Dancing With Demons

by Peter Tremayne

  Erc sat down nervously.

  ‘I am told that the facts are simple,’ Fidelma began. ‘On the night that Sechnussach was murdered, you were on guard at the main gates of the royal enclosure. Is that so?’

  Erc nodded.

  ‘Tell me about the events as you know them to be.’

  ‘I have no defence, lady,’ he repeated. ‘I let the man who murdered the High King into the royal enclosure at a time when entry should have been forbidden.’

  ‘That is not what I asked you,’ replied Fidelma firmly.

  ‘I do not understand, lady,’ Erc said with a frown of bewilderment.

  ‘At what time did you go on guard that night?’ she prompted.

  ‘About midnight,’ the warrior replied slowly, realising what she wanted. ‘The watches are changed then and I was to take the watch from midnight until after dawn. The main gates are closed and bolted at that time and my task was to stand as sentinel by the gates. On no account are the gates to be opened — but for special people, there is a door set within the gate which can give one person access at a time.’

  ‘I understand. Now tell me, did anyone else come or go through the gate while you were on watch? I mean, before the arrival of the assassin?’

  Erc shook his head. ‘No, lady.’

  ‘So — only the assassin came to the main gate?’

  ‘Yes. He arrived a short while before dawn. It was still dark but there was a hint of light on the eastern hills.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘I challenged him, of course. Then he walked into the light of the torches so that I could see his features.’

  ‘You knew him?’

  Erc nodded. ‘That is why I let him in. He was Dubh Duin of the Cinél Cairpre.’

  Fidelma frowned slightly. ‘You let him into the royal enclosure simply because he was a chieftain that you knew? If I remember my protocol correctly, no one, not even a distant relation of a king, is allowed into a royal enclosure after the gates are shut and barred at night.’ She turned to Abbot Colmán. ‘This is a sorry state of affairs, that an assassin can come to the great complex of Tara, be admitted through gates that are usually bolted all through the hours of darkness. That he can then walk to the house of the High King himself, go through an unlocked door that has been left unguarded, make his way to the High King’s bedchamber, enter with a key provided and kill him.’

  Abbot Colmán shrugged uncomfortably. ‘I admit that we must learn some lessons here. We must speak with Irél who is the aire-echtra, the commander of the Fianna. The only time that Dubh Duin has ever been admitted within these precincts has been when the Great Assembly was sitting.’

  Erc’s features were even more woebegone than ever. ‘That’s not true,’ he said suddenly. ‘During the previous two weeks, Dubh Duin had been admitted several times into the royal enclosure after midnight.’

  Fidelma glanced swiftly at Abbot Colmán, but he seemed as surprised as she was.

  ‘And who authorised his admittance?’ she asked sharply.

  ‘It was the lady Muirgel.’

  ‘Muirgel? You mean the High King’s eldest daughter?’

  ‘The same, lady. She had the authority to pass him through the guards. How could I question the orders of the daughter of Sechnussach?’

  Fidelma regarded the man thoughtfully for a moment. ‘Let me get this correct in my mind,’ she said. ‘Are you saying that the lady Muirgel, daughter of Sechnussach, gave you orders to pass Dubh Duin into the royal enclosure after midnight, and on more than one occasion during the last two weeks?’

  Erc nodded eagerly. ‘Exactly so. And the last time, she said that if I was ever on watch and she was not there to greet Dubh Duin, he should be allowed to pass unhindered at her word. That is why I did not question him on that night.’

  ‘Did you tell anyone this in your defence?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘No one asked me before I was brought here.’

  Abbot Colmán added quickly: ‘He has not really been questioned on the matter before. He was only asked if he allowed Dubh Duin through the gates and when he admitted that he had, he was brought here to await examination by a Brehon.’

  Eadulf leaned forward to Erc. ‘Did the lady Muirgel give you specific orders to permit entry to Dubh Duin on the night of the High King’s assassination? ’

  ‘No,’ said Erc, ‘but I thought my instructions from her were clear. As I have said, having let him in on so many previous occasions on lady Muirgel’s authority, I assumed he should be allowed to pass unhindered again. But I have already admitted that it is my responsibility,’ he added with resignation. ‘I was at fault that night. I should have demanded that the lady Muirgel be sent for, even though the hour was late.’

