Dancing With Demons

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘What is it, an uaimh?’ muttered Eadulf, staring down the hole.

  ‘One might think so, Brother Eadulf,’ replied Céin. ‘This one leads into a passage which runs along two levels and terminates in a beehive-shaped chamber. From this entrance you move north along it and you have to be careful as the floor of the passage drops to the second level.’

  ‘Is it ancient?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘It is difficult to estimate the true age. It was completely overgrown as well, according to the bishop. The roof of the first level of the passage consists of large flat lintels. There are similar large lintels on the second level of the passage. The floor is spread with clay that has been hardened over the centuries. The chamber at the end is constructed with dry stone walls with a corbel roof with caps of two flat lintels. It is about three metres in diameter. The interesting thing about the chamber is that there are no air vents, which would be necessary if used for food storage – an uaimh, as you say – or even for a place of refuge in extreme threatening times.’

  Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘I will take your word for all this. You have gone into interesting detail. But what does it signify? What are you telling us?’

  ‘I know the details only because the ancient buildings and their construction fascinated Bishop Luachan. When he discovered this particular underground chamber he was especially thrilled, as there are no known dwellings here before our little community was built. It was because of the deserted nature of this place that we chose to establish our hermitage here. That means there was no memory of a community that would want such an adjunct as an uaimh built here. He argued that these were very ancient—both the cairn and the uaimh.’

  ‘When did Bishop Luachan tell you about it?’

  ‘Not until after we found the body of Brother Diomasach.’

  Fidelma began to see why the stocky steward was showing them these remains.

  ‘You mean that Bishop Luachan felt there was some connection between this discovery and Brother Diomasach’s death?’

  ‘He did. You see, it was in the chamber down there that Bishop Luachan and Brother Diomasach made another discovery.’ He paused as if waiting expectantly for a question to be put but when no one spoke he went on: ‘Have you ever heard of the Roth Fáil?’

  Fidelma started abruptly and then quickly controlled herself. The reaction was not lost on Eadulf.

  ‘There are many legends about it,’ she said. ‘Why do you ask?’

  Her mind was already thinking of the circular object that Bishop Luachan gave to Sechnussach. She tried not to race ahead of what the man was telling her.

  Brother Céin seemed pleased by her initial reaction.

  ‘Bishop Luachan found something circular in the chamber. He brought it in secret back to our little abbey. He examined it and then the very next morning he despatched Brother Diomasach with a message for the High King Sechnussach at Tara. When Brother Diomasach returned, he spent some time with Bishop Luachan but refused to tell any of the brethren why he had been sent to Tara or what had transpired there. Also, after he returned, within a day or so, an important warrior from Tara arrived here. Bishop Luachan told us that he would be gone only a few days, and rode off with him. It was observed that he carried this circular object wrapped in cloth in his saddlebag and allowed no one else to see it. When he returned, he was without the object.’

  ‘So this find was obviously the gift that he gave to the High King,’ Eadulf observed thoughtfully.

  ‘Did he really offer no explanation at all about what he had discovered and why he had sent news of it to the High King?’ asked Fidelma.

  ‘Not at the time,’ Brother Céin said. ‘It was afterwards, after poor Brother Diomasach’s death, that he took me into his confidence and told me that he had discovered in the chamber a circle of silver metal, intricately worked. It had the ancient symbol of the sun in the centre and was surrounded by twenty heads around the edge.’

  ‘It was a relatively small disk by all accounts, and now you say it was made of silver?’ Fidelma queried. ‘The stories about the wheel of destiny – the Roth Fáil, if ever it existed – would not place it so small, and it would have to be a great wheel of gold. Is it not also referred to as the Roth Gréine — the great celestial wheel? So are you telling me that Bishop Luachan thought this small object was the Roth Fáil?’

  ‘You leap to the wrong conclusion, Sister Fidelma,’ Brother Céin reproached her. ‘Bishop Luachan merely believed it was the key to the Roth Fáil, and without this key the Roth Fáil could not be deciphered. That was why he felt that he should give it to the High King.’

  ‘If it were a key, where is the object it opens?’ Eadulf wanted to know.

  Brother Céin shrugged. ‘That is the mystery – and a mystery that no Christian would seek the answer to, for we are taught that the Roth Fáil is an engine of destruction that will destroy the Christian world.’ He paused. ‘That is the belief, anyway,’ he added firmly, as if embarrassed at expressing the idea.

  ‘Well, let us deal with facts, not legends,’ Eadulf said, practical as ever. ‘Bishop Luachan was implying that Brother Diomasach was killed because of this find. But it had already been given to the High King … ’

  ‘Who has also been slain,’ pointed out Brother Céin. ‘And you tell me that the disk is now missing?’

  Fidelma was thoughtful. ‘As is Bishop Luachan,’ she said. ‘Did he tell you nothing else about this matter? Why would he believe that the disk had a connection with the legend?’

  ‘All he told me was that an evil was loose in the world and that the disk was the key. It brought death in its wake. He had hoped that Sechnussach would order it to be melted down, for only he had the authority to do so. With the news of the death of Sechnussach, he said that we must constantly be on our guard. When we found poor Brother Diomasach slain, he said that our enemies were near and told me the story.’

  ‘Did he identify those enemies?’

