Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

‘Such as the old woman whom Abbot Colmán calls Mer?’

‘Mer the Demented One?’ Irél laughed heartily. ‘You must not mind her, my Saxon friend. She is crazy. She likes to scare people. She often sits for hours by river fords waiting for travellers and then pronounces acurse on them, implying that she is one of the goddesses of death and battle. It is her little joke.’

Eadulf pulled a face. ‘An effective joke,’ he observed. ‘So what happened in this Great Assembly? How was Dubh Duin answered?’

‘Well, certain of the clerics would have answered him quite violently, if you’ll pardon me for saying so, Brother Saxon. Many are just as fanatical about their beliefs as was Dubh Duin. However, Sechnussach was the person who came forward and bade them all to be calm. He told them that there, in this same Great Assembly at Tara, Laoghaire, son of Niall of the Nine Hostages, progenitor of all the Uí Néill, had asked those present to agree that henceforth the New Faith, as taught by such as Patrick, who was in attendance, be the one faith of all five kingdoms. He argued that so many of the leading chiefs, nobles and kings throughout the five kingdoms had now accepted the new teachings that the old gods and goddesses were being vanquished to the hills. They were becoming the sídhe, the people of the hills, the fairy folk who were not deities at all.’ Irél sounded quite animated as he recited the speech.

‘You sound as though you endorsed Sechnussach’s views,’ Eadulf said.

The other man nodded quickly. ‘Sechnussach was a great king and I never heard a better speech in the assembly. Anyway, he reminded them that Laoghaire’s Great Assembly agreed that henceforth the five kingdoms should follow the faith of Christ. He also reminded them that from the Great Assembly, Laoghaire chose eight people as a commission that would spend the next three years consulting with all the Brehons and clergy to gather, study and then set down all the laws of the five kingdoms. They would remove from those laws anything that was not compatible with the New Faith. That was the law system and Dubh Duin should respect it.’

Eadulf was interested. ‘So there was a commission that set down the laws in Laoghaire’s time?’

‘Laoghaire chose Corc, the King of Muman, and Dara, the King of Ulaidh, to sit with him. Then he asked his Chief Brehon, Dubhtach maccu Lugir, and the Brehons Rossa and Fergus, to join them. Finally, he asked Patrick, Benignus and Cáirnech, the preachers of the New Faith, to complete the commission. Three years later, the great books of law were drawn up, written in the new alphabet that came from Rome. What did not clash with the word of God and with the conscience of those drawing up the laws was set forth. Sechnussach reminded the assembly that they had all endorsed the modified laws when they had accepted the New Faith.And all this was two centuries ago. There were no footsteps backwards.’

‘And did Dubh Duin accept that?’

‘It was then the man showed his fanaticism, for he argued with Sechnussach that the historian, Tirechán, had written that Laoghaire refused the Christian baptism and when he was killed fighting a rebellion in Laigin, he was buried near Tech Laoghaire, his own royal house, in the traditional manner of a High King — that was, in the ramparts of Tara, upright and fully armed, facing towards his hereditary enemies — the kingdom of Laigin. Dubh Duin claimed that Laoghaire never betrayed the Old Faith to Patrick. The Great Assembly erupted in anger at the affront and Dubh Duin never afterwards attended it.’

Eadulf was staring at him in amazement.

‘But why was Fidelma not immediately told of this?’ he cried. ‘Surely this argument with the High King constitutes a motive for Dubh Duin’s assassination of him?’

‘In the Great Assembly, everyone can speak what is on their mind without fear,’ Irél told him. ‘Tempers may rise there but must fall before delegates leave the hall. It is the custom, Brother Saxon.’

Eadulf was dubious. ‘It is a matter that I will have to bring before Fidelma. If nothing else, it may help towards an understanding of Dubh Duin’s character.’

Fidelma crossed back to Tech Cormaic , passing the impassive guard outside, and pushed into the hallway. As she did so, Báine, the attractive young maid, was crossing the hallway and Fidelma asked her if Brehon Barrán was still in the building.

‘He is in the High King’s library, lady,’ the servant replied.

Fidelma thanked her and moved on. Outside the door she paused. She was feeling nervous. After all, Barrán was the Chief Brehon. She felt the same apprehension as she had when a young student, waiting outside the door of the Brehon Morann, the chief professor of the law school. ‘I think this is one interview I could do without,’ she muttered to herself. Then she remembered that Barrán might have purposefully withheld information which was of importance to her investigation. Anger filled her, and with it came courage. She opened the door and marched in.

Barrán, Chief Brehon of the five kingdoms, glanced up in surprise as Fidelma entered the room. He had been poring over a manuscript. The place was dimly lit with tallow candles and there was no other light. Whenthe room was built as the High King’s sanctuary, the architect had realised that light was harmful to the vellums and papyri. Thus, the library had been built without natural light — which did not help with the study of the manuscripts. However, even in the gloom Barrán could see a fiery glint in Fidelma’s eyes and the set of her features showed that something was seriously amiss. He began to rise from his chair but she made a cutting motion of her hand that stayed him.

‘Is it true that Sechnussach and Gormflaith were about to divorce?’ she demanded without preamble.

There was a fraction of a second of surprise before the Brehon resumed his seat. Then his handsome features relaxed into a smile of resignation and he motioned Fidelma to be seated in a chair before the desk on which he was working while he stretched back in his own chair.

‘It seems your investigation is progressing thoroughly,’ he murmured.

‘Is it true?’ she demanded once again.

‘I have heard of the intention,’ he admitted easily.

Her eyes narrowed with anger. ‘With all respect, Barrán, as Chief Brehon you should know that withholding evidence in an investigation like this merits fines and could even bring you before the assembly of Brehons so that your appointment could be repudiated by them.’

For a moment the Chief Brehon was silent but his expression retained its good humour.

‘In what manner have I withheld evidence?’ he asked, and when she leaned forward as if to reply, he held up his hand to silence her. ‘The fact was that the divorce did not take place. If the intention was serious then Sechnussach’s death ended that. So Gormflaith became widow to the High King and therefore full heir to his entitlements. If the gossip of an impending divorce were made public then it might have had adverse consequences for her and her children’s status.’

‘Even though it was she who was divorcing Sechnussach?’ she snapped. ‘Divorcing him to marry Dubh Duin?’

Barrán‘s eyes widened a little. ‘She intended to marry Dubh Duin? Did Gormflaith tell you that?’

‘Does Gormflaith not speak the truth?’

‘I cannot tell you about the truth of her intentions. I can only tell you what I know.’

Fidelma smiled cynically. ‘You speak as a lawyer, Barrán.’

‘I am a lawyer,’ he reminded her with dry humour.

‘You did not know that it was her intention to marry Dubh Duin?’

‘If she expressed such an intention then I have forgotten.’