Dancing With Demons (7 page)

Read Dancing With Demons Online

Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_NB_Fixed, #_rt_yes, #Adult, #blt, #Clerical Sleuth, #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery, #Suspense, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: Dancing With Demons
5.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Eadulf raised his eyebrows a little. ‘I would not have realised it. I thought that you had been born to the task.’
The girl handed him the drink and grimaced prettily. ‘I was raised to service — but not in a guests’ hostel. I usually serve in the High King’s household.’
‘Ah?’ Eadulf said, putting a question into the soft breath.
‘I was sent here today by Brother Rogallach especially to look after the lady Fidelma and yourself.’
‘Brother Rogallach?’
‘He is in charge of all those who serve in the High King’s household. He is the
bollscari
— the High King’s factotum.’
‘And you have served in the royal household long?’
‘Since the age of choice.’
Eadulf knew that girls reached the
aimsir togú
or age of choice when they came to their fourteenth birthday.
‘That cannot be long ago,’ he mused.
‘Five years ago,’ the girl replied in seriousness, not recognising that Eadulf was paying a clumsy compliment.
‘A lifetime,’ he smiled indulgently.
‘It seems so … now,’ Báine replied with a curious pause.
‘Were you serving in the household when the High King was slain?’
She blinked and nodded dumbly.
‘It must have been a shock for you?’
Báine swallowed and said, ‘A great shock. Sechnussach was a … a kind man to serve. He was gracious and generous to those who attended him.’
‘Then it is a great sadness. You were actually in the house when the assassin broke in?’
‘I was in my bed, asleep.’
‘Quite so. I had heard it was not long before dawn that it occurred. So undoubtedly you were woken by the sounds of that awesome discovery.’
To his surprise the girl shook her head. ‘I was roused from my bed by Brónach who told me what had happened. I slept through the noise of the discovery.’
‘Who is Brónach?’
‘She is the senior female attendant in the High King’s household. There are only three of us in the immediate household. She is older than us and so takes charge of us.’
Eadulf was about to press the girl for further information when Fidelma’s voice hailed her from the bathing room.
With a muttered apology, Báine turned to answer the call. Eadulf remained, thoughtfully sipping at his apple juice. A few moments later the door of the guests’ hostel opened and another girl entered. She was slightly built, wearing dowdy clothes, with unremarkable brown hair and almost plain features. It made her seem younger than she actually was which, in Eadulf’s estimation, was not more than eighteen. Her whole stance seemed that of someone who wished they were anywhere else but here. She regarded Eadulf with one quick frightened glance before dropping her gaze to the floor.
‘Forgive me,’ she muttered, clasping her hands before her, her shoulders slightly bent as if to make herself as small as possible.
‘Absolvo te a peccatis tuis,’
responded Eadulf jocularly. ‘I forgive you all your sins.’
For a moment the girl was startled, raising her gaze to his before quickly looking down again.
‘You are making a joke, Brother,’ she said, then added: ‘I am looking for Báine. I was told to ask if she needed help.’
Eadulf smiled kindly. ‘She is attending in the bathhouse at the moment. And who are you?’
‘I am Cnucha.’
Eadulf reflected for a moment. ‘I thought that meant a small hill? I have heard a legend of how the great warrior Cumal, the father of Fionn of the Fianna, was killed at the Battle of Cnucha.’
The girl, eyes still focused on the floor, added to this: ‘It is also the name of the wife of Geanann, one of the five great kings of the Fir Bolg who first divided this island into the five kingdoms.’
Eadulf felt guilty at his amusement in reaction to the slight note of pride that entered into this drab servant’s voice.
‘And who were these … what did you call them – Fir Bolg? Who were they who divided this land into five kingdoms? I have heard only that your people were descended from the children of Milesius and are called Gaels.’
The girl raised her chin a little. Eadulf heard a note of pride again. ‘The children of Milesius were the last people to arrive in this land. The Fir Bolg had conquered this island back in the mists of time, many generations before the coming of the children of the Gael. The five kings met at Uisnech, the sacred centre of the land, and it was from there that they divided it so that each one would rule a fifth.’
Uisnech again. Fidelma had explained its significance to him after the old woman had mentioned it at the bridge. Even the coming of Christianity had not displaced it as a great sacred ceremonial site, for it was thought to be the ‘omphalos’ or navel of the five kingdoms of Éireann, the point where the five kingdoms met. It was the spot where the goddess Eire, whose name had been given to the entire island, was venerated in ancient times. And it was the place where the Druids of the Old Faith gathered to light the ritual fires at the time of Beltane, the fires of Bél, marking the end of the dark half of the year.
‘So you are proud of your name?’ he observed.
Once again the girl’s eyes flickered to his and this time he saw some tiny sparks of emotion.
