Dancing With Demons

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.

She had chosen a gown of deep blue satin with intricate gold thread patterning. It fitted snugly into the waist but then flowed out into a full skirt, which came to her ankles. The sleeves were of a style called lamfhoss, tight on the upper arms but spilling out just below the elbow and around the wrists in imitation of the lower part of the dress. Over this wasa sleeveless tunic, called an inar, that covered the top of the dress but ended at the waist. From her shoulders hung a short lummon, a cape of contrasting, red-coloured satin edged with badger’s fur. The cape was fastened on the left shoulder by a round brooch of silver and semi-precious stones. On her feet were specially decorated sandals, sewn with pieces of multi-coloured glass, and called mael-assa.

Around her wrists were bracelets of complementary-coloured glass, and at her neck was a simple golden torc, indicating not only her royal position but that she was of the elite Nasc Niadh of Muman. Around her fiery red hair was a band of silver with three semi-precious stones at the front — two emeralds from the country of the Corco Duibhne and a fiery red stone which Eadulf could not place — these reflected the stones used in the silver brooch that held her cape. This headband served to keep in place a piece of silk that covered her hair but left her face bare. It was called a conniul and indicated her married status, for it was the custom of married women and also of the female religious to cover their heads to show their status. Had not Paul instructed the Corinthians that a woman who did not have her hair covered when she prayed might as well have her hair cut off?

Eadulf had not seen Fidelma dressed in such finery since their official wedding day.

‘Perhaps I should have borrowed warrior’s clothing from Gormán,’ he greeted her with dry humour.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she retorted. ‘We go to stand before the High King elect of the five kingdoms, and the kings and nobles of the five kingdoms gathered in the Great Assembly. In such a formal meeting there is a protocol in dress that is prescribed by law.’

‘I should have known that the Brehons even have rules on dress. But it makes me seem a poor peasant by comparison,’ he replied dolefully, glancing down at himself. He had put on his best clothes, but his simple garments were rough and homespun by contrast with hers.

‘Just remember that you are Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ Fidelma admonished firmly. ‘And my husband.’

He had difficulty remembering it when they entered the hall of the Great Assembly. If there was one thing he had learned about the noble and wealthy classes of the people of Éireann, it was that they loved to dress up in bright colours and jewellery — and both males as well as females would add to it by putting on cosmetics — berry juice to brightenthe lips or darken the eyebrows or enhance the blush of the cheek. He disapproved of it and was pleased to see that Fidelma had used red berry juice on her lips sparingly and added only a thin line to highlight her eyebrows. As he glanced round at the gathering, he realised that his fears were correct. It was not Fidelma who stood out in her choice of clothing but his plain and simple garments that drew the eye.

Around the hall, members of the Fianna stood sentinel and Irél himself commanded a detachment of warriors who formed up behind a row of empty benches at one side of the hall. These had been reserved for the witnesses that Fidelma, through Brehon Barrán, had instructed to attend the hearing; they were now awaiting the summons to enter.

Usually, at the Great Assembly meetings the positions of honour went to the High King and his Chief Brehon. As Cenn Faelad entered with Brehon Barrán and made towards these seats, the dour-faced Congal Cendfota of the Dál Fiatach of Ulaidh sprang up, raising his voice in objection. He shouted to make himself overheard above the hubbub. This caused even greater pandemonium. Finally, Cenn Faelad brought the place to order.

‘We will only proceed when there is quiet among us,’ he bellowed.

The noise died into a muttering and a shuffling of feet.

‘Now, Congal Cendfota, why do you object to Brehon Barrán and I taking our seats to conduct the affairs of this Great Assembly?’ demanded Cenn Faelad.

The burly northern noble still stood in his place.

‘This Great Assembly made a decision at its last meeting — that there were potential conflicts in the Uí Néill about the investigation of the matter of Sechnussach’s assassination. He was an Ui Néill and his assassin was an Uí Néill. The person that gains from his assassination is an Uí Néill. The Chief Brehon, overseeing such an investigation, is an Uí Néill. So it was decided that the Chief Brehon should not conduct the investigation. It was also decided that you, Cenn Faelad, while tánaiste to your brother, Sechnussach, should not be inaugurated until the investigation was concluded.’

Cenn Faelad grimaced impatiently. ‘And this is exactly why we now meet, Congal Cendfota! As this Great Assembly instructed, Fidelma of Cashel — an Eóghanacht — came to investigate and is about to make her report. What is your objection?’

Congal Cendfota waited until the muttering subsided again. He pointedto the chairs of office in which Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán were about to be seated.

