Dancing With Demons

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘And did they?’ asked Eadulf sceptically. As a Saxon he was, in many ways, still unused to the curious rituals of the law of the Éireannach.

  ‘Naturally. Ardgal sent eight leading men of his clan as hostages. They have been here for several days at the Mound of the Hostages.’

  Fidelma smiled at them all. ‘That is all I need to know from you at this time. Tomorrow I propose to start with questions to the witnesses, such as they are. And, of course, I will wish to see where the assassination took place.’

  ‘Abbot Colmán will see to all your needs,’ Cenn Faelad agreed quietly. ‘He has full authority to take you wherever you wish to go and also to force all and every one to answer your questions, should they seem reluctant.’

  ‘That should not be necessary, seeing that I am a dálaigh qualified to the level of anruth,’ Fidelma informed him somewhat tartly.

  ‘Agreed, but these are not normal times,’ Cenn Faelad sighed. ‘And there is much suspicion here, especially against strangers.’

  ‘We will do our best to find a resolution to this mystery so that we may return to normal times as soon as possible,’ Fidelma said, not unkindly.

  Cenn Faelad rose and they followed his example.

  ‘And now we have had food for our thoughts,’ he said, ‘let us refresh ourselves with food for our bodies.’

  Abbot Colmán opened a side door, revealing a small chamber where a table had been laid out ready.

  ‘My servants have prepared a cold meal as I did not know what time our discussion might end and, of course, it was better that no servants were present to hear it.’

  Eadulf glanced at the table in approval. There were plates of sercoltorsan or cold venison, and slices of mairt-fhéol or beef. A dish of hardboiled goose eggs stood to one side, with dishes of gruth-caisse or curd cheese and hard cheese called tanag, and several kinds of bread. There were salads of cneamh or wild garlic with cress and wood sorrel, mixed with sloes as a condiment, and dishes of hazelnut, apples, whortleberries and honey. Drink was plentful: jugs of cider, juice made from elderflower and apples, and even imported red wine. It was truly a feast.

  The conversation as they ate studiously avoided the matter of Sechnussach’s death but turned on the state of the kingdoms, the harvest and the threat of a new outbreak of the feared Yellow Plague that had devastated the country.

  Finally, it was time for Fidelma and Eadulf to return to the guesthouse. Cenn Faelad held out his hand to Fidelma.

  ‘God guide your work, lady. Let us hope for a quick resolution. It is dangerous for the five kingdoms to be without a High King confirmed in ancient ceremony. We have much work to do before we call the provincial kings to my inauguration. We will also need to call the Brehons of Ireland to appoint a new Chief Brehon as well.’

  Fidelma was puzzled and glanced towards Brehon Barrán with an unspoken query.

  Cenn Faelad saw the glance and explained. ‘As we have said, Barrán is my cousin and I have persuaded him to stand as my tánaiste, for his will be a steady hand in helping to govern. Therefore, we need to find a new Chief Brehon to fill his place. That is why there is now urgency in resolving matters.’

  ‘Then I will do my best to ensure that the result matches the urgency,’ she promised. ‘We will have to make an early start in the morning when it is light. I would like to see over Sechnussach’s chambers.’

  ‘There is not much to see there,’ Cenn Faelad replied. ‘Since the assassination took place, most things have been cleared from the apartments.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ insisted Fidelma, ‘it is good to see where the crime took place so that I can visualise the events.’

  Abbot Colmán said: ‘In that case I will come by the guesthouse after you have broken your fast and take you there. As Cenn Faelad said, you have only to ask, and I am at your service.’

  ‘Then we will make a start after breakfast,’ replied Fidelma solemnly.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Eadulf woke just before first light.

  He could hear Fidelma’s regular breathing and knew that she was still asleep. At first he did not know why he had awoken and then he heard the noise of a pan being moved from the ircha, the kitchen area of the guesthouse. He looked out of the window and saw from the sky that it would soon be dawn. He wanted to turn over and go back to the warm comfort of the dream he was having but knew that, even if he could recapture the moment, within moments he would be roused sharply. With a sigh, he decided to make the best of it and crept out of bed.

