Dancing With Demons

by Peter Tremayne

  She left the guesthouse followed by Eadulf and walked to the royal house. The guard outside saluted them respectfully.

  However Brónach, the chief of the female servants, greeted them with a suspicious look as they entered.

  ‘Can I help you, lady?’ she asked, addressing Fidelma.

  ‘You cannot,’ Fidelma assured her bluntly. ‘We have no need of your services for the time being, thank you.’

  For a moment it seemed to Eadulf that the woman would argue against being so peremptorily dismissed. But instead, she just tightened her lips and turned away.

  Unperturbed, Fidelma climbed the stairway to the High King’s chambers. Eadulf followed, wondering whether she was wise to be so antagonistic to the servant. But he knew that Fidelma never did anything without a purpose.

  The royal apartments were unlocked as, indeed, they had been left empty. Cenn Faelad would only move into them after he had been formally inaugurated – and that would not be before Fidelma had delivered her findings to the Great Assembly.

  She motioned Eadulf to close the door behind them and went to the side of the bed. It was now merely the bare bedframe made of yew. Everything else had been stripped. Eadulf stood with his back against the door watching her as she bent down and then looked around the room.

  Eventually she straightened and walked over to the small erdam, the side room, in which, she had been told, the High King stored his clothes.

  She opened the door and said to Eadulf, ‘I’m going to need your help.’

  ‘Why? What are we to do?’ he asked, joining her.

  ‘I made only a cursory examination of this room before, but now we must look for another exit to this room.’

  ‘Another exit? I thought none could exist?’

  ‘I am convinced that there was a witness in this side room when Dubh Duin cut the throat of Sechnussach.’

  Eadulf frowned but he nodded. ‘The mysterious scream in spite of the cut throat?’

  ‘Exactly so.’ She was pleased that he had caught the point. ‘Now,’ she glanced about, ‘at least we know that there is only one wall in which any concealed door might be – unless it be a trapdoor leading down or up, and I would be surprised if that was possible.’

  Eadulf regarded the wall on which there was a rack of pegs for hanging clothes fixed to the red yew panelling. His keen eyes ran over the wood and their joints and an idea came to him. He went to the rack and began to tug and twist at each peg in turn while Fidelma watched him curiously.

  ‘When I was in Rome I saw a device which opened a secret door,’ he explained to her, as he tackled the pegs. It was the middle one, turned to the side and pushed, which clicked a mechanism. One of the wall panels gave a little, and swung inwards.

  ‘Well done!’ Fidelma smiled triumphantly, moving forward to push the panel open. ‘It looks like a narrow space and it leads downwards. We’ll need a lamp.’

  ‘I saw one in the bedchamber.’ Eadulf went to fetch it, then had to spend some time igniting it with the flint and tinderbox he always carried in his marsupium at his belt. Fidelma was hardly able to restrain her impatience but with the lamp alight, she insisted on going first. They stepped through into a recess between the wall of this chamber and the wall of the adjoining one. Fidelma had paused to ensure there was no similar doorway immediately opposite. There was none; the small landing led onto a narrow and steep set of steps that led down to the lower floor. At the bottom, on the left-hand side, was a catch and hinges that showed the means of exit from the hidden passage.

  Fidelma paused and said to Eadulf, who was directly behind her, for there was scarcely room to turn back: ‘Let’s see where this emerges.’

  She reached forward to the mechanism that lay in a recess, and as she did so, her hand touched something cold and sharp. Holding the lamp closer, she reached in and withdrew the object.

  ‘Well, well. I was not looking for this, but it confirms what I suspect.’ She turned and showed the object to Eadulf.

  It was a knife of the sort used in kitchens to cut meat. It had a thin, sharp blade which was now stained and a little rusty.

  ‘Blood?’ asked Eadulf laconically.

  ‘Remember that Torpach the cook was moaning about a missing knife?’ Fidelma said.

  ‘But we already have the assassin’s knife.’

  Fidelma smiled softly. ‘So we do, so we do,’ she said as she carefully put the knife in her marsupium and then turned again to the recess. She fumbled and clicked the lever that obviously undid the mechanism.

  The panel swung inward a fraction.