‘Until that report and its conclusions are confirmed by this Assembly, I contend that neither you nor Brehon Barrán can have a say in conducting this meeting. It would be unseemly and implies a foregone conclusion.’

There were many who voiced their agreement with this argument and, indeed, Fidelma looked across at Eadulf and nodded approvingly.

‘It seems a logical point of procedure,’ she whispered, ‘although slightly pedantic.’

Cenn Faelad held a whispered exchange with Barrán.

‘Very well,’ he said. ‘We will sit in the Great Assembly only as observers. But who will conduct the proceedings?’

‘Fianamail of Laigin,’ proposed one of the Laigin churchmen.

This immediately brought protest from one of the Ulaidh nobles.

‘If Fianamail of Laigin presides over this Great Assembly on behalf of the High King, then it would be tantamount to approving Laigin as next in line to the High Kingship!’

‘Then I propose Diarmait, chieftain of Uisnech!’ cried another voice.

‘He is just another Uí Néill,’ called a chieftain from Connacht.

Again, a hubbub broke out.

Then Ségéne of Ard Macha rose and walked across the chamber to where Ségdae of Imleach was seated. Ségdae rose to greet him and both men held a hurried conversation. They turned to face the Great Assembly.

‘My brother in Christ and I have a proposal,’ Abbot Ségéne announced, silencing the noise of speculation. ‘The matter of delivering the report should be a relatively simple affair. We believe that the steward and spiritual adviser to this Great Assembly, Abbot Colmán, should control the proceedings, acting with the advice of Sedna, the deputy Chief Brehon. Neither is an Uí Néill and both have the authority of their office. Let anyone who has any objection to this, state that objection.’

There was a silence and then a murmuring of approval arose.

Cenn Faelad, with some relief, said: ‘Then it seems we are agreed. We will sit here as observers. Come forward, Colmán, come forward, Sedna, so that we may proceed.’

Abbot Colmán and Brehon Sedna came forward to take their seats and an expectant hush fell on the assembly.

Abbot Colmán glanced at his companion and then turned to face the Great Assembly.

‘There is little need to preamble these proceedings. For reasons we are all aware of, the Great Assembly decided that the matter of the assassination of our High King, Sechnussach, by Dubh Duin, chieftain of the Cinél Cairpre, should be investigated by an unbiased dálaigh — Fidelma of the Eóghanacht, Fidelma of Cashel. She was asked to investigate the motives and discover whether anyone other than Dubh Duin was involved in this matter.’ He paused and looked to where Fidelma was seated. ‘Fidelma of Cashel, are you prepared to present the results of such an investigation?’

Fidelma rose and cleared her throat. ‘I am. In corroboration of my report, I have called on certain witnesses to stand ready to confirm or deny my contentions. I would ask the leniency of this Great Assembly to bring them into this hall to sit among us so that they respond to the arguments that I shall place before you.’

Abbot Colmán turned to Brehon Sedna and they held a hurried and whispered exchange. It was Brehon Sedna who spoke next.

‘There is a legal objection to your request, Fidelma of Cashel.’ He spoke in sharp, incisive tones. ‘It must be made clear that this is not a court in which the guilty can be prosecuted. If it is found that anyone else has acted in collusion with the assassin, then this Great Assembly cannot make judgement. The procedure as laid down in the Cóic Conara Fugill, the Five Paths of Judgement, must be followed. Today is simply a hearing of your report … ’

Fidelma inclined her head towards him. ‘I would like to plead a precedent for bringing the witnesses here … ’

‘A precedent?’ snapped Brehon Sedna. ‘Surely the assassination of the High King has no precedent?’

Fidelma smiled softly. ‘I would respectfully refer the learned Brehon to the scribes who record that the High King Muirchertach, son of Erc, was drowned in a vat full of wine at his house at Cleiteach on Ucht Cleitig by the banks of the Bóinn. It is true this took place many generations ago. Indeed, so we are told, it happened in the very year of the death of the Blessed Ailbe of Imleach, who brought the Christian teaching to our poor kingdom of Muman.’

Brehon Sedna flushed, turning to one of the scribes whose task it was to record the decisions of the Great Assembly and was learned in its protocols and history. He beckoned the man forward and there was a whispered exchange between them. Brehon Sedna turned with a surprised look to Fidelma.

‘May I congratulate you on your knowledge,’ he said. ‘I am reminded that a woman named Sin was considered the culprit in the death of the High King Muirchertach which happened as you have said.’

Fidelma was not triumphant at making the point.

