Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

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.

It was chance that dictated that they should next question Irél, the commander of the Fianna at the royal enclosure. They were returning to the library in the royal residence when they met a young warrior emerging from the main doors. He was about twenty-five years old, handsome, with red-brown hair and light blue eyes, cleanshaven jaw and a tall, well-muscled body. His accoutrements proclaimed him a warrior of some importance.

‘Fidelma of Cashel?’ He hailed her before Abbot Colmán identified him.

‘I am she.’

‘Then, lady, I believe you may wish to speak with me. I am Irél of the Fianna, at your service. I am the caithmhileadh. ’

Although he was unacquainted with military ranks, Eadulf worked out that this meant that the man commanded a cath or battalion of the High King’s bodyguard.

‘Then, indeed, I do wish a few words,’ replied Fidelma. ‘This is-’

‘Brother Eadulf,’ interrupted Irél with a smile. ‘You name is well-known here in association with the deeds of Fidelma of Cashel. You will not remember me but I commanded the High King’s bodyguard earlier this year when he came down to Cashel to attend your wedding celebrations.’

It was true that neither Fidelma nor Eadulf could recall the warrior but they merely smiled and passed no comment.

‘Come into the library and be seated,’ Fidelma instructed.

Abbot Colmán cleared his throat and said, ‘Lady, if you have no need for my attendance, there are some duties that I have to be about.’

Fidelma agreed that there was no need for him to remain and he hurried off while they followed Irél into the library.