Dancing With Demons (17 page)

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Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

BOOK: Dancing With Demons
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‘But was this merely a verbal agreement between you?’
‘Not at all. As custom has it, we first discussed it and agreed. Then we called the Brehon to transcribe it. While he was doing so, I went to the abbey of Cluain Ioraird where my mother – indeed, all the chieftains of Clann Cholmáin — are interred. I went there with my young daughters to pray for her soul and to ask her forgiveness as she waited for me in the Otherworld. The idea was, that by the time I returned, the Brehon would have the document ready and could pronounce the divorce. Then Dubh Duin and I would return to my father’s lands in Clann Cholmáin.’
‘If this were so,’ Fidelma said quickly, ‘why did Dubh Duin come to Tara, knowing you were at Cluain Ioraird?’
Gormflaith blinked. ‘That is the one thing I do not understand,’ she acknowledged. ‘There was no reason for him to be here at all until my return.’
‘And you still claim that he did not kill your husband?’
‘He had no reason to. The divorce was ready.’
‘Why was this story not told to us immediately? In fact, we were informed that you had dutifully remained at Tara as the grieving widow with your children. That does not fit with the image of someone who was about to divorce,’ Fidelma observed.
Gormflaith shrugged. ‘You must think what you like, lady. I have told you the truth. And the fact is that when I returned and found Sechnussach dead, and my poor lover dead too, I did not think it politic to admit to what had happened.’
‘But surely the Brehon who drew up the divorce settlement for you would know the real story?’
‘He knew of my estrangement with Sechnussach and, of course, he knew that we had agreed a divorce as he had drawn up the agreement. In fact, he knew well my situation because it was he who had introduced me to Dubh Duin. He advised me that I should forget the matter for, as widow of the High King, I would inherit more than just the divorce settlement. Also, Sechnussach’s name and reputation would then be untarnished in death. There was no need to besmirch his name as a cruel husband now that he was dead. So he was buried and I played the grieving widow, as you put it.’
‘You surely realised that the truth must come out eventually?’
‘The truth? I do not know the truth and I think that you are only guessing so that Dubh Duin becomes a scapegoat.’
Fidelma shook her head sadly. ‘Then, lady, perhaps you had better let me start down the road to the truth. Let us begin by identifying this sowise Brehon who gave you what appears to be such bad advice and to whom you entrusted the divorce proceedings.’
Gormflaith hesitated a moment.
‘We must have that name, lady,’ Fidelma advised her sharply, ‘otherwise there is nothing said that does not refute our original thoughts of the motive for killing Sechnussach.’
Gormflaith bowed before the inevitable.
‘Very well, Fidelma of Cashel. If you need to know the name – it was the Chief Brehon, Barrán.’
Fidelma stared at her in surprise. ‘Well, that can be easily verified.’
‘I have no objection to you doing so,’ Gormflaith said confidently.
There was a silence and Fidelma said softly: ‘I am confused. In spite of the evidence, the eyewitnesses, the fact that Dubh Duin took his own life and, in his dying breath, gasped a word to Lugna, apparently accepting the blame, you still maintain that you believe he was
not
the person who killed your husband?’
‘I do.’ Gormflaith met her gaze evenly. ‘As I say, he had no reason to kill the King on my behalf. Once I was divorced then we would have married.’
‘Then perhaps there was another motive?’
‘Such as?’ snapped Gormflaith. ‘What other motive could there be?’
‘There are many reasons why one man kills another but of those, if what you say is true, we can only speculate until we know more about the character of Dubh Duin.’
The other woman glowered at her.
‘I am Gormflaith of the Clann Cholmáin and do not lie,’ she said quietly and firmly.
‘Even so, lady, with respect, I must confirm what you have said,’ Fidelma replied suavely. ‘And, as I say, so far we are lacking in any description of Dubh Duin’s character.’
Gormflaith sniffed. ‘Are you asking me for an opinion? If so, surely you will claim that I am biased in that regard since we were lovers?’
‘That may be so, lady, but any opinion is better than none. Is that not so?’
‘Then, leaving aside my personal emotions, I would say that Dubh Duin was a man of courage, not a coward who sneaks about in the night to murder people in their beds.’
‘We’ll accept that for the time being,’ Fidelma assured her. ‘Tell us more of his courage, his personality. How long had he been chieftain of the Cairpre Gabra – do you know?’
‘Four or five years. I only met him when he was attending the Great Assembly here in Tara.’