‘You will find that, according to the records, it was a strange death. His house was set on fire and the High King climbed into a vat of wine to escape the flames. The ridgepole of the house, having been burned away, fell on the High King’s head, knocking him unconscious, so that he fell back into the vat and drowned. This Great Assembly held a hearing and witnesses were brought to sit before it to hear the report presented by the Brehon appointed to investigate. That is the precedent that I argue.’

Brehon Sedna turned back to the scribe who nodded rapidly in agreement with her summary.

‘We will accept the precedent and allow your witnesses to sit in the Great Assembly to hear your report.’

There was a silence while Irél led in Gormflaith and her daughter Muirgel, which caused a great deal of outspoken surprise among the Assembly. They were shown to empty benches guarded by members of the Fianna. Then came the warriors Lugna, Erc and Cuan, the latter closely guarded. All the servants of the High King’s household, Brother Rogallach, Torpach, Brónach, Báine, Cnucha, Maoláin and Duirnín followed. Bishop Luachan, still limping, and his steward Brother Céin came next. Finally, Iceadh the apothecary entered and took his place. Brehon Sedna waited until they were all seated before addressing Fidelma.

‘This procedure now brings forward a second point of law. Abbot Colmán must surely take his place with the witnesses and be excluded from sitting here.’

Abbot Colmán looked at his companion in surprise at the contention but Fidelma raised her hands to still the murmuring that broke out.

‘Not so, Brehon Sedna. The abbot is not a witness to the events as I shall state them. He merely took charge of the royal household until the return of Cenn Faelad and Brehon Barrán. There was no reason for him to be excluded from conducting this meaning.’

Brehon Sedna looked as relieved as the abbot.

‘Then if this procedure is acceptable to the Great Assembly …?’

Everyone signified their agreement perhaps somewhat impatiently and several called out that the report be proceeded with.

‘So, having clarified procedure, you may continue,’ Brehon Sedna summed up, addressing Fidelma.

Fidelma paused, as if gathering her thoughts. Then she began her speech.

‘All murder is heinous. The assassination of a High King is especially so. One fact has been absolutely clear from the start. Dubh Duin, the chieftain of the Cinél Cairpre, entered the bedchamber of the High King, cut his throat and then turned his knife on himself when he realised that there was no escape from capture. There is no disputing this fact.

‘We initially had two main questions to ask. One: did Dubh Duin act alone? And two: what was his motive?’

She let her gaze sweep the Assembly as if seeking an answer there. It was a piece of drama that Eadulf had witnessed several times before when Fidelma was arguing before the airechtaí or courts.

‘You may be assured that Dubh Duin did not act alone,’ she went on confidently. ‘This was no spur-of-the-moment killing, nor was it a matter of one person acting alone for reasons of personal hate. Indeed, there was a conspiracy to kill Sechnussach.’

A wave of outrage swept the hall and she allowed it to swell and ebb before she spoke again.

‘As for the motive, at this stage I will firstly tell you what Dubh Duin’s own motive was. I fear it was not the same motive of all those in the conspiracy. Dubh Duin was a traditionalist. He believed in the old ways and customs. Moreover, he believed in the Old Faith. Those in this Great Assembly already know how he argued here for the recognition of the rights of those who still held to their veneration of the old gods and goddesses. Some may recall his dispute on the matter with Sechnussach?’

There were many who were nodding, recalling the debate. Only Gormflaith among the witnesses seemed to shake her head in disbelief.

‘Dubh Duin was fully committed to the Old Faith as we are to the New Faith,’ Fidelma continued. ‘Ardgal, now chief of the Cinél Cairpre, will testify to this. There is no need for me to tell you that scarcely two centuries have passed since the great teachers Patrick, Ailbe, Brigit, Brendan, Ciaran and the others, brought the word of Christ to this land. There are still areas which that word has not reached or where it is not accepted. Even within a day’s ride of Tara, there are still many who gather at Uisnech, which the ancients regarded as the navel of the world, the centre of the five kingdoms, to practise the old rites.

‘Further, there is no need for me to tell you that there is a movementabroad intent on overthrowing the new teachings and returning this land to the old ways.’

Abbot Colmán bent forward quickly. ‘And are you claiming that Dubh Duin was part of this?’

‘I am.’

‘It can’t be true!’ cried Gormflaith, her strident tone startling everyone.

Fidelma looked at her sadly. ‘I am afraid it can be, and it is,’ she replied, before turning back to the Assembly. ‘We know that there are pagan raiders, the dibergach, who have been attacking the abbeys and churches. They started by attacking small, isolated churches and communities, but those attacks are increasing. Many members of the religious have been killed.’

A member of the Great Assembly stood up and signalled that he wished to ask a question.

