Dancing With Demons

CHAPTER TWELVE

Fidelma met Eadulf in the royal enclosure.

‘You look pleased with yourself,’ she greeted him. ‘What have you been up to?’

Eadulf told her about his trip to the market and his meeting with the blacksmith.

‘So it was Cuan who had the key made,’ Fidelma said with satisfaction. ‘We must find him before he gets suspicious. What took you to this market?’

Eadulf explained about Cenn Faelad’s invitation to accompany him, and his meeting with the arrogant merchant, Verbas of Peqini, and his young slave, Assid.

‘Poor lad,’ Fidelma said at once. ‘We hear several tales of pilgrim ships being attacked on their way to visit the Holy Land. People are sometimes taken as slaves by marauders. The boy is obviously one such victim. I approve of Cenn Faelad’s motives.’

‘It is not the motives that concern me but the duplicity,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘Someone who is that devious needs to be watched carefully and their truths questioned.’

Fidelma smiled and patted his arm.

‘We shall be extra-watchful. But I do hope that the young boy can find his freedom. As a foreign visitor, this Verbas cannot be admonished. Cenn Faelad is right in what he has said. The boy can demand sanctuary once he escapes.’

Eadulf nodded slightly and then asked: ‘And what of your news?’

Fidelma quickly told him the result of her meeting with Gormflaith, announcing her intention of going straightway to verify matters with the Chief Brehon, Barrán.

‘I saw him and Muirgel go to the stables but then he returned to the royal house.’ She glanced awkwardly at Eadulf. ‘It may be better for you not to attend this meeting either. It will be unseemly for me to berate Barrán for withholding pertinent information before a witness — yet berate him I must. He is, after all, the Chief Brehon of the Five Kingdoms and if Gormflaith speaks the truth, he should have known better than to withhold this information from me.’

Eadulf had no objection to being excluded. He had already assumed that it would be a contentious meeting.

‘Perhaps I can make myself useful by going to the hall of the Great Assembly to see if there is anyone there who might have cause to know Dubh Duin. I was interested to hear Cenn Faelad refer to the views he expressed in the assembly. If he regularly attended as a representative of his people, there may be some who knew him well. We need to learn more about him, not merely information from someone who was enamoured by him.’

Fidelma approved his intention.

‘You are right, Eadulf. You will make a dálaigh yet. That is certainly something we must pursue in this matter. We need to get a clearer understanding of the character of this assassin. It seems that poor Gormflaith is flying in the face of the witnesses when she doubts it was his hand that struck Sechnussach down.’

‘Gormflaith is misleading herself to think otherwise, Fidelma.’ Eadulf nodded sadly in agreement. ‘It occurs to me that perhaps that is not the only thing she was misleading herself about.’

‘You suspect that Dubh Duin was merely using her to get to Sechnussach?’

‘There might have been no question of love on his part at all,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘But your expression tells me that you do not agree.’

‘It would make sense if he had not known that Gormflaith and Sechnussach lived apart, albeit in the same royal enclosure. But the path to Sechnussach clearly lay elsewhere, and not through an estranged wife.’

Eadulf looked disappointed. ‘I suppose you are right,’ he admitted reluctantly.

‘It was a good point to consider, though,’ she smiled encouragingly. ‘Now, don’t forget to keep a sharp lookout for Cuan. I just hope that he has not been warned as yet.’

Eadulf inclined his head in acknowledgement and went off about thistask. He saw Gormán with the Fianna commander, Irél, by the stables and crossed to them.

‘Any sign of Cuan yet?’ he asked at once.

‘No,’ Irél said, ‘but that is not unusual. He is not due on watch duty until later today so he may well have gone hunting or even walked down to the market. He is certainly not in the royal enclosure or at the Tech Láechda.’

Eadulf understood this, literally the ‘house of heroes’, as the name of the military barracks of the Fianna.

‘Well, at least he has to return to take his watch,’ Eadulf observed brightly. ‘I was going to walk to the place where you have the Great Assembly to see if there is anyone there who might have known Dubh Duin. I need someone to enlighten me about what sort of man he was.’

‘There is no one about at the place of the Great Assembly at this time,’ Irél told him. ‘What sort of information were you looking for, because I knew the chief of the Cinél Cairpre to some extent.’

