Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

The Spider's Web (12 page)

BOOK: The Spider's Web

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‘Easy to say. My eyes were accustomed to the dark. I had just ridden from Clidna’s place in the dark.’

‘Then you passed on and came on Teafa standing at her cabin door with a lamp looking for Móen? When you went to find Dubán, perhaps a half an hour later, you learnt that Menma had found Eber and Móen. Why didn’t you mention what you had seen?’

‘There was no need. There were other witnesses.’

‘When did you learn that Teafa had also been killed?’

Critan was confident.

‘After Dubán went to find her to deal with Móen.’

‘Thank you, Critan, you have been of great help.’

Fidelma began to walk at a leisurely pace towards the guests’ hostel with Eadulf hurrying at her side.

‘Do you need me again today, sister?’ called Dubán after them.

Fidelma turned absently. ‘I still want to see the hunting knife with which Móen is supposed to have carried out this deed.’

‘I’ll bring it directly,’ the warrior answered.

As they walked back to the guests’ hostel, Eadulf waited patiently for Fidelma to make some comment but, as she remained silent, he decided to prompt her.

‘I think the evidence is pretty clear. Eye-witnesses and the discovery of Móen with the knife. It seems there is little more to be inquired into. Móen, pitiable creature though he is, is guilty of this deed.’

Fidelma raised her smouldering green eyes to his dark brown ones.

‘Quite the contrary, Eadulf. I think that the evidence goes to support the argument that Móen did not commit the murders as charged.’

Chapter Eight

After Dubán had been sent to request a meeting with Cranat, the widow of Eber, word came that she would meet with Fidelma and Eadulf in the hall of assembly within half an hour.

Crón was already there when they entered, seated in her chair of office. Before her, just below the dais, were the same seats as before. This time Fidelma noticed that a second chair had been placed next to Crón’s chair of office. Fidelma and Eadulf had barely reached their places when a straight-backed woman entered, with a fixed, unsmiling expression. She did not glance in their direction, nor make any attempt to acknowledge them, but moved forward to the empty chair and seated herself beside her daughter.

For a woman approaching her fiftieth year, Cranat was still handsome. She had kept her figure well. There was something aristocratic about her oval face, her fair skin, white and delicate. Her golden hair had no grey in it but was worn long and flowed down below the shoulders. The hands were well formed with slender tapering fingers. Fidelma noticed that the nails were carefully cut and rounded and artificially coloured crimson. Berry juice dyed the eyebrows black and there was a hint of
ruam,
the juice of sprigs and berries of the elder tree, which highlighted the cheeks with the blush of red. Fidelma noticed that Cranat did not believe in stinting herself when it came to perfume. A heavy scent of roses permeated the air around her. Cranat seated herself in regal posture.

She wore a dress of red silk fringed with gold and bracelets of silver and white bronze adorned her arms while a circlet of gold encased her neck. Clearly Cranat was possessed of wealth and
her bearing showed that she was also possessed of status not just the rank of the wife of chieftain of Araglin.

Fidelma stood for a few moments waiting for Cranat to even acknowledge her by raising her eyes.

Finally, it was Crón, the tanist, who ended the silence, speaking without rising from her own chair.

‘Mother, this is Fidelma, the advocate who is here to pronounce judgment on Móen.’

Only then did Cranat raise her head and Fidelma found herself staring into the same cold blue eyes of Cranat’s daughter, Crón.

‘My mother,’ went on Crón, ‘Cranat of the Déisi.’

Fidelma kept her face a mask. In the introduction, the reason for Cranat’s bearing had been explained. Legend had it that during the High Kingship of Cormac mac Airt, the sept of the Déisi had been banished from their ancestral lands around Tara. Some had fled abroad to the land of the Britons while others had settled in the kingdom of Muman where they had split into two further septs, the Déisi of the north and those of the south. That Crón had introduced her mother as ‘of the Déisi’ meant that Cranat was a daughter of a prince of her people. Even so, it did not excuse the manner in which she had refused to greet or acknowledge Fidelma. Irritation caused Fidelma’s face to redden. She had allowed this insult to her rank and position to pass unchallenged once. She could not do it a second time if she were to maintain control of this investigation.