‘Have you met others of the Cinél Cairpre Gabra? Do you know how his people regarded him?’
‘I know he was modest,’ Gormflaith said. ‘When he came to the Great Assembly only one companion attended him.’
‘How would you assess him?’
‘He was of strong physique and an attractive man in appearance … ’
‘Let us speak of personality.’
‘I felt he possessed excellent judgement and he gave good counsel. He was very level-headed and congenial. He also had a good sense of humour. I suspect he was an idealist for he often spoke of how certain members of the New Faith were dragging the five kingdoms into new ways that rejected our culture and the values of our past. With the new fashion of committing all our histories and stories to the Latin form of writing, he would often deplore it when the scribes sought to change our history to blend it with the teachings of the New Faith. I’ve seen him argue that before the Assembly. He had a great deal of pride in his ancestry.’
‘I understand he was an Uí Néill,’ Fidelma said.
‘As was Sechnussach. But Dubh Duin traced his descent back from Niall’s son Cairpre while Sechnussach traced his back to Niall’s son Conall and the line of Sil nÁedo Sláine.’
‘Did Dubh Duin then resent Sechnussach being High King?’ asked Fidelma. ‘I mean, descending from that same family himself, did he think he should be High King?’
Gormflaith smiled sadly. ‘The last High King of Dubh Duin’s direct ancestry was some hundred years or so ago when Tuathal Máelgarb was chosen. I don’t believe Dubh Duin was interested in kingship. Anyway, Sechnussach’s brother had long been chosen as his
tánaiste,
his heir apparent.’
‘You say that Dubh Duin was always level-headed. Was he never angry? Did you never see him, with that pride you speak of, angered—even if he curbed it or exercised control?’
‘Never in my presence,’ Gormflaith assured her.
‘He was never impulsive?’
‘Impulsive? I suppose he was, but that was due to his romantic nature. During the time we were falling in love, he would make impulsive gestures, give me gifts that a more circumspect person would not have done … certainly not while my husband was close by.’
‘And you told no one of your affair except Muirgel?’
‘No one except Muirgel and Brehon Barrán,’ she confirmed.
‘So your husband knew nothing of Dubh Duin?’
‘Nothing. He knew nothing. Even when I went to him and demanded a divorce he agreed almost readily and did not even ask me why or, indeed,
whether another had caught my attention. He was apparently content with whatever woman he was taking to his bed.’
Fidelma sighed deeply. ‘Very well, lady. I may wish to question you again. What is your plan, now that both your husband and your prospective husband are dead?’
‘Muirgel is of marrying age,’ the woman said. ‘I have a feeling that she is seeing someone with that prospect in mind, but she has not admitted it. So she will probably remain here in Tara. As for my other daughters, I shall take them back to my father’s fortress by Loch Ainninne. There was nothing at Tara for me even when Sechnussach was alive and now … now there is even less and nowhere to go except to my father’s house. That is my plan.’
Fidelma rose to go, then hesitated and asked: ‘One last thing. Do you know Cuan?’
Gormflaith frowned. ‘Cuan?’
‘A member of the Fianna. One of the guards at the royal residence.’
‘Apart from the commander of the Fianna, I am not in the habit of interesting myself in the names of the members of his companies,’ Gormflaith said, but not crossly. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Did Dubh Duin ever mention the Ui Beccon to you?’
Gormflaith looked uncertain. ‘You ask the most odd questions, Fidelma of Cashel. The Uí Beccon? Why should he mention those people?’
‘You know of them?’
‘I know most of the clans of Midhe as you doubtless know the clans of Muman. They are a small clan and unremarkable.’
‘But you knew that they paid tribute to Dubh Duin’s own clan?’
‘I did not, but I suppose it is logical as they dwell in the same area of the kingdom. Why are you interested?’
‘No matter,’ Fidelma assured her. ‘It was just a thought.’
‘Well.’ Gormflaith rose and took her hand, speaking with a sudden earnestness. ‘I wish you luck in your enquiry, lady. I have not only to mourn Sechnussach for my daughters’ sakes but also to mourn Dubh Duin for my own sake. Whatever you can do in order to bring the truth to light as to who was responsible for their deaths and why, I will support it. Find out though the seas rise to engulf us, or the sky falls to crush us: only the truth is sacred.’
F
idelma 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 this
task. 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 been
accused 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 a
curse 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.

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