Eadulf was surprised and said so.

‘I thought I had mentioned it before,’ Irél said. ‘Part of the duty of the Fianna is to provide guards at the Great Assembly. I met Dubh Duin there many times. I do not say that I knew him well, but I did have a few conversations with him. He was a man of firm opinions.’

Eadulf grinned. ‘Is that a way of saying that he had set ideas and would not bend with discussion?’

‘Just that, Brother Saxon.’ Irél chuckled. ‘I suppose it is a quality that is necessary for a chieftain, especially one whose territory lies on the borderlands.’

‘Borderlands?’

‘There is Connacht to the west and Bréifne to the north, and neither have much respect for the Cinél Cairpre who, if truth be known, are too out of step with them.’

Eadulf cocked his head. ‘In what way, out of step?’

‘The Cinél Cairpre have always been … shall we say, traditionalists? They don’t like change.’

‘Do you speak of a change in religion?’ asked Eadulf.

Irél examined Eadulf with a soft smile of amusement. ‘You have been listening to gossip, my friend.’

‘And is there no truth in gossip?’

Irél shrugged. ‘There have been such stories, and Dubh Duin has beenaccused of being obsessive among those in the Great Assembly. Indeed, surely his actions have now proved it?’

‘You use the word fraoch to describe him,’ Eadulf said. ‘I am not entirely fluent in the language. Is there another word with which you could help me to understand it?’

‘Very well. He could be called a fanatic about the past customs and traditions of his people,’ explained Irél.

‘Fanatic to what degree?’ asked Eadulf after a few moments’ thought.

‘To what degree?’ Irél chuckled again. ‘You may have heard stories about the dibergach, the brigands who have been creating some problems throughout the kingdom, claiming that they act in the name of the old gods and goddesses?’

‘We did see the result of their handiwork on our journey to Tara,‘Eadulf recalled. ‘Some brothers of the religion were slain at a tiny chapel on the road that passes the Plain of Nuada. What has Dubh Duin to do with that?’

‘He was once accused in the Great Assembly of defending the dibergach. My men and I once chased a small band of them into the territory of the Cinél Cairpre, which was Dubh Duin’s clan.’ He shook his head. ‘There was nothing to link them with the clan. I do not think Dubh Duin would be as fanatic as that. He merely argued that the New Faith was denying rights to those who would follow in the traditions of their fathers. He suggested to the Great Assembly that the same rights and freedoms of worship should be given to those who did not want to accept a new and foreign God and Faith. I think the argument was that withdrawing the cause of the raids would end them. Of course, he distanced himself from those involved by saying that he was only the mouthpiece for those who asked him to plead their cause to the High King.’

Eadulf raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘And how was that plea received?’

‘As I have said, not with any degree of enthusiasm, you can be sure,’ Irél grunted. ‘You can imagine the outcry from the abbots and the bishops in attendance. But it did get support from some of the chieftains of the north-western clans. In spite of the New Faith being preached here for two centuries, there are still many who prefer the old gods and goddesses.’

‘Such as the old woman whom Abbot Colmán calls Mer?’

‘Mer the Demented One?’ Irél laughed heartily. ‘You must not mind her, my Saxon friend. She is crazy. She likes to scare people. She often sits for hours by river fords waiting for travellers and then pronounces acurse on them, implying that she is one of the goddesses of death and battle. It is her little joke.’

Eadulf pulled a face. ‘An effective joke,’ he observed. ‘So what happened in this Great Assembly? How was Dubh Duin answered?’

‘Well, certain of the clerics would have answered him quite violently, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, Brother Saxon. Many are just as fanatical about their beliefs as was Dubh Duin. However, Sechnussach was the person who came forward and bade them all to be calm. He told them that there, in this same Great Assembly at Tara, Laoghaire, son of Niall of the Nine Hostages, progenitor of all the Uí Néill, had asked those present to agree that henceforth the New Faith, as taught by such as Patrick, who was in attendance, be the one faith of all five kingdoms. He argued that so many of the leading chiefs, nobles and kings throughout the five kingdoms had now accepted the new teachings that the old gods and goddesses were being vanquished to the hills. They were becoming the sídhe, the people of the hills, the fairy folk who were not deities at all.’ Irél sounded quite animated as he recited the speech.