Instead of seating herself, she calmly stepped up onto the raised platform on a level with Crón and Cranat.

‘Eadulf, place a chair here for me,’ she instructed coldly.

The look of shock on the faces of Cranat and her daughter indicated that they were not used to anyone challenging their authority.

Eadulf, trying to hide a smile of amusement, for he knew how Fidelma liked to make points of protocol when they had been forgotten, hastily seized a chair and placed it where she had
indicated. Eadulf knew that ordinarily, Fidelma did not care a jot about matters of privilege and ritual. Only if people used such matters of etiquette to wrongfully assert authority did Fidelma use her own position to put them firmly in their place.

‘Sister, you forget yourself!’

It was the first sentence Cranat had uttered, expressed in a scandalised tone.

Fidelma had taken her seat and regarded the widow of the chieftain with a bland expression.

‘What would you suggest that I have forgotten, Cranat of Araglin?’

She emphasised the choice of title softly, just enough to make a point.

Cranat swallowed noisily, unable to make any reply.

‘My mother is …’ began Crón but stopped as Fidelma turned to face her. ‘Ah …’ she suddenly realised the point of protocol Fidelma had made. She turned quickly to her mother. ‘I have neglected to tell you that Sister Fidelma is not only an advocate but is sister to Colgú of Cashel.’

Before Cranat could digest this information, Fidelma leant forward. She spoke pleasantly enough but her voice was firm.

‘The matter of my parentage aside and ignoring the kingship of my brother,’ she paused, for this was a direct demolition of Cranat’s own royal pretension, ‘I am qualified to the degree of
anruth
and may sit in the presence of the High King of the five kingdoms himself and speak with him on the same level.’

Cranat’s mouth became a tight thin line. She turned her ice cold eyes to focus elsewhere in the hall.

‘Now,’ Fidelma sat back and smiled broadly. There was a brisk tone in her voice. ‘Now let us leave aside the tedious matters of custom and propriety for there is more important work to do.’

Once again, there was no doubt that Fidelma was rebuking Cranat and Crón for their pretensions and they knew it. They sat in silence for there was no response that they could adequately make.

‘I need to ask you some questions, Cranat.’

The woman, sitting stiffly, sniffed. She did not bring herself to look directly at Fidelma.

‘Then I am sure that you will ask them,’ she replied without humour.

‘I am told that it was you who sent to my brother at Cashel to request a Brehon to attend here. I am told that you undertook to send to Cashel without the knowledge and approval of your daughter who is the tanist. Why was this?’

‘My daughter is young,’ Cranat said. ‘She is inexperienced in law and politics. I believe that this matter has to be properly conducted so that no stigma is allowed to attach itself to the family of Araglin.’

‘Why might that happen?’

‘The nature of the creature who committed the crimes, and the fact he was the adopted son of the lady Teafa, might incline people to speak ill of the house of Araglin.’

Fidelma thought it was a reasonable explanation.

‘Then let us return to the morning six nights ago when you heard of the death of your husband, Eber.’

‘I have already explained what happened,’ interrupted Crón hastily.

Fidelma clicked her tongue in annoyance.

‘You have told me of the events as you saw them. Now I am asking your mother.’

‘There is little to tell,’ Cranat said. ‘I was awakened by my daughter.’

‘At what time?’

‘Just as the sun was rising, I think.’

‘And what happened?’

‘She told me that Eber had been slain and that Móen had done the terrible deed. I dressed and joined her here, in the hall of assembly. As I did so, Dubán came in to say that Teafa had also been found dead from stabbing.’

‘Did you go to see Eber’s body?’

Cranat shook her head.

‘Not go to pay your last respects to your dead husband?’ Fidelma allowed a note of surprise to enter her voice.

‘My mother was upset,’ Crón intervened defensively.

Fidelma’s eyes still held those cold blue eyes of Cranat.

‘You were upset?’

‘I was upset,’ echoed Cranat.

Instinctively, Fidelma knew that Cranat was seizing the easy excuse given by her daughter.

‘Tell me why you did not share your husband’s sleeping chamber?’

There was a gasp of indignation from Crón.

‘How dare you ask such an impertinent … ?’ she began.

Fidelma swung her head round and regarded Crón with narrowed eyes.

