Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland
The Spider's Web (33 page)
Outside the chapel Fidelma met Crón.
The young tanist acknowledged her with a grave face.
‘How is Brother Eadulf this morning?’
‘Well enough, thanks be to God,’ replied Fidelma.
‘I spoke with Dubán this morning,’ the tanist went on slightly uneasily. ‘He says that you are near to discovering who has put such misery onto the people of this valley?’
‘Oh yes. In fact, I was coming to find you to request the use of the hall of assembly at noon today. I am asking all those I feel concerned in this matter to attend so that I may reveal the names of those responsible for the effusion of blood in this valley.’
Crón seemed visibly shaken.
‘Then you must know who killed Eber and Teafa?’
‘I believe I do.’
‘Believe?’ Crón looked dubious.
‘I shall demonstrate my belief at noon.’ Fidelma was almost cheerful. ‘Will you ask your mother if she will attend? I am sure she will want to hear who is responsible for the slaughter of her husband?’
‘I will,’ the young tanist agreed.
Fidelma walked on unconcerned by Crón’s curious expression.
The hall of assembly seemed crowded. Crón had taken her chair of office. Fidelma had requested that she do so because, as tanist, it was her right. She was wearing her parti-coloured cloak and doeskin gloves of office for the occasion. Next to her sat her mother; the older woman’s face was haughty and staring determinedly into the middle distance as if the proceedings were of no concern to her. On a seat below the dais, just to one side, Brother Eadulf reclined uncomfortably, still pale, his eyes shadowed but at least he was showing some signs of improvement. He had risen from his sick bed in spite of all Fidelma’s protests. Next to him sprawled the burly figure of Dubán, leaning forward, so that he rested with forearms on his knees. In the well of the hall sat Archú and Scoth. Next to them was Gadra the Hermit with Móen at his side. Gadra was leaning towards Móen interpreting what was happening, fingers drumming on the young man’s raised palm. Agdae fidgeted irritably on a bench on the far side of the hall next to Father Gormán. At the rear of the hall, seated alone, was Clídna, ‘the woman of secrets’, her chin raised defiantly as if waiting for someone to challenge her right to be there. A few seats from her was Grella, the young servant girl. A few of Dubán’s men were stationed at the doors of the hall.
Fidelma took her stand before Crón, just below the dais, to the left of her chair.
‘It seems that we are all here,’ she observed.
‘Are you prepared to start?’ demanded Crón, leaning forward.
Agdae called from his seat: ‘But Menma is not here. Should
he not be here? After all, he discovered Eber’s body and identified Móen as the killer.’
he not be here? After all, he discovered Eber’s body and identified Móen as the killer.’
Crón seemed perturbed.
‘I sent him to round up cattle yesterday. It is strange that he is not here. Perhaps we should wait?’
Fidelma smiled broadly.
‘I fear it would be a long wait, tanist of Araglin. No; we shall make a start for I did not expect Menma to be in attendance.’
‘What do you mean? Do you accuse Menma … ?’ began Cranat, forgetting her feigned indifference.
Fidelma raised her hand.
‘All in good time.
Vincit qui patitur.
He prevails who is patient.’
Vincit qui patitur.
He prevails who is patient.’
There was an expectant silence in the hall as they regarded her slight, calm figure with anticipation. Fidelma examined their upturned faces, studying each carefully in turn.
‘This has been one of the most difficult investigations I have undertaken. Difficult in that when a person is killed, there is usually one murder to address and one set of circumstances. In this pleasant valley of yours I found five killings to examine, and, at first, they did not all seem related. Indeed, it seemed to be that there were several different events happening all at the same time, each one unconnected with the other. In this initial assumption, I was wrong. Everything was connected; connected to one central point like the threads of a giant spider’s web, all coming together to where one dominating creature waited, manipulating those threads.’
She paused to let the ripple of their surprise rise and ebb away.
‘Where shall we begin to unravel this silken web of deceit which clings to so many lives? I could start at the centre of the web. I could make a lunge for the spider waiting there. In doing so, however, I might leave the spider a path to scuttle from the centre, along some strand of the web where it may yet elude me. So I shall begin to unravel the web from the outside, slowly but surely
destroying the outer strands until there is nowhere for the spider to run.’
destroying the outer strands until there is nowhere for the spider to run.’
Crón leant forward with scepticism on her features.
‘This is all very poetic, Sister Fidelma. Does your rhetoric have some purpose?’
Fidelma turned quickly to her with a look of appraisal.
‘You have seen my methods, Crón, and have expressed your appreciation of them. I do not think I need defend my procedure.’
The young tanist flushed and sat back. Fidelma confidently turned back to her audience.
‘Let us start with the first thread. This thread is Muadnat of the Black Marsh.’
‘What has Muadnat to do with the murder of my husband?’ Cranat demanded in a dry, rasping tone. ‘He was Eber’s friend and once his tanist.’
‘By patience you will have a linen shirt from the flax plant,’ replied Fidelma good naturedly, uttering an old saying that had been a favourite of her mentor, Morann of Tara. ‘My involvement in this affair actually began with Muadnat, so it is fitting that I should start with him. Muadnat in recent times became possessed of a gold mine. He found it on the land which he had tried to claim from his cousin, Archú.’
There was an immediate expression of surprise from the young farmer.
‘Where was this?’ demanded Archú. ‘I have never heard of a gold mine in the Black Marsh.’
‘The mine is located on the far side of the hill whose land was too poor for cultivation. You dismissed it as axe-land. I should say that it was probably not Muadnat who made the discovery but a miner named Morna. He was brother of a hostel keeper named Bressal, who keeps a hostel not far from this valley on the western road which leads to Lios Mhór and Cashel.’
The young farmer looked astonished, glancing to Scoth at his side.
‘Do you mean the hostel where we stayed?’
‘The same,’ confirmed Fidelma. ‘Remember that Bressal spoke about his brother Morna who had brought him a rock which he claimed would make him rich? That was from the cave on your land which had begun to yield up gold.’
‘It’s a lie!’ Agdae intervened angrily. ‘Muadnat never mentioned a gold mine to me. You all know that I was his nephew and his adopted son.’
‘Muadnat wanted to keep his mine a secret,’ went on Fidelma, unperturbed. ‘The problem was that he had a cousin who was claiming the land as his own. This cousin, Archú, decided to take the matter to law. Muadnat fought desperately to keep hold of the land. You see, Muadnat believed in bending laws for his own purpose but not breaking them entirely. The matter was embarrassing. Muadnat had a piece of luck, however. Archú took the matter to Lios Mhór rather than have the case heard before Eber. Eber was a crafty man and might have asked too many questions about why Muadnat was keen to hang on to the land.’
Agdae looked sour.
‘Why didn’t Muadnat make me a partner in his gold mine?’
‘You were not ruthless enough for the enterprise,’ called Clídna.
Fidelma saw Crón about to rebuke her for daring to speak in the hall of assembly and interrupted.
‘Clídna is right,’ she confirmed. ‘Agdae is not the sort of person who would be mixed up in illegal mining. Muadnat wanted someone who would obey orders without questions asked. He chose his cousin Menma.’
‘Menma?’ frowned Agdae. ‘Was Menma working with Muadnat?’
Fidelma regarded him sadly. ‘Menma was his overseer. Menma ran the mine, recruited the miners, saw that they were fed and ensured that gold was shipped south where it would be held securely. How do you secretly feed and house a group of hungry miners in a peaceful pastoral valley without the local farmers knowing about them? A place to hide was no problem. The
mine itself provided shelter. But what of food?’
mine itself provided shelter. But what of food?’
‘What you do is carry out raids on farms and carry off the livestock,’ replied Eadulf triumphantly. ‘Not too much, a cow or two here and there, perhaps.’
‘But Muadnat had a rich farm,’ Crón pointed out. ‘He could have fed those miners without resorting to such subterfuge as cattle raids.’
‘That would mean that Agdae would come to know what was happening. You forget that Agdae was Muadnat’s chief herdsman. Agdae would know if Muadnat was killing more cattle and supplying food to a source which he could not account for. And if Muadnat dismissed Agdae from that job it would look very suspicious. After all, Agdae was Muadnat’s closest relative.’
Agdae was flushed in mortification.
‘What made you think that the cattle raids were not genuine?’ demanded Dubán.
‘I have heard of cattle raiders, of outlaws, running off cattle. But, as Eadulf pointed out, never in ones or twos. Outlaws seek cattle to sell. That being so they would move entire herds or certainly enough cattle to make the sale worthwhile. I suspected that these cattle were being taken for food only. This was confirmed when we encountered some of the raiders when we were coming back from Gadra’s hermitage. They were moving south, with asses loaded with panniers. The panniers were doubtless filled with gold.’
