he took a small wand of white rowan wood on which was fixed, at one end, a small upraised golden hand — the symbol of the Ui Néill. He handed it to Cenn Faelad solemnly.

  The tánaiste held it out to her.

  ‘By this wand you derive authority from the High Kings of Tara and speak with my voice,’ he intoned the ancient formula.

  Fidelma took the symbol and bowed her head slightly, remembering that the last time she had received such an emblem was from her brother when she had gone to Gleann Geis — the valley of the shadow.4 It seemed so long ago.

  ‘I will not dishonour it,’ she said quietly.

  ‘And may it not dishonour you,’ Cenn Faelad replied. Then, more brightly: ‘When do you set out?’

  ‘At first light in the morning. We might be able to reach Delbna Mór by evening tomorrow.’

  ‘Have you good horses? If there is anything I can provide, you need only ask.’

  ‘We have everything we want.’

  ‘Then, success to the journey and may we see you back safely as soon as possible.’

  ‘Tonight we shall have a special feasting,’ Abbot Colmán added, ‘to wish you well on the journey.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The territory of Delbna Mór lay mainly along the east bank of the dark waters of the River Daoil, which fed through a tiny loch that was named Diseart after the hermitage that had been built there. The ecclesiastical centre was located in picturesque wooded territory. Apart from the wooden church among a group of similarly constructed buildings, there was little else to distinguish it from the various settlements that were scattered throughout the hilly countryside.

  Fidelma and Eadulf, with Caol and Gormán behind them, rode up the track towards what appeared to be the main building beside the wooden church. As they did so, they became aware of groups of religious emerging from the buildings in twos and threes.

  Caol coughed discreatly to attract Fidelma’s attention.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she called quietly to him. ‘I have noticed.’

  Eadulf then realised that every one of the brethren was carrying a weapon of some description and their expressions were certainly not welcoming.

  ‘They don’t seem very friendly,’ he muttered.

  ‘Perhaps they are just very frightened,’ repl
ied Fidelma as they came to a halt at the main building.

  A short, stocky man, red of face and breathless, came forward and stared at them. He was middle-aged and was not armed. However, he was quickly joined by a young man who took a position by his side and his hand nervously fingered a sword.

  ‘What is your business here?’ the stocky man demanded harshly. There was neither customary greeting nor invitation to dismount.

  Fidelma regarded him in silence for a moment and remained seated on her horse. Then she glanced at his companion with the sword before returning her gaze to the speaker.

  ‘Salve,’ she greeted him in the Roman fashion, making the words of the new Christian greeting in Latin seem ironic. ‘Peace on you, brother, and upon this community.’

  The man frowned uncertainly. ‘And to you — peace,’ he muttered, as if irritated at being reminded of his manners. ‘What do you seek here?’

  Fidelma sighed deeply before addressing him. ‘I assumed that we had come to a Christian community. What else could we be seeking but the customary hospitality?’ she began.

  ‘But you are not,’ he argued. ‘Although two of you are dressed as in the manner of religious, your companions are warriors. So I doubt if you are just wanderers preaching the Faith and seeking Christian hospitality and alms.’

  He was clearly hostile and the rest of the brethren were regarding them in a sullen and watchful manner. The young man at the side of the speaker held his sword as if waiting for the word to leap forward to attack. Eadulf was aware that the other members of the religious, each grasping staves and other objects that could be used as weapons, were beginning to form a semi-circle at their backs, although not yet closing in. He hoped Fidelma would do nothing precipitous.

  ‘You have sharp eyes. We have come from Tara seeking Bishop Luachan,’ she replied, remaining calm.

  ‘Luachan is not here,’ was the uncompromising response.

  ‘Then tell us where he is and we will bother you no further,’ Fidelma said.

  ‘All I can tell you is that he is not here,’ replied the other doggedly.

  ‘That is not helpful,’ she observed quietly.

  ‘I cannot be responsible for the effect of the information that I give you,’ snapped the rotund man. ‘I can only give you the information.’

  Caol could not restrain himself.

  ‘Do you know to whom you speak?’ he roared. ‘This is Fidelma of Cashel, the dálaigh requested by the Great Assembly of the five kingdoms to investigate the assassination of Sechnussach. Shame on you and on your manners!’

  The rotund man’s eyes narrowed a little and an expression of uncertainty crossed his face.

  ‘Of Cashel? Are you the sister to King Colgú? Fidelma the dálaigh?’

  ‘This is she,’ replied Caol belligerently before Fidelma could answer. ‘Therefore, I suggest-’

  Fidelma held up a hand to still his outburst, then reached into her saddlebag and took out the wand of office, which Cenn Faelad had given her.

  ‘Do you recognise this?’

  The man’s eyes goggled. ‘I do,’ he said.

  ‘Know then that this is my authority. We come here meaning you no harm. There is no need for your men to finger their weapons so anxiously. We wish to speak with Bishop Luachan, that is all.’

  The man held her gaze for a while and then glanced at Eadulf and then at Caol and Gormán. He turned to his companion and nodded a dismissal. The younger man reluctantly lowered his sword and waved to the others to disperse.

  ‘Please,’ the stocky man said, his voice moderating from belligerency to apology, indicating that they should dismount, ‘forgive this poor welcome but we live in fractious times. Indeed, we live in fear of our lives. But, let me greet you properly. I am Brother Céin and I am steward to Bishop Luachan and, in his absence, am in charge of our poor community.’

  Fidelma introduced her companions as they dismounted.

  Brother Céin greeted each before continuing: ‘Have you ridden directly from Tara? Let me take you into the hostel and offer you refreshment.’

  Fidelma indicated her assent and fell in step with him, while the others followed; the young man with the sword announced that he would see to their horses and have them rubbed down, watered and fed.

  ‘So, is it true that Luachan is not here?’ she asked. ‘And why are you and your brothers in fear of your lives?’

  Brother Céin shrugged. ‘It is true the bishop is not here,’ he confirmed, ‘and the why and wherefore are long in the telling. Come in and take refreshment first.’

  The travellers were seated, drinks were brought and a meal served, as it was well past midday. It was only after they had been served that Fidelma returned to the subject.

  ‘So, tell us what has happened to put you in such fear, Brother Céin,’ she invited.

  The steward’s expression was sad.

  ‘Three days ago, Bishop Luachan was summon to attend a farmer’s wife who was said to be dying. The bishop had known the farmer and his wife for many years. Their farm is not far from here so he left on hismission of mercy. The man who brought this message presented himself as a passing traveller. When Bishop Luachan did not return by nightfall, the next morning, we sent one of the brethren to find out why he was delayed. Imagine his astonishment on encountering the farmer’s wife in robust health and claiming never to have sent a message at all. A search was made but the bishop had vanished.’

  ‘I see. There was no mistake? The bishop was not summoned elsewhere? ’

  ‘He was not. Ever since young Brother Diomasach was killed last week Bishop Luachan had been fearful, and that is why he persuaded us to view any strangers, particularly warriors, with suspicion. He advised that we find weapons and kept them to hand.’

  ‘Who was Brother Diomasach?’

  ‘He was the bishop’s scribe who wrote a good hand and spoke several languages.’

  ‘How was he killed?’

  ‘He disappeared from the nearby fields one day and was found floating in the Daoil, the river yonder. It looked as though he had been beaten — tortured, even — before he had been killed. God grant him peace.’

  ‘Did Bishop Luachan have any suspicion as to why Brother Diomasach was killed? Who did he fear, that he suggested that you be so wary?’

  ‘There have been several raids on isolated members of the Faith.’

  ‘Dibergach?’ queried Eadulf, practising the new-found word he had learned.

  Brother Céin shrugged. ‘Brigands? Perhaps. But they say there is a vigorous movement arising in the west that seeks to bring back the old religion. We have heard that these particular dibergach take pleasure in raiding Christian churches and communities.’

  Fidelma was thoughtful for a moment. ‘So it was felt that Brother Diomasach was attacked because he was simply one of the Faith and had been found alone in the fields?’

  Brother Céin looked uneasy.

  ‘There is more?’ pressed Fidelma, catching his expression.

  ‘What brought you here in search of the bishop?’ countered the steward instead.

  ‘No secret to that. Bishop Luachan visited the High King and took him some sort of gift. That was the very night before the High King was assassinated. There is now no sign of the gift and no one claims to have seenit. I was curious. What was this important gift? Did it have any bearing on the assassination of the High King? As Delbna Mór lay on our route to the country of the Cinél Cairpre, whose former chieftain is known to have been the assassin, I thought I might discuss this mysterious gift with Bishop Luachan.’

  Brother Céin’s face grew longer and he sighed deeply.

  ‘I do not pretend to know all the answers, lady. But I have some knowledge which may be of help.’ He glanced at the sky through the window and nodded half to himself. ‘There is daylight left. If you have refreshed yourselves sufficiently, I would show you something but it is a short walk from here.’

  Fidelma looked at Eadulf for his reaction.

  ‘
Come,’ urged Brother Céin. ‘You can bring your warriors and their weapons with you.’ He rose and took an oil lamp from a table. Eadulf and Fidelma exchanged a curious glance for, as the steward had said, it was still daylight outside. They followed as he left the refectory and led them through the wooden buildings. They turned in a southeasterly direction, not more than 400 metres along a thickly wooded pathway.

  ‘Be watchful,’ Céin exhorted Caol and Gormán as he halted at a point on the pathway and peered quickly around at the undergrowth. Then he moved along a single path through the undergrowth and halted in a small clearing. There, to their surprise, he started to lift back some loose branches, which revealed a dark opening into the ground. Fidelma and Eadulf saw at once that it was manmade and not a natural cave.

  Brother Céin took the oil lamp and held it above the hole in the ground.

  ‘The bishop found this several weeks ago by accident,’ he said to Fidelma. ‘Brother Diomasach and Bishop Luachan had spotted a strange cairn over there,’ he pointed to a rise behind them. ‘It was overgrown with creepers and almost invisible to the eye. In going to discover what it was, Bishop Luachan almost fell down into the entrance. It seemed that he only noticed the cairn because a stag had rubbed its antlers against it and torn away the growth that surrounded it. All these details I received from Bishop Luachan afterwards. Initially, only he and Brother Diomasach made and shared the discovery.’

  ‘What is it, an uaimh?’ muttered Eadulf, staring down the hole.

  ‘One might think so, Brother Eadulf,’ replied Céin. ‘This one leads into a passage which runs along two levels and terminates in a beehive-shapedchamber. From this entrance you move north along it and you have to be careful as the floor of the passage drops to the second level.’

  ‘Is it ancient?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘It is difficult to estimate the true age. It was completely overgrown as well, according to the bishop. The roof of the first level of the passage consists of large flat lintels. There are similar large lintels on the second level of the passage. The floor is spread with clay that has been hardened over the centuries. The chamber at the end is constructed with dry stone walls with a corbel roof with caps of two flat lintels. It is about three metres in diameter. The interesting thing about the chamber is that there are no air vents, which would be necessary if used for food storage — an uaimh, as you say — or even for a place of refuge in extreme threatening times.’