Dancing With Demons

could go away and get married. Is that so?’

‘It seems a logical thought,’ agreed Fidelma.

‘Logical for one not fully acquainted with the facts,’ rebuked Gormflaith.

Fidelma looked carefully at her. ‘It is my task to try to gather the facts.’

‘The facts are that Dubh Duin was, indeed, my lover and that we planned to marry. That is why I do not believe that he assassinated Sechnussach.’

Fidelma started in surprise. ‘But the evidence, the eyewitnesses to the killing …?’ she began.

‘He had no reason to kill Sechnussach,’ insisted Gormflaith.

‘You have given me one, lady,’ replied Fidelma. ‘So explain why it is not valid.’

‘Because there are the laws of imscarad — of divorce.’

Fidelma smiled tightly. She had already pointed this aspect out to Eadulf.

‘Indeed there are,’ she said. ‘And, from what you say, being married ina union of equals and with claims that Sechnussach struck you and repudiated you for another, if you could convince a Brehon of this, then you could simply have divorced him without loss of your wealth or honour. But, lady, you did not and there is the reason why we come back to Dubh Duin’s motive.’

Gormflaith was already disagreeing. ‘But I did begin the process of imscarad, two weeks before Sechnussach was killed. I would have started the proceedings earlier but my mother was ill, was dying, and she had a naive faith and pride in the fact that her daughter was wife of the High King. I did not want her to feel shame that I had been treated so ill.’

There was a silence while Fidelma considered the implications of this.

‘You can, of course, prove this? That you began the act of imscarad?’ she asked slowly.

‘I would not say it otherwise.’

‘And Duin Dubh was fully acquainted with this?’

‘He was.’

Fidelma sat back, gazing thoughtfully at the woman and realising that, if nothing else, Gormflaith believed the truth of what she was saying.

‘So two weeks before Sechnussach was slain, you went to him and proposed a divorce, as is custom.’

‘I did. He agreed that it would be a divorce without contest, with no fault on either side. I would therefore remain the owner of all I had brought into the marriage and take away half of all the wealth that had accrued during the period of the marriage which is right and proper according to the laws of equal marriage.’

‘And Sechnussach agreed to this?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘Not only agreed,’ said Gormflaith, ‘but I think he was pleased by it.’

‘But was this merely a verbal agreement between you?’

‘Not at all. As custom has it, we first discussed it and agreed. Then we called the Brehon to transcribe it. While he was doing so, I went to the abbey of Cluain Ioraird where my mother — indeed, all the chieftains of Clann Cholmáin — are interred. I went there with my young daughters to pray for her soul and to ask her forgiveness as she waited for me in the Otherworld. The idea was, that by the time I returned, the Brehon would have the document ready and could pronounce the divorce. Then Dubh Duin and I would return to my father’s lands in Clann Cholmáin.’

‘If this were so,’ Fidelma said quickly, ‘why did Dubh Duin come to Tara, knowing you were at Cluain Ioraird?’

Gormflaith blinked. ‘That is the one thing I do not understand,’ she acknowledged. ‘There was no reason for him to be here at all until my return.’

‘And you still claim that he did not kill your husband?’

‘He had no reason to. The divorce was ready.’

‘Why was this story not told to us immediately? In fact, we were informed that you had dutifully remained at Tara as the grieving widow with your children. That does not fit with the image of someone who was about to divorce,’ Fidelma observed.

Gormflaith shrugged. ‘You must think what you like, lady. I have told you the truth. And the fact is that when I returned and found Sechnussach dead, and my poor lover dead too, I did not think it politic to admit to what had happened.’

‘But surely the Brehon who drew up the divorce settlement for you would know the real story?’

‘He knew of my estrangement with Sechnussach and, of course, he knew that we had agreed a divorce as he had drawn up the agreement. In fact, he knew well my situation because it was he who had introduced me to Dubh Duin. He advised me that I should forget the matter for, as widow of the High King, I would inherit more than just the divorce settlement. Also, Sechnussach’s name and reputation would then be untarnished in death. There was no need to besmirch his name as a cruel husband now that he was dead. So he was buried and I played the grieving widow, as you put it.’

‘You surely realised that the truth must come out eventually?’

‘The truth? I do not know the truth and I think that you are only guessing so that Dubh Duin becomes a scapegoat.’

Fidelma shook her head sadly. ‘Then, lady, perhaps you had better let me start down the road to the truth. Let us begin by identifying this sowise Brehon who gave you what appears to be such bad advice and to whom you entrusted the divorce proceedings.’

Gormflaith hesitated a moment.

‘We must have that name, lady,’ Fidelma advised her sharply, ‘otherwise there is nothing said that does not refute our original thoughts of the motive for killing Sechnussach.’

Gormflaith bowed before the inevitable.

‘Very well, Fidelma of Cashel. If you need to know the name — it was the Chief Brehon, Barrán.’

Fidelma stared at her in surprise. ‘Well, that can be easily verified.’

‘I have no objection to you doing so,’ Gormflaith said confidently.

There was a silence and Fidelma said softly: ‘I am confused. In spite of the evidence, the eyewitnesses, the fact that Dubh Duin took his own life and, in his dying breath, gasped a word to Lugna, apparently accepting the blame, you still maintain that you believe he was not the person who killed your husband?’

‘I do.’ Gormflaith met her gaze evenly. ‘As I say, he had no reason to kill the King on my behalf. Once I was divorced then we would have married.’

‘Then perhaps there was another motive?’

‘Such as?’ snapped Gormflaith. ‘What other motive could there be?’

‘There are many reasons why one man kills another but of those, if what you say is true, we can only speculate until we know more about the character of Dubh Duin.’

The other woman glowered at her.

‘I am Gormflaith of the Clann Cholmáin and do not lie,’ she said quietly and firmly.

‘Even so, lady, with respect, I must confirm what you have said,’ Fidelma replied suavely. ‘And, as I say, so far we are lacking in any description of Dubh Duin’s character.’

Gormflaith sniffed. ‘Are you asking me for an opinion? If so, surely you will claim that I am biased in that regard since we were lovers?’

‘That may be so, lady, but any opinion is better than none. Is that not so?’

‘Then, leaving aside my personal emotions, I would say that Dubh Duin was a man of courage, not a coward who sneaks about in the night to murder people in their beds.’

‘We’ll accept that for the time being,’ Fidelma assured her. ‘Tell us more of his courage, his personality. How long had he been chieftain of the Cairpre Gabra — do you know?’

‘Four or five years. I only met him when he was attending the Great Assembly here in Tara.’

‘Have you met others of the Cinél Cairpre Gabra? Do you know how his people regarded him?’

‘I know he was modest,’ Gormflaith said. ‘When he came to the Great Assembly only one companion attended him.’

‘How would you assess him?’

‘He was of strong physique and an attractive man in appearance … ’