‘I am sworn to the New Faith and have no advocacy for the old. But I must point out that the faith of our ancient fathers did not advocate violence and death as a way of life. Our fathers believed in the peace and oneness of this world. This was the teaching of our Druids. Why would they be raiding and killing in the name of the old gods and goddesses? It seems illogical.’

Fidelma acknowledged the man’s statement, for it was hardly a question.

‘There has been one sect among our forefathers which did advocate death and sacrifice,’ she said. ‘It was an aberration quickly dealt with by the Druids. It is claimed that during the days of Tigernmas, the twenty-sixth High King, dementia overtook him and he set up a great idol on Magh Slecht, the Plain of Slaughter, and demanded that people sacrifice to it. So much bloodshed was caused that finally the Druids rose up and destroyed both the idol and Tigernmas. The idol was called Crom Cróich.’

‘So what are you saying?’ demanded Brehon Sedna. ‘That this idol worship has been reborn?’

‘The sect that has arisen to attempt to overthrow the New Faith is dedicated to the worship of Crom Cróich,’ she confirmed.

‘How do you come to this conclusion?’

‘We have witnesses to that fact, and Irél and Ardgal have led their warriors in the overthrow of these fanatics who were encamped at a place called the Hag’s Mountain not even a day’s ride from here. You need no longer fear them. But how does it fit in with the assassination of the High King? I will tell you. Firstly, when coming to Tara, while we were crossingthe Plain of Nuada, we came on a destroyed church and members of the religious that had been slaughtered. But one was just alive. Brother Eadulf bent and heard his last word. Brother Eadulf thought he whispered something about blame.

‘And when Dubh Duin lay dying by the High King’s bed he too whispered something. Lugna, who caught the last words, also thought he said something about blame.’

‘What is unusual about that?’ Abbot Colmán wanted to know.

‘Both Eadulf and Lugna misheard the word. The word was not cron, blame, but Crom — Crom Cróich. The religious was identifying the attackers just as Dubh Duin was calling on the idol that he thought was a god. This much we can now prove. We should have been alerted by this fact earlier.’

‘Accepting this then, you say that Dubh Duin believed that Sechnussach’s death would help him in his quest to bring back this evil worship. But how?’ Brehon Sedna asked. ‘I do not understand it.’

‘Because he had been led to believe that the successor would return the five kingdoms to such worship,’ Fidelma answered simply.

At once Cenn Faelad leaped to his feet, his face angry. ‘This is a lie! As the holy cross is my banner and witness, I would not do such a thing!’

Fidelma held up a hand to quench the tumult that had broken out. ‘I did not say it was you, Cenn Faelad,’ she rebuked mildly.

‘You said Sechnussach’s successor.’ Cenn Faelad was not mollified. ‘I am the tánaiste, the heir apparent. Who else would you mean?’

‘Your succession was not going to last long,’ she replied starkly. ‘The plot, in essence, was simple but its mechanics were complicated. Indeed, in all the cases that I have been involved in, this one has shocked me by the depth of intrigue and the convolution of its workings.’

Taken aback, Cenn Faelad sat down abruptly.

‘This case has many layers of culpability,’ Fidelma said. ‘I will beg the forgiveness of this Great Assembly for taking them on a long journey through these layers of intrigue. The simplest layer was Dubh Duin, who was part of this sect devoted to bringing back the worship of Crom. Very well. Dubh Duin had tried to get some recognition for the Old Faith in this Great Assembly. When that failed, he turned to other methods. He was supported by the bands of brigands raiding the Christian centres. They were fanatics. But it was like the pricking of pins on a great bear. It did not even harm the body. So there had to be another way.

‘Dubh Duin did not dream up the plot himself. Who persuaded himthat the way forward lay in the assassination of Sechnussach? Someone in the royal household? There was one fanatic already who served in the royal enclosure … ’

‘Cuan!’ declared Lugna loudly. ‘Because he acted as the decoy that took me from my post at the doorway of the royal house that night.’

Surprisingly, Fidelma shook her head.

‘Not Cuan. He did not have the intelligence to think out this complicated plot. He was subverted later, and was ambivalent about religious beliefs anyway.’

‘So how was he subverted? By what means?’ demanded Brehon Sedna.

‘By means of sexual favours,’ Fidelma said. ‘His recruitment to the scheme was later on in the advancement of the plot after it had been thought out.’

Gormflaith suddenly stood up. ‘I wish to make a statement to the Great Assembly,’ she said.

Faces turned expectantly towards her.

Brehon Sedna glanced at Fidelma.

‘I have no objection,’ she said.

