The Spider's Web

Chapter Five

When they had cleansed themselves of the dust of the morning’s travel and had eaten the midday meal, they returned to the hall of assembly and found Crón, who had been forewarned of their return, awaiting them. She had seated herself in her chair of office while seats had been arranged facing her below the dais.

Crón rose unwillingly as Fidelma and Eadulf entered. It was a small but reluctant token of respect due to the fact that Fidelma was the sister of the king of Cashel.

‘Are you refreshed now?’ queried Crón as she motioned them to the seats prepared for them.

‘We are,’ Fidelma replied, as she seated herself. She felt slightly irritated for she disliked being placed in a position where she had to look up to where Crón sat. Fidelma’s rank as a dálaigh, and the degree of anruth, allowed her to speak on a level with kings let alone petty chieftains; and even in the presence of the High King at Tara, she could sit on the same level when invited and converse freely. Fidelma jealously guarded the observances of such etiquette but only when others made a point of their position which overlooked her status. However, there was no way of asserting her correct standing at this moment without causing outright hostility, and she wanted to be able to collect the facts of the case. So she resigned herself to the situation.

Eadulf followed her example and sat in the chair next to her, raising his interested gaze to the young female tanist.

‘Now we may listen to the facts, as you know them, concerning the death of your father, Eber,’ Fidelma said, leaning back in her chair.

Crón settled herself a moment, inclining forward a little in her chair, hands folded together, and allowed her eyes to focus on some object in the middle distance, between Fidelma and Eadulf.

‘The facts are simple,’ she intoned as if the subject wearied her. ‘Móen killed my father.’

‘You were witness to this act?’ Fidelma prompted sharply after Crón made no attempt to amplify her statement.

Crón frowned in annoyance and glanced down at her.

‘Of course not. You called for the facts. I gave them to you.’

Fidelma allowed her lips to thin in a smile.

‘I think that it is best, and it serves the interests of justice, for you to tell me how this affair unfolded but from your own perspective only.’

‘I am not sure that I know what you mean.’

Fidelma disguised an expression of impatience.

‘At what point did you know that Eber had been slain?’

‘I was awakened in the night …’

‘Which was how many days ago?’

‘It was six nights ago. Just before sunrise if you want me to be precise.’

Fidelma ignored the sneer in the young woman’s voice.

‘It is in everyone’s interest in this matter to be as precise as one can,’ she replied with icy politeness. ‘Continue. Six nights ago you were awakened. By whom?’

Crón blinked as she picked up on the acid sweetness of the tone. It was clear that Fidelma was not going to be intimidated by her. She hesitated and then shrugged as if she conceded the skirmish of wills to Fidelma.

‘Very well. Six nights ago I was awakened shortly before sunrise. It was the commander of my father’s bodyguard, Duban, who woke me. He had …’

‘Merely confine yourself to what he actually told you,’ cut in Fidelma in sharp warning.

Crón’s voice came almost between clenched teeth. ‘He reportedthat something terrible had happened to Eber. He said that he had been slain by Móen.’

‘Were those the exact words he used?’ Eadulf could not resist posing the question.

Crón glanced at him with a frown and turned back to Fidelma without deigning to reply.

‘I asked him what had happened and he told me that Móen had stabbed my father to death and that he had been caught in the act.’

‘What did you do?’ Fidelma asked.

‘I rose and asked Duban what he had done about Móen. He told me that Móen had been restrained and taken to the stables where he has been kept ever since that night.’

‘And then?’

‘I asked Duban to fetch Teafa.’

‘Teafa? Your aunt? Why would you do that?’ Fidelma knew well that both Crón and Dignait had told her that Teafa had raised Móen from babyhood but she wanted to go over the story fact by fact.

‘I was told that Móen was raging and Teafa is … was the only person who could handle him.’

‘Because Teafa raised him?’ queried Fidelma.

‘Teafa has taken care of Móen since childhood.’

‘And how old is Móen now?’ demanded Eadulf.

Crón was about to ignore him again but Fidelma raised an eyebrow in query.

‘It is a valid question,’ she said pointedly.

‘Twenty-one years old.’

