The Spider's Web

Chapter Seven

Dubán escorted them out of Eber’s apartments and along the path behind the stables. The track twisted and turned beyond some store houses which stood next to a kiln for drying corn. They crossed a yard, with a well in it, towards a small wicker and wattle covered cabin.

‘Teafa had her own cabin,’ he explained as they walked, ‘away from the rest of the chieftain’s family.’

‘Did you say that she was never married?’ asked Eadulf.

‘I did,’ Dubán replied. ‘Why do you ask?’

Eadulf smiled knowingly.

‘It is surely unusual for the unmarried sister of a chieftain to live outside of the chieftain’s immediate circle of apartments?’

‘She still dwelt within the chieftain’s rath,’ explained Dubán, clearly unsure of the point Eadulf was making.

In the land of the South Folk, women were regarded as the property of the male head of the household until they married and only then would they be allowed outside of the confines of the house of the family. Eadulf suddenly realised that his view was not valid in the five kingdoms.

‘What Brother Eadulf means,’ interposed Fidelma, ‘is that Teafa’s cabin is a poor one on the outskirts of the rath when she might have been expected to dwell in more luxury within the interior of the chieftain’s apartment.’

Dubán grimaced indifferently.

‘It was her own preference. I recall that she made that decision just after she had adopted Móen.’

Teafa’s cabin appeared to be only a small construction but onceinside, Fidelma noticed that it was divided into three rooms. A large room in which Teafa and her charge had obviously cooked, eaten and used as a general living area. In most houses of this size it was called a tech immácallamae or ‘house of conversation’, a common gathering point for a family and their friends. Two doors gave access to bed chambers. It was obvious which room Móen had occupied for it had no window and the light from the open door revealed a simple mattress on the floor with no furniture.

Fidelma was about to turn back when something caught her eye behind the door of Móen’s bed chamber.

‘Is there a candle or lamp in here?’ she asked.

Dubán took up a flint and tinder from a side table and soon had a tall tallow candle spluttering.

Taking the candle, Fidelma entered the room which Móen had occupied, and turned to the area behind the door. To the untrained eye it seemed that there was a stack of firewood piled high there, bundle after bundle, bound with leather thongs.

‘Come here, Eadulf,’ Fidelma instructed. ‘What do you make of this?’

Eadulf moved forward. Dubán followed, peering over his shoulder, and saw the bundles of sticks.

‘An odd place to keep kindle for the fire,’ Dubán observed.

Eadulf had reached forward and picked up a bundle. The sticks were cut to uniform lengths of about eighteen inches. They were mainly of hazel and some were of yew. Eadulf was examining them closely and, at one point, he unbound a bundle to examine the lengths of stick. Finally he turned to Fidelma. He smiled knowingly.

‘It is not often you see such fine specimens outside of the great libraries.’

Dubán looked bewildered.

‘What does he mean, sister?’

Fidelma regarded Eadulf with the approval that a teacher reserves for a bright pupil.

‘He means that these pieces of kindle, as you call them, are in fact what are known as “Rods of the Poets”. They are old books. Look closely. You will see that they are notched in the ancient Ogam alphabet.’

Dubán examined them with intrigue. He clearly had no knowledge of the ancient form of writing.

‘Was Teafa a scholar then?’ asked Eadulf.

The warrior shook his head in bewilderment.

‘I don’t think she pretended to be but I believe that she was well versed in the arts and poetry. If so, she probably knew the old alphabet so it does not surprise me that she had these books here.’

‘Even so,’ Fidelma reflected, ‘I have not seen such a fine collection outside an abbey library.’

Eadulf carefully retied the bundle and replaced it with the others while Fidelma turned back into the main room. She crossed to the second sleeping chamber. Teafa’s room contained more ornaments and elaborate furnishing. There was an air of past opulence which a daughter of a chieftain and sister of a chieftain would doubtless assume. The candle now being unnecessary, Fidelma extinguished it with a swift breath. She turned to Dubán.

‘So once you had reported the death of Eber to Crón and she had asked you to fetch Teafa to pacify him, you came directly here?’

‘I did. I arrived at the door and found it was partially open.’

‘Open?’

‘It stood ajar just a fraction — enough for me to sense something was wrong.’

‘Why? Surely a door standing ajar is not a sign of anything being amiss?’

‘Teafa was fastidious about closing doors.’

‘To keep Móen in?’ Eadulf hazarded.

