Authors: Peter Tremayne

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

The Spider's Web (23 page)

BOOK: The Spider's Web

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They left Father Gormán talking with Agdae, and turned back towards the
rath
of Araglin. It was after they had ridden away from Muadnat’s farmstead, heading back along the track out of the valley, that Fidelma turned to Eadulf and quietly asked him what had prompted him to ask his question about the path if he was simply prepared to take Agdae’s word about where it led.

‘I wanted to see his reactions because I saw someone on the path as we rode up to the farmstead. I think everyone must have had their attention on Agdae and his men for it appears no one else noticed the figure but myself.’

‘I did not even see the path,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘Certainly no one has said that they saw a figure on the hills.’

‘Well, I saw someone riding swiftly along the path and vanishing into the trees behind the farmstead.’

‘Who was it? Muadnat?’

Eadulf shook his head.

‘No. The figure of the rider was not male. It was the slighter figure of a woman. I saw her shape clearly in the sunlight as we came up to the farm buildings.’

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in exasperation. She always felt irritated when Eadulf prolonged his pronouncements for dramatic effect.

‘Did you recognise who it was?’ she demanded as patiently as she could.

‘I believe that it was Crón.’

Chapter Fourteen

Looking out from the window of the guests’ hostel, Fidelma saw a horse and rider galloping through the gates of the
rath
of Araglin. It was morning and she and Eadulf had just finished breaking their fast. They had returned to the
rath
late the previous evening without any resolution to their visit to the farmstead of Archú. Dubán had decided to send a second man back to the farmstead after they had left Muadnat’s farm as protection. But Dubán was convinced, however, that bandits were responsible for the raid. Even as Fidelma and Eadulf had sat down to breakfast, they had seen Dubán and a group of his warriors ride out and presumed that they had set out in another searching sweep of the countryside.

Eadulf’s identification of the rider on the path behind Muadnat’s farmhouse was, at Fidelma’s insistence, a matter between them. In fact, when Fidelma pressed Eadulf as to why he was so sure of the rider’s identity at that distance, Eadulf told her it was only by means of the parti-coloured cloak which he had seen Crón wearing in the hall of assembly.

The thunder of hooves on the wooden planking of the bridge was the first sound to alert Fidelma to something unusual. She moved to the window in time to see the single horse and its rider racing into the
rath.
Fidelma was surprised to see that it was Muadnat’s nephew Agdae. He flung himself from the beast and went racing towards the hall of assembly.

‘What now?’ demanded Eadulf gloomily.

Fidelma looked composed as she resumed her seat to finish her meal.

‘I have a feeling that we will discover the answer to your question soon.’

Indeed, it was only a few moments later that Dignait arrived to summon them to join Crón in the hall of assembly. The face of the young tanist was grim.

‘It is Muadnat,’ she announced as they entered the hall.

Fidelma drew a breath of annoyance.

‘I suppose our litigious friend is now charging young Archú with burning down his own stable. What is it now?’

‘It may well be that Archú will be charged with a serious crime, Fidelma,’ replied Crón. ‘But it will not be Muadnat who does the charging.’

‘I think you need to explain further,’ Fidelma suggested softly.

‘Muadnat has been found dead. He was found hanged on the high cross of Eoghan that marks the road into Araglin.’

Fidelma’s eyes went wide. She remembered Eadulf pausing to admire the cross as they arrived at the valley of Araglin.

‘If memory serves me right, the high cross is not on the road to Muadnat’s farmstead but stands by the road which comes into the valley in the opposite direction. Who discovered his body?’

‘Agdae. The high meadow beyond the cross belongs to him. Agdae said that Muadnat left his farm yesterday afternoon to go hunting. It was only early this morning that Agdae realised that Muadnat had not returned home. He went in search of him. And found him dead at the high cross. Muadnat often went hunting in the hills beyond there. Agdae rode here to get help and has now returned there with some men.’

Fidelma made a cynical grimace.

‘Doubtless Dubán has told you of our visit to Muadnat’s farmstead yesterday?’

Crón nodded.

‘It seems that Agdae did not think of directing us to that quarter at that time when we were looking for Muadnat.’