‘He is an adult, then?’ Fidelma was surprised. From the way Crón and Dignait had been speaking of him, it had sounded almost as if Móen was but a child. ‘Is he a difficult person?’ she hazarded.

‘That will be for you to judge,’ replied Crón sourly. Fidelma bowed her head and conceded the point.

‘That is true. So you felt that Teafa might be able to calm Móen? And what happened then?’

‘Dubán found …’ Crón hesitated and rephrased her response pointedly. ‘Dubán returned within a few minutes and told me that he had discovered Teafa’s body. She had also been stabbed to death. Móen had clearly killed her first before …’

Fidelma raised her hand to interrupt.

‘I am to be the judge of what happened. This is your speculation. We will proceed as the law tells us to.’

Crón sniffed in annoyance.

‘My so-called speculation is correct.’

‘That we shall eventually see. What happened after Teafa’s death was reported to you?’

‘I went to rouse my mother and tell her the news.’

‘Your mother?’ Fidelma leaned forward with interest. ‘Eber’s wife?’

‘Of course.’

‘I see. Then she did not know of the death of her husband at this time?’

‘I have said as much.’

‘But this event happened before sunrise. Where was your father found?’

‘In his bed chamber.’

Fidelma followed the logic grimly.

‘Then your mother was not with Eber?’

‘She was in her own bed chamber.’

‘I see,’ Fidelma said softly. She decided not to press the point. ‘And what happened after that?’

Crón shrugged almost indifferently.

‘Little more that bears relevance. Móen, as I have said, has been safely locked away. Without my knowledge, my mother sent a young warrior named Critan to Cashel to inform the king of the tragedy. She apparently thought a Brehon should be sent to investigate rather than let her daughter exercise the role of tanist. My mother did not want me to be tanist.’

Fidelma noted a slight bitterness in the girl’s voice.

‘Crítán returned two days ago to say that the king was sending someone. Thus we buried my father, as custom dictates, in our mound of chieftains. Teafa also. In accordance with the law I, as heir-elect, have taken charge. I could have dispensed justice as well without all these complications.’

‘That is not so, tanist.’ Fidelma’s voice was soft but firm. ‘You will not be chieftain until your derbfhine meets to confirm you in office and that is not for twenty-seven days after the death of the chieftain. A qualified Brehon needs to be the authority in such an investigation.’

The young tanist made no reply.

‘Well,’ Fidelma said at length, ‘the facts seem clear as you have presented them. Did Duban make the discovery of your father’s body himself?’

Crón shook her head.

‘It was Menma who heard his death cry and burst into my father’s chamber to discover Móen in the act of slaughter.’

‘Ah. Menma. And who is Menma?’ queried Fidelma, trying to remember where she had heard the name before.

‘He is the head of my father’s,’ Crón paused and corrected herself, ‘head of my stables.’

Fidelma remembered that Dignait had mentioned the name.

‘So far as your own knowledge is concerned,’ Fidelma continued after a moment, ‘the facts of this matter are clear and simple? You have not been troubled or mystified by them?’

‘There is no mystery. The facts are clear.’

‘What reason do you offer as to why Móen would kill both Eber and Teafa?’

The reply came without hesitation.

‘No logical motive. But then logic would not be part of Móen’s world.’ Her voice was bitter.

Fidelma tried to fathom her meaning.

‘As I understand it, Teafa had raised Móen from a baby. He had much to be grateful to her for. Are you saying logic did notplay any part in this deed? Then what do you ascribe the motive as, for surely there must be a motive?’

‘Who can tell what passes in the dark still mind of one such as Móen?’ replied the tanist.

For a moment, Fidelma wondered whether to press her for an explanation of her choice of words. She felt that she should not bias herself before she had spoken with Móen. However, there was one person to see before she spoke with Móen and that was the person who had discovered him in the act of killing Eber.

‘I will now speak with Menma,’ she announced.

‘I could save you trouble,’ replied Crón sharply, ‘for I know all the details of this matter as Menma and Duban told them to me.’

Fidelma smiled tightly.

‘That is not the way a dálaigh works. It is important that I gather the facts at first hand.’

‘What is of importance is that you pronounce the legal punishment that Móen must suffer. And pronounce it soon.’

