Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

Fidelma looked at the door and examined the bolts. There were two strong bolts as well as a lock.

‘And Irél, the commander of the guard, was sure that these bolts were in place on the night of the assassination?’

‘As I say, as soon as the body was discovered, Irél examined the chamber in case of anyone being in collusion with the assassin. The bolts were firmly in place so that no one could have escaped from the chamber through that route.’

‘Similarly, this window was secured that night?’

‘It was. Although, had it been open, it would have been a tight squeeze for anyone and it is a long drop to the ground below.’

She nodded absently and moved back into the bedchamber before leading the way into the second small chamber. In this side room there was, indeed, no separate outside door although there was another opaque glass window but again positioned at chest height and with no means of it being opened. Like the bedchamber, the walls were covered in red yew panels. Apart from a double line of wooden pegs and hooks along one wall, which was doubtless where Sechnussach hung his clothes, or weapons or even book satchels, all the rest of the furniture had been removed.

Fidelma stood examining the room for a moment and then shrugged.

‘As you say, Colmán, there is only one means of entry and exit if the other door and windows were secured that night from the inside. They could not have been secured after anyone had passed from this chamber. But there is one thing that bothers me …’

Abbot Colmán waited.

Fidelma pointed to the lock on the bedchamber door. ‘Why didn’t Sechnussach leave the key in the lock? Had the key been in the lock then the assassin would not have been able to insert his own, or if he was ableto push the other key out, he would have made enough noise to rouse the High King from his slumber before he struck.’

The abbot looked thoughtful. ‘It didn’t occur to me …’ he began.

‘As a matter of fact,’ interrupted Eadulf, ‘where was the High King’s key found?’

‘On the table by the bed.’

‘Then perhaps there is no mystery there,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘It might have been his habit to lock the chamber door and remove the key to the bedside.’

Fidelma glanced round the room again before speaking.

‘I have seen enough. Now I can, at least, visualise where and in what manner this crime was committed. I think we may now begin to examine the witnesses.’

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?’