  If someone was already stirring in the kitchen, he could take the opportunity to wash before Fidelma and the others rose. He went to the door and opened it softly so as not to disturb her, and moved out into the corridor.

  Having passed beyond the door he now heard the soft whispers of a conversation. He wondered who was awake apart from himself. Stepping quietly down the corridor, he then halted in embarrassment as he heard a female voice. He tried to place where he had heard it before and then he recalled that it was the plainfaced girl with the strange name – what was it? – Cnucha?

  It was not her tone but what she said that halted him.

  ‘She is a …’ He did not understand the word that was used but had a feeling it was not a nice expression. Resentfully, the girl’s voice continued: ‘I don’t see why I should do her work for her!’

  ‘Because there is no one else to do it, my girl. That is why.’

  He did not recognise the stern tones of the woman who answered her.

  ‘She is always getting out of her duties recently, ever since … ever since – well, you know.’

  ‘I have no time to argue, Cnucha. The meal for the guests must be prepared and the water heated for their wash. When Báine is not here, then it is up to you to fulfil these chores.’

  ‘It occurs to me that Báine is hardly ever here when needed. She spends too much time with the High King’s daughter, if you ask me.’

  ‘She cannot help the fact that the lady Muirgel has taken a fancy to her company. And you are in enough trouble with Muirgel and Brehon Barrán without complaining about others.’

  The girl sniffed. ‘It was not my fault.’

  ‘They caught you searching the High King’s chambers the day after the assassination. Why were you doing that?’

  ‘I had a right to be there,’ the girl replied sulkily. ‘One of my tasks was to attend the chambers and keep them clean.’

  ‘The lady Muirgel did not think so.’

  ‘She shouldn’t have lost her temper and struck me! Bitch! Then Barrán came in and supported her, saying I had no business to be there.’

  ‘And he was right. Sechnussach had been assassinated. The chambers should have been closed.’

  ‘Brehon Barrán said as much, but …’ Her voice trailed off.

  Eadulf heard the other woman sigh impatiently.

  ‘I don’t know what possessed you. Whatever were you doing in the High King’s chambers? Come on – the truth now. Surely not cleaning.’

  Cnucha seemed to hesitate. Then: ‘If you must know, I was looking for something, that is all. I probably lost it elsewhere. It was … personal. A bracelet.’

  ‘I see. Well, I know jewellery can be of sentimental value, but—’

  ‘It was also valuable,’ the girl protested. ‘It was a bracelet of silver Gaulish coins. I must have lost it when I was cleaning. I did not want to lose it.’

  ‘Well, if it hasn’t turned up during the last ten or more days, I think you will have to resign yourself to its loss. It seems an expensive sort of thing for someone like you to come by.’ The voice was suspicious.

  ‘It was a gift from … a friend.’ The girl’s voice was defiant.

  ‘Well, wealthy friend or not, it still doesn’t absolve you from work, Cnucha. And with Báine not here, I suggest you get started on your duties.’

  ‘Then why doesn’t Báine go to Muirgel and be her attendant, so that we may get another person to help us in our work?’

  ‘All will be c
hanged when this investigation is over and Cenn Faelad becomes High King. He will then choose his attendants as he considers fit.’

  Eadulf heard the girl sniff.

  ‘And will you be staying on then, Brónach? Will you be in charge?’

  ‘Brother Rogallach is in charge. I am only the senior female servant.’

  ‘I doubt whether Cenn Faelad will want Brother Rogallach to continue to be in charge of his household. Cenn Faelad is a real man and not so outwardly pious as Sechnussach was.’

  ‘That is no way to talk about the late High King.’ The voice was stern with disapproval.

  ‘Why not? Anyway, I am comparing Sechnussach to Cenn Faelad. Sechnussach may have surrounded himself with pious religious, but he was no more than—’

  ‘You should have a care what you say about Sechnussach, my girl!’ Brónach hissed. ‘Especially now you have a dálaigh in this guesthouse who is investigating his assassination.’