  ‘Did Muirgel give you any reason for her actions on previous nights? Why would she give her authority to the admittance of this man?’ asked Eadulf.

  Erc smiled wanly. ‘I am a simple warrior, Brother Saxon. Who am I to question the order of a daughter of the High King and one, after all, who is at the age of choice.’

  ‘Yet had you questioned her, perhaps a High King’s life might have been saved,’ Eadulf snapped.

  ‘Are you suggesting that Muirgel had something to do with her father’s assassination?’ Abbot Colmán burst out. ‘For shame, Brother Eadulf … why, she is only seventeen years old!’

  ‘Girls of a younger age than seventeen have been known to harbour patricidal thoughts,’ Fidelma interposed quietly. ‘I am sure you will agree that Muirgel must be questioned on this matter which is, to say the least, curious.’

  ‘You are right, of course,’ Abbot Colmán said heavily. ‘Doubtless the girl will be able to present an explanation.’

  ‘Doubtless,’ commented Fidelma dryly before turning back to Erc. ‘When you say that the chieftain was admitted to the royal enclosure several times after midnight during the previous two weeks, can you be exact?’

  Erc pondered aloud. ‘Exact? Oh, the exact number of times … I would say five times at least and perhaps more, well – no more than six times.’

  ‘Is that unusual?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘Unusual? In what way?’

  ‘That a stranger to the palace be admitted to the royal enclosure after midnight? For example, how many other people were admitted to the royal enclosure after midnight during the same period?’

  Erc hesitated, his brows drawn together, trying to remember. ‘You mean outsiders to the royal household? Well, none who did not have a right to be there.’

  ‘And of those who had a right to be there?’ pressed Fidelma.

  ‘No one came after the gates were shut at midnight.’

  Fidelma raised an eyebrow in query. ‘No one? Not even someone who had a right to be in the enclosure who was returning late?’

  ‘No one,’ asserted the warrior. Then he changed his mind. ‘Except … except for the Bishop of Delbna Mór. I recall now that he came in late one night. Ah, it was on the night before the assassination. The commander of the Fianna himself accompanied him. Orders also came from the High King to admit him.’

  Fidelma glanced at Abbot Colmán. ‘The Bishop of Delbna Mór?’ she echoed, and noticed that the abbot was looking perplexed.

  ‘I did not know that the bishop had come to Tara,’ he said. ‘Usually I am informed of all the ecclesiastics who arrive here. Certainly, at such an unusual hour, I should have been told.’

  ‘Who is this bishop and where is Delbna Mór?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘The bishop is one Luachan. And Delbna Mór is to the west in the territory of Midhe. I am surprised that you have not heard of it, for it is associated with your brother’s kingdom.’

  Fidelma was puzzled and said so.

  ‘I think it was a story that goes back many centuries. Something about a chieftain of your brother’s kingdom having to flee to the north, settling in the land and giving it the name of Delbna Mór.’

  Fidelma sniffed a little impatiently. ‘I am more concerned with the immediate past
than legend. So tell me more about this Bishop Luachan,’ she invited.

  Abbot Colmán made a slight motion with his shoulder. ‘Little to tell. I know that I have heard nothing in criticism of the man. I have only seen him in the abbey at Cluain Ioraird at a council of the bishops of Midhe.’

  ‘So he is not someone who comes to Tara regularly?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘I would have said never, until Erc told us the contrary.’

  Fidelma turned back to the warrior. ‘You did not know the bishop?’

  The man shook his head.

  ‘But he was escorted by one of the High King’s warriors and you had orders to admit him?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘Did you say that the warrior who accompanied him was the commander of the Fianna?’ asked Eadulf, who was becoming frustrated by the brevity of the man’s answers.

  ‘It was Irél,’ he confirmed.

  ‘And it was he who gave you orders to admit Bishop Luachan?’

