Peter Tremayne - The Spider's Web

Outside, she came face to face with Archú’s sweetheart, Scoth. The young girl’s face lightened as she recognised Fidelma and she caught at both the hands of the religieuse.

‘Oh, sister! I prayed that you would not have left here. We stand in great need of your help.’

Fidelma was sympathetic.

‘So I have heard. Is Archú here to answer the new charges?’

‘He has gone to find accommodation for us.’ Scoth was tense and unhappy.

Fidelma quietly took the girl by the arm and guided her towards the guests’ hostel.

The young girl gave a painful smile.

‘Muadnat is like a battle scavenging crow, waiting for the right moment to swoop on us. We felt that our only hope was if you were still at the rath.’

‘Well, I am here.’

‘Thank God! Had Muadnat been a more careful man he would have discovered this fact. But he was so greedy to seize possession of the land that he came racing to the rath little realising that he could have to face your judgment again.’

Fidelma shook her head.

‘He doesn’t face my judgment. It is Crón, your tanist and chieftain-elect, who sits in judgment here.’ Scoth looked aghast and halted in mid-stride, turning to Fidelma.

‘But you must sit in judgment. You cannot abandon Archú,’ she wailed. ‘Crón will look after her own!’

‘I have not abandoned anyone, Scoth. Am I to presume, from what you say, that Muadnat has invented this charge of animal trespass?’

‘No, he has not.’

It was Archú who spoke and Fidelma turned to find the young man standing behind her.

Fidelma digested his admission.

‘Then I am sorry to see you in this plight, Archú,’ she replied sadly.

‘But you can intervene and dismiss the charge,’ Scoth insisted, desperation in her voice.

‘Scoth!’ Archú was sharp. ‘Sister Fidelma is bound by oath to the courts.’

They were standing outside of the guests’ hostel and Fidelma gestured for them to precede her inside. Eadulf came forward and greeted them with an exclamation of astonishment. Fidelma explained to him the news before turning to Archú.

‘Tell me the truth. You say that Muadnat has not made up this charge against you? That his claim is true?’

Archú was flushed. He gestured helplessly.

‘He is too cunning to make up such a charge.’

Fidelma was silent in thought for a moment.

‘Then you realise what this means?’

Archú was bitter.

‘It means that Muadnat, my dear cousin, will reclaim what momentarily belonged to me. He will take back my mother’s farmstead. I will be landless once more.’

The proceedings were formal. Crón was wearing a long parti-coloured cloak of office over her dress of blue silk. It was fastened with an ornate gold brooch. Fidelma was amused to see that she wore doeskin gloves on her hands. Among many clans, it was the practice of chieftains to wear parti-coloured cloaks and gloves as badges of office when giving judgments. Fidelma noticed that Crón had been careful, in her dress, her toilet and her choice of perfume for the scent of lavender filled the air. Obviously, Crón took her role as chieftain-elect with seriousness.

Crón sat in her chair of office in the hall of assembly. Beside the ornately carved wooden chair a second chair had been placed on the dais for Fidelma. Dubán stood in front of the platform, slightly to one side, in his official capacity of commander of the guard, while those engaged in the litigation were seated on wooden benches which had been brought forward in front of the dais. Muadnat, with the dark, lean-faced companion who had been at Lios Mhór, were seated to the right while Archú and Scoth were seated to the left with Eadulf. Warriors of Dubán’s guard had taken up strategic positions at the rear of the hall. As she came into the hall, Fidelma noticed that Father Gormán was seated towards the back.

As soon as Fidelma had entered and taken her seat next to Crón, Muadnat recognised the religieuse. He was on his feet shouting. ‘I protest!’

Crón settled herself and regarded him impassively.

‘You protest already? About what?’

Muadnat was glaring at Fidelma and he raised a hand to point a finger at her.

‘I will not have that woman judging my case today.’

Crón’s lips thinned slightly.

‘That woman? To whom do you refer?’

Muadnat bit his tongue.

‘Fidelma of Kildare,’ he growled.

‘Sister Fidelma is here at my invitation and is a dalaigh of the courts of the five kingdoms, learned in law. Is there some reason why you object to her presence, Muadnat?’

Muadnat was still angry.

‘I object on grounds of … of …’ He fumbled for the right word. ‘On grounds of partiality. She has already shown herself in favour of the accused. She was judge over his claim to lands which belonged to me and gave them to him. I will not have her as my judge.’

‘Nor will she be,’ Crón replied softly. ‘I am judge in this case. Mine is the decision but Sister Fidelma sits to advise on law and she shall do so. Now proceed, Muadnat, with your case if you have one to make.’

Sister Fidelma leant towards Crón and whispered in her ear. Crón nodded grimly and added loudly to Muadnat: ‘I have taken into account your verbal insult on a Brehon. This is regarded with utmost seriousness and the offence requires the payment of your victim’s honour-price.’

Muadnat’s mouth dropped in consternation.

Crón paused to let him dwell on what she was saying. Then she continued: ‘As it appears that you have spoken merely in ignorance, Sister Fidelma is willing to forgo the payment. However, she cannot ignore the insult for to do so, according to law, makes her guilty of tolerating the insult and thus losing her honour-price. Some compensation therefore must be extracted from you. We will return to this matter after I,’ she paused for emphasis, ‘have heard the charges which you wish to bring before me for judgment.’

The big man hesitated, swaying a little as if he had been hit, and then, apparently accepting Crón’s ruling and pulling himselftogether, he stared sullenly in front of him.

‘Very well. The facts are simple and I have a witness to the facts — my chief herdsman and nephew, Agdae, who sits with me today.’

He turned and indicated his companion.

‘Tell us these facts,’ invited Crón.

There was a movement behind the dais and Cranat entered abruptly. She was dressed as opulently as ever. She frowned in annoyance as she saw Fidelma seated in what was doubtlessly considered her rightful place in the hall. She paused in mid-stride but before she could say anything her daughter spoke.

‘Mother, you did not tell me that you wished to attend this court?’ Crón was clearly annoyed at the interruption to the proceedings.

Cranat glanced to where Muadnat was standing. Did the burly farmer cast her a warning look and give a slight shake of his head? Fidelma could not be sure.

Cranat’s mouth drooped in disapproval.

‘I will sit and observe, daughter.’ She went to a quiet corner where there was an unoccupied bench and seated herself, head held high. She was obviously displeased and perplexed. She said audibly as she seated herself: ‘I did not have to seek such permission while Eber was alive.’

‘Sister Fidelma, as a dálaigh, is here to guide me in law only,’ Crón felt she had to explain to her mother before turning back to Muadnat. ‘Proceed. You were about to tell me the facts, Muadnat.’

‘Easy to tell. My farmland borders on the land now farmed by Archú.’

Fidelma sat expressionless, her sharp eyes watching Muadnat carefully. The big farmer seemed confident enough as he launched into his charges.