‘You sound as though you endorsed Sechnussach’s views,’ Eadulf said.

The other man nodded quickly. ‘Sechnussach was a great king and I never heard a better speech in the assembly. Anyway, he reminded them that Laoghaire’s Great Assembly agreed that henceforth the five kingdoms should follow the faith of Christ. He also reminded them that from the Great Assembly, Laoghaire chose eight people as a commission that would spend the next three years consulting with all the Brehons and clergy to gather, study and then set down all the laws of the five kingdoms. They would remove from those laws anything that was not compatible with the New Faith. That was the law system and Dubh Duin should respect it.’

Eadulf was interested. ‘So there was a commission that set down the laws in Laoghaire’s time?’

‘Laoghaire chose Corc, the King of Muman, and Dara, the King of Ulaidh, to sit with him. Then he asked his Chief Brehon, Dubhtach maccu Lugir, and the Brehons Rossa and Fergus, to join them. Finally, he asked Patrick, Benignus and Cáirnech, the preachers of the New Faith, to complete the commission. Three years later, the great books of law were drawn up, written in the new alphabet that came from Rome. What did not clash with the word of God and with the conscience of those drawing up the laws was set forth. Sechnussach reminded the assembly that they had all endorsed the modified laws when they had accepted the New Faith.And all this was two centuries ago. There were no footsteps backwards.’

‘And did Dubh Duin accept that?’

‘It was then the man showed his fanaticism, for he argued with Sechnussach that the historian, Tirechán, had written that Laoghaire refused the Christian baptism and when he was killed fighting a rebellion in Laigin, he was buried near Tech Laoghaire, his own royal house, in the traditional manner of a High King — that was, in the ramparts of Tara, upright and fully armed, facing towards his hereditary enemies — the kingdom of Laigin. Dubh Duin claimed that Laoghaire never betrayed the Old Faith to Patrick. The Great Assembly erupted in anger at the affront and Dubh Duin never afterwards attended it.’

Eadulf was staring at him in amazement.

‘But why was Fidelma not immediately told of this?’ he cried. ‘Surely this argument with the High King constitutes a motive for Dubh Duin’s assassination of him?’

‘In the Great Assembly, everyone can speak what is on their mind without fear,’ Irél told him. ‘Tempers may rise there but must fall before delegates leave the hall. It is the custom, Brother Saxon.’

Eadulf was dubious. ‘It is a matter that I will have to bring before Fidelma. If nothing else, it may help towards an understanding of Dubh Duin’s character.’

Fidelma crossed back to Tech Cormaic, passing the impassive guard outside, and pushed into the hallway. As she did so, Báine, the attractive young maid, was crossing the hallway and Fidelma asked her if Brehon Barrán was still in the building.

‘He is in the High King’s library, lady,’ the servant replied.

Fidelma thanked her and moved on. Outside the door she paused. She was feeling nervous. After all, Barrán was the Chief Brehon. She felt the same apprehension as she had when a young student, waiting outside the door of the Brehon Morann, the chief professor of the law school. ‘I think this is one interview I could do without,’ she muttered to herself. Then she remembered that Barrán might have purposefully withheld information which was of importance to her investigation. Anger filled her, and with it came courage. She opened the door and marched in.

Barrán, Chief Brehon of the five kingdoms, glanced up in surprise as Fidelma entered the room. He had been poring over a manuscript. The place was dimly lit with tallow candles and there was no other light. Whenthe room was built as the High King’s sanctuary, the architect had realised that light was harmful to the vellums and papyri. Thus, the library had been built without natural light — which did not help with the study of the manuscripts. However, even in the gloom Barrán could see a fiery glint in Fidelma’s eyes and the set of her features showed that something was seriously amiss. He began to rise from his chair but she made a cutting motion of her hand that stayed him.

‘Is it true that Sechnussach and Gormflaith were about to divorce?’ she demanded without preamble.

There was a fraction of a second of surprise before the Brehon resumed his seat. Then his handsome features relaxed into a smile of resignation and he motioned Fidelma to be seated in a chair before the desk on which he was working while he stretched back in his own chair.

‘It seems your investigation is progressing thoroughly,’ he murmured.

‘Is it true?’ she demanded once again.

‘I have heard of the intention,’ he admitted easily.

