Dancing With Demons

no sign of anyone.

There came another moan.

Raising his candle high he stepped in the direction of the sound and saw a sandalled foot sticking out from behind one of the barrels.

‘Here!’ he called to Fidelma. Behind the barrels was stretched the figure of a stocky religieux, face downwards, one arm under his body, the other stretched out. A little distance from the open hand was an empty candle-holder. Eadulf bent down and touched the pulse in the man’s neck. It beat regularly and steadily, but the back of his head was covered in blood. Carefully, he turned the man on his side, away from the injury.

‘Rogallach!’ exclaimed Fidelma, standing above him and peering down at the semi-conscious moonfaced man. ‘I thought I knew his name. I met him once before when I was here in Tara. Is he badly hurt?’

‘He has taken a blow on the back of the head. I’ll shift him out into the light where I can have a better look.’

Giving the candle to Fidelma, Eadulf put his forearms under the man’s shoulders, then dragged him backward out of the pantry and into the light beyond. By this time, the moonfaced man was blinking and coming around.

‘Lie still,’ instructed Eadulf gently, as he began to examine him. Finally he sat back. ‘You have a nasty gash on the back of the head, Brother. How did you come by it?’

The man stared up at him. ‘Who are you?’ he demanded, even though his voice was still weak.

‘I am Eadulf.’

Fidelma bent across his shoulder. ‘You remember me, Brother Rogallach? I am Fidelma of Cashel.’

The man’s eyes flickered past Eadulf to her. ‘Fidelma the dálaigh?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘The same.’

Brother Rogallach closed his eyes as if tired for the moment and then he tried to sit up but Eadulf pressed him back.

‘Stay still for the moment, my friend. I do not know what damage might have been caused. Did you hit your head on something?’

‘I was struck from behind.’

Eadulf glanced back to Fidelma and then to the man once more. ‘Deliberately struck, do you mean?’

‘I do. I had just opened the trap door which leads down to the uaimha where we store the meats and butter and other foodstuffs that require the cold to keep them … ’

‘Yes, I know what it is,’ replied Eadulf, having but recently learned the word for the souterrain.

‘I opened the trap door and turned to fasten it before descending to get some butter for the kitchen. I had my back to the entrance and was still holding my candle ready to descend when someone hit me.’

Fidelma looked concerned. ‘You are certain it was a blow deliberately struck?’

The moonfaced Brother Rogallach looked at her indignantly. ‘I have not abandoned my senses that I do not know when someone has attacked me,’ he replied.

‘We should take you to an apothecary to get that wound dressed,’ Eadulf suggested.

Fidelma ignored him and addressed the rotund bollscari again.

‘Do you have any idea of the passing of time? How long ago was this?’

Brother Rogallach said shakily, ‘I have been in blackness. I do not know.’

At that moment Torpach, the cook, came out of the kitchen door and paused, seeing Rogallach stretched on the ground and the others bending over him.

‘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.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

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.