Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

‘I did not know Dubh Duin other than having seen him among those attending the Great Assembly and perhaps once or twice at my father’s feastings. It was not my desire to have further acquaintance with him. It is the truth that I speak.’

‘Then why-?’

This time it was the girl who held up her hand for silence.

‘On the occasions when I brought him into the royal enclosure after the gates had been secured at nightfall, it was not my desire to do so, nor was it for myself. I was asked to do so. My role in this matter was to use my authority to pass him through the guards at the gate, and then to escort him to the royal enclosure. That was all.’

Fidelma examined the girl impassively.

‘All?’ she queried sardonically. ‘Surely not! You took it on yourself to let this man into the royal enclosure on several occasions after nightfall, to escort him in, and then you say it was not your will nor desire to do so? Come, lady, there is much more you need to tell us. You must have known what reason brought the man hither?’

‘I swear it was not any reason of mine,’ rapped out Muirgel, with a return of her old spirit. ‘I had no liking for Dubh Duin.’

‘Then, why? What reason did he have for coming here?’

‘I do not know,’ she replied stubbornly.

‘For the sake of all that is holy, that is not good enough!’ Fidelma snapped in frustration. ‘If you were told to use your authority to pass this man — the man who assassinated your own father for goodness sake! — into the royal enclosure, who told you to do so ?’

The girl fell silent, dropping her gaze to the floor.

Abbot Colmán coughed uncomfortably. ‘Come, lady,’ he said gently. ‘You must tell us all you know. If it wasn’t you that wished Dubh Duin to gain entrance into the royal enclosure, who told you to use your authority to allow that to happen? And why would you do so? What hold would they have over you, to make such a request and know that you would obey it?’

Muirgel was hanging her head, her shoulders were hunched and shaking, and Eadulf suddenly realised that she was crying.

‘Come, Muirgel,’ Fidelma insisted, unmoved. ‘We have little time to play games. Who ordered you to admit Dubh Duin on these occasions — and why would you obey?’

The girl raised a tearstained face to Fidelma.

‘It was my mother,’ she said simply.

The only sound that followed the girl’s statement was Abbot Colmán’s sharp exhalation of breath and her continued sobbing.

Fidelma remained impassive.

‘Are you saying that it was your mother, Gormflaith, Sechnussach’s own wife, who used to meet with his assassin at nights in the royal enclosure? ’ she asked slowly.

Muirgal tried to gather herself together. Then, as if she realised that, having admitted thus much, she had to confirm her statement, she replied between sniffs, ‘I have said as much.’

‘And when you took Dubh Duin to your mother, where did she receive him at such an hour?’

‘In this house, in her own chambers,’ the girl said. ‘Since the birth of my baby sister, Be Bhail, three years ago, my mother has had her own residence here. What better than this house, which was built by the great High King Laoghaire? We all live here.’

‘And you say that your only connection with Dubh Duin was to pass him through the gates to bring him to your mother?’

‘It was.’

‘The reason being so that no one would associate his coming with your mother?’ Eadulf queried.

‘Yes. No one was to know that it was my mother that Dubh Duin had come to see,’ agreed Muirgel quietly, wiping her eyes.

‘Why was that?’ asked Eadulf.

The girl turned on him with a pitying look. ‘Why do you think?’ she countered.

‘Is that speculation or are you stating that you knew positively that your mother was having an affair with Dubh Duin?’ Fidelma asked.

Muirgel turned back to her and shrugged. ‘I am old enough to make my own deductions. However, my role was simply to escort him to my mother’s chamber and there I left them together. You must ask my mother, should you want to know the details of the matter.’

‘Lady Muirgel, you continued as an intermediary, having guessed the purpose of Dubh Duin’s visits to your mother’s chambers. Surely you did not approve of this?’ Abbot Colmán said nervously. ‘How could she and you betray your father into cuckoldry?’

‘It was no business of mine,’ the girl said sulkily. ‘My mother made that clear to me. You must have known that she and my father had been estranged these last three years and that he had taken a dormun for his needs.’

The old abbot winced slightly. ‘I knew of no such thing,’ he protested.

Fidelma looked from the abbot to the girl and back again.

‘This is important information, Colmán,’ she said quietly. ‘If Sechnussach had taken a dormun , a second wife, then I should have been informed.’

‘I had no knowledge of it,’ the abbot insisted. ‘I am sure the Brehon Barrán had no knowledge of it either. If anyone would know about such a thing, it would have been him.’

‘You say that it is so?’ Fidelma looked the girl in the eye.

‘I do not know it for a fact,’ she said reluctantly. ‘No one admits to it, and no one has identified any particular woman. All I know is that when my mother was pregnant with my baby sister, she claimed that she had discovered that my father had taken another woman to share his bed. That was when she insisted on her own apartments.’

‘You speak of a dormun as a second wife,’ Eadulf said. ‘I am not sure that I understand this. I thought the word meant a mistress or a concubine.’

It was Abbot Colmán who enlightened him.

‘Under our old law system, men could take a second wife who had fewer rights than the cétmuintir or first wife. The second wife was called a dormun . The custom is dying out, although some of our powerful kings and nobles insist on continuing the practice.’

Eadulf had heard of polygamy among other peoples.

‘Such practices are condemned by Rome,’ he commented piously.

‘Rome’s judgements on this matter are offered as a counsel of perfection and not a rule,’ the abbot stated. ‘Second marriages are still accepted under our law system.’

‘There is currently a controversy among the Brehons on this matter,’ Fidelma informed them. ‘It is often argued whether monogamy or polygamy is the more proper form of marriage. At the moment, the judgement is that those who wish to take a second wife do not trespass against the teaching of the New Faith. The Bretha Crólige points out that God’s chosen people lived in a plurality of marriages — Solomon, David and Jacob had many wives — therefore it is not more difficult to condemn polygamy than it is to praise it. Even if Sechnussach had taken a second wife, he stands within the law.’

‘Monogamy is a counsel of perfection,’ muttered Abbot Colmán again.

‘However, unless there is evidence that Sechnussach took a dormun, according to law, then this remains speculation,’ added Fidelma.

‘My mother believed it,’ growled Muirgel.

‘Then we will question your mother,’ Fidelma assured her, rising from her chair. ‘For the moment, that will be all, Muirgel. However, I will want to talk with you again. I advise you to say nothing of this matter for the time being.’

The girl simply stared indifferently as they left her.

Outside, Fidelma turned to Abbot Colmán and said, ‘Surely there must have been some indication of what the girl has told us? An estrangement between Sechnussach and his wife — rumours of his taking a second wife? The royal enclosure of Tara is not so big that such matters would go unnoticed and unremarked.’