Her eyes narrowed with anger. ‘With all respect, Barrán, as Chief Brehon you should know that withholding evidence in an investigation like this merits fines and could even bring you before the assembly of Brehons so that your appointment could be repudiated by them.’

For a moment the Chief Brehon was silent but his expression retained its good humour.

‘In what manner have I withheld evidence?’ he asked, and when she leaned forward as if to reply, he held up his hand to silence her. ‘The fact was that the divorce did not take place. If the intention was serious then Sechnussach’s death ended that. So Gormflaith became widow to the High King and therefore full heir to his entitlements. If the gossip of an impending divorce were made public then it might have had adverse consequences for her and her children’s status.’

‘Even though it was she who was divorcing Sechnussach?’ she snapped. ‘Divorcing him to marry Dubh Duin?’

Barrán‘s eyes widened a little. ‘She intended to marry Dubh Duin? Did Gormflaith tell you that?’

‘Does Gormflaith not speak the truth?’

‘I cannot tell you about the truth of her intentions. I can only tell you what I know.’

Fidelma smiled cynically. ‘You speak as a lawyer, Barrán.’

‘I am a lawyer,’ he reminded her with dry humour.

‘You did not know that it was her intention to marry Dubh Duin?’

‘If she expressed such an intention then I have forgotten.’

‘You did not introduce her to Dubh Duin?’

He hesitated, frowning. ‘I believe I did. But there are many people who throng the court at Tara that I might introduce to various others. Dubh Duin was a representative of his people in the Great Assembly. Those involved with the Great Assembly knew him. So, at some gathering, I might well have presented him to Gormflaith.’

‘The fact is that Gormflaith says she was planning to marry the man who assassinated Sechnussach. Do you confirm that the divorce was arranged?’

Barrán compressed his lips for a moment before replying. ‘I cannot. Gormflaith talked of the … the possibility. That is all.’

‘I am told that Sechnussach and Gormflaith were agreed and that you were writing out the settlement which would have been sealed on the day Gormflaith returned from Cluain Ioraird. Can I see that settlement?’

‘It does not exist, Fidelma. Does Gormflaith say it does? She must be upset. I do not understand this.’

Fidelma let out a breath of irritation. ‘So, you say that while Gormflaith talked about possibilities of divorce from Sechnussach, you have no knowledge of it as an actuality? Sechnussach and Gormflaith made no agreement nor did you draw up such an agreement?’

‘That is what I have said, Fidelma.’ Brehon Barrán’s expression was sad. ‘Do you think Gormflaith’s head has been turned by these events?’

‘Why would she confess to Dubh Duin being her lover and then make up the story about the divorce?’

‘Self-protection?’ Barrán suggested.

‘But she did not have to confess anything in the first place. She could have denied it. It does not follow.’

‘Unless it is to absolve her from any suspicion in the affair. But even if she is not involved, we now have a resolution to this matter for it gives Dubh Duin a motive in his killing. He was jealous … ’

‘No, no,’ Fidelma said immediately. ‘Her argument is that there was to be a divorce and that Dubh Duin knew all about it. She claims that he had no motive to get rid of Sechnussach. Gormflaith would have been free to marry him within a few days.’

‘There — you see? She is trying to exonerate herself by bringing in the matter of divorce. No one can seriously argue that Dubh Duin did not killSechnussach. She is saying that all the eye-witnesses are therefore liars?’ Barrán pursed his lips. ‘Mind you, if it comes to that, and she is stating that I had knowledge of a divorce, then she claims that I am a liar also.’

Fidelma was silent for a moment, before saying, ‘Yet she is admitting to matters that would bring discredit to her, whereas she could easily deny them.’

‘She could be trying to protect Dubh Duin.’

‘She could, but why? Why protect her lover in death while admitting that he was her lover? Why not just say that he was infatuated with her and she did not know his intentions? As I said, it puts her in a bad light. She could well have presented herself as a wronged woman, deceived by a lover who used her to kill the High King. No, it will not do. There is something wrong here.’

Brehon Barrán regarded her thoughtfully. ‘The investigation is yours but there are still several questions to be asked.’

