Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

‘That is correct. The lady Gormflaith and her daughters had gone to Cluain Ioraird to spend the night in prayer for the repose of the soul of her mother,’ Cenn Faelad told Fidelma.

‘The abbey of Cluain Ioraird is on the road to Uisnech … ’ said Brehon Barrán.

‘I accompanied Gormflaith to the abbey before riding on to Uisnech,’ the young man said hastily.

‘And presumably, once you heard the news of your brother’s death, you returned to the abbey as it was on your way back here?’

‘Of course,’ replied Cenn Faelad, and he sighed. ‘It was a logical thing to do. It was my sad task to inform the lady Gormflaith of her husband’s death. It was decided that it would be best if she remained in the abbey until more was known about the assassin and his motives. But when it became clear that there was no immediate danger to her and her daughters, then they returned here.’

‘So, at the moment,’ Fidelma summed up, ‘if there was no one else in the King’s chamber, we may presume that the alarm was given by Sechnussach’s death scream? Yet it seems unlikely. If a person’s throat is cut open, there is little chance of emitting any sound, let alone a scream.’

Abbot Colmán was puzzled. ‘Are you saying that someone else must have screamed?’

‘What is known of Dubh Duin?’ Fidelma went on, ignoring the question. ‘What is known of his personality, of his family? I am aware that he was the chief of the Cinél Cairpre, but what else can you tell me about him?’

‘Little else, except he was a member of the Great Assembly.’

‘That was his right as chieftain of the Cinél Cairpre,’ added Brehon Barrán.

‘Is that the clan who dwell around the Plain of Nuada?’ queried Eadulf.

Cenn Faelad smiled and shook his head. ‘No. That is the Cairpre of Magh Nuada. The Cinél Cairpre Gabra dwell around the shores of Loch Gomhna, the lake of the calf. They are mainly hunters and farmers even though Dubh Duin was a direct descendant of my ancestor Niall of the Nine Hostages. He was proud of his lineage and boasted that he had some claims on the High Kingship. His ancestor Tuathal Maelgarb was the last successful claimant to the throne of Tara, but that was three or four generations ago. The only other thing I know is that Dubh Duin was not married.’

‘Who is now chief of the Cinél Cairpre Gabra in his stead?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Ardgal,’ supplied Brehon Barrán. ‘A cousin of Dubh Duin.’

‘Has any contact or embassy been sent to Ardgal and the Cinél Cairpre?’

Cenn Faelad answered. ‘Given the circumstances, it could not be otherwise. The slaughter of a High King by the chief of a clan is no insignificant event. When Aonghus of the Terrible Spear blinded the High King Cormac mac Art, he and his clan, the Déisi, were driven into exile. Half were given sanctuary in your own lands of Muman while the others fled across the sea to Britain and settled in the kingdom called Dyfed.’

Fidelma knew the story well and was impatient. ‘I presume that is a confirmation that Ardgal has been contacted?’

‘Of course. Irél and members of the Fianna, with the Brehon Sedna, were sent to the Cinél Cairpre. Ardgal, the tánaiste, was instructed to pick eight of the leading men of the clan, especially members of Dubh Duin’s immediate family, and send them to Tara to present themselves as hostages for the good behaviour of the clan while the crime of their chief was investigated.’

‘And did they?’ asked Eadulf sceptically. As a Saxon he was, in many ways, still unused to the curious rituals of the law of the Éireannach.

‘Naturally. Ardgal sent eight leading men of his clan as hostages. They have been here for several days at the Mound of the Hostages.’

Fidelma smiled at them all. ‘That is all I need to know from you at this time. Tomorrow I propose to start with questions to the witnesses, such as they are. And, of course, I will wish to see where the assassination took place.’

‘Abbot Colmán will see to all your needs,’ Cenn Faelad agreed quietly. ‘He has full authority to take you wherever you wish to go and also to force all and every one to answer your questions, should they seem reluctant.’

‘That should not be necessary, seeing that I am a dálaigh qualified to the level of anruth, ’ Fidelma informed him somewhat tartly.

‘Agreed, but these are not normal times,’ Cenn Faelad sighed. ‘And there is much suspicion here, especially against strangers.’

‘We will do our best to find a resolution to this mystery so that we may return to normal times as soon as possible,’ Fidelma said, not unkindly.

Cenn Faelad rose and they followed his example.

‘And now we have had food for our thoughts,’ he said, ‘let us refresh ourselves with food for our bodies.’

Abbot Colmán opened a side door, revealing a small chamber where a table had been laid out ready.

‘My servants have prepared a cold meal as I did not know what time our discussion might end and, of course, it was better that no servants were present to hear it.’

Eadulf glanced at the table in approval. There were plates of sercoltorsan or cold venison, and slices of mairt-fhéol or beef. A dish of hardboiled goose eggs stood to one side, with dishes of gruth-caisse or curd cheese and hard cheese called tanag , and several kinds of bread. There were salads of cneamh or wild garlic with cress and wood sorrel, mixed with sloes as a condiment, and dishes of hazelnut, apples, whortleberries and honey. Drink was plentful: jugs of cider, juice made from elderflower and apples, and even imported red wine. It was truly a feast.

The conversation as they ate studiously avoided the matter of Sechnussach’s death but turned on the state of the kingdoms, the harvest and the threat of a new outbreak of the feared Yellow Plague that had devastated the country.

Finally, it was time for Fidelma and Eadulf to return to the guesthouse. Cenn Faelad held out his hand to Fidelma.

‘God guide your work, lady. Let us hope for a quick resolution. It is dangerous for the five kingdoms to be without a High King confirmed in ancient ceremony. We have much work to do before we call the provincial kings to my inauguration. We will also need to call the Brehons of Ireland to appoint a new Chief Brehon as well.’

Fidelma was puzzled and glanced towards Brehon Barrán with an unspoken query.

Cenn Faelad saw the glance and explained. ‘As we have said, Barrán is my cousin and I have persuaded him to stand as my tánaiste, for his will be a steady hand in helping to govern. Therefore, we need to find a new Chief Brehon to fill his place. That is why there is now urgency in resolving matters.’

‘Then I will do my best to ensure that the result matches the urgency,’ she promised. ‘We will have to make an early start in the morning when it is light. I would like to see over Sechnussach’s chambers.’

‘There is not much to see there,’ Cenn Faelad replied. ‘Since the assassination took place, most things have been cleared from the apartments.’

‘Nevertheless,’ insisted Fidelma, ‘it is good to see where the crime took place so that I can visualise the events.’

Abbot Colmán said: ‘In that case I will come by the guesthouse after you have broken your fast and take you there. As Cenn Faelad said, you have only to ask, and I am at your service.’

‘Then we will make a start after breakfast,’ replied Fidelma solemnly.

Eadulf woke just before first light.

He could hear Fidelma’s regular breathing and knew that she was still asleep. At first he did not know why he had awoken and then he heard the noise of a pan being moved from the ircha , the kitchen area of the guesthouse. He looked out of the window and saw from the sky that it would soon be dawn. He wanted to turn over and go back to the warm comfort of the dream he was having but knew that, even if he could recapture the moment, within moments he would be roused sharply. With a sigh, he decided to make the best of it and crept out of bed.