‘My name is all I have,’ she said simply. ‘I am a servant in this place. And, if you will forgive me, I will now go to Báine and see if she needs my help.’
She left as Caol and Gormán entered. Eadulf motioned to the jugs of drinks and suggested they help themselves.
Caol sprawled on a chair and stared moodily at his drink while Gormán leaned against the wall.
‘You two do not look happy,’ observed Eadulf.
Gormán shrugged indifferently. ‘I can’t say that I am happy to be here,’ he acknowledged.
Caol smiled thinly. ‘I think he is worried by the old woman at the ford.’
Gormán did not seem offended. ‘You have to admit it was an unusual welcome to Tara. We have received better ones. I was raised on the old legends of the goddess of death and battles waiting at a ford and warning people of their death.’
Eadulf was not going to confess that he, too, had felt an apprehension about the old woman. He merely said: ‘Well, she did not foretell our deaths. She merely told us to return to Cashel, which I am sure we will do as soon as possible. After all, this affair cannot keep us here long. Sechnussach is dead, we know who killed him and we know that the assassin took his own life. There is little enough to investigate.’
‘Then why did the Great Assembly send for the lady Fidelma?’ demanded Gormán.
‘Merely to have someone unconnected with the events pronounce the findings,’ replied Eadulf calmly. ‘It seems a logical enough request.’
‘There is a feeling of gloom in the place,’ Gormán sighed, not assuaged.
‘Why wouldn’t there be? Is it often that a High King is murdered?’ countered Eadulf.
‘True. Neither is it so often that religious are slain in an attack for no good reason.’
‘You are thinking of the deaths on the Plain of Nuada?’ mused Eadulf. ‘There does seem some atmosphere of restlessness in this kingdom of Midhe.’
Caol drained his beaker with a decisive motion. ‘Well, there are robbers and outlaws in every kingdom. Even in Muman. Mind you, things have become very quiet now since the Uí Fidgente have decided to pay their respects to Cashel.’ He grinned wryly and added, ‘In fact, I quite miss the conflict.’
Eadulf shot him a look of disapproval. ‘You miss conflict? That is not a good thing to—’ he began, but Caol held up a hand, stopping him.
‘I should be specific in that I miss the
excitement
that is attendant on the conflict. Of course it is not right to be addicted to death and battle. So, when will you and the lady Fidelma start to consider this matter?’
‘Probably not until tomorrow. My guess is that we will be here a few days at the most. We shall know better after we have seen the heir to the High Kingship, Cenn Faelad, this evening.’
At that moment, Báine returned and announced that the water had now been heated for Eadulf’s bath. He rose with an inward groan. The one thing he had never grown used to among the people of Éireann was this custom of having an evening bath before the main meal. He would never grow used to it, not if he lived to be a hundred. Then he summoned a smile for the girl and adopted an enthusiastic tone. ‘Lead the way.’
T
here was no mistaking Cenn Faelad as anyone other than the brother of Sechnussach, the late High King. He was only a year or so younger but they might have been twins. He was of the same height – tall, above six feet – with hair as dark as a raven’s wing and eyes as grey as the restless seas of winter. He was handsome and his features would cause many a maiden to simper and swoon at his smile. But beyond that superficial exterior, so Fidelma had heard, he spoke several languages, excelled in many arts, and knew the law.
When Abbot Colmán showed Fidelma and Eadulf into chambers that Cenn Faelad was using, later that evening, the High King elect actually rose from his chair and came forward to greet them both with outstretched hands. His face, albeit composed, showed the marks of grief. There was one other person in the chamber and that was the Chief Brehon of the five kingdoms, Barrán. Fidelma and Eadulf knew him of old. He also greeted them without ceremony. He was a tall man, still handsome in spite of his age and greying hair, exuding an air of quiet authority. There were no servants in Abbot Colmán’s house; indeed, they had all been dismissed to their quarters for the evening, and Cenn Faelad offered the visitors drinks from his own hands as he gestured to chairs already set out for them to be seated.
‘I thought that we should gather in private at first,’ the young heir to the kingship explained. ‘Abbot Colmán has provided us with a meal in the next room but first let us speak of why you are here. We can conduct ourselves without ceremony and without protocol.’
Fidelma inclined her head in approval of the idea while Eadulf remained silent, his expression grave.
When Cenn Faelad had seated himself and they had all taken the first dutiful sip of their drinks, the
tánaiste
glanced at his Chief Brehon.
‘Perhaps you should explain, Barrán.’
The elderly man cleared his throat before addressing them in his crisp, legal voice: ‘The situation is simple and I believe it was outlined by the messenger whom we sent to Cashel. The High King Sechnussach, being alone in his chamber, was murdered in his bed by the chief of the Cinél Cairpre, a distant relative and descendant of Niall of the Nine Hostages, and therefore a member of the Uí Néill, Sechnussach’s own family. You follow?’