‘Is that important?’

‘We shall see. But Agdae did not know where Muadnat was to be found when we inquired for him yesterday. However, this morning, when he became worried about Muadnat’s absence, he was able to go directly to that spot.’

‘Well, Agdae is already accusing Archú of this murder.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘Because Archú is the only person in Araglin who has been at enmity with Muadnat. He says that Archú, through you, blamed Muadnat for the raid on his farmstead yesterday.’

‘That is not quite accurate.’ Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘We’d better ride out to this cross and see for ourselves.’

He was in agreement and asked Crón: ‘How long will it be before Dubán returns?’ Adding: ‘It may be that we shall have need of his services in protecting Archú from the wild accusations of Agdae.’

Crón was annoyed.

‘Why should you spend time on this matter? It has nothing to do with the death of my father, Eber, or Teafa. Surely you should be devoting yourself to uncovering the murderer if, as I believe you now claim, it is not Móen … though I think it will take much persuasive power to convince the people of Araglin that he is innocent.’

Fidelma suppressed a passing feeling of exasperation.

‘I find it is better to keep an open mind when conducting an investigation. There is much secrecy in Araglin. I have been told things which are not true. I do not know whether the death of Muadnat has anything to do with the deaths of Eber and Teafa. If you know differently then perhaps you would share your knowledge with me?’

Crón had difficulty in controlling her features and, with grim satisfaction, Fidelma saw uncertainty and even fear in her eyes. After a moment or two, Crón controlled her emotions.

‘No, I do not have such information. I only make what I consider a logical observation. If you must ride out to the big cross, then
you must. But I think your investigation into this matter is taking an overly long period to complete.’

‘It will take as long as it takes,’ replied Fidelma resolutely. ‘People must have patience.’

‘Agdae may not have patience. He has sworn to find Archú and exact vengeance.’

Fidelma looked sharply at her.

‘Then I would advise you to send after Dubán and have him restrain Agdae unless you want to see one injustice follow another. Perhaps Archú and Scoth should be brought here to this
rath
for their own protection until I can investigate the matter properly.’

‘Agdae was kin to Muadnat, as, indeed, I was. He will not let his killer escape justice,’ Crón said coldly.

‘Then,’ replied Fidelma equally icily, ‘we must ensure that the killer is found – whoever he or she is.’

She turned and strode quickly from the assembly hall with Eadulf trailing in her wake. In a short while they were riding at a rapid pace uphill towards the distant high cross.

The young warrior Crítán was already there with a couple of burly men, farm workers by the look of them. Nearby stood an ass which had obviously been prepared to receive the body of Muadnat. The purpose of the gathering seemed to be a preparation for the taking down of the body. Muadnat was hanging by his neck by a rope which had been passed over the cross-bar of the granite cross. His feet were little more than a few inches above the ground. Yet Fidelma could immediately see the stains of blood over the front of the man’s shirt as if massive wounds had been inflicted while he was alive.

One of the farm workers who had been about to place a ladder against the back of the cross suddenly saw the approach of Fidelma and Eadulf and paused, muttering something to his two companions. They turned and regarded the two religious with hostility.

Young Crítán moved forward disdainfully.

‘You are not welcome here,’ he greeted.

Unperturbed, Fidelma halted her horse and dismounted.

‘We do not ask a welcome,’ she said calmly.

Eadulf also slid from his mount and hitched his reins together with those of Fidelma’s horse.

Crítán stood hands on his hips. He gazed resentfully at Fidelma. His was a character which would never forgive her for apparently humiliating him. Now he made his aggression clear.

‘It would be well if you left here, woman. Twice you have exonerated Archú in his feud against Muadnat. Now see where this has led. This time Archú shall not succeed. Nor will your attempts to conspire with that creature of the Devil and let him go free after he has murdered Eber and Teafa.’ His tone of menace matched his words.

Fidelma did not appear troubled, standing hands demurely folded in front of her, even smiling at the youth.

‘I am an advocate of the courts of the five kingdoms, Crítán,’ she said pleasantly enough. ‘Do you dare threaten me?’

Arrogance and inexperience combined in Crítán to cause stupidity to replace even his natural cunning. He thrust out his jaw.

