Dancing With Demons

CHAPTER SEVEN

The abbot had conducted her to the tech screpta, the small royal library house. She chose a chair in a corner and Eadulf borrowed some ceraculum, writing tablets of beechwood base covered in wax or cera from which their name derived. With a stylus he could then make notes on them which could be transcribed to parchment or vellum at a later stage. Thus prepared, with Abbot Colmán acting as their steward, Fidelma had asked to see the physician who had attended Sechnussach.

As she expected, the physician merely confirmed the facts of the High King’s manner of death. However, it was important in her eyes that nothing, and especially no one, was overlooked in this matter. The physician, appropriately named Iceadh, for the name actually meant ‘healer’, was elderly with a curious habit of issuing his sentences in staccato fashion as though he had to get them out in one breath.

‘His throat was cut. The jugular vein severed. Short stab in the heart. Either wound fatal. Sharp instrument found with assassin. A hunter’s knife. Honed to sharpness. Could slice anything. No chance of saving his life. Died almost instantly.’

‘So, in your expert opinion,’ Fidelma smiled encouragingly, ‘would you say that the High King was attacked while asleep in his bed?’

‘Asleep? Assuredly. No time for a struggle. Doubt if he would have known anything. The assassin knew what he was doing.’

‘And did you also examine the body of the assassin?’ queried Eadulf.

The physician sniffed. ‘Dubh Duin? Of course. He was also beyond help. Expert knife-thrust into the heart. Self-inflicted when caught by guards. Told he survived a few moments. Said something to one of the guards.’

Fidelma nodded and dismissed the man, calling for the warrior Lugna to come in.

The warrior was deferential and stood uncomfortably before her. He was a tall young man, red-headed, tough-looking and typical of the muscular members of the Fianna, the elite warriors of the High King.

‘I am told that you were the senior guard at the royal house on the night of Sechnussach’s assassination. Is that so?’

Lugna replied stiffly, ‘Even as you have been told, lady.’

Fidelma frowned at the warrior’s awkward manner, knowing that unless he relaxed it would be hard to obtain any useful information from him. She motioned to a seat before her. ‘You may sit, Lugna.’

The young man glanced nervously at Abbot Colmán, who was standing at Fidelma’s side. Then he clumsily sat down.

Fidelma glanced up at Abbot Colmán. ‘It seems our young friend would feel more comfortable if you sat as well, Colmán,’ she said gently. It was not protocol for a young warrior to be seated when an abbot was on his feet.

The abbot hesitated for a moment, then took a chair from nearby and sat down.

‘Now that we are all seated,’ resumed Fidelma, ‘we can begin. All I am wanting from you, Lugna, is an account of the events of that night as you saw them. I am not here to apportion any blame. My aim is to learn the truth of those events.’

‘The facts are known. I have told the abbot,’ replied the warrior, still formal in manner and indicating Abbot Colmán with a slight nod of his head.

‘But you have not told me,’ she pointed out, her voice even and almost gentle. ‘And I am the one who has been designated by the Great Assembly to investigate this matter. Now — I understand that you were in charge of the guards at the royal residence on that night. How long have you been in the service of the High King?’

Lugna raised his chin slightly. ‘I have served in the Fianna for five years. I am a toisech cóicat of the first catha.’

Eadulf looked puzzled, as he was unacquainted with the military vocabulary. Fidelma quickly explained.

‘In time of peace the High Kings maintain three catha or battalions of the Fianna. In wartime, the Fianna is usually raised to nine battalions. But the standing three battalions are professional warriors, just as my brother maintains the Nasc Niadh of Muman. The first battalion is always at the side of the High King and guarding the royal domains.’ And turning back to Lugna she added: ‘And you say you were the commander of a cóicat, that is a troop of fifty warriors?’

Lugna was still impassive. ‘As I have said, lady.’

‘So you are an experienced warrior, Lugna,’ Fidelma observed. ‘Where are you from?’

Lugna blinked a little in surprise at the question. ‘I am of the Ui Mac Uais Breg of Brega, lady.’

‘Who dwell north of here, beyond the River Bóinn?’