‘I agree. The one fact we do know is that Dubh Duin killed Sechnussach. Whatever Gormflaith says, it remains a fact. The warrior Lugna says that the man admitted his guilt with his dying breath. If she is so besotted with him, even in death, that might explain her not wanting to admit the possibility that he used to her to get close to Sechnussach.’

‘You suspect that? But why would he want to kill Sechnussach, if not for her?’

‘Others are involved, and Dubh Duin is merely a tool. Otherwise, there are matters that make no sense. But we still do not know the motive. The motive becomes more important, the longer I think about things. Who uttered the scream that alerted the warrior Lugna to the High King’s death, thus causing Dubh Duin to take his own life? And why should Dubh Duin take his own life?’

Fidelma rose suddenly and regarded the Chief Brehon with a serious expression.

‘Do you know if Sechnussach, during the years of estrangement with Gormflaith, ever took a second wife?’

Brehon Barrán chuckled, then said, ‘Sechnussach could never have disguised the fact that he had a dormun, a second wife. It would have required many legal clarifications. You can be sure that he did not. His personal household would have had to know that, and only they knew that Sechnussach and Gormflaith were estranged. Outside the royal enclosure, no one else was aware of it.’

‘And who made the decision to live separately?’

Barrán looked surprised. ‘Gormflaith in the first place,’ he said. ‘I think that Sechnussach once contemplated divorce. He was considering the nofaults divorce. They would part on equitable terms without blame to one another. You have to have agreement on the part of both people for that.’

‘So Sechnussach spoke of it but you are sure that, contrary to what Gormflaith says, nothing was agreed?’

‘To be perfectly honest,’ the Brehon admitted, ‘Sechnussach mentioned that it was Gormflaith who had first broached the matter, now I recall. They discussed matters between them but no agreement was made nor was I instructed to draw one up.’

‘Nevertheless, they discussed it after three years of estrangement. Gormflaith admits to her lover, but Sechnussach was a handsome and virile man. Did he really remain a celibate during those years?’

Brehon Barrán pursed his lips. ‘I doubt it,’ he said. ‘But if so, the High King was discreet — and discretion must have been imposed on anyone who was tempted to share his bed.’

‘Are you speculating or do you know this for a fact?’

‘I speculate, of course.’

‘And so you are not aware if Sechnussach had a mistress or even a series of mistresses?’

‘Sechnussach was not a man who gave his affections lightly.’

‘But he was still a man,’ Fidelma replied.

‘Then we must assume, as I have, that if he had a mistress then no one has been able to identify her and she has never come forward.’

Fidelma focused on the edge of the desk in some thought.

‘We are not in the middle of the forest here, Barrán. Someone must have known something, if such things were happening. Or else they are simply covering up their knowledge.’

‘It would follow that one or other of his household servants must have some knowledge,’ agreed the Chief Brehon. ‘And if you wish to approach the person who is most likely to have that knowledge, I would say that his personal attendant, his bollscari, would be the place to start.’

‘We are talking about Brother Rogallach?’

Barrán inclined his head in assent.

‘He is one of the few witnesses that I have yet to question,’ said Fidelma. ‘Are you saying that he was close to Sechnussach?’

‘As close as a servant may be to the person they serve.’

‘And therefore he would know of any secret liaisons, and trysts in the dead of night?’

‘Sechnussach could not have functioned without him. But — and far be it from me to offer you advice — isn’t the more important question: why would the assassin commit suicide without offering a defence?’

It was a question that had been uppermost in Fidelma’s mind and not merely since she had spoken with Gormflaith.

‘We will not know that until we find out why he killed Sechnussach. Don’t worry, I have pondered the problem. Why would a chieftain who, according to one report, is about to marry his lover, kill Sechnussach, make no effort to escape, and kill himself? We know that of all forms of fingal, or kin-slaying, self-slaughter is the worst of crimes. At the moment, it makes no sense at all unless Gormflaith has been frugal with the truth. Perhaps, as you say, she is trying to protect herself. At some stage, Barrán, I am afraid it will be a challenge between Gormflaith’s word and your word on this matter of the divorce agreement.’

‘I hope that may be avoided, Fidelma. The word of truth from a Brehon is a sacred matter.’ The Chief Brehon lifted his shoulder in a curious gesture of resignation. ‘I knew your task would not be easy,’ he confessed. ‘Had things been easy, then the Great Assembly would not have sent to Cashel to ask you to come.’

