Dancing With Demons

Eadulf grimaced but wisely said nothing.

They found the heir-elect with his Chief Brehon in the house of Abbot Colmán in the royal enclosure; the abbot had apparently been discussing some documents with them.

Cenn Faelad seemed relieved to see them.

‘You have come at an appropriate moment. We have been discussing this matter of your report. All the members, or their representatives, of the Great Assembly are now in Tara. Brehon Barrán insists that we must bring matters to a conclusion by the end of today. We have run out of time.’

Behind him Brehon Barrán stood with a stern face.

‘I warned you yesterday, Fidelma, that I could give you only a day more. By sundown tonight, that extra day is ended. I can do no more.’

Abbot Colmán was looking unhappy. Fidelma kept her gaze on Cenn Faelad.

‘I will not protest,’ she said demurely. ‘In fact, I was seeking you out to say that it would be agreeable to me if you called the Great Assembly together tomorrow at an appropriate hour. I will then present my report and seek their pardon for taking so long in this matter.’

Cenn Faelad exchanged a glance of surprise with the others before turning back to her.

‘So you have come to the end of your investigation?’

‘I think I can present facts that will lead the Great Assembly to form a satisfactory conclusion as to the matter,’ she replied pointedly.

‘And what is that?’ demanded Brehon Barrán.

Cenn Faelad looked surprised at this intervention, but before he could speak, Fidelma said disapprovingly: ‘As Chief Brehon, you should know better than to ask the outcome of a report before it is presented for approval to the Great Assembly.

Barrán flushed. ‘It was but a natural curiosity,’ he muttered. ‘But it is good. As soon as the Great Assembly has met we can proceed with the inauguration of the High King and resume the business of governing the five kingdoms once again. We have been too long without power.’

Fidelma still regarded him in disapproval. ‘Without power? Do we not boast that in this land, power resides with the people? Is it not an ancientsaying — what makes a people stronger than a king? The answer being, because the people ordain the king, the king does not ordain the people.’

Cenn Faelad laughed jovially. ‘The saying is true and you are right in law, as always, Fidelma. Barrán was using an expression, that’s all. Nevertheless, he has been nervous that the lack of a strong centre could cause the individual parts of the five kingdoms to crumble and dissolve. So your news is good. I will issue the call for the Great Assembly to be convoked tomorrow.’

On the way back to the guesthouse, Eadulf was still perplexed.

‘On the surface, the motivation seems straightforward,’ he said. ‘Dubh Duin was part of the fanatical pagan movement — but surely he must have known the law of succession, that the death of the High King would not advance his cause unless the successor was a supporter of that cause?’

Fidelma smiled appreciatively. ‘You are perceptive, Eadulf.’

Eadulf frowned. ‘I don’t see … ’

‘Well, to be honest, neither did I see the real solution until Brother Rogallach repeated a favourite saying of Sechnussach last night.’

‘A favourite saying …?’

‘Sit non doctissima conjux.’ And at her husband’s blank look, she took him by the arm. ‘Come, I’ll explain it all to you in preparation for what we must do tomorrow,’ she said confidently.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

It was noon when the nobles of the Airlechas, the Great Assembly, began to gather in the Forradh or royal seat to the east of the High King’s residence rather than at the Rath of Great Assembly to the north of the royal enclosure. The Airlechas consisted of three groups: the first was the nobles representing the five kingdoms; if the kings were unable to attend, then their heir apparent came in their stead. Indeed, Fidelma had already seen the arrival of her cousin, Finguine mac Cathail, her brother’s heir or tánaiste. The second group consisted of the leading Brehons, or judges, of the five kingdoms; and the third group were the leading churchmen, among whom was Abbot Ségdae of Imleach, the senior churchman of the southern kingdoms, and his rival, Ségéne, the abbot and bishop of Ard Macha, who claimed ecclesiastical seniority over the northern kingdoms.

The Forradh seemed packed with the great and the good and they sat in noisy rows in the large wooden hall.

Fidelma and Eadulf had taken their seats in the well of the hall. Two chairs had been placed there for them, behind which Caol and Gormán stood. When Fidelma emerged to accompany Eadulf to the Forradh, his eyes widened at the metamorphosis that had taken place. She had discarded the simple and practical garb that she usually wore as a member of the religious and had put on clothes that proclaimed her as the daughter, and the sister, of a King of Muman.

She had chosen a gown of deep blue satin with intricate gold thread patterning. It fitted snugly into the waist but then flowed out into a full skirt, which came to her ankles. The sleeves were of a style called lamfhoss, tight on the upper arms but spilling out just below the elbow and around the wrists in imitation of the lower part of the dress. Over this wasa sleeveless tunic, called an inar, that covered the top of the dress but ended at the waist. From her shoulders hung a short lummon, a cape of contrasting, red-coloured satin edged with badger’s fur. The cape was fastened on the left shoulder by a round brooch of silver and semi-precious stones. On her feet were specially decorated sandals, sewn with pieces of multi-coloured glass, and called mael- assa.

Around her wrists were bracelets of complementary-coloured glass, and at her neck was a simple golden torc, indicating not only her royal position but that she was of the elite Nasc Niadh of Muman. Around her fiery red hair was a band of silver with three semi-precious stones at the front — two emeralds from the country of the Corco Duibhne and a fiery red stone which Eadulf could not place — these reflected the stones used in the silver brooch that held her cape. This headband served to keep in place a piece of silk that covered her hair but left her face bare. It was called a conniul and indicated her married status, for it was the custom of married women and also of the female religious to cover their heads to show their status. Had not Paul instructed the Corinthians that a woman who did not have her hair covered when she prayed might as well have her hair cut off?

Eadulf had not seen Fidelma dressed in such finery since their official wedding day.

‘Perhaps I should have borrowed warrior’s clothing from Gormán,’ he greeted her with dry humour.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she retorted. ‘We go to stand before the High King elect of the five kingdoms, and the kings and nobles of the five kingdoms gathered in the Great Assembly. In such a formal meeting there is a protocol in dress that is prescribed by law.’

‘I should have known that the Brehons even have rules on dress. But it makes me seem a poor peasant by comparison,’ he replied dolefully, glancing down at himself. He had put on his best clothes, but his simple garments were rough and homespun by contrast with hers.

‘Just remember that you are Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham,’ Fidelma admonished firmly. ‘And my husband.’

He had difficulty remembering it when they entered the hall of the Great Assembly. If there was one thing he had learned about the noble and wealthy classes of the people of Éireann, it was that they loved to dress up in bright colours and jewellery — and both males as well as females would add to it by putting on cosmetics — berry juice to brightenthe lips or darken the eyebrows or enhance the blush of the cheek. He disapproved of it and was pleased to see that Fidelma had used red berry juice on her lips sparingly and added only a thin line to