‘Not exactly. Móen was allowed to move about but, in order for him to be aware of the boundaries of where he was, doorswere always kept shut so that he did not pass through inadvertently.’

‘I see. Go on. The door was ajar.’

‘The place was in darkness. I called out to Teafa but there was no reply. So I pushed open the door and stood for a moment on the threshold. By then the dawn was coming up — it was that period of half light. From that I saw a bundle of clothes, or so I thought, on the floor. As I looked more closely I realised that it was a body. Teafa’s body.’

‘Show me where.’

Dubán pointed to a place before the hearth whose ashes now lay grey and chill. Fidelma had noticed the pungent smell of burnt wood immediately she had entered the cabin.

‘I looked around, found a candle and was able to light it. In fact, the very same candle we used just now. The body was that of Teafa. There was blood all over her clothes. She had been stabbed savagely in the chest, around the heart, several times.’

Fidelma bent down to the floor and could see dark stains that had been caused by blood. At the same time she observed a small burnt area on the floor close by and she realised that it was this that smelled more acerbically than the remains in the fireplace. Nearby this was a stain. It was not a blood stain. She placed a finger on the still damp area and sniffed. It was oil.

‘Was anything lying here?’ she asked.

‘A broken oil lamp,’ Dubán recalled after a pause for thought. ‘It has been tidied away, I think.’

‘Did you get the impression that Teafa had been holding it when she was struck down?’

‘I did not think much about it. But now that you mention it, it does seem likely that she was holding the lamp in her hand and dropped it when she was struck down. It must have fallen to the floor causing a small fire to start which, God be praised, did not spread and soon extinguished itself.’

Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at the burnt patch.

‘It would have been fierce enough to have burnt this entire cabin had it not been extinguished. And there is still unburnt oil here.’ She held out her finger with the tell-tale oil stain on the tip. ‘What could have caused it to be quenched?’

‘Well, it was out when I arrived here,’ Dubán shrugged.

Fidelma was about to rise when she saw a piece of unburnt stick in the fireplace. There was nothing extraordinary about it apart from a few notchings. It was about three inches long and was a piece of hazel. She picked it out of the ashes and examined it carefully.

‘What is it?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘An Ogam wand which has nearly burnt away completely.’

Something had prevented this piece of the hazel from burning, perhaps the way it had fallen from the fire. A few letters remained which made no sense at all. Between the burnt ends she could make out ‘ … er wants …’ But that was all. Why would Teafa wish to destroy this particular wand? Thoughtfully, Fidelma placed the piece of hazel in her marsupium and stood up.

Fidelma gave a final glance around the cabin. As with Eber’s rooms, it was tidy. There was nothing left in any real disorder. It was obvious that robbery was not a motive here.

‘Dubán, you indicated that Eber’s wife was not well disposed to Teafa. Did Teafa have a close relationship with her brother?’

‘To Eber?’ Dubán was evasive. ‘She was his sister and we all live in this small community.’

‘There was no animosity, no friction, as you claim with Eber’s wife, Cranat?’

Dubán spread his hands as if he had decided to give in to a greater force.

‘There was … I cannot explain it very well … a distance between brother and sister. I have a sister of whom I am fond. And even though she is married and with children, I eat often with her family and take her children hunting. Teafa never had a warm relationship with Eber. It might well be that there was someanimosity over her adoption of Móen but I could not speak authoritatively.’

‘I think that it is time that I spoke with this lady, Cranat,’ Fidelma murmured.

‘How about the relationship between Teafa and Eber’s daughter Crón?’ interrupted Eadulf.

‘They were polite and there were no harsh words between them. That is about all.’

‘Incidentally, how was Móen generally treated in this community?’ pressed Fidelma.

‘Most people treated him with tolerance; with pity. They had known him since the time Teafa brought him to the community. The lady Teafa was very respected by the people. Eber had time for the boy. But not so Cranat, who refused to have the boy near her. Also Father Gormán forbade the boy to enter his chapel. Crón seemed indifferent to him.’

‘In a Saxon community, he would have been killed at birth.’ Eadulf was unable to stop the comment which sprang to his lips.

Fidelma drew her brows together.

‘A fine Christian attitude to take, no doubt?’

Eadulf flushed and Fidelma felt a pang of regret for the sharpness of her tongue for she had no doubt that Eadulf would have no part in such attitudes.

