Peter Tremayne - Dancing With Demons

‘Fidelma of Cashel? Can you prove it?’ he asked.

‘Does it need proof?’

‘In this time and in this place, it does.’

‘In my saddlebag you will find the hazel wand of office of the High King, given me by Cenn Faelad to assert my authority.’

The young man turned to the farmer’s son. ‘Find the saddlebag and bring it here.’

It was the work of moments and the ornate hazel wand was produced.

The young man exhaled softly and shook his head.

‘Undo her bonds,’ he instructed the farmer. ‘Accept my apologies, lady. These are troubled times. I am Ardgal, chief of the Cinél Cairpre.’

Muttering that he was not to blame, the farmer released Fidelma from her bonds. Ignoring him, for a moment or two, Fidelma sat rubbing her chafed wrists.

‘I trust my companions will also be released now?’ she asked.

Ardgal addressed the farmer. ‘Make it so!’ he snapped. Then, turning back to her: ‘Believe me, I am sorry. But, lady, this land is beset with raiders, burning churches and destroying the homes of any who support the clergy.’

Fidelma looked grim. ‘Of that I am aware, Ardgal. It is part of the reason that I have ridden from Tara with the intention of meeting with you.’

Ardgal was once more surprised. Then he waved a hand to indicate the room.

‘This is not the ideal place for hospitality but it must suffice for the moment.’ He looked at the farmer’s sons. ‘See what you can offer the lady to make amends for this treatment.’

Their faces flushed with embarrassment, the young men went to fulfil the task.

Ardgal drew up a stool and sat down to face Fidelma with a concerned look.

‘Why are you seeking me?’ he asked.

‘That will surely be no surprise when it was your chief who assassinated Sechnussach,’ she said.

Ardgal inclined his head contritely. ‘We are not all the same, lady. Dubh Duin was my cousin and my chief, it is true. A few years ago, we perceived some strange madness possessing him. He had always spoken of the old ways. We are a liberal people, believing in each to his own. We did not mind that he stood firm for the Old Faith and forsook the path of Christ. But when he became an advocate against the New Faith, then his beliefs began splitting the loyalties of our clan. He became a fanatic. In fact, while Dubh Duin was at Tara this last time, attending the Great Assembly, the derbhfine of our clan met and it was decided that he should be ousted under process of the law, and that I be installed as chief in his place.’

‘Why was this?’ demanded Fidelma, accepting a mug of cider from the farmer’s son, and sipping it gently for her throat was very dry.

The farmer had returned, still muttering justifications, with Caol and Gormán. Ardgal took charge, ordering that a meal be prepared for the visitors while his men encamped in the barns outside. Then he turned backto her and repeated, ‘Why? Because of the behaviour that resulted in the deed he carried out.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘It is a tale that can be short in the telling but long in the recitation of its consequences.’

‘Tell it as you see fit.’

Ardgal shrugged. ‘As I said, he had always preferred the Old Faith to the new. No harm in that, for there are many in this land who prefer to offer their prayers to the gods and goddesses who have served our people for thousands of years, rather than to what some consider as a strange god from the East. But Dubh Duin began to change from tolerance to fanaticism. He became obsessed with trying to force the Old Religion on everyone.’

‘And you?’

Ardgal smiled briefly. ‘I am of the New Faith, lady. So are most of my people. But there were others in the clan who supported Dubh Duin. Most of them have now fled to the hills and forests since the assassination of the High King. When Irél came demanding hostages, we were able to provide him with some of Dubh Duin’s followers, and these are now incarcerated at Tara as surety for the clan’s good behaviour. That way, the innocent will not suffer.’

‘But there are these raiders, the dibergach, who have been active,’ Fidelma pointed out.

Ardgal’s expression was serious. ‘Dubh Duin was not their leader. There are others more powerful and influential than he. And what they adhere to is a perverted form of the Old Religion. Our old gods and goddesses were not out for bloodlust. The Tuatha Dé Danaan were deities of light and goodness who defeated the sinister forces of evil before they ruled in this land. Of course, they had their human vices. They experienced all human passion but they loved life. These misguided fools have set up the Crom Cróich, an aberration.’

‘And yet,’ Fidelma put in, ‘this aberration seems to be attracting the allegiance of many.’

Ardgal laughed shortly. ‘Allegiance? It is attracting the fear of many. Only fear sustains this new movement.’

‘Is this why the farmer feared us?’ intervened Caol, having recovered from his bruised dignity, a warrior bested by two farmer’s lads with hunting bows.

‘Yes,’ Ardgal said. ‘The raiders have killed too many people here. Every abbey and church within this area is coming under attack from them.’

‘Do they really expect to overturn the New Faith?’ Caol asked.

‘That is their intention.’

‘Dubh Duin’s slaughter of the High King was part of this?’

‘I believe so.’

‘Well, it has not worked,’ Fidelma stated. Then she suddenly gave a groan and closed her eyes.

‘What is it?’ demanded Ardgal in alarm.

‘The raiders — I had forgotten. We encountered them at Baile Fobhair and thought they were on their way into your country. We now believe they turned back. Where are they now?’

‘We have a series of sentinels who would warn us of their approach, like this farmer when he mistakenly thought you were part of their group.’

‘That certainly means that they have doubled back. We must return immediately to the abbey of Delbna Mór.’

‘Why there?’

‘Because they will attack it next.’ Briefly, Fidelma told him about Eadulf and his mission to warn Brother Céin, the steward of the abbey, and try to bring help from Tara.

‘Little use starting off now that darkness has fallen,’ Ardgal demurred. ‘The road is treacherous in the darkness and there are rivers and marshlands to cross. We must rest here and then move before sun-up.’

‘He’s right, lady,’ Caol agreed practically. ‘We can do little on a strange road in the darkness.’

Fidelma was reluctant but saw the logic of it.

‘Do you have any knowledge of who the leader of the raiders is and where they might be based?’ she asked the young chief.

‘We think they are based somewhere in the northern hills, since people there talk of some of the fanatical Druids who claim that the Tuatha Dé Danaan have betrayed the people. They call on the populace to welcome back the idol Crom Cróich with all the bloodthirsty rituals that Tigernmas demanded.’

‘Bloodthirsty rituals?’

‘Human sacrifice, lady. Woe betide anyone who falls into their hands, for these fanatics will slaughter them.’

Ardgal and his men had set up a rapid pace, and had Fidelma not been an expert horsewoman, she would have been hard pressed to keep up with them. As it was, they saw the outline of the abbey of Delbna Mór well before midday. They were aware that their approach had been spotted, but Fidelma’s figure had obviously been identified, since there was no hostile reaction as the brethren gathered to meet them before the main abbey buildings.

Brother Céin himself came out to greet them personally.

‘Sister Fidelma!’ exclaimed the steward, and then he recognised her companion. ‘Ardgal? What brings you here?’