  ‘No. He just said that they were people who wanted to destroy the Faith of Christ in this land.’

  ‘He never mentioned names? Did he not speculate on their identity?’

  ‘He did not say. But he felt they were close by. As I said, there are indications that many isolated communities have been attacked and these attacks are now increasing. He thought the attackers were growing in strength and that they were being helped by some of the clan chiefs.’

  ‘Such as Dubh Duin of the Cinél Cairpre?’ she queried.

  ‘Dubh Duin was certainly mentioned. He seemed to cling to the old ways but Bishop Luachan felt that within his clan, he kept his views in check.’

  Eadulf frowned. ‘How would that be possible?’

  ‘You know how things work among us, Brother Eadulf? The derbhfine chooses a chief from the bloodline but he must be worthy. He must promote the welfare of his people. He has to govern under the law and, should he not conform to the wishes and welfare of his people, should he become negligent or despotic, then he could easily be replaced. Only the most worthy can succeed and remain as chief.’

  Eadulf knew the system but it was not what he meant.

  ‘Do you mean that Dubh Duin held views about religion that were not support by the Cinél Cairpre? I have heard that they too clung to the old traditions.’

  ‘I have not travelled in the country of the Cinél Cairpre for some years now,’ Brother Céin said, ‘but when I was there last, most of those I encountered were Christian, while only some of the older folk still adhered to the gods of Danú.’

  ‘The Old Faith?’ pressed Eadulf.

  ‘The Old Faith,’ confirmed the steward. ‘It is often difficult for some to leave the old path for the new.’

  Fidelma was silent. If chieftains like Dubh Duin or his successor Ardgal were involved in backing these raiding bands, and were connected with Sechnussach’s assassination, then she was looking at what had already developed into a rebellion against the High King and perhaps the onset of a civil war. But it would be a civi
l war like no other, for its terms would be defined by which religion the people supported. It was a frightening thought.

  ‘Yet with all his fears, Bishop Luachan went alone to answer the call of a sick farmer’s wife,’ Eadulf pointed out.

  ‘Bishop Luachan is a kind man, a generous man and one who takes his calling as both priest and healer seriously,’ replied Brother Céin.

  Fidelma held out her hand for the oil lamp.

  ‘You brought us here to examine this chamber. Having come thus far, I shall look at it.’

  Brother Eadulf immediately shook his head.

  ‘I shall go in – who knows what wild beasts may have found this entrance and decided it was a warm nest? Wolves and even bears, perhaps. This is the time for brown bears to hibernate.’

  ‘We don’t often see brown bears in this country now,’ Fidelma told him. ‘But there are certainly wolves about, though they hardly make their lairs in human habitations – even deserted ones.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’d prefer to go first,’ insisted Eadulf.

  Fidelma decided not to argue. ‘Very well, you go first and I will follow.’

  Eadulf moved down into the narrow passageway and began to crawl along, one hand holding the spluttering oil lamp before him. The floor was of sandy clay but it was quite dry and hard. The ceiling was low, the walls narrow – definitely not the place for anyone with claustrophobia. He remembered that Brother Céin had warned him that the passageway would drop to another level, and he thought this just in time, for he had been so busy looking up at the narrowing roof that he almost came to the drop before he noticed. He paused and called back a warning to Fidelma. He could hear her scrambling along behind him.

  As he looked cautiously at the drop he suddenly noticed that a candle stub stood on a stone by it. Bishop Luachan had doubtless left it on his excursion into this peculiar uaimh. Eadulf lit it from his lamp so that Fidelma, following him, would be able to see the drop. Then he descended to the next level which was more easily negotiated than he had anticipated, since, albeit awkward, the drop was only a waist-high one. He turned along the new tunnel and found it sloping upwards slightly before emerging into the curious stone-walled chamber. As Brother Céin had said, it was a beehive shape, almost conical, and he was able to stand up in it quite easily. A moment later, Fidelma joined him.

  The flickering light of the oil lamp caused a myriad of shadows to dance on the walls as they peered around. The walls were filled with strange carvings, lines of spiral patterns and odd symbols.

  ‘This place is very ancient,’ Fidelma observed, finding herself whispering.

  ‘What would it be used for, if not as a storage place for some nearby dwelling?’ asked Eadulf.

  Fidelma had moved forward to a place where stones had been grouped to form a box-like area on the ground at one end. A large flat stone was discarded nearby and it took her only a moment to see that this was the lid. She had seen ancient graves formed much the same way, but this was too tiny to hold any human remains.

  ‘I think that is where Bishop Luachan must have found the silver disk,’ she said.

  Holding the lamp high, Eadulf bent down to examine the receptacle.

  ‘Are you saying that we are in some ancient pagan temple?’ he asked, a little apprehensively. Eadulf had been converted to the New Faith when he was a youth, but emotionally still felt the power of the old gods and goddesses of his people.

  ‘I think it was a sacred place. Perhaps not a place for people to worship. Have you noticed that some of these walls have carvings on them?’

  Eadulf had certainly noticed the strange motifs that spread around the interior. The shadows were not simply cast by the lamp but came from deep grooves in the rocks, depicting curious faces and symbols.

  ‘Do they mean anything?’ he asked, suppressing a shudder.

  ‘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 top of 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 s
een 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.’