‘People who have physical disabilities may be ineligible for office, may not be king or chieftain, but they are members of the community,’ Fidelma explained patiently to Eadulf. ‘All other rights are theirs to enjoy, only the person’s legal capacity or responsibility is changed depending on their disability. For example, an epileptic is legally competent if they are of sound mind. But a person who is deaf and dumb cannot be subjected to distraint — the plaintiff must take action against their guardian in law.’

‘So Móen was not subjected to any inferior position?’ Eadulf observed wonderingly.

‘Not at all,’ replied Fidelma. ‘I have already told you that if hewere, then Teafa could have taken action under the law, for a heavy fine is levied on anyone who mocks or denigrates the disability of a person be he epileptic, a leper, lame or blind or one who is deaf and dumb.’

‘It appears that I have now learnt some law of the five kingdoms,’ Eadulf said penitently.

‘These are not the laws that our Father Gormán would have us follow,’ observed Dubán impassively.

Fidelma turned to him with interest.

‘Perhaps you would explain that?’

‘Father Gormán preaches the rules of Rome in his church. What he calls the Penitentials.’

Fidelma knew that many of the new ideas from Rome were entering the five kingdoms and some pro-Roman clerics were even attempting to make these new philosophies part of the laws of the kingdoms. A new system of Roman ecclesiastical law was springing up alongside the native civil and criminal laws.

She remembered the comment of Abbot Cathal of Lios Mhór. Father Gormán was a strong advocate of Roman customs and had even built another chapel at Ard Mór from money raised by the supporters of the pro-Roman camp. The conflict among the clerics of the churches in the five kingdoms was becoming bitter. The Council of Witebia, in Oswy’s kingdom, where she had first met Eadulf two years ago, had only been a means of making the differences deeper. Oswy had asked the council to debate the differences between the ideas of the church of Rome and those of the churches of the five kingdoms. In spite of the fine arguments, Oswy had decided in favour of Rome which had given support to those clerics in the five kingdoms who wanted to see Rome’s authority established there. It was well known that Ultan, the archbishop of Ard Macha, Primate of all five kingdoms, favoured Rome. But not everyone accepted Ultán’s authority anyway. There were factions and cliques each arguing for their interpretation of the new Faith.

‘And are you saying that Father Gormán disapproved of Teafa’s care of Móen?’

‘Yes.’

‘You said that you thought Teafa was able to communicate with Móen. Could anyone else communicate with him?’

Dubán shook his head.

‘No one else, as far as I know, seemed to have any contact with him at all. Just Teafa.’

‘So how was Teafa able to make contact with him?’

‘Truly, that I do not know.’

‘It is a small community, as you say. Surely someone must know what means she used?’

Dubán raised his shoulder and let it fall in an explicit gesture.

A thought then occurred to Fidelma, one she cursed herself for not having thought of before. The idea made her feel cold.

‘Are you telling me that Móen does not know what he is supposed to have done, or why he is being held?’

Dubán stared at her for a few seconds and then chuckled sourly.

‘Of course he must realise that. He had just killed Teafa and Eber. Why else would he think he was taken and shackled?’

‘If, indeed, he had killed Teafa and Eber,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But what if he had not? He would not know why or who constrained him. If you cannot communicate with him, how could he know what he is supposed to have done? Has he made efforts to communicate with you?’

Dubán was still smiling, not taking her seriously.

‘I suppose he has tried, in his animal-like way, that is.’

‘What way is that?’

‘He keeps trying to seize our hands and making gestures with his hands as if to attract attention. But surely he knows only Teafa could understand him.’

‘Exactly,’ Fidelma said grimly. ‘Has it not occurred to you that Móen might think that Teafa is still alive and is trying to get someone to fetch her so that he can communicate?’

Dubán shook his head.

‘He killed Teafa, whatever you may claim, sister.’

‘Dubán, you are a stubborn man.’

‘And you appear to be equally as stubborn.’

‘Why don’t we see if we can communicate with this creature?’ Eadulf suggested as a compromise.

‘A good suggestion, Eadulf,’ agreed Fidelma, turning to lead the way from Teafa’s cabin.

Móen was still shackled in the stables but there was a distinct difference. One stall of the stable had been cleaned out. A straw palliasse was laid in a corner and nearby was a jug of water and a commode. Seated cross-legged on the palliasse, though still shackled by one ankle, was Móen.

Fidelma could see at once that her instructions had been carried out. He had been washed. His hair and beard had been cut and combed. Only his white staring eyes, the tilt of his head, marked him out as in any way exceptional from anyone else. In fact, Fidelma reflected sadly, the young man was quite handsome.

As they entered, his nostrils quivered slightly. He turned his head in their direction and it was almost impossible to believe that he could not see them.

‘Now,’ Dubán asked cynically, ‘how are you going to try to communicate with him, sister?’

Fidelma ignored him.

She motioned Eadulf to stay back and moved towards the young man and halted before him.

He started back nervously and once more raised a hand to protect his head.

Fidelma turned and scowled towards Dubán.

‘This tells me much about how this unfortunate has been treated.’

Dubán flushed.

‘Not by me!’ he replied. ‘But remember that this creature has killed — twice!’

‘There is still no excuse for beating him. Would you beat a dumb animal?’

She turned back to Móen and reached forward with her hand, taking the one he was holding above his head and gently pushing it to one side.

The effect was electric. An eager expression came on the creature’s face. His nostrils flared and he seemed to be catching Fidelma’s scent.

Fidelma carefully seated herself alongside Móen.

Dubán started forward, his hand on his sword.

‘I cannot allow this …’ he protested.

Eadulf reached forward and held Dubán back. He had a strong grip and it surprised Dubán.

‘Wait,’ Eadulf instructed gently.

Móen had reached forward with his hand and his fingertips touched Fidelma’s face inquiringly. Fidelma sat quietly and allowed Móen to trace her features. Then she held up her crucifix and placed it in his hand. He suddenly smiled eagerly and began to nod.

‘He understands,’ she explained to them. ‘He understands that I am a religieuse.’

Dubán snorted derisively.

‘Any animal can understand kindness.’

Móen had reached forward and taken Fidelma’s hands. She frowned.

‘What is he doing?’ asked Eadulf.

‘He seems to be tapping on my hand, or drawing some symbols …’ muttered Fidelma, frowning. ‘Strange, I think they must mean something. But what?’

With a quick sigh of exasperation, she took Móen’s hand and traced some words in bold Latin characters upon it.

‘I am Fidelma,’ she pronounced as she traced the characters.

Móen was frowning as he felt her touch.

He gave a grunt, shook his head, seized her hand again andcontinued his curious tapping, stroking motion.

‘This obviously means something,’ Fidelma said in frustration. ‘This must be the way Teafa communicated with him. But what does it mean?’

‘Maybe it is some code that only Teafa and Móen knew between them,’ Eadulf hazarded.

‘Perhaps.’

Fidelma halted the rapid movement of Móen’s fingers on her hand.

Móen seemed to understand that she could not fathom his means of communication and he dropped his hands to his lap and his face twisted into a mask of misery. He gave a long, deep sigh, almost of despair.

Fidelma felt suddenly overcome with sadness for him and reached out her hand and touched his cheek. It was wet. She realised that tears were coursing down by the sides of his nose.

‘I wish I could tell you how much I understand your disappointment, Móen,’ she said softly. ‘I wish we could speak so that I might learn what has happened here.’

She gripped his hand and pressed it.

Móen seemed to incline his head as if in acceptance of the communication of emotion.

Fidelma rose carefully and moved back to Eadulf and Dubán.

The middle-aged warrior was gazing in thoughtful wonder at the quietly seated figure of the unfortunate.

‘Well, I have seen Teafa calm him but never anyone else.’

Fidelma moved away from the stall, with Eadulf and Dubán following.

‘Perhaps that is because no one else treats him like a human being,’ she observed, fighting down her anger that a sentient being could be treated so badly.

At the door of the stables they encountered the young warrior, Critan.

The boastful youth with the dirty-coloured fair hair smirked at them.

‘You could present him at the palace of Cashel now, couldn’t you?’ he said, indicating Móen.

Fidelma eyed the young warrior disfavourably. She did not deign to reply.

As she left the stable the youth added derisively: ‘Well, at least the creature will look clean and nice when he is hanged.’

Fidelma wheeled round in fury.

‘Hanged? Who said, even if he were guilty, that he should be punished by hanging?’

‘Father Gormán, of course.’ The young man was unabashed. ‘He says we should take a life for a life.’

Fidelma looked grim.

‘Indeed, as Plautus told us, in his Asinaria — lupus est homo homini!’

Critan screwed up his face.

‘I have no Latin or Greek learning.’

‘Accepting your belief in the philosophy of mere vengeance, are you so sure that it is Móen’s life that should be forfeit?’