  Fidelma had to move back up the step to allow it to swing inwards, so narrow was the space.

  They emerged into a large but darkened room. Only the light from the lamp illuminated it. There were boxes stacked on one side and shelves containing all manner of linen and household items.

  ‘A storeroom?’ suggested Eadulf.

  Fidelma nodded and turned back to the panel. ‘I presume that this must operate two ways?’

  There were a series of pegs to one side, a few with garments hanging on them. Eadulf checked them one by one. It was the same system as in the room above. The central peg turned and then clicked a mechanism. The secret door could, indeed, have been operated from either position – in the side room of the High King’s chamber or here, from this storeroom.

  Fidelma sighed softly. ‘Well, there is not much else to learn here.’ She gave a final glance round and moved towards the main door.

  Opening it, they emerged into the main corridor of the lower part of the Tech Cormaic. As they did so, they heard a gasp. Brónach, her arms full of linen, was walking down the corridor.

  ‘I thought you were above the stair!’ gasped the woman. ‘What are you doing in there?’

  Fidelma ignored the question and asked one of her own. ‘What is this room used for?’ she demanded.

  ‘Used for?’ echoed Brónach. ‘Why, you must have seen for yourself. It is used as storage – for bedlinen and old clothes and the like.’

  ‘I see. Who usually has access to it?’

  The head of the female servants gestured with her hand. ‘Why, lady, the door is unlocked. Anyone can enter or exit freely of their own will.’

  ‘Anyone? So is one particular person in charge of it?’

  ‘I am the senior female servant. It is we, not the men, who are in charge of the household chores, therefore we control the linen.’

  ‘Are you saying that you, Báine and Cnucha use this room more than anyone else?’

  ‘Just so.’

  ‘And it serves no other purpose than storing the bedlinen and old clothes?’

  ‘What other purpose could a storeroom serve?’

  ‘An interesting question,’ replied Fidelma dryly. ‘Tell me again, Brónach, where is your room?’

  The woman scowled. ‘On the floor above this one.’

  ‘I see. I thought some of the maids slept on this level?’

  ‘They do. Down the corridor.’

  ‘And who are they?’

  ‘Báine and Cnucha, of course.’

  ‘They are both young,’ observed Fidelma as if the thought had just occurred to her.

  ‘Too young,’ confirmed the woman. ‘They have no conception of what it means to attend to the needs of a High King.’

  ‘Yet they have worked here for some time?’

  ‘If two or three years are long.’ Brónach sniffed deprecatingly. ‘I myself have been in service to this house for nine years. Apart from me, Báine has been here longest but she has ideas above her station. She claims to be the daughter of an ollamh, a learned man with an honour price of twenty seds. If this is so, why is she in service, and no more in rank than a saer-fuidhir — a servant? Her mind has been turned by—I mean, the lady Muirgel seems to have befriended her. That is not good. It gives food to her ideas of grandeur. She thinks that we, her fellows in service, are not good enough for her.’

  ‘And Cnucha?’ asked Fidelma.

&nb
sp; ‘She is a poor thing, scuttling about, hardly dares say boo to a goose. She will not rise to be a trusted servant. The girl has been here three years, but she still has to be chased and told what she should do.’

  Fidelma glanced along the corridor. ‘And their rooms are at the end, along here?’

  ‘They are.’

  Fidelma nodded thoughtfully and thanked the woman before moving off towards the hall with Eadulf following.

  ‘It doesn’t help us, does it?’ he asked softly.

  ‘What … ?’ She seemed distracted for a moment. ‘Oh, you mean because anyone could have entered the storeroom and used the secret door if they knew how?’

  ‘Just so. But there is one thing I have learned.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That if there was a conspiracy to kill Sechnussach, the conspiracy could not have been so close to him, because they would have surely known about the secret passage and stair to his chamber. That would have been a perfect route to kill him and none the wiser.’

  Fidelma paused in mid-stride and regarded him thoughtfully for a moment.

  ‘Could it be that the passage is a secret that Sechnussach did not share with others?’

  ‘Surely such a thing could not be completely hidden from the household?’