Fidelma raised her gaze to his. ‘If I am to continue this investigation, Barrán, I must be assured that nothing is being held back. Whatever your concerns for public knowledge and protecting the reputation of the High King and his lady, you should have let me know how matters stood between Sechnussach and Gormflaith in their estrangement.’

‘You found it out quickly enough,’ responded Barrán defensively. ‘And it does not bring you closer to a solution.’

‘That is beside the point. If I am to succeed, nothing should be held back. It is a principle of the law.’

‘You are right, of course,’ the Chief Brehon conceded, before raising his hand and letting it fall in a helpless gesture. ‘Sometimes, in the higher strata of politics … ’ he used the word riaglaid as an act of governing and rule ‘ … sometimes the right to information must take second place to the art of diplomacy.’

‘Well, it seems that you will not have to struggle with a conflict of decisions for much longer,’ she remarked.

Brehon Barrán looked puzzled.

‘Cenn Faelad,’ she reminded him,‘mentioned that he was nominating you as his heir-apparent, in which case you will give up the role of Chief Brehon.’

‘Cenn Faelad is kind,’ Barrán said, and gave a brief smile. ‘It will be a honour to serve my cousin in this new role.’

‘You do not feel it strange that he, being young, has nominated you, being older than he is, as his heir?’ mused Fidelma.

Brehon Barrán appeared slightly affronted. ‘I have several good years of service in me yet, Fidelma. I hope to be advising the High King and the Great Assembly for many years to come. It is a wise young king who appoints one more elderly to act as adviser.’

Fidelma shrugged indifferently. ‘I am a simple dálaigh, Barrán, whose job it is to discover the truth, and truth is often bitter but truth must always prevail if there is to be any hope for good government.’

Brehon Barrán was not perturbed at her implied censure.

‘You have my word, Fidelma. You have now had only the truth so far as it is in my possession to give it to you.’

‘So be it. And you can tell me no more about Dubh Duin who, Gormflaith says, you introduced to her?’

‘As I say, I have no recollection of it.’ Barrán shrugged. ‘I introduce many people to each other. All I recall about Dubh Duin is that he was regarded as a capable man, a good chieftain and a strong advocate of the rights of his people while in the Great Assembly. I would say he was inclined to be conservative in all his dealings.’ He then added: ‘I suspect he was conservative in matters of the old religion as well.’

‘Why do you suggest that? Are you saying that he did not embrace the New Faith?’

‘I really don’t know. He raised a heated debate in the Great Assembly once, asking that people should have as much right to follow the Old Faith as follow the New Faith. I know harsh words were exchanged with Sechnussach, but I was not there so cannot give you the details.’

Fidelma was not happy. ‘Harsh words between Sechnussach and Dubh Duin? Is this another question of information that would help my investigation that has somehow been overlooked?’ she said indignantly.

‘You must ask Irél, who was attending the Great Assembly that day or, indeed, one of those nobles who were present at the debate. I am not the investigator of this matter.’ Brehon Barrán made a motion of his hand as if in dismissal. ‘For me, there was nothing to mark Dubh Duin outsignificantly from the rest of the nobles of Midhe.’ He relaxed a little and grinned. ‘They are all egocentric with pretensions of high-minded morals. Dubh Duin liked to claim that the new religion was persecuting those who followed the old religion and that he was merely standing up for the rights of those who did so.’

Fidelma turned to the door, pausing with her hand about to open it. ‘It would be best if nothing else was concealed from me in the future, Barrán,’ she remarked tightly before she made her exit.

Outside, with the door closed, she exhaled deeply in exasperation. She was angry that the Chief Brehon had tried to conceal facts, claiming, in his defence, that it was good for the people. She returned along the corridor to the hallway of the Tech Cormaic, where she found Eadulf waiting for her.

‘There is no one at the hall of the Great Assembly at this time,’ he explained, ‘but I do have some information that might be useful. I had a word with Irél about Dubh Duin and an argument he had in the assembly.’

‘An argument with Sechnussach over religion?’ Fidelma said.

Eadulf’s face fell. ‘You already know about it?’

She reached forward and took his arm in companionable fashion. ‘In truth, I have only just heard that it took place. I have no details. Come, let us go into the fresh air and then tell me all you know.’