‘You will doubtless hear from Fidelma that Dubh Duin was my lover,’ declared Gormflaith. ‘I shall not deny it … ’

Once more they had to wait until the tumult died down.

‘ … But I deny that I was part of this so-called plot. I am a Christian. Dubh Duin never ever spoke to me, either of his faith or his lack of it. We did not discuss religion. Nor did Dubh Duin kill my husband to gain favour with me. I can present evidence that Sechnussach and I were estranged for three years from the royal servants, but I also can present a witness that I had agreed a divorce with Sechnussach and it was to be sealed on the day after I was due to return from Cluain Ioraird. But by then … ’She shrugged. ‘That witness is Brehon Barrán.

Fidelma saw that Brehon Barrán was shaking his head, and she turned back to Gormflaith with a sad smile.

‘I am afraid that the Chief Brehon will not be your witness to this matter of the divorce agreement,’ she said softly.

‘Dubh Duin had no reason to kill Sechnussach on my account,’ Gormflaith repeated stubbornly. ‘We were going to be married and leave Tara.’

In the shocked silence that followed, as Gormflaith reseated herself, Fidelma spoke clearly.

‘Regretfully, lady, Dubh Duin had no intention of marrying you. You were merely a means by which he could reach Sechnussach. As your lover, he could gain access to the royal enclosure almost at will, as the warrior Erc will state. Dubh Duin’s purpose was always the slaughter of Sechnussach. You were misled, lady, an innocent victim of the conspiracy.’

Abbot Colmán cleared his throat. ‘But it has been pointed out that even with Sechnussach dead, Cenn Faelad would have succeeded. Cenn Faelad is known for his Christian piety and largesse to the Church. As he has already stated, he would not tolerate a return to idolatry and he has said so before this Assembly.’

‘And as I have said, he would not have lasted long in office even had he made it to his inauguration,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It was not Cenn Faelad who conspired with Dubh Duin. Indeed, as I have also said, it was the chief conspirator who suggested this plot to Dubh Duin. After Sechnussach was assassinated, Cenn Faelad would also be eliminated. That would lead to this chief conspirator taking control and returning the country to the Old Faith.’

Brehon Sedna frowned. ‘So Dubh Duin was guided by another?’

‘Exactly. One person introduced Dubh Duin to Gormflaith, knowing Gormflaith’s emotional situation,’ Fidelma explained. ‘Sechnussach and she had already parted. The reasons why are not pertinent but they are known to me. Gormflaith was alone, unhappy and vulnerable. At the time of the birth of her last daughter, probably during her confinement, Sechnussach had taken a mistress. Dubh Duin was handsome and personable. He was told that he could make himself even more personable to Gormflaith and did so with inevitable results.

‘But the chief conspirator was not concerned with Gormflaith’s emotional happiness. While he had told Dubh Duin that such a relationship was a means of reaching Sechnussach, this chief conspirator had another reason. He wanted to deflect suspicion from himself and another conspirator so that no blame would fall on them … ’

‘Another conspirator?’ repeated Brehon Sedna with a helpless sigh. ‘How many conspirators were there in this plot?’

‘It is a very complicated plot,’ admitted Fidelma. ‘I apologise to the Great Assembly. It is like peeling away the skins of an onion. The person who involved Dubh Duin had a motive, which was purely power. His ambition was to be High King. But he was, in turn, motivated by a woman who also wanted power. She would share power with him if he weresuccessful. Together, they worked on Dubh Duin, knowing his fanaticism for the old religion. He would, therefore, be the means of clearing the way to their taking power.

‘Dubh Duin knew that there were some in Tara who would help him — people who still worshipped the old gods and goddesses. People so placed that they could even steal the key of the High King’s chambers and make a copy in readiness for the attack.’

‘We have heard many assertions so far, Fidelma,’ Abbot Colman said, becoming impatient. ‘Perhaps you had better start stating facts and naming names of these conspirators.’

Fidelma pouted in annoyance. ‘The assertions I have made, Abbot Colmán, are facts. The trouble is, as I have said repeatedly, this is a many-layered plot. I will try to make it all simple.

‘Knowing of Dubh Duin’s fanaticism, the chief conspirator and his lover introduced him into a plot where he was to assassinate the High King but in such a way that if he were caught, it would bring suspicion only on Dubh Duin and his lover, Gormflaith. What the chief conspirator and his lover had not realised was that Dubh Duin had his own band of followers in Tara, and when he struck it was, I think, at the wrong moment — and this has led to a loose skein with which this tangled ball can be unravelled. I will start this process of unravelling.

