Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

‘What is happening?’ he demanded.

‘Brother Rogallach has met with a mishap,’ Fidelma replied. ‘Do you know when he left the kitchen to go to the pantry?’

The man looked slightly bewildered. ‘Only moments before you came into the kitchen asking for him, lady. Why, did he slip?’

‘Moments?’ Fidelma did not answer the question. ‘Then if the blowwas deliberately struck, the culprit might still be hiding in the souterrain. Stay with Brother Rogallach,’ she instructed the cook.

Rising, she motioned Eadulf to follow her. She had left the candle alight on a shelf inside the door of the pantry. She picked it up but again Eadulf held out his hand and stayed her impetuous movement forward. He moved in front of her, leading the way forward towards the gaping black hole down which some stone steps led into the souterrain. The trap door had indeed been opened and secured so that it would not fall back, as Brother Rogallach said. Eadulf hesitated a moment and then, holding the candle up and slightly in front of him, he moved carefully down the steps.

A figure was sitting at the far end of the stone-lined vault, resting with its back against one of the wooden pillars that reinforced the roof, legs stretched out in front of it. The eyes were wide open, staring at him as he crouched in the low underground room. The lips were drawn back in a merciless smile.

‘ Deus misereatur !’ exclaimed Eadulf, starting back.

He had no trouble recognising the malignant features of the crone who had identified herself as Badb, the spirit of death and battles. What he did not realise for several moments, as he felt that his blood had turned to ice, was the fact that she was dead. A long-bladed dagger had entered the centre of the old woman’s frail chest, pinning her to the wooden post against which she was leaning.

Brother Rogallach had been taken to have his wound dressed by the old physician, Iceadh, and Abbot Colmán had been summoned. The abbot had confirmed their identification of the old woman.

‘Poor Mer,’ he sighed. ‘I told you, Mer the Demented One was well-known as a scavenger around the kitchens of the houses of Tara, yet I have never heard of her deliberately breaking into pantries to steal food. She was mad, but she was harmless. Whoever did this terrible thing?’

‘We do not know,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I have yet to question Brother Rogallach in depth. However, it would appear that he must have entered the pantry a moment after it happened. The murderer was still in the souterrain and when Rogallach was about to enter, he was knocked unconscious.’

Abbot Colmán looked sad. ‘And it was the murderer who knocked him unconscious? Did he see him? Can he identify him?’

‘Unfortunately, he did not. Whoever did it came up behind him.’

‘Well, at least there is no need for you to question him further.’

Fidelma frowned, her query obvious on her features.

‘Of one thing we may be sure,’ Abbot Colmán said gravely. ‘The old woman’s death is unconnected with the assassination of the High King. So one of the other Brehons can undertake the investigation into her death and leave you clear to continue to pursue the matter of Sechnussach’s assassination.’

‘Can we be sure that there is no connection?’ mused Eadulf. ‘After all, the woman first appeared warning us that our presence here investigating the murder was unwelcome. It seems a coincidence that she should now be killed as well.’

‘She was crazy,’ the abbot assured him. ‘Maybe she was stealing fromthe storehouse here and someone else, with the same intent, encountered her and panicked. There is obviously no other connection.’

‘I suppose so,’ Fidelma agreed. Eadulf thought she acquiesced perhaps a little too readily — but her expression discouraged him from saying anything. ‘Anyway, we still have to question Brother Rogallach on the matters related to Sechnussach’s assassination. That was why we had come to the kitchen in search of him.’

Abbot Colmán nodded. ‘I had forgotten. Well, let me know when you want to speak to him. Meantime, I will take care of …’ he waved his hand towards the pantry‘ … of this matter.’

They had been aware during this time that Torpach, the cook, was hovering nearby with an anxious expression, as if trying to judge the right time to interrupt their conversation. Abbot Colmán finally noticed him and turned with a frown.

‘What is it, Torpach? Do you wish to say something?’

The cook nodded unhappily. ‘Forgive me, Abbot … forgive me, lady …’

‘Well, speak, man!’ snapped Abbot Colmán, otherwise it would seem that Torpach would ask forgiveness of everyone.

‘I could not help overhearing that Mer was killed with a knife. I wonder if I could see it?’

‘See it?’ The abbot was astonished. ‘What for?’

Sister Fidelma smiled encouragement at the cook, who was obviously nervous about asking permission.

‘Why do you want to see it, Torpach?’

‘Well, lady, one of our kitchen knives is missing. To be truthful, it’s a favourite knife of mine for cutting meat. I reported it to Brother Rogallach but it has not been found.’

‘When did it go missing?’

‘Some time ago. I discovered it was missing the day after the death of the High King.’

‘At least we know which knife killed him. You saw it yourself,’ the abbot said grimly. ‘But you are welcome to look at the knife which killed Mer.’

He unwrapped it, for he had taken it as evidence.

‘You’ll see that it is a warrior’s knife,’ he went on. ‘I doubt if you would use it in your kitchen.’

Torpach glanced at it and then nodded sadly.

‘I am sorry to have bothered you,’ he said. ‘It was merely a thought as we have not found it. I was particularly fond of it.’

Fidelma looked sympathetic. ‘I understand. A favourite tool is a favourite tool in any art or craft. Did you also see the knife that killed Sechnussach?’

‘I did and it was not that one.’

‘Then I hope you find your own one again.’

Abbot Colmán re-wrapped the knife and, with a nod to Fidelma, went back to the yard outside where Mer’s body was being taken away.

After they left the kitchen, walking back towards the guesthouse, Fidelma was silent. Eadulf, conscious of her moods, said nothing. Then she halted abruptly and looked round, as if wondering where she was. One of the Fianna was passing by.

‘Where will I find the physician?’ she asked.

‘Iceadh, is it?’ asked the man.

‘It is. Where is his apothecary?’

‘You see the building with the blue-painted posts ahead of you?’ The man pointed. ‘Turn to your right and you will see a small building with a yellow sign, and there you will find the physician.’

Fidelma thanked him and began to hurry forward with Eadulf falling in step with her.

‘Have you thought of something?’ he asked.

‘Not really. I want to question Brother Rogallach now.’

‘I thought Abbot Colmán wanted to be informed?’

‘It wastes too much time to go back and inform him. But I think that I need to put my questions while things are clear in my mind.’

The apothecary of Iceadh was easy to find.

The old physician himself opened to Fidelma’s knock and let them into a room packed with shelves of jars and bottles and with drying herbs hanging from all the beams. Although it was daylight outside, it was as if they were entering a darkened cave. Several lamps were burning and their heated tallow smell, combined with the powerful odours of a myriad of plants, caused them to catch their breath. It reminded Fidelma of old Brother Conchobhar’s apothecary at Cashel. In answer to her question, the old physician replied in his curious staccato manner.