‘This is Araglin, woman. You do not have the protection of your church or of your brother’s warriors here.’

He was disconcerted to see Fidelma’s smile broaden.

‘I do not need them to exert my authority here,’ she replied.

The two farm hands had stood hesitantly, allowing Crítán to be their spokesman. Now the one with the ladder, realising that the young warrior might have gone a little too far with his threats, put down his burden and came forward.

‘It is true that you are not wanted here, sister,’ he said, with slightly more respect in his voice. ‘Our kinsman,’ he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the high cross, ‘has been slain and we know who must pay for it. You should be about your own business.’

‘You appear to have made your mind up about the identity of
the person who you want to punish for Muadnat’s death whether they are guilty or not,’ observed Eadulf dryly. ‘Is it not better to wait until you find the real culprit?’

‘No one asked for your interference, Saxon,’ snapped Crítán. ‘Now be gone, the both of you. It is a fair warning that I give you.’

Fidelma’s mouth turned down almost in a wistful expression. It was always a dangerous sign with her but only Eadulf realised that fact. She had noticed that the youth’s words were studied, the face flushed, eyes bright and gestures exaggerated. It was obvious, now that she had a chance to observe him more closely, that the young man had taken drink to bolster his courage that morning.

‘I will overlook your ill-manners, Crítán, for this time I shall take into account your youth and inexperience. Now I mean to examine Muadnat’s body and I do so by the authority I hold.’

Crítán, having used verbal force and found it not intimidating, was somewhat taken aback. He glanced at the two farm hands for support. They were looking embarrassed. Now Crítán saw that he was being humiliated again in front of others.

‘These are kinsmen of Muadnat,’ he said stubbornly. ‘We will not allow you to bend the law to allow Archú to escape our justice.’

‘And are they your witness to this murder?’ Fidelma demanded, turning to the two men. ‘You,’ she suddenly pointed to the one who had adopted a more reasonable tone with her, ‘did you see Archú kill Muadnat?’

The man flushed.

‘No, of course not, but …’

‘And you?’ Fidelma wheeled sharply to the second man.

‘Who else but Archú would do this?’ replied the man resolutely.

‘Who else? Isn’t that a matter to be considered by the law before you exact vengeance on someone who may be innocent?’

Crítán intervened with a sneering laugh.

‘You are good at playing with words, woman. But we have had
enough of words. Be gone from this spot before I force you to leave.’ His hand fell on his sword. The gesture needed no interpretation.

Eadulf came forward, his movements purposeful, but Fidelma reached out and held his arm firmly. Even so, Eadulf was flushed with anger.

‘Would you dare threaten a woman?’ he growled ominously. ‘A woman of the cloth?’

In fact, Crítán had drawn his sword as soon as Eadulf had moved towards him. The youth’s face was red, his eyes bright.

‘Stand back, Eadulf,’ cautioned Fidelma.

One of the farm hands, the one who had tried to appear reasonable, was regarding Crítán somewhat nervously. A verbal threat was one thing but to physically threaten a female religieuse, and an advocate of the courts at that, was something beyond him.

‘Perhaps we had better let her examine the body,’ he suggested anxiously.

The idea of losing face before this woman made the arrogant youth even more stubborn.

‘I will say what is to be done,’ he insisted almost petulantly.

‘Crítán,’ the other rejoined, uncertainly, ‘she is not only a religieuse but …’

‘She is the one whose pretty serpent tongue allowed Archú to usurp that which belonged to Muadnat. She is also responsible for his death!’

‘Crítán!’ It was Fidelma who addressed the youth in a voice that was soft but clear. ‘Put up your sword and return to the
rath
and sleep off the effects of the alcohol you have consumed. I will forget the discourtesy you have shown me.’

The youth’s rage only seemed to increase. He almost shook with his rage.

‘If you were a warrior …’ he scowled.

Fidelma’s eyes became slits.

‘If you are prepared to threaten me with physical violence, I should not let that fact hinder you.’

‘Crítán!’ protested the man who had been carrying the ladder as the young man raised his sword and took a threatening step forward.

BOOK: The Spider's Web

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