‘So there is no doubt in your mind that Móen did this deed?’

‘If Menma says that he found Móen in the act of doing it, then he did so.’

‘I do not question it,’ Fidelma said, rising to her feet, with Eadulf following. Fidelma turned to the door.

‘What will you do with Móen?’ demanded Crón, nonplussed, for she was unused to people rising in her presence and leaving before she had formally dismissed them.

‘Do?’ Fidelma paused and gazed back at the tanist for a moment. ‘Nothing, as yet. Firstly, we must speak to all the witnesses and then hold a legal hearing, allowing Móen to make his defence.’

Crón startled them by letting out a peal of laughter. It sounded slightly hysterical.

Fidelma waited patiently for it to subside and then asked: ‘Perhaps you will tell us where we may find the man, Menma?’

‘At this hour you will find him at the stables just beyond theguests’ hostel,’ Crón replied, between giggles.

As they were about to leave the hall of assembly, Crón managed to control her amusement and called to stay them a moment more. She became serious.

‘It would be a wise course to give judgment in this matter as soon as possible. My father was well liked among his people. Kind and generous. There are many among my people who feel that the old laws of compensation are inadequate to cope with this crime and that the words of the new Faith, the creed of retribution, are more suited. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, burning for burning. If Móen is not dealt with swiftly by you, there may be willing hands to exact justice.’

‘Justice?’ Fidelma’s voice was icy as she spun to face the young tanist. ‘You mean mob vengeance? Well, as chieftain-elect of this clan … presuming that you are confirmed in office by your derbfhine … you may pass this word on from me — if anyone lays hands on Móen before he is tried and judged in accordance with the law, they will find themselves being judged in turn. I promise that, no matter what station they hold in life.’

Crón swallowed hard as she met the cold blast of anger from the religieuse.

Fidelma returned the gaze of the hostile blue eyes of the woman with equal coldness.

‘One more thing, I would like to know,’ she added. ‘Who has preached a creed of retribution in the name of the Faith?’

The tanist thrust out her chin.

‘I have already told you that we have only one person here who attends to the needs of the Faith.’

‘Father Gormán?’ offered Eadulf.

‘Father Gormán,’ confirmed Crón.

‘This Father Gormán seems out of step with the philosophy of the laws of the five kingdoms,’ Fidelma observed quietly. ‘And where is this gentle advocate of the Faith to be found? In his church?’

‘Father Gormán is visiting some outlying farmsteads. He will be back here tomorrow.’

‘I shall look forward to meeting with him,’ Fidelma replied grimly as she led the way from the hall.

It turned out that Menma was a heavy-set man who had ugly features and a bushy red beard. They found him sitting on a tree stump in front of the stable buildings, honing a billhook with a stone. He paused and looked up as they approached. His expression was one of cunning. He rose slowly to his feet.

Eadulf heard Fidelma give a sharp intake of breath and glanced at her in surprise. She was examining the fox-like features of Menma with curiosity. They came to a halt before him. Eadulf was aware of an awesome rancid smell. He gazed distastefully at the man’s dirty matted hair and beard and shifted his position slightly for the breeze seemed to blow the stench of the man against him.

Menma gave an occasional tug at his red beard as he stood before Fidelma.

‘Do you understand that I am an advocate of the law courts, charged by the king of Cashel to investigate the killing of Eber?’

Menma nodded slowly.

‘I have been told, sister. The news of your coming has quickly spread here.’

‘I am told that it was you who discovered the body of Eber?’

The man blinked.

‘It is so,’ he said after a moment’s reflection.

‘And what is your task at the rath of Araglin?’

‘I am head of the stables of the chieftain.’

‘Have you served the chieftain long?’

‘Crón will be the fourth chieftain of Araglin that I have served.’

‘Four? That is surely a long service.’

‘I was a young lad in the stables of Eoghan, whose life is remembered by the high cross which marks the clan lands on the road from the high mountains yonder.’

‘We have seen it,’ affirmed Eadulf.

‘Then there was Eoghan’s son, Erc, who died in battle against the Ui Fidgente,’ Menma continued as if he had not heard him. ‘And now Eber has passed to the Otherworld. So I am serving his daughter Crón.’

