Peter Tremayne - The Spider's Web

Fidelma accepted his reckoning without comment.

They had gone about half a mile when the hillside became a vast wooded vista, the trees moving over the summits of the hills, growing closely together. The track plunged straight into the woods but still kept its widely spaced borders along which a vehicle had apparently moved regularly. There were ruts caused by wheels easily discernible in the track.

‘We seem to be going on for ever,’ grumbled Eadulf in protest. ‘Perhaps we should return to the rath now for we cannot continue much further and expect to be able to return there before nightfall.’

‘Just a little bit further,’ cajoled Fidelma. ‘I think we may be coming to …’

She halted abruptly and signalled Eadulf to do likewise.

‘Let’s get our horses away from this track and proceed on foot,’she instructed. ‘I think there is something up ahead.’

Eadulf was about to protest again but decided to follow her orders. They dismounted and led the horses a short distance from the track but far enough into the forest so that anyone passing along it would not spot them. Then, with Fidelma leading, they began to make their way through the wood, keeping parallel to the track.

They had not gone far before they realised that they were coming to a clearing. A sudden banging sound made them both start. It took them a few moments to realise that it was the sound of someone chopping wood. They came to a cautious stop on the edge of the clearing.

It was a wide space set against the hillside, an area of windblown grasses with grey granite rocks thrusting up here and there. There was a group of horses in a small makeshift corral composed of a rope fence. Alongside these horses were a dozen asses, sturdy little pack animals. A wagon stood nearby. Close by the wagon was a fire on which a hank of meat was roasting with a sizzling, spluttering sound as the fat dropped onto the eager flames. A man, a stranger whom they did not recognise, was chopping wood. There were also a few other men about the area apparently engaged on various tasks. Fidelma examined them closely, frowning slightly.

She laid a land on Eadulf’s arm and pointed to the far side of the enclosure. There was another smaller enclosure in which a few cows stood patiently chewing the cud and ignoring the fate of their erstwhile companion who was about to provide the men with a meal.

A little way up on the hillside stood a small cave mouth, the entrance high enough to take a full grown man standing. Surrounding the cave was bare grey-blue granite. It was protected by an overhang, a green dome and grey granite forehead, jutting over the mouth of the cave.

It was in this clearing that the mysterious track ended. Of that there was no doubt. They had come to the lair of the cattle raiders.

Fidelma and Eadulf exchange a glance. Eadulf was clearly perplexed but Fidelma, observing some of the tools which lay placed against the wagon, was beginning to see a light. She was about to signal him to withdraw when there was a movement from the cave entrance.

A tall, burly man emerged, blinked in the light and yawned, stretching his arms skyward. He had a coarse red beard and long shoulder-length hair.

This time there was no mistaking the ugly features of Menma, the chief stableman at the rath of Araglin.

They had ridden back to the edge of the forest in silence. Fidelma’s brows were drawn together in concentrated thought. Eadulf did his best to fight down the numerous questions which kept tumbling into his mind. Finally, as they emerged out of the shade of the forest, he could keep silent no longer.

‘What do you think it means, Fidelma?’ he demanded at last.

‘If I knew that, then I might have the answer to this entire mystery,’ she replied impatiently. ‘However, at least we have discovered the lair of the men who have been raiding the farms of Araglin.’

‘Why would Menma and these outlaws be hiding in that cave? And why should Menma be associated with cattle raiders?’

For a moment Fidelma’s lips parted in a grin.

‘I do not think that they are cattle raiders neither are they are exactly hiding.’

‘What then?’ demanded Eadulf.

‘Didn’t you see the tools lying about in the glade?’

‘Tools? No. I was too busy watching the men. What tools?’

Fidelma sighed gently.

‘You must always remember that observation and the analysis of that observation is essential to the art of truth seeking. There were several tools by the wagon. They told me that the cave must undoubtedly be a mine.’

Eadulf was astonished.

‘A mine?’

‘It is not unusual to find mines in this country. Had we left Lios Mhór and travelled due west along the Abhainn Mór we wouldcome on a plain called Magh Méine, or the Plain of Minerals, where copper, lead and iron are mined.’

‘I seem to have heard of that place before.’

Fidelma looked at him pityingly.

‘The hostel keeper, Bressal, mentioned that he had a brother who was a miner at the Plain of Minerals,’ she said softly.

‘Of course. But what was Menma doing at this mine, if such it is?’

‘That we must discover for ourselves.’

‘And why would …’

‘It is no good asking questions to which we do not have sufficient evidence to even make a guess at answering.’

‘Perhaps we should have made our presence known and demanded an explanation,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘After all, you are an official of this kingdom.’

Fidelma smiled broadly.

‘Those men are up to no good. Do you think they care for my office?’

‘We might have been able to surprise them, disarm them …’

‘There is a line in Horace’s Odes, my good friend. Vis consili expers mole ruit sua .’

Eadulf nodded slowly: ‘Force without good sense falls by its own weight,’ he repeated.

She peered up at the summit of the hill above them, shading her eyes against the sun.

‘You said earlier that if we climbed across the summit we should find ourselves above Archú’s farmstead. Is that correct?’

Eadulf frowned at her abrupt change of subject.

‘It is,’ he agreed stiffly.

‘Do you want to see if you are right?’

Eadulf thought she was jesting with him. She was not.

‘But the slopes are far too precipitous for horses,’ he protested. ‘On foot we could climb the hill but …’

She pointed silently upwards.

Further along the hill Eadulf saw a movement. The red brown of an animal. He screwed up his eyes to focus. It was the sleek, muscular figure of a stag, herding his deer before him.

Fidelma grinned quickly.

‘Where a stag may lead his herd, there might a horse and rider go. Are you willing?’

Eadulf raised his arms in unwilling surrender.

‘There is something like a path just up ahead.’ Fidelma turned. ‘I think it is the deer run over the hill. Look!’

Eadulf could just see a worn strip of land, stretching through the fern and furze.

‘We cannot ride along that,’ he protested again.

‘No, but we can lead our horses,’ Fidelma assured him. She slid from her horse and took its bridle, picking her way carefully up the tiny animal-trodden path towards the shoulder of the rounded hill before them.

Eadulf groaned inwardly, then he, too, slipped from his horse and began to lead it after Fidelma. In truth, Eadulf had no liking for high, exposed places and so he kept his eyes closely on the path before him.

‘I cannot see why you wish to use this short cut to Archú’s place. We could have easily returned along the main track,’ he complained, more to keep his thoughts occupied as they ascended than with the desire to argue with Fidelma.