Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

If someone was already stirring in the kitchen, he could take the opportunity to wash before Fidelma and the others rose. He went to the door and opened it softly so as not to disturb her, and moved out into the corridor.

Having passed beyond the door he now heard the soft whispers of a conversation. He wondered who was awake apart from himself. Stepping quietly down the corridor, he then halted in embarrassment as he heard a female voice. He tried to place where he had heard it before and then he recalled that it was the plainfaced girl with the strange name — what was it? — Cnucha?

It was not her tone but what she said that halted him.

‘She is a …’ He did not understand the word that was used but had a feeling it was not a nice expression. Resentfully, the girl’s voice continued: ‘I don’t see why I should do her work for her!’

‘Because there is no one else to do it, my girl. That is why.’

He did not recognise the stern tones of the woman who answered her.

‘She is always getting out of her duties recently, ever since … ever since — well, you know.’

‘I have no time to argue, Cnucha. The meal for the guests must be prepared and the water heated for their wash. When Báine is not here, then it is up to you to fulfil these chores.’

‘It occurs to me that Báine is hardly ever here when needed. She spends too much time with the High King’s daughter, if you ask me.’

‘She cannot help the fact that the lady Muirgel has taken a fancy to her company. And you are in enough trouble with Muirgel and Brehon Barrán without complaining about others.’

The girl sniffed. ‘It was not my fault.’

‘They caught you searching the High King’s chambers the day after the assassination. Why were you doing that?’

‘I had a right to be there,’ the girl replied sulkily. ‘One of my tasks was to attend the chambers and keep them clean.’

‘The lady Muirgel did not think so.’

‘She shouldn’t have lost her temper and struck me! Bitch! Then Barrán came in and supported her, saying I had no business to be there.’

‘And he was right. Sechnussach had been assassinated. The chambers should have been closed.’

‘Brehon Barrán said as much, but …’ Her voice trailed off.

Eadulf heard the other woman sigh impatiently.

‘I don’t know what possessed you. Whatever were you doing in the High King’s chambers? Come on — the truth now. Surely not cleaning.’

Cnucha seemed to hesitate. Then: ‘If you must know, I was looking for something, that is all. I probably lost it elsewhere. It was … personal. A bracelet.’

‘I see. Well, I know jewellery can be of sentimental value, but-’

‘It was also valuable,’ the girl protested. ‘It was a bracelet of silver Gaulish coins. I must have lost it when I was cleaning. I did not want to lose it.’

‘Well, if it hasn’t turned up during the last ten or more days, I think you will have to resign yourself to its loss. It seems an expensive sort of thing for someone like you to come by.’ The voice was suspicious.

‘It was a gift from … a friend.’ The girl’s voice was defiant.

‘Well, wealthy friend or not, it still doesn’t absolve you from work, Cnucha. And with Báine not here, I suggest you get started on your duties.’

‘Then why doesn’t Báine go to Muirgel and be her attendant, so that we may get another person to help us in our work?’

‘All will be changed when this investigation is over and Cenn Faelad becomes High King. He will then choose his attendants as he considers fit.’

Eadulf heard the girl sniff.

‘And will you be staying on then, Brónach? Will you be in charge?’

‘Brother Rogallach is in charge. I am only the senior female servant.’

‘I doubt whether Cenn Faelad will want Brother Rogallach to continue to be in charge of his household. Cenn Faelad is a real man and not so outwardly pious as Sechnussach was.’

‘That is no way to talk about the late High King.’ The voice was stern with disapproval.

‘Why not? Anyway, I am comparing Sechnussach to Cenn Faelad. Sechnussach may have surrounded himself with pious religious, but he was no more than-’

‘You should have a care what you say about Sechnussach, my girl!’ Brónach hissed. ‘Especially now you have a dálaigh in this guesthouse who is investigating his assassination.’

‘Huh! Another so-called pious religieuse with her Saxon lover!’ Cnucha sneered.

‘Watch your tongue. They are married and well-respected. She is also sister to the King of Muman. Now, for the last time, get about your chores! When I see Báine, I will discuss this matter with her. She should let us have more notification if she has to attend to other duties.’

Eadulf heard a door closing and reasoned that the woman, Brónach, must have left by the side door. He paused for a moment and then decided to continue his mission to find water for washing. Cnucha was alone in the kitchen preparing oatmeal cakes for breakfast. She looked up with a start of surprise as he entered.

‘I did not know you were up, Brother.’

Eadulf pretended to stifle a yawn as he saw the girl flush guiltily.

‘I have only just risen. I am looking for water to wash. Was there someone else here before me? I thought I heard a voice.’

‘Oh, it was only Brónach. She is in charge of us.’

‘Ah. I don’t think we have met her yet.’

Cnucha shrugged and went on kneading oatmeal. She gestured with her head towards the wash room. ‘The water is heating ready for you.’

‘Thank you.’

Her tone had been dismissive and so the opportunity to develop theconversation was thus lost. Eadulf, with a sigh, accepted it with good grace.

Abbot Colmán arrived, as promised, as they finished their morning meal and took them to the royal residence called Tech Cormaic. It was a large rectangular building of two storeys with several outhouses, standing inside the ramparts of the royal enclosure, well away from the defensive system that surrounded the buildings of the nobles who dwelt at Tara. The High King’s house was built of a variety of woods, but chiefly of oak and yew. The slinntech darach, the overlapping boards of polished oak, which comprised the roof, shone in the morning sun.

The abbot led the way to the massive double doors of thick oak. A guard with a drawn sword resting against his shoulder saluted Abbot Colmán and stood to one side.

‘It would appear that the assassin entered this way in the dead of night,’ explained the abbot as he opened the doors.

‘And these doors are never locked or bolted?’ Eadulf enquired, seeking confirmation of what they had been told the previous night.

The abbot gestured at the ramparts that surrounded the royal enclosure. ‘To get here, one has to come through many guarded gates, and the main gate to the royal enclosure is always bolted and guarded on the inside.’

‘But the assassin did reach here,’ Eadulf pointed out softly.

Abbot Colmán flushed but did not respond.

Fidelma made no comment either as they passed into the dimly lit hall beyond, for there was only one window providing light. This, called a forless, was placed above the door. Its glass panel was thick, opaque, and the light it emitted was little enough. The main light came from pungent-smelling oil lamps.

Again Eadulf pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘It was a lucky coincidence for the assassin that the guards were not where they should have been, on guard within this hall. They were not here because they had heard a suspicious noise in the kitchen — is that right?’

The abbot nodded.

Eadulf raised his eyebrows a fraction. ‘Perhaps the assassin had more than luck on his side,’ he muttered.