  Erc shook his head again and Eadulf exhaled in frustration, at which the warrior, realising that he was expected to answer more fully, added: ‘Brother Rogallach came to the gate with orders from the High King himself. It was from him that I heard that the man’s name was Bishop Luachan.’

  ‘Brother Rogallach?’ Eadulf paused thoughtfully. ‘He is the bollscari?’

  ‘He is in close attendance on the High King,’ the abbot reminded them.

  ‘And you say Bishop Luachan came with Irél after midnight on the night before the assassination? Do you know when he departed from Tara?’ Fidelma asked.

  Erc nodded and then, as he saw the gathering of her brows, went on hastily: ‘He left just an hour or two later, before dawn, and still in the company of Irél, though the captain of the guard returned but an hour later when my watch was being. relieved.’

  ‘I wonder what could have brought him hither?’ muttered the abbot.

  ‘Whatever it was, it sounds as though he was summoned by the High King himself,’ Fidelma pointed out.

  ‘Why so?’

  ‘Because he came escorted by the commander of the High King’s warriors and Brother Rogallach was sent to the gate to ensure they were admitted to the royal enclosure.’

  ‘Do you think that this has something to do with his subsequent assassination? ’ Abbot Colmán asked.

  ‘That would be speculation. At this stage, more information has to be gathered,’ Fidelma said quickly. ‘It is only later that one can put it all in a proper perspective. So anything that happens that is unusual in the time leading up to the assassination is of interest.’

  ‘No speculation without information,’ grinned Eadulf, addressing himself to the abbot and paraphrasing one of Fidelma’s axioms.

  Fidelma rose to her feet.

  ‘I think this is all I need from this man for the time being,’ she told the abbot, indicating the woeful countenance of Erc. ‘Erc is only guilty of a mistake caused by presumption. He is not guilty of any involvement in the assassination. Therefore, I would say it is up to his commander to discipline him for lack of attention while on watch and not for any other punishment.’

  Erc glanced up from where he sat, a gleam of hope on his face.

  ‘Do you say so truly, lady?’ he asked.

  ‘A mistake is still a grave offence when the life of a High King hangs in the balance, Erc the Speckled. I suspect you will be demoted from the guard of the royal enclosure.’

  But it was clear that Erc had expected a far worse punishment for his transgression and he was looking more optimistic than he had at first appeared in his dungeon confinement.

  Eadulf led the way up the narrow stone stairs from the cell to the door to the outside world. He paused for a moment, trying to focus his eyes against the bright sun, and became immediately aware of a figure a short distance away – a hunched figure seated on a low stone wall. He heard his name spoken in a rasping breathless voice. He was trying to remember where he had heard it before when he gave a gasp. It was the old woman they had encountered at the bridge. She was laughing at him now with a toothless, gaping mouth but there was no sound.

  He blinked rapidly, trying to focus properly but when he did so there was no longer any figure seated there. A cold chill spread through his body, and he wheeled round towards his companions.

  ‘Where to now, Fidelma?’ Abbot Colmán was asking.

  ‘We have to speak with Muirgel, and also I need to question Irél, the guard commander who came hither with this Bishop Luachan, as well as Brother Rogallach.’

  ‘Did you see her?’ Eadulf gulped, staring from Fidelma to the abbot.

  ‘See who?’ asked the abbot distractedly.

  Eadulf ran across to the low wall and peered over it. No one was hiding there and he gazed round in all directions. The old woman had vanished.

  ‘What’s wrong, Eadulf?’ asked Fidelma.

  He hesitated. For some reason, she had not mentioned the encounter at the river to Abbot Colmán so he quickly decided that he should take her lead and speak with her later on the matter privately. He drew a breath and shrugged casually.

  ‘For a moment I thought I saw someone I recognised. I was mistaken,’ he said, walking back to rejoin them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was chance that dictated that they should next question Irél, the commander of the Fianna at the royal enclosure. They were returning to the library in the royal residence when they met a young warrior emerging from the main doors. He was about twenty-five years old, handsome, with red-brown hair and light blue eyes, cleanshaven jaw and a tall, well-muscled body. His accoutrements proclaimed him a warrior of some importance.

  ‘Fidelma of Cashel?’ He hailed her before Abbot Colmán identified him.