‘Why did Dubh Duin strike when he did? It has long been a legend among those of the Old Faith that when the “wheel of destiny”, crafted by the sun god of our forefathers, was found, it would be the instrument that would destroy the New Faith. It was thought that it would point the way to where the great Cauldron of Murias, the secret of all life, was hidden and with this sacred object in their hands, those of the Old Faith would be triumphant and drive out Christianity.

‘There was at Tara an old woman called Mer the Demented. Many of you treated her as a joke. But she boasted about the finding of the wheel of destiny even before I reached Tara.

‘Then I heard of Bishop Luachan’s visit to Sechnussach on the night before his death. Bishop Luachan sits before you. He will tell you that he and Brother Diomsach discovered a circular object in a hidden manmade cave dedicated to the Old Faith. Bishop Luachan is learned in such things, and he believes the circular object he found to be an integral part of the wheel of destiny. Knowing the legend, Bishop Luachan posted Brother Diomsach to Tara to tell Sechnussach. Irél was sent from Tara to escortBishop Luachan and the object here. The object was handed to Sechnussach the night before his death. Bishop Luachan then returned to Delbna Mór.’

She paused and Abbot Colmán, who was leaning forward, trying to follow her story, cleared his throat.

‘What has happened to this wheel of destiny?’ he asked.

Fidelma smiled briefly. ‘As soon as Bishop Luachan left, Sechnussach realised the weight of responsibility upon him and knew that he should not hide it in his chambers, but somewhere safer. In the early hours, he went down to the kitchen of the royal residence and hid it in the uaimh or souterrain where foodstuffs are kept. He was seen taking it from his chamber by Brother Rogallach, who thought little about it. Torpach the cook came upon Sechnussach in the kitchens early in the morning and the High King explained that he could not sleep and so had come to make a meal. That was a lie. Sechnussach had taken the object to the souterrain to hide it.

‘I think it was Mer who discovered where it was hidden and she went to the souterrain to find it. Cuan followed and, for whatever reason, he killed her and took the precious object. Before he could escape, Brother Rogallach entered and Cuan knocked him unconscious from behind. Rogallach did not see him. Cuan then fled to the territory to join those at Hag’s Mountain. He realised that there was little future with them and so escaped as we attacked their camp. He took the object and fled but we eventually caught up with him.’

‘So the wheel is still hidden somewhere?’ said Brehon Sedna.

‘It is not,’ Fidelma said with a quick gesture to Eadulf. The latter took a piece of sackcloth from his feet and removed something from it. There was a gasp around the Great Assembly as he held up a circular object, its bright silver reflecting the lights of the great hall. There was a solar motif in the centre and the edge of the object was engraved with many heads forming the outside circle. He placed it on the floor before Abbot Colmán.

Fidelma had been watching the faces of the witnesses as he did so.

‘Just for the members of this assembly, Bishop Luachan, can you confirm that this was the object that you presented to Sechnussach?’

The elderly bishop indicated it was.

‘Bishop Luachan’s visit to the High King in the dead of night was discovered by one of Dubh Duin’s fanatical conspirators. That was why the decision was made to strike at Sechnussach the next night. And that was also when things began to go wrong, for there was no synchronisation withthe person who had put these events in motion in the first place. That person, whom I have called the chief conspirator, had wanted Gormflaith to be in Tara when Sechnussach died; and he had wanted his lover — who was his co-conspirator — to be away from Tara. But Dubh Duin and his religious faction was not interested in these conspirators’ plans. They were true fanatics.

‘The plan, as I said, went wrong because someone was with Sechnussach when Dubh Duin entered his chamber; someone whose scream alerted the servants and guards and led to Dubh Duin turning the knife on himself.’

‘An interesting story,’ snapped Brehon Sedna. ‘But we want names.’

‘And names you shall have.’ Fidelma turned to the witnesses.

‘Dubh Duin was to be the assassin, as you know. Mer the Demented played some part, perhaps identifying the fact that Sechnussach had possession of what to them was a sacred wheel. Cuan’s role was to take a key to the High King’s chamber and get a smith to copy it. Then, on the night of the murder, he was to distract his fellow warrior, Lugna, to remove him from his guardpost at the doors of the royal house. That left one other conspirator who worked in the royal house and who passed the key of Sechnussach’s chamber to the assassin for him to enter. It was this same female servant who, as I have said, used her sexual favours to ensure Cuan’s role in the plot. She was one of the central figures in this conspiracy.’

‘Who is it?’ demanded Brehon Sedna.

Fidelma was grim. ‘Mer the Demented unintentionally told me her name before we even came to Tara. She referred to “the white one”. There is only one servant who bears the name — for what does Báine mean but “the white one”?’

Báine was sitting back with a sneer of derision making her pretty features ugly.

‘Very clever,’ she hissed, ‘but cleverness will not save you and your kind when the sacred wheel leads us back to the Great Cauldron of Murias which has been touched by the hands of The Dagda himself. You will tremble and sacrifice before Crom.’

Another cacophony of sound burst out in the Great Assembly chamber and it took several minutes before Abbot Colmán and Brehon Sedna could restore order.

‘So it was Báine who stole the key and gave it to Cuan to make a copy?’ asked Abbot Colmán. ‘It was she who persuaded Cuan to betray his warrior’s code.’

‘Yes. And Báine was the daughter of the priestess of Crom whose body now lies in a grave on Hag’s Mountain,‘added Fidelma. ‘It took Eadulf, Irél and I a while to recall where we had seen the features of the woman called the ceannard before. Báine is clearly the daughter of her mother.’

Báine sat back, her arms folded defiantly, and stuck her chin in the air as if she was no longer part of the proceedings.

Cuan stood up and said nervously: ‘If I confirm all this, lord, may I plead for clemency? She bewitched me, I swear it.’

Brehon Sedna scowled at him. ‘It is neither the place nor time to hear such pleas,’ he declared. Then, returning his gaze to Fidelma, he added: ‘Apart from Dubh Duin, Báine, Cuan and Mer, you have claimed — if I understand correctly — that there was a chief conspirator, someone motivated by power and not by religious fanaticism?’

‘I did. The person who thought they would succeed to the High Kingship — and I did not mean Cenn Faelad.’

‘And you will name him?’

‘He has named himself. He was the one who introduced Dubh Duin to Gormflaith, engaged himself in supporting Gormflaith’s relationship with him, and, knowing how he could win the support of Cenn Faelad to nominate him as tánaiste, promised Dubh Duin that when he took over as High King, after deposing Cenn Faelad sometime in the future, he would bring about the changes to recognise the Old Faith once more. Whether he would have done so, once firmly in power, I do not know. I doubt it. But promises are cheap. The Old Faith was his route to the High Kingship.’

All eyes in the Council had turned on the urbane figure of Brehon Barrán who had been sitting without any reaction to Fidelma’s recital.

Brehon Sedna looked troubled. ‘You deny this charge, of course, Brehon Barrán?’ he asked, albeit without conviction.

Brehon Barrán looked across to Fidelma. ‘I have seen this dálaigh presenting her cases several times before. I do not doubt that she can produce evidence in support of her claims.’

‘I would be the last person to remind you, Barrán, that the law-texts state how guilt may be judged other than by direct evidence,’ Fidelma said. ‘The law acknowledges that indirect or circumstantial evidence can be applied, provided it is strong. I think that Báine and Cuan will be persuaded to speak against you.’

‘To save themselves,’ Barrán sneered. ‘I suppose you feel that you have a strong case?’

‘Oh, I know I have a strong case, Barrán,’ replied Fidelma. She gestured at Báine. ‘I am sure that Báine will be persuaded to come forward as a witness to the conspiracy, especially when she understands that you had no intention of fulfilling your promises to Dubh Duin to recognise the old religion. You fully intended to betray him.’

‘Your saying so does not make it so,’ Brehon Barrán replied.

‘Then my saying so does!’ came Báine’s sharp tone. ‘I know the promises you made to us. I was with Dubh Duin when you made them. But it seems that it was all a plot just to prepare your path to power. You will be the first to suffer the wrath of Crom when we arise … Already the warriors of my mother’s people are raiding and destroy your churches, and soon they will sweep into Tara and destroy … My mother’s … ’

She suddenly dissolved into tears. Whatever else she was going to say was lost in her grief-stricken realisation of her mother’s death on Hag’s Mountain.

In the tumult that broke out in the Great Assembly, Irél had motioned to several of his warriors who, according to Fidelma’s prearranged instructions, had moved into various positions around the conspirators.

When order was restored, Fidelma stared across at Brehon Barrán, who now looked less confident.

‘I suggest that this crime is so heinous that it has to be retried before a court. I am sure that the members of this Great Assembly will agree,’ she said.

‘We can accommodate you on that,’ Cenn Faelad replied with satisfaction. ‘Is it the wish of this assembly that Barrán and Báine be tried as soon as arrangements can be made? And, at the same time, the lesser conspirator Cuan should be tried with them?’

The Great Assembly vocally signified its agreement.

It was Gormflaith who now rose and demanded to be heard again.

‘You are all forgetting one thing,’ she said.