Fidelma waited a moment but there was no further response. She suppressed a sigh.

‘Tell me the circumstances of your finding Eber.’

For the first time the pale blue eyes of Menma seemed to focus with a slightly puzzled expression.

‘The circumstances, lady?’

Fidelma wondered if the man were slow-witted.

‘Yes,’ she said, trying to be patient. ‘Tell me when and how you discovered the body of Eber.’

‘When?’ The muscles in the broad face of the man creased the features. ‘It was the night when Eber was killed.’

Brother Eadulf turned aside to hide his amusement.

Fidelma gave an inward groan as she realised the type of person she was dealing with. Menma was slow-witted. Not a half-wit but merely someone whose thoughts moved laggardly and were ponderous. Or was he being so purposely?

‘And when was that, Menma?’ she coaxed.

‘Oh, that was six nights ago now.’

‘And the time? At what time did you find the body of Eber?’

‘It was before first light.’

‘What were you doing at the chieftain’s quarters before first light?’

Menma raised a huge, gnarled hand and ran his fingers through his hair.

‘It was my task to turn out the horses to pasture and oversee the milking of the cattle of Eber. It is also my task to slaughter the meat for the chieftain’s table. I rose and was making my way to the stables. As I walked by the chambers of Eber …’

Fidelma leant forward quickly.

‘Do I presume that to traverse the path from your cabin to the stables, you have to pass Eber’s apartments?’

Menma stared at her in surprise as if he failed to understand why she needed to ask the question.

‘Everyone knows that.’

Fidelma forced a small smile.

‘You will have to be patient with me, Menma, for I am a stranger here and do not know such things. Can you point out Eber’s apartment from here?’

‘Not from here but from there.’

Menma raised his billhook and indicated the position with the blade.

‘Show me.’

Reluctantly, Menma led the way from the stables around the back of the guests’ hostel, along the granite wall of the hall of assembly to a well-trodden path between the buildings. Eber’s apartments were apparently on the opposite side of the assembly hall to the guests’ hostel. He again indicated with the blade of his billhook. There were a series of wooden structures built around the hall of assembly, between the wall of the assembly hall and the stone building of the chapel. Menma indicated one of them.

‘That is Eber’s apartments. There is the door by which I entered but there is another which connects his rooms from the inside to the hall of assembly.’

‘And where is your cabin?’

He indicated with the billhook again. Fidelma acknowledged that one path for Menma to traverse to the stables would certainly lead him by the stone chapel, passing Eber’s apartment. She had not really suspected the accuracy of Menma but merely wanted to get the geography fixed firmly in her own mind.

‘Who does the milking here?’ she asked as they walked slowly back to the stables.

She wondered if Eadulf realised that it was unusual for a man to be involved in the milking. In most farming communities, peoplearose at sunrise and the first tasks of the day were for the head of the stables to let out the horses into the pasture and for the women to milk the cows. It was therefore strange that the keeper of the chieftain’s stables would oversee the milking as well as release the horses.

‘The women always do the milking,’ replied Menma, unperturbed.

‘So why did you have to supervise them?’

‘It has been so for the last few weeks,’ Menma frowned. ‘There has been some cattle stolen from the valley and Eber asked me to check his herd each morning.’

‘Is the theft of cattle an unusual occurrence? Were the thieves ever caught?’

Menma contemplated the question, rubbing his bushy chin thoughtfully.

‘It was the first time anyone had dared rob the clan of Araglin. We are an isolated community. Dubán searched for days but lost the track of the thieves in the high pasture.’

‘How so?’

‘There were too many animal tracks up there.’

Fidelma felt a twinge of frustration. Drawing information from Menma was like drawing teeth. ‘Continue. It was just before first light. You were on your way to oversee the milking of the cattle and were passing Eber’s cabin. What then?’

‘It was then I heard a moaning sound.’

‘Moaning?’

‘I thought Eber must be ill and so I called out to ask if he was in need of help.’

‘And what happened?’

‘Nothing. There was no reply and the moaning sound continued.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘I entered his apartments. I found him in the bed chamber.’

‘Was it Eber who was moaning?’

‘No, it was his killer, Móen.’