‘As you say, lady.’

‘What time did you come on watch?’

‘My watch was from midnight until dawn.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

‘It was just before dawn. My comrade Cuan and I had made an inspection of the guards in the royal enclosure. This is done several times during the watch. We returned to the entrance of the royal house.’

Fidelma sat back thoughtfully. ‘As I understand, your position was usually in the hallway?’

‘It is. But while we were still outside, Cuan heard a noise in the kitchen at the back of the royal house and we went to investigate.’

‘You did not enter and go in through the hallway?’

‘The kitchen door is usually locked at night and we did not want to disturb the house if there was no need, so we went round the side of the house to the outbuildings.’

‘Why did you think there was no need to rouse the household, if you heard a noise?’

Lugna coloured a little. ‘Cuan was not exactly sure what he heard and I had not heard anything,’ he admitted.

‘So you went along the side of the building,’ Fidelma said. ‘Wasn’t that ill-advised? You left the main door of the house unguarded to go round the back?’

Lugna did not meet her eye. ‘We thought we should investigate.’

‘Leaving the house unguarded?’ she repeated with emphasis.

‘I cannot deny that.’

‘I gather the commander of the Fianna slept on the same floor not far away. You did not think of alerting him before you left?’

Lugna actually smiled with a bitter humour. ‘Wake Irél for no good reason? I would not think of doing so in the circumstances.’

‘And did you find an explanation for the noise?’ she asked.

The soldier was obviously embarrassed. ‘We did not.’

‘And you returned — when?’

‘We were in the kitchen when we heard a scream. The adjoining door between the kitchen area and the main house was, as I have said, locked. We had to run back along the side of the building again, in order to enter at the front doors and then come up the stairs.’

‘So now we begin to build a picture of the events.’ Fidelma paused a moment and then continued: ‘Describe the circumstances of what happened at the moment you heard this scream.’

Lugna considered for a moment as if to gather his thoughts.

‘The scream raised all those who were in the house. By the time we arrived at the High King’s chamber, several people were stirring and calling out in alarm.’

‘Was the bedchamber door locked?’

‘It was not. We found the key on the table by the bed. But another key was also found in the assassin’s purse later.’

‘So, you entered Sechnussach’s chamber?’

‘I entered first. The assassin was slumped by the bed and he was already dying. He had clearly taken his own life with the same dagger with which he had cut the throat of our King. Cuan entered moments later, having paused to pick up a lantern. I saw by its light that the High King was beyond mortal help.’

‘There was no one else in the chamber?’

‘Not at that time. It was moments after Cuan and I entered that the servants began to crowd in. I told them to stay back and then our commander, Irél, entered and later Abbot Colmán.’

‘Did you recognise the assassin?’

‘Not at first. I think it was Irél who identified him and when I looked closer, I realised that he was right. It was Dubh Duin of the Cinél Cairpre.’

‘You said that he was dying. Did he say anything before he died?’

‘Matter of fact, he gasped something, but it was of little consequence.’

‘I think I should be the judge of that,’ Fidelma said.

‘He simply admitted that he was to blame.’

Eadulf looked up from his note-taking. ‘How did he phrase that exactly?’ he asked.

The warrior shrugged. ‘The word cron — blame. It was just a dying whisper. It was all I heard. Nothing else.’

Fidelma noticed that a thoughtful frown had settled on Eadulf’s brow. She turned back to Lugna.

‘There is one thing that troubles me,’ she told him. ‘This scream thateveryone heard: you and your companion are standing in the kitchen, you hear the scream and run to the High King’s chamber.’

‘That is so.’

‘The assassin had cut the High King’s throat?’

‘He had.’

‘Surely the High King could not have screamed with his throat cut?’

‘The same idea occurred to Irél and he ordered us to search the privy and the adjoining room, but there was no one else in the apartments. It must have been Sechnussach’s dying breath.’

‘As I see it, if Sechnussach had had the power to scream, he would also have had the power to struggle with his assailant. However, the physician is sure that no struggle took place and that the assassin struck while the High King lay asleep. There would have been no time for him to scream. So who was it who did so?’

