Dancing With Demons

‘Probably to someone who can read the signs of the old religion.’ Fidelma pointed to the flat stone lid. ‘Do you see the carving on the topof this stone? I know what that represents: it is the sign of the old sun god, the symbol of knowledge and wisdom.’

Eadulf peered down. From a central point, it appeared as if three arms or legs emerged and each arm had a little tail which gave the symbol its momentum.

‘Is this why Bishop Luachan felt that he had discovered the ancient wheel of fate which Brother Céin mentioned?’

‘It is logical,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘I have seen this motif many times on old coins, and even on one of the ancient crowns of the High Kings.’

At that moment, they heard Brother Céin’s voice echoing faintly from above, apparently anxious that they were so long in the chamber.

Fidelma gave a last look round. ‘Well, we can learn no more here,’ she said.

‘Was there anything to learn?’ Eadulf asked with a sigh.

Fidelma looked at him reprovingly. ‘There is always something to learn, and everything is interrelated in life, Eadulf, you must know that. An investigation is like unpicking a tapestry, tracing a strand here, and one there; sometimes they are not joined and you have to come back to the start; sometimes they are joined and you can move onwards.’

‘Do you really think there is some connection here?’ he asked doubtfully. ‘That this is where the motivation for Sechnussach’s assassination originated?’

‘Too early to say. We only know that Bishop Luachan made a find here. He took it to Sechnussach. The latter was assassinated and the item is now missing. Then Brother Diomasach, who helped make the find, was killed and now Bishop Luachan himself is missing.’

‘So …?’

‘So before any conclusions can be drawn, we need to find more information.’

‘But the only person who can give us that information is Bishop Luachan himself,’ Eadulf pointed out.

Brother Céin was calling again.

‘Let us hope that he is still living and that we may find him, then,’ Fidelma replied briskly, before turning to the passageway and beginning to move back out of the chamber.

Eadulf glanced around a final time. The grotesque carvings seemed to unite, their distorted features staring down at him accusingly from his own pre-Christian past.

He shuddered and quickly followed Fidelma.

It was good to be back out in the light.

Brother Céin was waiting anxiously for them. ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Does the place tell you anything? Did it help at all?’

Fidelma grimaced. ‘It only supports your story about Bishop Luachan and his discovery, but has revealed little else.’

The steward sighed a little forlornly. ‘I was hoping that there would be something else to learn down there.’

‘When the bishop disappeared, where was this farmstead that he was supposed to have been called to?’

‘Not far north of here. It is a place called the meadows of Nionn, Cluain Nionn. You will pass through there if you are determined to continue your journey northward.’

‘I see no reason not to. We will go on.’

Brother Céin glanced at the darkening sky and the lengthening shadows.

‘Not tonight anyway. You may recommence your journey in the morning. Let us offer you the hospitality of our community.’

‘Which we will accept with pleasure,’ replied Fidelma.

With Brother Céin leading the way, they walked back to the wooden buildings that constituted the settlement.

Before the evening meal, the prainn, which was the principal meal of the day, Fidelma allowed herself be conducted by the steward to the community’s tech screpta or library. It contained some forty books, all hung in rows in their leather book satchels. Brother Céin was enormously proud of the library.

‘Bishop Luachan was intent on building up our little community as a repository of knowledge,’ he announced. ‘Alas, these are the first things that will be destroyed, should the dibergach attack us and we are not able to hold them off. We have one of the great collections of books in the five kingdoms.’

Fidelma, who had seen many greater libraries in her travels, did not disagree with him. Any centre where books were gathered was a special place in her eyes.

‘It is well worth defending, Brother Céin,’ she agreed. Then a memory stirred. ‘I was told this place had a connection with my own kingdom. Do you know the story?’

Brother Céin nodded. ‘But that was in ancient times. It is one of those legends handed down by the local people.’

‘Tell me.’

‘It is said that long ago, so long that the facts have become myths, there was a chieftain in the north of your brother’s kingdom of Muman. He was called Lugaid mac Tail. He had five sons and a daughter. The daughter was married to an ambitious warrior called Trad mac Tassaig. The daughter was also ambitious for her husband and, moreover, she was a great Druidess, adept in the magic arts.

‘One day she claimed that she had had a vision that unless her father, Lugaid, handed over his chieftainship and land to her husband, then a flock of demons would come and destroy it and all the family. In fear, Lugaid did as she asked and fled north with his five sons.

‘They came to Loch Lugborta and here Lugaid lit a magic fire to seek guidance. The fire spread in five directions and in those directions his five sons went and set up their homes. Lugaid stayed in the place where he had kindled the fire and thus the lake was named after him — Loch Lugborta. But he decided that he should take the name Delbaeth, from the ancient form dolb-aed — enchanted fire. Today, after many centuries, the name has been distorted and it is now called Delbna Mór.’

‘I have never heard this story before,’ Fidelma said quietly.

‘No reason why you should. It is simply a local story of how the name of the territory came into being.’

She paused awhile examining and praising the books, and then a bell began to sound for the evening meal. As they walked back towards the praintech, or dining hall, Brother Céin asked anxiously: ‘Do you still intend to go north-west tomorrow?’

‘I do.’

‘To the lands of the Cinél Cairpre?’

‘Yes.’

‘That may be where our enemies are,’ Brother Céin said.

‘Irél and his Fianna already went there. He saw the new chief, Ardgal, and obtained hostages for the clan’s good behaviour after Sechnussach’s assassination. If they meant harm, they would not have succumbed to Irél’s authority.’

‘Even so, it would be remiss of me if I did not counsel you against this journey. If Bishop Luachan were here, he would warn you of the dangers that beset this countryside.’

Fidelma smiled briefly. ‘I think you have already made the dangers clear.’

‘Well, should you return to Tara … when you return to Tara,’ he corrected hastily, ‘and speak to the new High King, tell him of our situation and warn him about the growing power of the dibergach. There is only one other community between here and the land of the Cinél Cairpre and that is the abbey at Baile Fobhair, which you will also pass on your journey. They and we are the only communities of religious in the area who have not been attacked so far, thanks be to God. But we live in daily expectation of it.’

‘Why have you not already sent to the Fianna at Tara for warriors to protect you?’

Brother Céin shrugged. ‘We did not begin to realise the seriousness of the situation until poor Bishop Luachan was taken from us. If they can do that, there is nothing that will stop them perpetrating more serious