‘And you saw Eber’s body immediately?’

‘Not at first. I saw Móen kneeling by the bed, clutching a knife.’

‘You said it was before sunrise. Therefore it must have been dark. How could you see in the interior of Eber’s bed chamber?’

‘A lamp was lit. By its light I saw Móen clearly. He was crouching over the bed. I saw the knife in his hand.’

Menma paused and his features twisted in an expression of distaste as he remembered the scene.

‘By the light of the lamp I could see the knife had stains on it. I saw stains on the face and clothes of Móen. It was only when I saw the naked body of Eber, stretched across the bed, that I realised that the stains were blood.’

‘Did Móen say anything to you?’

Menma sniffed. ‘Say? What could he say?’

‘You accused him of killing Eber?’

‘The fact that he had done so was surely obvious? No, I went immediately in search of Duban.’

‘And where did you find Duban?’

‘I found him in the hall of assembly. He told me to continue my tasks, seeing to the horses and cattle, for animals cannot wait on the whims of men.’

‘Móen was left alone during this time?’

‘Of course.’

‘You did not think that he would run away?’

Menma seemed perplexed.

‘Run where?’

Fidelma pressed on.

‘What happened then?’

‘I was leading out the horses when Dubán and Crítán came to the stables with Móen.’

‘Crítán? Ah yes; I believe he is the warrior who rode to Cashel?’

‘He is one of Dubán’s warriors,’ Menma confirmed.

‘What then?’

‘They brought Móen to the stables where he was shackled byCritan. The stables have to serve as a prison for we do not have any other suitable place of confinement in Araglin.’

‘Móen offered no explanation nor defence about the killing? Did he even admit the killing?’

Menma looked bewildered.

‘How could he say anything? As I say, it was obvious to everyone what had happened.’

Fidelma exchanged a glance of surprise with Eadulf.

‘So what did Móen do? Did he resist imprisonment?’

‘He struggled and whimpered as Crítán shackled him. Dubán then went to rouse Crón to tell her the news.’

‘I see. And you have had no more contact with Móen since he has been locked away?’

Menma shrugged.

‘I see the creature when I go to the stables. But Critan attends to him. It is Crítán and Dubán who tend to him.’

Fidelma nodded thoughtfully.

‘Thank you, Menma. I may have need to ask further questions of you. But now I will speak with Dubán.’

Menma gestured to the stable entrance where they could see the middle-aged warrior who had greeted them on their arrival in conversation with a younger man.

‘There are Duban and Crítán.’

He made to leave but Fidelma stayed him.

‘One more thing. Do you usually rise before first light to attend to the horses?’

‘Always. Most people here are up at sunrise.’

‘Did you rise before first light this morning to attend to the horses?’

Menma frowned.

‘This morning?’

Fidelma tried to control her irritation.

‘Did you attend to the horses this morning?’ she repeated sharply.

‘I have told you, each morning before first light I attend to them.’

‘And what time did you go to bed last night?’

Menma shook his head as if trying to remember.

‘Late, I think.’

‘You think?’

‘I was drinking until late.’

‘Was anyone with you?’

The brawny man shook his head.

When he had gone she glanced at Eadulf who was staring at her, obviously perplexed.

‘What had Menma’s actions this morning to do with the murders of last week?’ he demanded.

‘Did you recognise him?’ Fidelma asked.

Eadulf frowned.

‘Recognise who? Menma?’

‘Yes, of course!’ Fidelma was irked at Eadulf’s slowness.

‘No. Should I have done so?’

‘I am positive that he was one of the men who attacked the hostel this morning.’

Eadulf gaped in astonishment. It was almost on the tip of his tongue to say ‘Are you sure?’ but he realised that it would merely bring forth an angry retort. Fidelma would not say she was positive, if she were not.

‘Then he was lying.’

‘Exactly so. I swear he was the same man. You will recall that the attackers rode close by us. I observed one of them with particularly ugly features and a bushy red beard. I do not think that he saw me to recognise me again. But it was Menma.’

‘It is not the only mystery here. Why is it that everyone is accepting Móen as guilty but making no effort to discover why he killed Eber and the woman Teafa?’