Lugna thought for a moment or two but was clearly puzzled and said so.

‘I do not know, lady. When I think of it, the scream was of a high pitch, and so you may be right that it is unlikely to have been the High King who uttered such a sound. Sechnussach was fond of singing, so I know the resonance of his voice — a deep baritone.’

When Lugna’s comrade, Cuan, was called in to answer her questions, he said he could add no more to the story than Lugna had told them. He was a taciturn young man with dark hair, bony features and close-set eyes, and had a slight scar over his right eye.

‘I gather that you were the one who heard the noise from the kitchen which caused you and Lugna to leave the door unguarded during the vital time when the assassin must have passed inside the High King’s house?’

Cuan stirred uncomfortably. ‘I heard something,’ he replied. ‘I told Lugna and he said we should investigate.’

‘And he was your superior that night?’ mused Fidelma.

‘He is a commander of a troop of fifty. I am a mere warrior.’

Fidelma regarded his stubborn features for a while. Then she sighed. She knew that she was not being told the truth, but it was obvious that she could not push against an immovable force without some means of leverage. It was best to leave it for the moment. Of the two, perhaps Lugna would be the better person to apply pressure to, and find out why they had deserted their post at that crucial time.

After Abbot Colmán had escorted Cuan to the door of the library, sheleaned towards Eadulf and said quietly: ‘Already I feel there is far more here than simply an assassin who strikes and then kills himself. As we remarked before, this man seems to have had extraordinary luck. He is let into the royal enclosure by a guard, contrary to orders that only people with permission of the High King can be admitted after nightfall. Then he enters the High King’s residence because the two men who are supposed to be guarding it have chosen that very moment to go out to the kitchen to investigate a noise. He can also enter the High King’s chamber because he has a duplicate key which has been recently cut from the heir apparent’s own key. Indeed, that is not luck, Eadulf. I think there is collusion somewhere.’

‘Do you think the noise was deliberately made to lure the guards to the kitchen?’ Eadulf asked.

‘No. I think they are lying,’ Fidelma replied bluntly. ‘They claim to have heard this noise while at the front of the royal house. That is possible — yet it aroused no one else. No one in the rooms at the back heard anything. If it was some confederate of the assassin seeking to lure the guards away so that he could enter unopposed, it was not a good plan. The sound might have woken lots of other people.’

Eadulf reflected silently. ‘When do you plan to challenge Lugna and Cuan then?’

‘I need something to break through their story and get at the truth. I think they have agreed on this lie and I shall need more information in order to challenge them. Meanwhile, we will continue our investigations with the other witnesses.’

Abbot Colmán had returned. ‘Whom shall I call in now?’ he asked.

‘I think we should see the other guard, the one that was at the main gate. Erc, I think his name is?’

The abbot nodded. ‘He is being held in the cells. Shall I send for him to be brought here?’

Fidelma rose abruptly. ‘We will go and see him where he is held. Perhaps his surroundings will help him concentrate on my questions.’

Erc the Speckled rose from his wooden bench in the dungeon in which he had been incarcerated and stood with a woebegone expression as Fidelma and Eadulf entered with Abbot Colmán. He gave the appearance of a man resigned to fate — and that fate was like an irresistible force that was going to destroy him.

Abbot Colmán announced Fidelma and her status with a solemn tone.

‘Well, Erc the Speckled,’ Fidelma gave the man a smile of encouragement as she seated herself on a stool, ‘you appear to be in a sorry situation.’

The warrior sighed deeply. ‘I am at fault, lady,’ he said tonelessly. ‘I have no excuse.’

Fidelma pointed to the wooden bench and instructed the man to be seated.

Erc sat down nervously.

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

Erc nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Erc shook his head. ‘No, lady.’

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

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

‘What then?’

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

‘You knew him?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘It was the lady Muirgel.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Is that unusual?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Unusual? In what way?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fidelma was puzzled and said so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The man shook his head.

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

‘I did.’

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

‘It was Irél,’ he confirmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Why so?’

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

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

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

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

Fidelma rose to her feet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘See who?’ asked the abbot distractedly.

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

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

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

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