  ‘Had Brónach known, I think she would have guessed why we were no longer on the floor above and commented on it,’ pointed out Fidelma. ‘Nevertheless, it is worth pursuing. Let’s go and find Brother Rogallach. If anyone knows about it, he would.’

  They found Brother Rogallach in the library room checking an inventory. He looked up and smiled a greeting as they entered.

  ‘Do I know about the history of the building of Tech Cormaic?’ he replied to the question. ‘Well, I am in charge of running the household and there is nothing that I do not know about it. I was bollscari, the house steward, to Sechnussach’s father Blathmac and to his brother Diarmait when they were joint High Kings. I rode with them in the royal procession when they came to Tara over twelve years ago. It was an epoch in our history. They were just and kindly kings who, alas, fell victim to the dreadful Yellow Plague. Their deaths, for me, ended a golden age that is now sung of in ancient sagas.’

  There was no doubt that Brother Rogallach was proud of his role.

  ‘But what of the house, rather than the household?’ pressed Eadulf.

  Brother Rogallach shrugged as if dismissing the subject. ‘As its name suggests, the great King Cormac, the son of Art, first built it. A magnificent structure.’

  ‘You are know all the rooms?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Are there any odd rooms?’

  ‘Odd rooms?’ He was puzzled.

  ‘Secret rooms, passages, stairways, anything of that sort?’ asked Fidelma.

  Brother Rogallach chuckled. ‘What need of secret rooms and passages in the house of the noble High Kings, lady?’

  ‘So you’ve never encountered a secret passage?’

  ‘Never. And I would know,’ he added confidently.

  ‘Of course you would,‘smiled Fidelma. ‘Thank you for your time.’

  Outside, Eadulf turned a doleful expression to Fidelma. ‘If Rogallach did not know … ’

  A look of satisfaction on her face, Fidelma began to say: ‘I think I know how—’

  ‘Lady!’

  They turned together as Irél, the commander of the Fianna, approached and greeted them enthusiastically.

  ‘I arrived back this morning. The prisoners we took from the raiders’ encampment will be here soon. The wounded are being attended to at Ceananas and at Delbna Mór. A most satisfactory conclusion to this attempted rebellion. I thought I would report back to Cenn Faelad.’

  The commander of the Fianna seemed pleased with himself.

  ‘So peace has returned to Midhe?’ Eadulf said.

  Irél answered affirmatively. Then: ‘I saw Ardgal, as I was entering Tara. He told me that you had caught up with Cuan, trying to escape to Alba. I look forward to my next meeting with him. He is the first deserter from the Fianna in many a year.’

  Fidelma shook her head. ‘That meeting will have to be deferred until after I have presented certain facts to the Great Assembly,’ she said.

  ‘About Sechnussach’s death? So Cuan was involved?’

  ‘I can say that much, at least.’

  ‘Then I can wait,’ Irél assured her. ‘You have questioned him as you wanted?’

  ‘I have.’

  Irél paused and then added: ‘There was a merchant from An Uaimh that I met on the way here. He gave me news about that foreigner, Verbas of Peqini.’

  Fidelma was interested. ‘What about him?’

  ‘Apparently, he has sailed. The merchant consulted a local Brehon about his rights to get back his slave and the Brehon was so outraged to hear that Verbas felt he could own a child that he boxed his ears and told him the sooner he left our country, the better.’

  Fidelma chuckled. ‘Excellent. So he has left these shores. Let us hope that he decides to stay away from them in the future.’

  ‘Oh, and Bishop Luachan and Brother Céin have arrived by wagon. His ankle is improving but, rather than wait, he felt his place should be here in Tara at this time.’ Irél raised a hand, half in salute, as he turned away to continue on his way.

  ‘What now?’ asked Eadulf.

  ‘Now I think that we can go to Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán. I have had enough of Tara and its intrigues. It is time we returned to the peace of Cashel and to our little Alchú. At this rate, our poor child will not know us. We barely spend any time at all with him.’

  Eadulf grimaced but wisely said nothing.

  They found the heir-elect with his Chief Brehon in the house of Abbot Colmán in the royal enclosure; the abbot had apparently been discussing some documents with them.

  Cenn Faelad seemed relieved to see them.