‘I dare,’ she replied impassively, ‘because I am an advocate of the courts and no question that seeks to get to the truth is impertinent. I think, Crón of Araglin, you still have much to learn of the wisdom and duties of a chieftain. Your mother was right to send to Cashel for a Brehon.’

Crón swallowed, her face reddening. Before she could think of a suitable response, Fidelma had already turned back to Cranat.

‘Well, lady?’ she prompted sharply.

Cranat’s icy expression challenged her for a moment but Fidelma’s fiery green eyes accepted the challenge and were not cowed. Cranat’s shoulders eventually slumped in resignation.

‘It has been many years since I shared my husband’s bed,’ she replied quietly.

‘Why so?’

Cranat’s hands fluttered in her lap.

‘We have grown apart in … in
that
way.’

‘And this did not bother you?’

‘No.’

‘Nor, presumably, did it bother Eber?’

‘I am not sure what you mean?’

‘You know the laws of marriage as well as I do. If there were sexual failings between you then either party could have sought divorce.’

Cranat’s face reddened.

Crón glanced to where Eadulf was sitting impassively.

‘Must the Saxon stay and hear this?’ she demanded.

Eadulf, with some embarrassment, began to rise.

Fidelma motioned him to be reseated.

‘He is here to observe the working of our legal process. There is nothing to be ashamed at before the law.’

‘We had an amicable arrangement,’ Cranat continued, realising that she and her daughter had met someone with a stronger will than either of them. ‘There was no need for divorce or separation.’

‘None? If either of you had become incapable of intercourse, then you could legally divorce with ease. The problems of infertility or impotence are equally covered.’

‘My mother knows the law,’ interrupted Crón indignantly. ‘Can we leave it that my father and mother simply preferred to sleep apart?’

‘I will accept this,’ Fidelma agreed, ‘though it would have been easier to understand if I knew a reason.’

‘The reason was that we preferred to sleep alone,’ Cranat insisted heavily.

‘So you remained partners in everything else?’

‘Yes.’

‘And your husband made no attempt to obtain a wife of lower status, a concubine?’

‘That is forbidden,’ snapped Crón.

‘Forbidden?’ Fidelma was surprised. ‘Our laws are quite specific that polygyny is still accepted under the
Cáin Lánamna.
A man may have a chief wife and his concubine who has, under law, half the status and entitlements of the chief wife.’

‘How can you approve of that?’ demanded Crón. ‘You are a sister of the Faith.’

Fidelma regarded her equably.

‘Who says that I approve it? I simply tell you of the law of the five kingdoms which operates today. And I am an advocate of that law. I am surprised that here, in such a rural community, there is disapproval of it. Usually, in rural areas, there is much support for the old laws and customs of our people.’

‘Father Gormán says that it is evil to have more than one wife.’

‘Ah, Father Gormán. Again, Father Gormán. It seems that the good father has a strong influence over this community. It is true that within the new Faith many oppose polygyny but with little success as yet. In fact, the
scriptor
of the law text, the
Bretha Crólige,
actually finds justification for polygyny in the texts of the Old Testament. It is argued that if the chosen people of God lived in a plurality of unions, how can we, gentiles, argue against it?’

Cranat make a curious sound of disapproval, clicking her tongue.

‘You may argue your theology with Father Gormán on his return. Eber had no need of other wives nor concubines. We dwell here in an amicable family. And our close relationship has nothing to do with his death for his killer has been clearly identified.’

‘Ah yes,’ Fidelma breathed, as if she had been distracted. ‘Let us return to this matter …’

‘I know no more than what I told you,’ snapped Cranat. ‘I learnt only of Eber’s death from others.’

‘And, as your daughter says, you were upset?’

‘I was.’

‘But clear-minded enough to instruct the young warrior, Critan, to ride to Cashel to request a Brehon be sent here?’

‘I was a chieftain’s wife. I had my duty to fulfil.’

‘Were you shocked when you heard it was Móen who killed your husband?’

‘Shocked? No. Sad, perhaps. It was inevitable that that wild beast would turn on someone sooner or later.’

‘You did not like Móen?’

The eyebrows of Eber’s widow arched in perplexity.

BOOK: The Spider's Web

4.04Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub