Dancing With Demons

by Peter Tremayne

  The abbot saw Fidelma’s scrutiny and offered: ‘The coverings, including the dergud, the mattress, were removed and disposed of. Likewise the adart, pillow, and setigi, blankets. In fact, all of Sechnussach’s personal belongings have now been removed.’

  Fidelma made no response, merely looking from the door to the bed. All the assassin had to do was take a few swift steps from the door … She raised her head and looked to the far side of the room. There were two doors in the opposite wall.

  ‘Where do those lead?’ she asked.

  ‘One is the room that is used as the fialtech, the privy, and it is where the High King usually took his bath. It has an outside door and staircase. Water is heated on the lower floor and brought up to the bath by this stair. That door was bolted from the inside. Next to the privy room is the erdam, a side room where the High King kept his clothes and weapons. It has a window but there are no means of entering it, apart from the door in this chamber. The bedchamber can only be entered by the door we came in by, or by the door to the privy room. Irél checked all the rooms and bolts at the time. If the assassin had an accomplice, they could not have entered nor left by the outside door. The bolts were still in place.’

  ‘Let’s examine these other rooms,’ Fidelma announced, and walked around the dark wooden bedframe to open the first door.

  The small room beyond had another opaque glass window. The bottom of it came up to her chest height and she saw that it could be opened from the inside.

  Abbot Colmán saw her examining its frame.

  ‘It was designed to open from the inside so that the steam from the bath, the dabach, could be released from the room. Also, of course, the fumes from the … ’ He gestured at the covered receptacles in the corner.

  Fidelma looked at the door and examined the bolts. There were two strong bolts as well as a lock.

  ‘And Irél, the commander of the guard, was sure that these bolts were in place on the night of the assassination?’

  ‘As I say, as soon as the body was discovered, Irél examined the chamber in case of anyone being in collusion with the assassin. The bolts were firmly in place so that no one could have escaped from the chamber through that route.’

  ‘Similarly, this window was secured that night?’

  ‘It was. Although, had it been open, it would have been a tight squeeze for anyone and it is a long drop to the ground below.’

  She nodded absently and moved back into the bedchamber before leading the way into the second small chamber. In this side room there was, indeed, no separate outside door although there was another opaque glass window but again positioned at chest height and with no means of it being opened. Like the bedchamber, the walls were covered in red yew panels. Apart from a double line of wooden pegs and hooks along one wall, which was doubtless where Sechnussach hung his clothes, or weapons or even book satchels, all the rest of the furniture had been removed.

  Fidelma stood examining the room for a moment and then shrugged.

  ‘As you say, Colmán, there is only one means of entry and exit if the other door and windows were secured that night from the inside. They could not have been secured after anyone had passed from this chamber. But there is one thing that bothers me …’

  Abbot Colmán waited.

  Fidelma pointed to the lock on the bedchamber door. ‘Why didn’t Sechnussach leave the key in the lock? Had the key been in the lock then the assassin would not have been able to insert his own, or if he was able to push the other key out, he would have made enough noise to rouse the High King from his slumber before he struck.’

  The abbot looked thoughtful. ‘It didn’t occur to me …’ he began.

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ interrupted Eadulf, ‘where was the High King’s key found?’

  ‘On the table by the bed.’

  ‘Then perhaps there is no mystery there,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘It might have been his habit to lock the chamber door and remove the key to the bedside.’

  Fidelma glanced round the room again before speaking.

  ‘I have seen enough. Now I can, at least, visualise where and in what manner this crime was committed. I think we may now begin to examine the witnesses.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The abbot had conducted her to the tech screpta, the small royal library house. She chose a chair in a corner and Eadulf borrowed some ceraculum, writing tablets of beechwood base covered in wax or cera from which their name derived. With a stylus he could then make notes on them which could be transcribed to parchment or vellum at a later stage. Thus prepared, with Abbot Colmán acting as their steward, Fidelma had asked to see the physician who had attended Sechnussach.

  As she expected, the physician merely confirmed the facts of the High King’s manner of death. However, it was important in her eyes that nothing, and especially no one, was overlooked in this matter. The physician, appropriately named Iceadh, for the name actually meant ‘healer’, was elderly with a curious habit of issuing his sentences in staccato fashion as though he had to get them out in one breath.

  ‘His throat was cut. The jugular vein severed. Short stab in the heart. Either wound fatal. Sharp instrument found with assassin. A hunter’s knife. Honed to sharpness. Could slice anything. No chance of saving his life. Died almost instantly.’

  ‘So, in your expert opinion,’ Fidelma smiled encouragingly, ‘would you say that the High King was attacked while asleep in his bed?’

  ‘Asleep? Assuredly. No time for a struggle. Doubt if he would have known anything. The assassin knew what he was doing.’

  ‘And did you also examine the body of the assassin?’ queried Eadulf.

  The physician sniffed. ‘Dubh Duin? Of course. He was also beyond help. Expert knife-thrust into the heart. Self-inflicted when caught by guards. Told he survived a few moments. Said something to one of the guards.’

  Fidelma nodded and dismissed the man, calling for the warrior Lugna to come in.

  The warrior was deferential and stood uncomfortably before her. He was a tall young man, red-headed, tough-looking and typical of the muscular members of the Fianna, the elite warriors of the High King.

  ‘I am told that you were the senior guard at the royal house on the night of Sechnussach’s assassination. Is that so?’

  Lugna replied stiffly, ‘Even as you have been told, lady.’

  Fidelma frowned at the warrior’s awkward manner, knowing that unless he relaxed it would be hard to obtain any useful information from him. She motioned to a seat before her. ‘You may sit, Lugna.’

  The young man glanced nervously at Abbot Colmán, who was standing at Fidelma’s side. Then he clumsily sat down.

  Fidelma glanced up at Abbot Colmán. ‘It seems our young friend would feel more comfortable if you sat as well, Colmán,’ she said gently. It was not protocol for a young warrior to be seated when an abbot was on his feet.

  The abbot hesitated for a moment, then took a chair from nearby and sat down.

  ‘Now that we are all seated,’ resumed Fidelma, ‘we can begin. All I am wanting from you, Lugna, is an account of the events of that night as you saw them. I am not here to apportion any blame. My aim is to learn the truth of those events.’

  ‘The facts are known. I have told the abbot,’ replied the warrior, still formal in manner and indicating Abbot Colmán with a slight nod of his head.

  ‘But you have not told me,’ she pointed out, her voice even and almost gentle. ‘And I am the one who has been designated by the Great Assembly to investigate this matter. Now – I understand that you were in charge of the guards at the royal residence on that night. How long have you been in the service of the High King?’

  Lugna raised his chin slightly. ‘I have served in the Fianna for five years. I am a toisech cóicat of the first catha.’

  Eadulf looked puzzled, as he was unacquainted with the military vocabulary. Fidelma quickly explained.

  ‘In time of peace the High Kings maintain three catha or battalions of the Fianna. In wartim
e, the Fianna is usually raised to nine battalions. But the standing three battalions are professional warriors, just as my brother maintains the Nasc Niadh of Muman. The first battalion is always at the side of the High King and guarding the royal domains.’ And turning back to Lugna she added: ‘And you say you were the commander of a cóicat, that is a troop of fifty warriors?’

  Lugna was still impassive. ‘As I have said, lady.’

  ‘So you are an experienced warrior, Lugna,’ Fidelma observed. ‘Where are you from?’

  Lugna blinked a little in surprise at the question. ‘I am of the Ui Mac Uais Breg of Brega, lady.’

  ‘Who dwell north of here, beyond the River Bóinn?’

  ‘As you say, lady.’

  ‘What time did you come on watch?’

  ‘My watch was from midnight until dawn.’

  ‘Tell me what happened.’

  ‘It was just before dawn. My comrade Cuan and I had made an inspection of the guards in the royal enclosure. This is done several times during the watch. We returned to the entrance of the royal house.’

  Fidelma sat back thoughtfully. ‘As I understand, your position was usually in the hallway?’

  ‘It is. But while we were still outside, Cuan heard a noise in the kitchen at the back of the royal house and we went to investigate.’

  ‘You did not enter and go in through the hallway?’

  ‘The kitchen door is usually locked at night and we did not want to disturb the house if there was no need, so we went round the side of the house to the outbuildings.’

  ‘Why did you think there was no need to rouse the household, if you heard a noise?’

  Lugna coloured a little. ‘Cuan was not exactly sure what he heard and I had not heard anything,’ he admitted.

  ‘So you went along the side of the building,’ Fidelma said. ‘Wasn’t that ill-advised? You left the main door of the house unguarded to go round the back?’

  Lugna did not meet her eye. ‘We thought we should investigate.’

  ‘Leaving the house unguarded?’ she repeated with emphasis.

  ‘I cannot deny that.’

  ‘I gather the commander of the Fianna slept on the same floor not far away. You did not think of alerting him before you left?’

  Lugna actually smiled with a bitter humour. ‘Wake Irél for no good reason? I would not think of doing so in the circumstances.’

  ‘And did you find an explanation for the noise?’ she asked.

  The soldier was obviously embarrassed. ‘We did not.’

  ‘And you returned – when?’

  ‘We were in the kitchen when we heard a scream. The adjoining door between the kitchen area and the main house was, as I have said, locked. We had to run back along the side of the building again, in order to enter at the front doors and then come up the stairs.’

  ‘So now we begin to build a picture of the events.’ Fidelma paused a moment and then continued: ‘Describe the circumstances of what happened at the moment you heard this scream.’

  Lugna considered for a moment as if to gather his thoughts.

  ‘The scream raised all those who were in the house. By the time we arrived at the High King’s chamber, several people were stirring and calling out in alarm.’

  ‘Was the bedchamber door locked?’

  ‘It was not. We found the key on the table by the bed. But another key was also found in the assassin’s purse later.’

  ‘So, you entered Sechnussach’s chamber?’

  ‘I entered first. The assassin was slumped by the bed and he was already dying. He had clearly taken his own life with the same dagger with which he had cut the throat of our King. Cuan entered moments later, having paused to pick up a lantern. I saw by its light that the High King was beyond mortal help.’

  ‘There was no one else in the chamber?’

  ‘Not at that time. It was moments after Cuan and I entered that the servants began to crowd in. I told them to stay back and then our commander, Irél, entered and later Abbot Colmán.’

  ‘Did you recognise the assassin?’

  ‘Not at first. I think it was Irél who identified him and when I looked closer, I realised that he was right. It was Dubh Duin of the Cinél Cairpre.’

  ‘You said that he was dying. Did he say anything before he died?’

  ‘Matter of fact, he gasped something, but it was of little consequence.’

  ‘I think I should be the judge of that,’ Fidelma said.

  ‘He simply admitted that he was to blame.’

  Eadulf looked up from his note-taking. ‘How did he phrase that exactly?’ he asked.

  The warrior shrugged. ‘The word cron — blame. It was just a dying whisper. It was all I heard. Nothing else.’

  Fidelma noticed that a thoughtful frown had settled on Eadulf’s brow. She turned back to Lugna.

  ‘There is one thing that troubles me,’ she told him. ‘This scream that everyone heard: you and your companion are standing in the kitchen, you hear the scream and run to the High King’s chamber.’

  ‘That is so.’

  ‘The assassin had cut the High King’s throat?’

  ‘He had.’

  ‘Surely the High King could not have screamed with his throat cut?’

  ‘The same idea occurred to Irél and he ordered us to search the privy and the adjoining room, but there was no one else in the apartments. It must have been Sechnussach’s dying breath.’

