Dancing With Demons

‘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.

‘Brother Rogallach is resting a moment. Given him a restorative. Superficial wound. Cut will heal in a day or two. Cleaned it. Bandaged it.’ He indicated a door into another chamber in the wooden building.

It was a small, simply furnished room with two wooden beds, a table and chairs. It was clearly where Iceadh treated his seriously ill patients. Brother Rogallach was sitting on the edge of one of the beds, holding his bandaged head in one hand while the other held an empty glass from which he had apparently been taking Iceadh’s medication.

The physician went to him, took the glass and nodded in satisfaction.

‘Good, good. You may return to your own chambers, Brother. Lie down a while. No work. Not until tomorrow. Might have a headache. No matter. Bad blow. You’ll be all right.’

Fidelma glanced at the pale face of Rogallach.

‘Can we speak with him a moment?’ she asked.

The physician shrugged. ‘If he wishes. I have things to clear up.’ He went out and Fidelma pushed the door shut behind him before turning back to the patient.

‘How are you feeling now, Brother Rogallach?’

‘Better, lady. Has the person who attacked me been caught?’

‘I am afraid not.’

‘But Mer is dead?’

‘Yes, I am afraid so. Did you know her?’ Fidelma asked.

‘Of course. Most people around Tara knew her.’

‘Do you know why she would be in the food cellar?’

Brother Rogallach gave a guffaw, then winced and put a hand to his head.

‘Mer would steal when she could not beg, and beg when she could not scavenge.’

‘So you think she had broken in to steal food?’

‘What other reason would there be?’

‘That is what I am trying to discover. We also have to place someone else in the seallad — the person who killed her.’

Brother Rogallach looked indignant. ‘I hope you don’t mean-’

‘What I mean is that I want to know who would be there and who would want to kill her?’

‘If anyone who worked in the ircha saw her, they would chase her out, certainly, but not without throwing her some bread or a piece of cheese, and she would go away cursing but content. They would not kill her nor attempt to kill me. It must have been some stranger.’

‘A stranger who infiltrated the royal enclosure in daylight?’ mused Fidelma.

‘If Dubh Duin could infiltrate the High King’s house at night, then anything is possible,’ replied Rogallach defensively.

‘Your point is a good one,’ agreed Fidelma. Then she added thoughtfully: ‘We either have Mer encountering a stranger in the uaimh or someone whom she knew and who did not want her to reveal that they were there. Since we are here, tell us about Bishop Luachan’s visit.’

Brother Rogallach looked startled. ‘I swore an oath to Sechnussach not to speak of it.’

‘Sechnussach is dead,’ Fidelma reminded him. ‘Maintaining your oath might be aiding his killer.’

Brother Rogallach examined her for a moment. Doubt and indecision were plain in his features. Then he shrugged.

‘Since you know that Bishop Luachan was here, then you must know all I know.’

‘Let us hear what happened, in your own words.’

‘It was the evening before the assassination. Sechnussach called me to him and told me that Irél, the captain of the Fianna, would arrive at the main gate around midnight. He would be escorting Bishop Luachan of Delbna Mór. I was to meet them at the gate and escort them to Tech Cormaic. Then I was to tell Irél to care for the horses, refresh himself and be ready to depart before dawn. I was to bring Luachan to Sechnussach in his bedchamber. I did so, and was told to wait outside and let no one in.’

‘Did the High King himself instruct you?’

Brother Rogallach nodded. ‘And not only that, but I was surprised when he closed his chamber door and locked it.’

‘So that was unusual?’