A silence descended and Brehon Sedna turned a disapproving look on her.

‘What do we forget, lady?’ he asked coldly.

‘I accept that I have been a dupe, a fool, that Brehon Barrán did, indeed, manoeuvre me into the company of Dubh Duin who purposefully made himself attractive to me. Lonely women can be misled by kind and gentlewords from honey-tongued suitors. It is true that all along I confided in Barrán, who promised to draw up the agreement for my divorce from Sechnussach and now denies it was so. I see now how he was putting the blame on me. But there is something the lady Fidelma said that we have all overlooked.’

When she looked at Fidelma, the latter smiled encouragement and motioned for her to continue.

‘Fidelma said that Brehon Barrán was working with someone else, his lover, someone who wanted to share the power with him and was as ambitious for it as he was. So when Báine charges Barrán, let us remember the full extent of the part she played. She obviously led Barrán on. She was his lover.’

But Fidelma was already answering her. ‘Lady Gormflaith, I would have spared you this with the best will in the world. However, you are right in your reminder to the Great Assembly that there was someone else working with the Chief Brehon. But it was not Báine, a lowly servant in the royal house, who was Barrán’s lover and co-conspirator — someone eager to share power with him as High King.’

‘Then name the woman, if you know it,’ instructed Brehon Sedna.

‘I am afraid that there was one other person who helped bring Dubh Duin into your life, Gormflaith. One other person who gave their authority to ask the guards to pass Dubh Duin into the royal enclosure at night, and finally gave instruction to the guard Erc to allow Dubh Duin free access at night so that he could pass in when the time came for the assassination … ’

Muirgel, with a scream, had leaped up and seemed for a moment to be trying to escape but Irél had seized her.

Gormflaith gazed ashen-faced at her eldest daughter.

‘It’s not true!’ shouted Brehon Barrán, springing up, and found the hand of one of the Fianna on his shoulder restraining him.

‘Of course it’s true,’ jeered Báine from her seat. ‘Muirgel was in this plot from the start. Again, I will bear witness to it.’

‘But in a plot to … to kill her own father!’ Brehon Sedna was horrified.

‘Ambition destroys the feelings of its possessor,’ muttered Abbot Colmán, using an old saying.

Muirgel stood, held by Irél, scowling at them; her blazing eyes seemed to be cursing them silently.

‘She thought to use us all,’ Báine said in disgust. ‘We were together as conspirators, each with our own ambitions. She was too arrogant to see that we were using her and her clownish lover, Barrán. Clownish, aye, for how could a young girl like Muirgel love him, a decrepit old man? She was using him, just as she used everyone else. She was ambitious for power — power was her only god.’

Fidelma let her gaze wander from the snarling young woman to the suddenly deflated old man who had once been Chief Brehon of the five kingdoms, renowned throughout the land. Now he seemed a feeble, emotional wreck of a man. He sat forward, his head in his hands as he realised how he, in turn, had been manipulated.

‘Ambition is a mounting demon who first corrupts and then rots the heart and the mind.’ Fidelma spoke out strongly, addressing all present. ‘It invites the shallow residue of humanity to dance with it and, if the dance be successful, it has but one reward — transient power and fame before sinking into the oblivion of the grave.’

Eadulf regarded her in surprise. She smiled back.

‘They are lines from a pagan poet,’ she explained softly.

Abbot Colmán and Brehon Sedna were now calling for order among the astonished and voluble Great Assembly.

‘The Chief Brehon Barrán is, of course, suspended from his office and his nomination as tánaiste to the High King is withdrawn. He, together with Muirgel, daughter of Sechnussach, and Báine and Cuan, will be held for the conspiracy in the assassination of Sechnussach,’ Brehon Sedna announced solemnly.

Abbot Colmán nodded his agreement with the announcement.

‘It is good to come to an end of this affair,’ he said. ‘My only regret is that Dubh Duin killed himself so that we cannot try him for the murder of the High King.’

‘But Dubh Duin did not murder the High King.’

The sentence clearly spoken by Fidelma caused a silence more complete than any that had gone before. It seemed that all present held their breath.

Brehon Sedna stared at her in disbelief. ‘Are you joking with us, Fidelma?’

‘It is no joke.’

‘What of the witnesses — what of the fact that, when caught in the act, Dubh Duin took his own life? Be reasonable.’

‘Nevertheless, the truth remains that Dubh Duin did not murder Sechnussach,’ she said again, more firmly still.

‘You will have to explain yourself.’

‘It is simple to do so. When Dubh Duin took his knife and cut Sechnussach’s throat, the High King was already dead.’