  ‘As I see it, if Sechnussach had had the power to scream, he would also have had the power to struggle with his assailant. However, the physician is sure that no struggle took place and that the assassin struck while the High King lay asleep. There would have been no time for him to scream. So who was it who did so?’

  Lugna thought for a moment or two but was clearly puzzled and said so.

  ‘I do not know, lady. When I think of it, the scream was of a high pitch, and so you may be right that it is unlikely to have been the High King who uttered such a sound. Sechnussach was fond of singing, so I know the resonance of his voice – a deep baritone.’

  When Lugna’s comrade, Cuan, was called in to answer her questions, he said he could add no more to the story than Lugna had told them. He was a taciturn young man with dark hair, bony features and close-set eyes, and had a slight scar over his right eye.

  ‘I gather that you were the one who heard the noise from the kitchen which caused you and Lugna to leave the door unguarded during the vital time when the assassin must have passed inside the High King’s house?’

  Cuan stirred uncomfortably. ‘I heard something,’ he replied. ‘I told Lugna and he said we should investigate.’

  ‘And he was your superior that night?’ mused Fidelma.

  ‘He is a commander of a troop of fifty. I am a mere warrior.’

  Fidelma regarded his stubborn features for a while. Then she sighed. She knew that she was not being told the truth, but it was obvious that she could not push against an immovable force without some means of leverage. It was best to leave it for the moment. Of the two, perhaps Lugna would be the better person to apply pressure to, and find out why they had deserted their post at that crucial time.

  After Abbot Colmán had escorted Cuan to the door of the library, she leaned towards Eadulf and said quietly: ‘Already I feel there is far more here than simply an assassin who strikes and then kills himself. As we remarked before, this man seems to have had extraordinary luck. He is let into the royal enclosure by a guard, contrary to orders that only people with permission of the High King can be admitted after nightfall. Then he enters the High King’s residence because the two men who are supposed to be guarding it have chosen that very moment to go out to the kitchen to investigate a noise. He can also enter the High King’s chamber because he has a duplicate key which has been recently cut from the heir apparent’s own key. Indeed, that is not luck, Eadulf. I think there is collusion somewhere.’

  ‘Do you think the noise was deliberately made to lure the guards to the ki
tchen?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘No. I think they are lying,’ Fidelma replied bluntly. ‘They claim to have heard this noise while at the front of the royal house. That is possible – yet it aroused no one else. No one in the rooms at the back heard anything. If it was some confederate of the assassin seeking to lure the guards away so that he could enter unopposed, it was not a good plan. The sound might have woken lots of other people.’

  Eadulf reflected silently. ‘When do you plan to challenge Lugna and Cuan then?’

  ‘I need something to break through their story and get at the truth. I think they have agreed on this lie and I shall need more information in order to challenge them. Meanwhile, we will continue our investigations with the other witnesses.’

  Abbot Colmán had returned. ‘Whom shall I call in now?’ he asked.

  ‘I think we should see the other guard, the one that was at the main gate. Erc, I think his name is?’

  The abbot nodded. ‘He is being held in the cells. Shall I send for him to be brought here?’

  Fidelma rose abruptly. ‘We will go and see him where he is held. Perhaps his surroundings will help him concentrate on my questions.’

  Erc the Speckled rose from his wooden bench in the dungeon in which he had been incarcerated and stood with a woebegone expression as Fidelma and Eadulf entered with Abbot Colmán. He gave the appearance of a man resigned to fate – and that fate was like an irresistible force that was going to destroy him.

  Abbot Colmán announced Fidelma and her status with a solemn tone.

  ‘Well, Erc the Speckled,’ Fidelma gave the man a smile of encouragement as she seated herself on a stool, ‘you appear to be in a sorry situation.’

  The warrior sighed deeply. ‘I am at fault, lady,’ he said tonelessly. ‘I have no excuse.’

  Fidelma pointed to the wooden bench and instructed the man to be seated.