  ‘Huh! Another so-called pious religieuse with her Saxon lover!’ Cnucha sneered.

  ‘Watch your tongue. They are married and well-respected. She is also sister to the King of Muman. Now, for the last time, get about your chores! When I see Báine, I will discuss this matter with her. She should let us have more notification if she has to attend to other duties.’

  Eadulf heard a door closing and reasoned that the woman, Brónach, must have left by the side door. He paused for a moment and then decided to continue his mission to find water for washing. Cnucha was alone in the kitchen preparing oatmeal cakes for breakfast. She looked up with a start of surprise as he entered.

  ‘I did not know you were up, Brother.’

  Eadulf pretended to stifle a yawn as he saw the girl flush guiltily.

  ‘I have only just risen. I am looking for water to wash. Was there someone else here before me? I thought I heard a voice.’

  ‘Oh, it was only Brónach. She is in charge of us.’

  ‘Ah. I don’t think we have met her yet.’

  Cnucha shrugged and went on kneading oatmeal. She gestured with her head towards the wash room. ‘The water is heating ready for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Her tone had been dismissive and so the opportunity to develop the conversation was thus lost. Eadulf, with a sigh, accepted it with good grace.

  Abbot Colmán arrived, as promised, as they finished their morning meal and took them to the royal residence called Tech Cormaic. It was a large rectangular building of two storeys with several outhouses, standing inside the ramparts of the royal enclosure, well away from the defensive system that surrounded the buildings of the nobles who dwelt at Tara. The High King’s house was built of a variety of woods, but chiefly of oak and yew. The slinntech darach, the overlapping boards of polished oak, which comprised the roof, shone in the morning sun.

  The abbot led the way to the massive double doors of thick oak. A guard with a drawn sword resting against his shoulder saluted Abbot Colmán and stood to one side.

  ‘It would appear that the assassin entered this way in the dead of night,’ explained the abbot as he opened the doors.

  ‘And these doors are never locked or bolted?’ Eadulf enquired, seeking confirmation of what they had been told the previous night.

  The abbot gestured at the ramparts that surrounded the royal enclosure. ‘To get here, one has to come through many guarded gates, and the main gate to the royal enclosure is always bolted and guarded on the inside.’

  ‘But the assassin did reach here,’ Eadulf pointed out softly.

  Abbot Colmán flushed but did not respond.

  Fidelma made no comment either as they passed into the dimly lit hall beyond, for there was only one window providing light. This, called a forless, was placed above the door. Its glass panel was thick, opaque, and the light it emitted was little enough. The main light came from pungent-smelling oil lamps.

  Again Eadulf pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘It was a lucky coincidence for the assassin that the guards were not where they should have been, on guard within this hall. They were not here because they had heard a suspicious noise in the kitchen – is that right?’

  The abbot nodded.

  Eadulf raised his eyebrows a fraction. ‘Perhaps the assassin had more than luck on his side,’ he muttered.

  ‘We will question these guards when the time comes,’ Fidelma said, smiling acknowledgement at Eadulf for picking up the point. ‘Certainly it seems that the assassin had exceptional luck. Is there an entrance to the kitchen area from here?’

  ‘The kitchen is a separate building at the rear. There is a door at the back of the hall and the meals, once cooked, are carried into the High King through it. It is usually locked during the night. The commander of the guard has a key.’ Abbot Colmán hesitated and then pointed up the stairs. ‘From here, the assassin would have gone up these stairs.’

  ‘Are all the bedchambers above the stair?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘Not all. The High King’s apartments are there. There are rooms for his family and for his personal attendants. On this floor, the ground floor, there is a room for the commander of the Fianna, the High King’s bodyguard. When Cenn Faelad stays in the royal house, he has a chamber on this level also. There are rooms for some of the servants here as well. There is a private chamber for the High King’s meetings with his advisers which also serves as a library, a small room for meals when there is no great feasting to preside over, and the remaining rooms are given to storage and bedchambers for the maids.’