The last question was directed more to Eadulf than to Fidelma. Eadulf indicated that he did.
‘I am also of this same family,’ Barrán admitted. ‘This being so, and because of the implications which might arise, the
Airlechas
, the Great Assembly, decided that it would be inappropriate for me to investigate this matter, nor would it be appropriate for any of the Ui Néill to be involved. Justice must not only be done but must also be seen to be done … ’
‘Fiat justitia
,
mat caelum
,’ muttered Eadulf. Let justice be done even though the heavens fall.
Cenn Faelad smiled thinly. ‘Even so,’ he agreed. ‘Abbot Colmán reminded the Great Assembly of the services that Fidelma has rendered to Tara in the past. He suggested that they send for her, an Eóghanacht, someone who is not involved in the internal politics of the Uí Néill. So, Fidelma of Cashel, it falls to you to resolve the mystery of why Dubh Duin killed my poor brother and whether anyone else was involved. Only when all is known can we mourn his passing and prepare for my succession.’
Fidelma looked thoughtfully at him. ’I am to have a free hand?’
‘Of course.’
‘And there is no restriction on Eadulf assisting me?’
‘We regard Eadulf as one of our own,’ Brehon Barrán told her. ‘Your names are inseparably linked. Cenn Faelad and I will withdraw from any connection to this matter except as witnesses. Abbot Colmán will act as your adviser on matters connected with Tara.’
‘Very well,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘I presume that any witnesses have been detained in Tara?’ When Brehon Barrán nodded, she added: ‘We will want to examine the chamber where the murder took place.’
‘Whenever you are ready.’ Abbot Colman spoke for the first time since they had entered Cenn Faelad’s presence.
‘I would like to ask some questions of all of you first.’
The Chief Brehon frowned slightly. ‘Questions already? I thought this was just an informal discussion?’
‘I have no objection,’ Cenn Faelad said immediately. ‘The sooner a start is made, the sooner the matter is concluded. What question do you wish to ask, Fidelma?’
‘On the night of Sechnussach’s death, where were each of you?’ There was a brief silence.
Cenn Faelad decided to answer first.
‘I was not in Tara but staying near the Hill of Uisnech.’
Eadulf tried not to show his surprise. Uisnech, the sacred hill, again.
In this weather, Fidelma knew it to be two days’ easy riding from Tara, but a good horseman such as Cenn Faelad could make it in a single day on a fast horse. She glanced at him, feeling guilty for having such suspicious thoughts without good reason.
‘So when did you first hear of your brother’s death?’
‘It was when a messenger from Abbot Colmán arrived at Uisnech.’
Fidelma turned to the abbot. ‘So you were here at Tara that night?’
The abbot gave an affirmative gesture. ‘I was here in my chambers. A servant roused me, saying something had happened.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Before first light. It was light by the time I had dressed, hurried across to the royal enclosure and entered the High King’s chamber. Irél, the captain of the guard, had already taken charge. He it was who sent for me as steward.’
‘I assume, therefore, that you were not at Tara, Barrán?’ Fidelma said. ‘Otherwise, that duty would have fallen to you?’
The Chief Brehon smiled faintly. ‘You are correct in your assumption. I was on my way to Emain Macha.’
‘May I ask what business took you to the capital of the King of Ulaidh?’
‘It has no relevance to this matter but it is no secret. I was to advise on a case involving a territorial dispute between the Dál Riada and Emain Macha. However, I did not reach Emain Macha as a messenger overtook me on the road and told me to hasten back to Tara. It was then that I heard that Sechnussach had been slain.’
Fidelma turned back to Abbot Colmán. ‘So in the absence of the heir apparent and the Chief Brehon, you took responsibility at Tara, Abbot Colmán?’
‘I did. As you know, I stand not only as spiritual adviser to the Great Assembly but also hold office as High King’s
rechtaire,
his steward.’
‘And, in taking charge, what did you do?’
‘The High King’s physician was sent for but that was merely a matter of procedure because we could see that he was dead. After all, his neck had been cut open so that the blood must have spurted like a great fountain.’ He looked apologetically at Cenn Faelad, whose face was strained. ‘I ordered a search of the adjoining rooms to ensure that the assassin acted alone, and then confirmed the identity of the assassin who had killed himself as soon as he had killed the King.’
‘You confirmed his identity?’ pressed Fidelma. ‘So you knew him?’
‘I had been told who it was by Irél. Irél had already recognised him. Dubh Duin was a member of the Great Assembly, and known in Tara. I had also seen him at the Assembly several times.’
‘And then?’
‘I ordered Irél to despatch messengers to alert Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán … ’
‘No one has mentioned the High King’s wife and his daughters,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘Were they not present?’
The abbot seemed suddenly defensive. ‘They were not and I felt that it was more important to contact the heir apparent and Chief Brehon first.’
