Dancing With Demons

Eadulf leaned forward to Erc. ‘Did the lady Muirgel give you specific orders to permit entry to Dubh Duin on the night of the High King’s assassination? ’

‘No,’ said Erc, ‘but I thought my instructions from her were clear. As I have said, having let him in on so many previous occasions on lady Muirgel’s authority, I assumed he should be allowed to pass unhindered again. But I have already admitted that it is my responsibility,’ he added with resignation. ‘I was at fault that night. I should have demanded that the lady Muirgel be sent for, even though the hour was late.’

‘Did Muirgel give you any reason for her actions on previous nights? Why would she give her authority to the admittance of this man?’ asked Eadulf.

Erc smiled wanly. ‘I am a simple warrior, Brother Saxon. Who am I to question the order of a daughter of the High King and one, after all, who is at the age of choice.’

‘Yet had you questioned her, perhaps a High King’s life might have been saved,’ Eadulf snapped.

‘Are you suggesting that Muirgel had something to do with her father’s assassination?’ Abbot Colmán burst out. ‘For shame, Brother Eadulf … why, she is only seventeen years old!’

‘Girls of a younger age than seventeen have been known to harbour patricidal thoughts,’ Fidelma interposed quietly. ‘I am sure you will agree that Muirgel must be questioned on this matter which is, to say the least, curious.’

‘You are right, of course,’ Abbot Colmán said heavily. ‘Doubtless the girl will be able to present an explanation.’

‘Doubtless,’ commented Fidelma dryly before turning back to Erc. ‘When you say that the chieftain was admitted to the royal enclosure several times after midnight during the previous two weeks, can you be exact?’

Erc pondered aloud. ‘Exact? Oh, the exact number of times … I would say five times at least and perhaps more, well — no more than six times.’

‘Is that unusual?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Unusual? In what way?’

‘That a stranger to the palace be admitted to the royal enclosure after midnight? For example, how many other people were admitted to the royal enclosure after midnight during the same period?’

Erc hesitated, his brows drawn together, trying to remember. ‘You meanoutsiders to the royal household? Well, none who did not have a right to be there.’

‘And of those who had a right to be there?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘No one came after the gates were shut at midnight.’

Fidelma raised an eyebrow in query. ‘No one? Not even someone who had a right to be in the enclosure who was returning late?’

‘No one,’ asserted the warrior. Then he changed his mind. ‘Except … except for the Bishop of Delbna Mór. I recall now that he came in late one night. Ah, it was on the night before the assassination. The commander of the Fianna himself accompanied him. Orders also came from the High King to admit him.’

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