Fidelma gave him an approving nod at the aptness of the observation.

‘Let us go and see how Menma’s story accords with that of Móen.’

They walked across to the two warriors standing by the stable doors. The younger man, scarcely more than a youth, had dirty fair hair and rather coarse features, and was lounging against the door post. A round shield hung loosely from his shoulder and he wore a workmanlike sword at his left side. Both men had turned to watch Fidelma and Eadulf approach. The younger warrior did not shift his lounging attitude as he stared with unconcealed curiosity at Fidelma. Silence had fallen between them.

‘Are you truly the Brehon?’ The question was uttered by the youth. His voice sounded as if he suffered a perpetual sore throat. Fidelma did not reply but showed her disapproval of his greeting by turning her attention to the middle-aged warrior.

‘I am told that your name is Dubán and that you command the bodyguard of the chieftain?’

The burly warrior shifted uneasily.

‘That is so. This is Crítán, who is one of the guard. Crítán is …’

‘Champion of Araglin!’ The young man’s voice was boastful.

‘Champion? At what?’ Only Eadulf could tell that Fidelma was irritated by the pomposity of the youth as she acknowledged him.

Crítán was not deflated by her question.

‘You name it, sister. Sword, lance or bow. I was the one sent to Cashel to inform the king. I think he was impressed with me. I mean to join his bodyguard.’

‘And does the king of Cashel know of your great ambition?’ she asked. Fidelma’s expression did not alter. It was impossible to tell whether she was amused or angry at the youth’s impertinence. Eadulf decided that she was scornful of the boy.

Critan did not hear the irony in her voice.

‘I have not told him yet. But once he knows of my reputation, he will accept my services.’

Fidelma saw that Dubán looked uncomfortable at his subordinate’s bragging tones.

‘Dubán, a word with you.’ She drew him aside, ignoring the piqued expression on the youth’s face.

‘You realise that I am an advocate of the courts?’

‘I have heard as much,’ agreed the commander of the bodyguard. ‘The news of your coming is now common knowledge in the rath.’

‘Good. I now wish to see Móen.’

The warrior jerked a thumb across his shoulder to the closed stable door.

‘He is in there.’

‘So I am told. I will wish to question you on your part in discovering the body of Teafa but at this moment I shall deal with Móen. Has he said anything since you detained him?’

She was confounded by Dubán’s expression of confusion.

‘How could he do that?’

Fidelma was about to reply but decided it was better to see Móen before pressing any further.

‘Unlock the door,’ she instructed.

Dubán motioned to his boastful subordinate to do as she bid.

Inside, the stable was dark, dank and stale.

‘I’ll get a lamp,’ Dubán said apologetically. ‘We have no place to confine prisoners and so we turned out the horses which Eber kept here and put them in the pasture. This has been converted into a prison.’

Fidelma sniffed disapprovingly as she peered into the blackness.

‘Surely there must have been somewhere better to confine him? This place reeks enough without the added indignity of darkness. Why wasn’t a light left for the prisoner?’

The young warrior, Crítán, chuckled loudly behind her.

‘You have a wit, lady. That is rich!’

Dubán gruffly ordered the youth to return to his post outside and then shuffled into the darkness. Fidelma and Eadulf, as theireyes adjusted to the gloom, could see the shadowy outline of his figure bending over something, then they heard a sound as he struck a flint and a spark caught an oil wick which began to glimmer. The warrior turned with a lamp in his hand. He beckoned them further inside the cavernous stables and pointed to the far corner.

‘There he is! There is Móen the killer of Eber.’

Fidelma moved forward.

Dubán held up the lamp as high as he could in order to shed its light around the smelly interior. In the far corner was what seemed, at first, to be a bundle of clothes. Dirty, smelling rough homespuns. The bundle twitched and a chain rattled. Fidelma swallowed hard as she saw that the clothes were, in fact, the covering of a man who was shackled by the left foot to one of the support posts which held up the roof of the building. Then she saw a tousled head raise itself with a jerky motion, back towards her, and it seemed as if its owner was listening, the head slightly to one side. A strange whimpering sound came from it.

‘That is the creature, Móen,’ Dubán said hollowly at her shoulder.