Dancing With Demons sf-18

by Peter Tremayne

  Eadulf had not seen Fidelma dressed in such finery since their official wedding day.

  ‘Perhaps I should have borrowed warrior’s clothing from Gormán,’ he greeted her with dry humour.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ she retorted. ‘We go to stand before the High King elect of the five kingdoms, and the kings and nobles of the five kingdoms gathered in the Great Assembly. In such a formal meeting there is a protocol in dress that is prescribed by law.’

  ‘I should have known that the Brehons even have rules on dress. But it makes me seem a poor peasant by comparison,’ he replied dolefully, glancing down at himself. He had put on his best clothes, but his simple garments were rough and homespun by contrast with hers.

  ‘Just remember that you are Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ Fidelma admonished firmly. ‘And my husband.’

  He had difficulty remembering it when they entered the hall of the Great Assembly. If there was one thing he had learned about the noble and wealthy classes of the people of Éireann, it was that they loved to dress up in bright colours and jewellery — and both males as well as females would add to it by putting on cosmetics — berry juice to brightenthe lips or darken the eyebrows or enhance the blush of the cheek. He disapproved of it and was pleased to see that Fidelma had used red berry juice on her lips sparingly and added only a thin line to highlight her eyebrows. As he glanced round at the gathering, he realised that his fears were correct. It was not Fidelma who stood out in her choice of clothing but his plain and simple garments that drew the eye.

  Around the hall, members of the Fianna stood sentinel and Irél himself commanded a detachment of warriors who formed up behind a row of empty benches at one side of the hall. These had been reserved for the witnesses that Fidelma, through Brehon Barrán, had instructed to attend the hearing; they were now awaiting the summons to enter.

  Usually, at the Great Assembly meetings the positions of honour went to the High King and his Chief Brehon. As Cenn Faelad entered with Brehon Barrán and made towards these seats, the dour-faced Congal Cendfota of the Dál Fiatach of Ulaidh sprang up, raising his voice in objection. He shouted to make himself overheard above the hubbub. This caused even greater pandemonium. Finally, Cenn Faelad brought the place to order.

  ‘We will only proceed when there is quiet among us,’ he bellowed.

  The noise died into a muttering and a shuffling of feet.

  ‘Now, Congal Cendfota, why do you object to Brehon Barrán and I taking our seats to conduct the affairs of this Great Assembly?’ demanded Cenn Faelad.

  The burly northern noble still stood in his place.

  ‘This Great Assembly made a decision at its last meeting — that there were potential conflicts in the Uí Néill about the investigation of the matter of Sechnussach’s assassination. He was an Ui Néill and his assassin was an Uí Néill. The person that gains from his assassination is an Uí Néill. The Chief Brehon, overseeing such an investigation, is an Uí Néill. So it was decided that the Chief Brehon should not conduct the investigation. It was also decided that you, Cenn Faelad, while tánaiste to your brother, Sechnussach, should not be inaugurated until the investigation was concluded.’

  Cenn Faelad grimaced impatiently. ‘And this is exactly why we now meet, Congal Cendfota! As this Great Assembly instructed, Fidelma of Cashel — an Eóghanacht — came to investigate and is about to make her report. What is your objection?’

  Congal Cendfota waited until the muttering subsided again. He pointedto the chairs of office in which Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán were about to be seated.

  ‘Until that report and its conclusions are confirmed by this Assembly, I contend that neither you nor Brehon Barrán can have a say in conducting this meeting. It would be unseemly and implies a foregone conclusion.’

  There were many who voiced their agreement with this argument and, indeed, Fidelma looked across at Eadulf and nodded approvingly.

  ‘It seems a logical point of procedure,’ she whispered, ‘although slightly pedantic.’

  Cenn Faelad held a whispered exchange with Barrán.

  ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We will sit in the Great Assembly only as observers. But who will conduct the proceedings?’

  ‘Fianamail of Laigin,’ proposed one of the Laigin churchmen.

  This immediately brought protest from one of the Ulaidh nobles.

  ‘If Fianamail of Laigin presides over this Great Assembly on behalf of the High King, then it would be tantamount to approving Laigin as next in line to the High Kingship!’

  ‘Then I propose Diarmait, chieftain of Uisnech!’ cried another voice.

  ‘He is just another Uí Néill,’ called a chieftain from Connacht.

  Again, a hubbub broke out.

  Then Ségéne of Ard Macha rose and walked across the chamber to where Ségdae of Imleach was seated. Ségdae rose to greet him and both men held a hurried conversation. They turned to face the Great Assembly.

  ‘My brother in Christ and I have a proposal,’ Abbot Ségéne announced, silencing the noise of speculation. ‘The matter of delivering the report should be a relatively simple affair. We believe that the steward and spiritual adviser to this Great Assembly, Abbot Colmán, should control the proceedings, acting with the advice of Sedna, the deputy Chief Brehon. Neither is an Uí Néill and both have the authority of their office. Let anyone who has any objection to this, state that objection.’

  There was a silence and then a murmuring of approval arose.

  Cenn Faelad, with some relief, said: ‘Then it seems we are agreed. We will sit here as observers. Come forward, Colmán, come forward, Sedna, so that we may proceed.’

  Abbot Colmán and Brehon Sedna came forward to take their seats and an expectant hush fell on the assembly.

  Abbot Colmán glanced at his companion and then turned to face the Great Assembly.

  ‘There is little need to preamble these proceedings. For reasons we are all aware of, the Great Assembly decided that the matter of the assassination of our High King, Sechnussach, by Dubh Duin, chieftain of the Cinél Cairpre, should be investigated by an unbiased dálaigh — Fidelma of the Eóghanacht, Fidelma of Cashel. She was asked to investigate the motives and discover whether anyone other than Dubh Duin was involved in this matter.’ He paused and looked to where Fidelma was seated. ‘Fidelma of Cashel, are you prepared to present the results of such an investigation?’

  Fidelma rose and cleared her throat. ‘I am. In corroboration of my report, I have called on certain witnesses to stand ready to confirm or deny my contentions. I would ask the leniency of this Great Assembly to bring them into this hall to sit among us so that they respond to the arguments that I shall place before you.’

  Abbot Colmán turned to Brehon Sedna and they held a hurried and whispered exchange. It was Brehon Sedna who spoke next.

  ‘There is a legal objection to your request, Fidelma of Cashel.’ He spoke in sharp, incisive tones. ‘It must be made clear that this is not a court in which the guilty can be prosecuted. If it is found that anyone else has acted in collusion with the assassin, then this Great Assembly cannot make judgement. The procedure as laid down in the Cóic Conara Fugill, the Five Paths of Judgement, must be followed. Today is simply a hearing of your report … ’

  Fidelma inclined her head towards him. ‘I would like to plead a precedent for bringing the witnesses here … ’

  ‘A precedent?’ snapped Brehon Sedna. ‘Surely the assassination of the High King has no precedent?’

  Fidelma smiled softly. ‘I would respectfully refer the learned Brehon to the scribes who record that the High King Muirchertach, son of Erc, was drowned in a vat full of wine at his house at Cleiteach on Ucht Cleitig by the banks of the Bóinn. It is true this took place many generations ago. Indeed, so we are told, it happened in the very year of the death of the Blessed Ailbe of Imleach, who brought the Christian teaching to our poor kingdom of Muman.’

  Brehon Sedna flushed, turning to one of the scribes whose task it was to record the d
ecisions of the Great Assembly and was learned in its protocols and history. He beckoned the man forward and there was a whispered exchange between them. Brehon Sedna turned with a surprised look to Fidelma.

  ‘May I congratulate you on your knowledge,’ he said. ‘I am reminded that a woman named Sin was considered the culprit in the death of the High King Muirchertach which happened as you have said.’

  Fidelma was not triumphant at making the point.

  ‘You will find that, according to the records, it was a strange death. His house was set on fire and the High King climbed into a vat of wine to escape the flames. The ridgepole of the house, having been burned away, fell on the High King’s head, knocking him unconscious, so that he fell back into the vat and drowned. This Great Assembly held a hearing and witnesses were brought to sit before it to hear the report presented by the Brehon appointed to investigate. That is the precedent that I argue.’

  Brehon Sedna turned back to the scribe who nodded rapidly in agreement with her summary.

  ‘We will accept the precedent and allow your witnesses to sit in the Great Assembly to hear your report.’

  There was a silence while Irél led in Gormflaith and her daughter Muirgel, which caused a great deal of outspoken surprise among the Assembly. They were shown to empty benches guarded by members of the Fianna. Then came the warriors Lugna, Erc and Cuan, the latter closely guarded. All the servants of the High King’s household, Brother Rogallach, Torpach, Brónach, Báine, Cnucha, Maoláin and Duirnín followed. Bishop Luachan, still limping, and his steward Brother Céin came next. Finally, Iceadh the apothecary entered and took his place. Brehon Sedna waited until they were all seated before addressing Fidelma.

  ‘This procedure now brings forward a second point of law. Abbot Colmán must surely take his place with the witnesses and be excluded from sitting here.’

  Abbot Colmán looked at his companion in surprise at the contention but Fidelma raised her hands to still the murmuring that broke out.

  ‘Not so, Brehon Sedna. The abbot is not a witness to the events as I shall state them. He merely took charge of the royal household until the return of Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán. There was no reason for him to be excluded from conducting this meaning.’

  Brehon Sedna looked as relieved as the abbot.

  ‘Then if this procedure is acceptable to the Great Assembly …?’

  Everyone signified their agreement perhaps somewhat impatiently and several called out that the report be proceeded with.

  ‘So, having clarified procedure, you may continue,’ Brehon Sedna summed up, addressing Fidelma.

  Fidelma paused, as if gathering her thoughts. Then she began her speech.

  ‘All murder is heinous. The assassination of a High King is especially so. One fact has been absolutely clear from the start. Dubh Duin, the chieftain of the Cinél Cairpre, entered the bedchamber of the High King, cut his throat and then turned his knife on himself when he realised that there was no escape from capture. There is no disputing this fact.

  ‘We initially had two main questions to ask. One: did Dubh Duin act alone? And two: what was his motive?’

  She let her gaze sweep the Assembly as if seeking an answer there. It was a piece of drama that Eadulf had witnessed several times before when Fidelma was arguing before the airechtaí or courts.

  ‘You may be assured that Dubh Duin did not act alone,’ she went on confidently. ‘This was no spur-of-the-moment killing, nor was it a matter of one person acting alone for reasons of personal hate. Indeed, there was a conspiracy to kill Sechnussach.’

  A wave of outrage swept the hall and she allowed it to swell and ebb before she spoke again.

  ‘As for the motive, at this stage I will firstly tell you what Dubh Duin’s own motive was. I fear it was not the same motive of all those in the conspiracy. Dubh Duin was a traditionalist. He believed in the old ways and customs. Moreover, he believed in the Old Faith. Those in this Great Assembly already know how he argued here for the recognition of the rights of those who still held to their veneration of the old gods and goddesses. Some may recall his dispute on the matter with Sechnussach?’

  There were many who were nodding, recalling the debate. Only Gormflaith among the witnesses seemed to shake her head in disbelief.

  ‘Dubh Duin was fully committed to the Old Faith as we are to the New Faith,’ Fidelma continued. ‘Ardgal, now chief of the Cinél Cairpre, will testify to this. There is no need for me to tell you that scarcely two centuries have passed since the great teachers Patrick, Ailbe, Brigit, Brendan, Ciaran and the others, brought the word of Christ to this land. There are still areas which that word has not reached or where it is not accepted. Even within a day’s ride of Tara, there are still many who gather at Uisnech, which the ancients regarded as the navel of the world, the centre of the five kingdoms, to practise the old rites.

  ‘Further, there is no need for me to tell you that there is a movementabroad intent on overthrowing the new teachings and returning this land to the old ways.’

  Abbot Colmán bent forward quickly. ‘And are you claiming that Dubh Duin was part of this?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘It can’t be true!’ cried Gormflaith, her strident tone startling everyone.

  Fidelma looked at her sadly. ‘I am afraid it can be, and it is,’ she replied, before turning back to the Assembly. ‘We know that there are pagan raiders, the dibergach, who have been attacking the abbeys and churches. They started by attacking small, isolated churches and communities, but those attacks are increasing. Many members of the religious have been killed.’

  A member of the Great Assembly stood up and signalled that he wished to ask a question.

  ‘I am sworn to the New Faith and have no advocacy for the old. But I must point out that the faith of our ancient fathers did not advocate violence and death as a way of life. Our fathers believed in the peace and oneness of this world. This was the teaching of our Druids. Why would they be raiding and killing in the name of the old gods and goddesses? It seems illogical.’

  Fidelma acknowledged the man’s statement, for it was hardly a question.

  ‘There has been one sect among our forefathers which did advocate death and sacrifice,’ she said. ‘It was an aberration quickly dealt with by the Druids. It is claimed that during the days of Tigernmas, the twenty-sixth High King, dementia overtook him and he set up a great idol on Magh Slecht, the Plain of Slaughter, and demanded that people sacrifice to it. So much bloodshed was caused that finally the Druids rose up and destroyed both the idol and Tigernmas. The idol was called Crom Cróich.’

  ‘So what are you saying?’ demanded Brehon Sedna. ‘That this idol worship has been reborn?’

  ‘The sect that has arisen to attempt to overthrow the New Faith is dedicated to the worship of Crom Cróich,’ she confirmed.

  ‘How do you come to this conclusion?’

  ‘We have witnesses to that fact, and Irél and Ardgal have led their warriors in the overthrow of these fanatics who were encamped at a place called the Hag’s Mountain not even a day’s ride from here. You need no longer fear them. But how does it fit in with the assassination of the High King? I will tell you. Firstly, when coming to Tara, while we were crossingthe Plain of Nuada, we came on a destroyed church and members of the religious that had been slaughtered. But one was just alive. Brother Eadulf bent and heard his last word. Brother Eadulf thought he whispered something about blame.

  ‘And when Dubh Duin lay dying by the High King’s bed he too whispered something. Lugna, who caught the last words, also thought he said something about blame.’

  ‘What is unusual about that?’ Abbot Colmán wanted to know.

  ‘Both Eadulf and Lugna misheard the word. The word was not cron, blame, but Crom — Crom Cróich. The religious was identifying the attackers just as Dubh Duin was calling on the idol that he thought was a god. This much we can now prove. We should have been alerted by this fact earlier.’

  ‘Accepting this then,
you say that Dubh Duin believed that Sechnussach’s death would help him in his quest to bring back this evil worship. But how?’ Brehon Sedna asked. ‘I do not understand it.’

  ‘Because he had been led to believe that the successor would return the five kingdoms to such worship,’ Fidelma answered simply.

  At once Cenn Faelad leaped to his feet, his face angry. ‘This is a lie! As the holy cross is my banner and witness, I would not do such a thing!’

  Fidelma held up a hand to quench the tumult that had broken out. ‘I did not say it was you, Cenn Faelad,’ she rebuked mildly.

  ‘You said Sechnussach’s successor.’ Cenn Faelad was not mollified. ‘I am the tánaiste, the heir apparent. Who else would you mean?’

  ‘Your succession was not going to last long,’ she replied starkly. ‘The plot, in essence, was simple but its mechanics were complicated. Indeed, in all the cases that I have been involved in, this one has shocked me by the depth of intrigue and the convolution of its workings.’

  Taken aback, Cenn Faelad sat down abruptly.

  ‘This case has many layers of culpability,’ Fidelma said. ‘I will beg the forgiveness of this Great Assembly for taking them on a long journey through these layers of intrigue. The simplest layer was Dubh Duin, who was part of this sect devoted to bringing back the worship of Crom. Very well. Dubh Duin had tried to get some recognition for the Old Faith in this Great Assembly. When that failed, he turned to other methods. He was supported by the bands of brigands raiding the Christian centres. They were fanatics. But it was like the pricking of pins on a great bear. It did not even harm the body. So there had to be another way.

  ‘Dubh Duin did not dream up the plot himself. Who persuaded himthat the way forward lay in the assassination of Sechnussach? Someone in the royal household? There was one fanatic already who served in the royal enclosure … ’