  ‘I am she.’

  ‘Then, lady, I believe you may wish to speak with me. I am Irél of the Fianna, at your service. I am the caithmhileadh.’

  Although he was unacquainted with military ranks, Eadulf worked out that this meant that the man commanded a cath or battalion of the High King’s bodyguard.

  ‘Then, indeed, I do wish a few words,’ replied Fidelma. ‘This is—’

  ‘Brother Eadulf,’ interrupted Irél with a smile. ‘You name is well-known here in association with the deeds of Fidelma of Cashel. You will not remember me but I commanded the High King’s bodyguard earlier this year when he came down to Cashel to attend your wedding celebrations.’

  It was true that neither Fidelma nor Eadulf could recall the warrior but they merely smiled and passed no comment.

  ‘Come into the library and be seated,’ Fidelma instructed.

  Abbot Colmán cleared his throat and said, ‘Lady, if you have no need for my attendance, there are some duties that I have to be about.’

  Fidelma agreed that there was no need for him to remain and he hurried off while they followed Irél into the library.

  ‘Alas,’ Irél observed, as they seated themselves, ‘I cannot help much about the night Sechnussach was murdered. I did not arrive until it was too late. The deed was done and the murderer had killed himself.’

  ‘We were told that you identified him,’ said Eadulf.

  ‘I did so,’ said the guard. ‘Dubh Duin was a regular attendee at the Great Assembly. I saw him there several times. His territory lies to the north-west of Midhe and he was one of the most important chieftains of the kingdom.’

  ‘I understand he was a distant relative of Sechnussach,’ Fidelma said. ‘Was he a close confidant of the High King?’

  Irél chuckled derisively. ‘On the contrary, I suspect there was some strong antagonism between them.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Just the manner, one towards the other, during the debates in the Great Assembly. My duties in the assembly are but to stand as guard there and so I have time to watch the arguments and debates and perhaps notice things which others, more involved in the discussions, might miss. Dubh Duin would support nothing that the High King suggested and always had some objection to it.’
>
  ‘So there was no love lost between them. Very well. Let us go back to the night of the assassination. Lugna was the commander of the guard in the royal enclosure that night. Where were you?’

  ‘My duty had ended when I handed over to Lugna at midnight. I had retired to my chamber in the royal house.’

  ‘Then you are not married?’ Eadulf stated.

  ‘I am – I have three sons. Why do you ask?’ queried the warrior with interest.

  ‘A false assumption,’ replied Eadulf. ‘You say that you had retired to your chamber. I did not know that the families of the guards and attendants stayed in the royal house.’

  ‘They don’t. I have a farmstead close by the great river – that is where my family live. Being often on duty late at night, I stay here in Tara to save the journey in the middle of the night. Therefore I am provided with a chamber to sleep in.’

  ‘And what brought you to Sechnussach’s chamber that night?’

  ‘The sound of a disturbance.’

  ‘Can you be more specific?’

  ‘At first, I think my sleep was disturbed by a cry. But I cannot be sure. By the time I was fully awake, I heard several cries as if of a disturbance. I took my sword and threw on a cloak. Anyway, when I reached the chamber, Brother Rogallach was already there and some of the servants. And of course Lugna and Cuan.’

  ‘Tell us what happened.’

  ‘I pushed my way through, as the servants were crowded around the chamber door trying to look in. One of the guards had a lantern. I could see the High King lying on his back. Blood was everywhere. Lugna was trying to keep the servants out while Cuan was crouching by the side of a man slumped against the bed. Lugna looked at me and said – “Sechnussach is slain and this is the man who did it”.’ He paused and grimaced. ‘I could tell that Sechnussach was dead. Not that he had bled much from the cutting of his throat. I’ve seen many men slain in battle with blood gushing like a fountain from such a wound and … ’ He paused and looked a little guilty. ‘I beg your pardon, lady. Anyway, I asked whether Lugna had killed the assassin. He replied, sorrowfully, that the man had taken his own life as he and Cuan had entered the chamber. That was when I looked down and recognised Dubh Duin. I sent for Abbot Colmán, being steward.’