For a moment it appeared that Critan did not fully understand what she meant and then he smiled easily.

‘I know Móen was the killer, there is no doubt.’

‘No doubt? How can you be so sure?’

‘Because I saw him.’

Fidelma blinked, feeling as if someone had dealt her an unexpected blow. Eadulf leaned forward quickly.

‘Are you saying that you actually saw him kill Eber?’ he demanded.

Crítán grinned knowingly.

‘Not actually saw him,’ he confessed, tapping the side of his nose with a forefinger, ‘but as good as.’

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ snapped Fidelma. ‘You can only say something is certain if you witnessed it.’

Critan was boastful again now that he had her full attention.

‘I witnessed Móen enter Eber’s apartments.’

Fidelma allowed her eyes to widen fractionally in surprise. Neither Menma nor Dubán had referred to the fact that Critan had been in the vicinity of Eber’s apartments before the discovery of the body.

‘You will have to explain a little more,’ she said tersely. ‘When did you see Móen enter Eber’s apartments?’

‘It was the morning when Menma discovered them. About half an hour before I went to relieve Dubán on guard duty.’

Fidelma shot a quick glance of interrogation at Dubán. The senior warrior was clearly bewildered. He was apparently hearing this story for the first time.

‘What were you doing abroad so early?’ Fidelma asked softly. The young man seemed to hesitate and she continued: ‘You must explain if you are to be accepted as a credible witness.’

‘If you must know,’ Crítán’s face reddened and his tone was defensive, ‘I had spent the night at a certain place …’

‘A certain place?’

Dubán suddenly guffawed lewdly.

‘I’ll wager that he means Clídna’s brothel. It is a few miles along the river from here.’

Crítán’s mortified face confirmed the fact.

‘I was to return to the rath before sunrise and had just reached the entrance to the hall of assembly. I saw Dubán sprawled on a bench just inside. He was fast asleep.’ Dubán’s face reddened but he said nothing. ‘Then I saw that creature sneaking along in the shadows. He did not know that I was there, of course.’

‘Was Móen alone?’

Critan grimaced.

‘Yes. It is well known that he was able to move freely, blind, deaf and dumb as he was. He seemed to have an uncanny instinct at knowing how to move from one house to another.’

‘I see. So he was alone?’

‘He was,’ confirmed the youth.

‘And you saw him enter Eber’s house?’

‘I did.’

‘How?’

Critan blinked rapidly. ‘How?’ he echoed the question as if he did not understand it.

‘You said that you were at the entrance of the hall of assembly. To see Eber’s door you would have had to move some twenty to thirty feet even to see it in the light let alone the darkness.’

‘Oh. When I saw him sneaking along I wondered what he was up to. So I waited until he had gone by me and then I followed him.’

‘And you saw him enter Eber’s apartments? How did he enter?’

‘Through the door.’ The youth was ingenuous.

‘I meant, did he do so with stealth, or did he knock on the door or otherwise attempt to announce his presence? How?’

‘Oh, with stealth, naturally. It was still dark.’

‘And you saw Móen enter in the darkness. You have good eyesight. What did you do then?’

‘I was intent on returning to the warrior’s lodge to wash before relieving Dubán,’ grinned Critan. ‘I continued on my way. I did not wish to get involved so said nothing when Teafa …’

He suddenly paused. A look of uncertainty came into his eyes.

‘When Teafa …?’ prompted Fidelma. ‘When Teafa … what?’

‘I had returned by the hall of assembly, beyond the stables towards the warriors’ hostel, which lies just by the mill house. Teafa’s cabin is nearby. As I was passing, she came out with lamp in hand. She was searching for Móen. At first I thought that she was looking for firewood for she had bent down to pick up a stick by her door. Then she saw me and asked if I had seen Móen.’

Fidelma was looking thoughtful.

‘Did you tell her where he was to be found?’

‘Not I. I did not want to get involved in hunting for the creature. I told her that I had not seen him and passed on. I washed, changedmy clothes and then went in search of Dubán. When I found him, he told me what had happened.’ Critan smiled triumphantly at the end of his narrative. ‘So there you are. It is clear that Móen killed Eber and Teafa.’

Eadulf nodded reflectively.

‘It does seem conclusive,’ he acknowledged, glancing at Fidelma.

‘Just let me make sure that I have this clear,’ she said. ‘You saw Móen enter Eber’s apartments. They were in darkness. It was before sunrise. How were you able to see Móen enter?’

‘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.’