‘Some of the raiders?’ queried Dubán.
‘Menma was not with them and neither were others we will identify shortly,’ explained Fidelma.
‘But I do not see the connection between Muadnat’s gold mine and the death of Eber and Teafa?’ Agdae protested sullenly.
‘We will eventually get there, following the strands of the spider’s web,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Muadnat’s wish was to hang on to the mine. He did his best to do so. Perhaps even against the advice of his partner.’
There was a silence.
‘Muadnat would never take Menma’s advice about anything,’ sneered Agdae.
Fidelma chose not to ignore the jibe.
‘Even while he was at Lios Mhór, Muadnat’s partner had probably decided that he would take over the gold mine,’ Fidelma said. ‘The reason was that Muadnat was drawing too much attention to himself in arguing law with Archú. The mine was meant to be secret. More importantly, Muadnat had fallen out of favour with Eber.
‘Muadnat had been Eber’s tanist until a few weeks ago. He had been due to be chieftain when Eber died. But suddenly he found himself dispossessed. Eber had persuaded the
derbfhine
of his family to accept his daughter Crón as tanist instead of Muadnat.
derbfhine
of his family to accept his daughter Crón as tanist instead of Muadnat.
‘The raid on Bressal’s hostel, for example, was probably conducted without Muadnat’s knowledge. The raid was led by the man I later recognised as Menma. He had been told that Morna, Bressal’s brother, the miner who had discovered the mine, was being too free with his tongue. In fact, Morna had taken a rock to his brother, a rock which contained a gold trace, and told his brother that he would grow rich by it. It was not realised that Morna had not passed on any specific information. By chance we happened to be there and thwarted Menma’s attack.’
‘What happened to this miner named Morna?’ demanded Dubán. ‘Was he killed?’
‘He was, indeed. He had been captured, killed and was later left at Archú’s farm where, it was thought, he would simply be regarded as an outlaw killed in the raid. His relationship to Bressal was only obvious to me by the similarity of the features of the two brothers.’
‘Are you saying that Muadnat knew nothing about the raid of Bressal’s hostel and the slaughter of Bressal’s brother?’ asked Eadulf in surprise.
‘I do not see how this story of Muadnat’s gold mine relates to
the murder of my father,’ Crón insisted impatiently.
the murder of my father,’ Crón insisted impatiently.
Fidelma allowed herself to smile briefly.
‘I have but unravelled the first thread of the spider’s web. Muadnat’s death became inevitable because of two old human emotions – fear and greed. Menma killed him, of course. Menma slaughtered Muadnat as one might slaughter an animal. It was the same way he had slaughtered Morna. It was the cold professionalism that pointed to Menma. One of his tasks was to slaughter meat for his chieftain’s table. I am not sure whether it was his idea to have Muadnat hanged on the cross after the act. Presumably this was a method of distracting me. Menma made one mistake. Before dealing the death blow, Menma allowed Muadnat to grasp some strands of his hair and pull out a tuft by the roots. It was left at the scene.’
‘What would Menma get out of slaughtering his partner Muadnat?’ asked Father Gormán. ‘It does not make sense to me. Agdae would have inherited Muadnat’s wealth anyway.’
‘But, as we have heard, Agdae did not know about the mine and, as it was secret, the partner would continue to reap the benefits whether Agdae took over the farm or not.’
‘Are you claiming that Menma is responsible for all the deaths in Araglin?’ demanded Dubán. ‘I have difficulty following this.’
‘Menma was responsible only for the deaths of Morna, of Muadnat and of Dignait … for they were all slaughtered in the same manner. Menma killed his victims with the same professionalism of a slaughterman killing a lamb.’
‘But why was Dignait killed?’ asked Father Gormán.
‘A simple reason, and the same reason as Morna was killed,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It was to ensure her silence. Dignait did not prepare that dish of poisonous mushrooms which nearly killed Brother Eadulf. A professional cook would know there are better ways to poison someone than to present a dish of false morel which anyone would have recognised.’
‘The Saxon did not,’ Crón pointed out with a sceptical humour.
‘I know morel is usually blanched. I was a stranger in your land and thought this was your way of preparing the dish,’ Eadulf replied defensively, the colour rising to his cheeks. ‘That was why I was not on my guard against false morel.’
‘Dignait would have had a more effective way if she had meant to poison us. No. Dignait was killed for the simple reason that she had seen the real would-be assassin.’
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