  ‘Very well,’ acknowledged Fidelma, following the layout as the abbot indicated it. ‘So we shall follow the steps of our assassin, through these main doors, across the hall, which is luckily empty of the guard, and up the stairs. Proceed.’

  The abbot led the way up the broad wooden staircase and halted on the landing.

  ‘To the left is the High King’s apartment, through that door. The next door enters into the apartments reserved for his family when they stay here. Needless to say, they are residing elsewhere in the royal enclosure at the moment.’

  ‘And those other doors?’ Fidelma queried, indicating the ones in the corridor leading to the right off the landing.

  ‘The far door is the chamber of the High King’s bollscari, Brother Rogallach.’

  ‘Bollscari? What exactly is the difference between the factotum and yourself?’

  ‘I deal with administrative matters for the High King whereas the bollscari is in charge of all the domestic servants.’

  ‘And these servants – who are they?’

  ‘His personal attendants, three females and three males. I think you have met two of the females for they are attending you in the guesthouse.’

  ‘What are their normal functions?’

  ‘They are in charge of cleaning here, one of them is the cook, and so on.’

  ‘So, only the servants and the commander of the Fianna were staying here that night?’

  The abbot hesitated before replying. ‘In the royal house … yes.’

  Fidelma noticed the hesitation and immediately asked: ‘You have thought of something?’

  ‘Nothing of consequence, but perhaps a matter of clarification. You may know that Sechnussach and Gormflaith had three daughters. The youngest are Mumain and Bé Bhail. They were with their mother at Cluain Ioraird that night. I think we overlooked the fact that Muirgel, the eldest daughter, was in Tara.’

  ‘If I am to conduct a proper investigation I must be in possession of all the facts,’ Fidelma said sharply. ‘You are now certain that Muirgel was in Tara that night?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘You believe so?’ she repeated with emphasis.

  ‘Muirgel is a strong-willed young woman. She does not stay at the Tech Cormaic but I was told in the morning that one of the servants went to her house and she was there. Gormflaith and her daughters have a separate dwelling on the other side of the royal enclosure.’

  Fidelma grimaced. ‘We shall talk to Muirgel later. But are you sayin
g that Gormflaith and her daughters do not live in the royal residence? So their apartment would not be in use anyway.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘Apart from Brother Rogallach, can you name the attendants who were here?’

  ‘Certainly. There is the High King’s personal cook, Torpach. There is his assistant, Maoláin, and the handyman, Duirnin. Then there are three female servants, the senior being Brónach. You already have met Báine. The other servant girl is Cnucha, a general maid. When the High King had personal or special guests, they also served the guests’ hostel. Only the servants who were here at the time of the assassination have been retained, for usually there are many more attending all the royal enclosure. Chief Barrán decided to set them to work in the other residences. They were all roused by the noise of the discovery that night but saw nothing that would help you, of course.’

  Fidelma noted the names carefully in her mind before asking: ‘And these servants have their chambers … where exactly?’

  ‘The senior members of the staff have chambers on this floor, along the corridor there. The others have chambers on the floor below.’

  ‘Very well. Let us examine the High King’s chambers as our first step.’

  The abbot moved to the first door that he had indicated to their left.

  ‘As we have discussed, this door was usually locked from the inside when the High King retired for the night. There were only two keys – one in the possession of the High King and the other in the possession of Cenn Faelad.’

  Abbot Colmán opened the door and ushered them in.

  The room was spacious, as one might expect of the chamber of the High King. It contained two fairly large seinester or windows of opaque glass, one of which was directly behind the great tolg or bedframe. The walls were of red yew panels, and the one directly facing the end of the bed had a large ornate cross of native design hung on it. Fidelma was not sure what wood it was made of. Apart from the bed, the other furnishings were fairly simple a brothrach or couch along one wall, a table by the bed and a few assorted boxes. The bedframe was devoid of any covering.