  ‘You have come at an appropriate moment. We have been discussing this matter of your report. All the members, or their representatives, of the Great Assembly are now in Tara. Brehon Barrán insists that we must bring matters to a conclusion by the end of today. We have run out of time.’

  Behind him Brehon Barrán stood with a stern face.

  ‘I warned you yesterday, Fidelma, that I could give you only a day more. By sundown tonight, that extra day is ended. I can do no more.’

  Abbot Colmán was looking unhappy. Fidelma kept her gaze on Cenn Faelad.

  ‘I will not protest,’ she said demurely. ‘In fact, I was seeking you out to say that it would be agreeable to me if you called the Great Assembly together tomorrow at an appropriate hour. I will then present my report and seek their pardon for taking so long in this matter.’

  Cenn Faelad exchanged a glance of surprise with the others before turning back to her.

  ‘So you have come to the end of your investigation?’

  ‘I think I can present facts that will lead the Great Assembly to form a satisfactory conclusion as to the matter,’ she replied pointedly.

  ‘And what is that?’ demanded Brehon Barrán.

  Cenn Faelad looked surprised at this intervention, but before he could speak, Fidelma said disapprovingly: ‘As Chief Brehon, you should know better than to ask the outcome of a report before it is presented for approval to the Great Assembly.

  Barrán flushed. ‘It was but a natural curiosity,’ he muttered. ‘But it is good. As soon as the Great Assembly has met we can proceed with the inauguration of the High King and resume the business of governing the five kingdoms once again. We have been too long without power.’

  Fidelma still regarded him in disapproval. ‘Without power? Do we not boast that in this land, power resides with the people? Is it not an ancient saying – what makes a people stronger than a king? The answer being, because the people ordain the king, the king does not ordain the people.’

  Cenn Faelad laughed jovially. ‘The saying is true and you are right in law, as always, Fidelma. Barrán was using an expression,
that’s all. Nevertheless, he has been nervous that the lack of a strong centre could cause the individual parts of the five kingdoms to crumble and dissolve. So your news is good. I will issue the call for the Great Assembly to be convoked tomorrow.’

  On the way back to the guesthouse, Eadulf was still perplexed.

  ‘On the surface, the motivation seems straightforward,’ he said. ‘Dubh Duin was part of the fanatical pagan movement – but surely he must have known the law of succession, that the death of the High King would not advance his cause unless the successor was a supporter of that cause?’

  Fidelma smiled appreciatively. ‘You are perceptive, Eadulf.’

  Eadulf frowned. ‘I don’t see … ’

  ‘Well, to be honest, neither did I see the real solution until Brother Rogallach repeated a favourite saying of Sechnussach last night.’

  ‘A favourite saying … ?’

  ‘Sit non doctissima conjux.’ And at her husband’s blank look, she took him by the arm. ‘Come, I’ll explain it all to you in preparation for what we must do tomorrow,’ she said confidently.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  It was noon when the nobles of the Airlechas, the Great Assembly, began to gather in the Forradh or royal seat to the east of the High King’s residence rather than at the Rath of Great Assembly to the north of the royal enclosure. The Airlechas consisted of three groups: the first was the nobles representing the five kingdoms; if the kings were unable to attend, then their heir apparent came in their stead. Indeed, Fidelma had already seen the arrival of her cousin, Finguine mac Cathail, her brother’s heir or tánaiste. The second group consisted of the leading Brehons, or judges, of the five kingdoms; and the third group were the leading churchmen, among whom was Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, the senior churchman of the southern kingdoms, and his rival, Ségéne, the abbot and bishop of Ard Macha, who claimed ecclesiastical seniority over the northern kingdoms.

  The Forradh seemed packed with the great and the good and they sat in noisy rows in the large wooden hall.

  Fidelma and Eadulf had taken their seats in the well of the hall. Two chairs had been placed there for them, behind which Caol and Gormán stood. When Fidelma emerged to accompany Eadulf to the Forradh, his eyes widened at the metamorphosis that had taken place. She had discarded the simple and practical garb that she usually wore as a member of the religious and had put on clothes that proclaimed her as the daughter, and the sister, of a King of Muman.