‘Very well. What then?’
‘Then I called a scribe to come and make such notes as I thought necessary to be placed in the
tech screpta,
the library. I asked the guards to give their statements … ’
‘Indeed. I will examine them later. It is more important to question a witness in person. The matter of the guards interests me. Was the High King’s chamber not guarded that night?’ asked Fidelma.
‘The assassin eluded the two guards, Lugna and Cuan. They had been in the kitchen investigating a suspicious noise. Alerted by screams issuing from the King’s chamber, they ran up the stairs and burst in just as the assassin turned his knife on himself.’
‘Alerted by screams?’ frowned Fidelma. ‘What — from the High King?’
Abbot Colmán looked puzzled at the question. ‘Who else would scream in these circumstances?’
‘And were the guards able to explain how the assassin had managed to enter the royal enclosure, even gaining entrance to the High King’s house and bedchamber while it was still dark? Was the building not locked from the inside?’
Abbot Colmán looked uncomfortable. ‘In the centre of Tara, in the royal
enclosure, it has always been thought unnecessary to bolt the doors, for two guards are always standing without.’
‘And the door to the High King’s bedchamber, was that not locked?’
This time, Abbot Colmán reached into his leather purse and drew forth a bronze key. He held it out to her.
‘We think it was, but the assassin carried a key.’
She took it and held it up. It was a well-crafted key and had a pattern on it.
‘Where was this found?’
‘In the assassin’s
sparrán.
’
‘Before you go further, Fidelma,’ Cenn Faelad said softly, looking embarrassed, ‘I know the key to be mine. It bears the same marks that are on my key.’
Fidelma looked curiously at him. ‘You keep a key to the High King’s bedchamber? When did you find your key was missing?’
‘As heir apparent, I have a duplicate set of keys to all the royal apartments. But as for your second question,’ he held out his hands helplessly. ‘I didn’t. I mean, it isn’t.’
‘I do not understand,’ she replied impatiently.
Cenn Faelad drew forth another key and handed it to her. She took it and examined it. Then she held out both keys side by side and looked at them carefully. Now she understood.
‘They have been cast from the same mould but also filed with exactly the same markings. That is unusual, but the explanation is simple. The intruder’s key must have been copied from your key.’
Cenn Faelad nodded quickly. ‘I agree. A locksmith has made both keys to bear the same personal markings. The keys of important buildings are given different markings so that their holders can be identified. In this case, the locksmith has ensured that both keys bear marks that identify them as mine.’
‘How long have you had your key, Cenn Faelad?’
‘Since I was elected
tánaiste
— that is, five years ago, and it has been in my possession ever since. But, look, that mark at the end of the key … ’
‘Like a deep score in the bronze?’
‘That was made only three weeks ago. Yet the other key also has it.’
Fidelma compressed her lips thoughtfully. ‘How was it done?’ she asked. ‘The mark, I mean.’
‘I had been carrying out an inspection of all the locks with the
bollscari,
the head of the household staff, as he felt that some of them needed
replacing. We tested the keys of the royal house. At the end of the inspection I was late for a sword practice with Irél, the commander of the guard, and I took the keys with me. I had laid them aside with my purse and belt. My sword was a new one and I was not sure of the balance. I made a swing to test it and the sword came down on this key. The blade nicked the bronze which, of course, was then dented.’
‘And that was just three weeks ago? Did you leave the key with anyone during this time? Was it out of your possession at all?’
The young man shook his head. ‘That is the frustrating part. I did not miss it at any time. To be honest, I never even check the keys unless there is a reason. They are kept in a box in my chamber in the royal house. The chamber is locked when I am not there.’
‘Is the box also locked?’
‘It was not felt there was a need.’
‘Could any other person gain access to your chamber?’
‘The
bollscari,
Brother Rogallach, is the person who keeps the only other key.’
‘And you are there most of the time?’
‘No. I have my own residence outside of Tara and am more often there.’
Fidelma sighed softly. ‘We must return to this matter later. But it seems that our assassin was able to enter the High King’s bedchamber because he had a key, one copied from your own within the last few weeks. Further, our assassin was able to get through the main gate of what should be the most fortified palace in all Éireann without challenge and walk directly into the High King’s house without being seen.’
Brehon Barrán coloured a little at the note in her voice. He said, ‘It seems that a guard on the main gate let him pass, through, without proper challenge. That guard has been held, pending your interrogation. He may have been in collusion with the assassin.’

Other books

Radio Girls by Sarah-Jane Stratford
ACV's 1 Operation Black Gold by J Murison, Jeannie Michaud
At Thei rCommand by Scarlett Sanderson
Search for the Strangler by Casey Sherman
Chasing Can Be Murder by June Whyte
Break by Vanessa Waltz