Peter Tremayne - The Spider's Web

‘So, as far as you know, Dignait prepared the breakfast?’

‘Yes. You frightened me, sister, what is wrong?’

‘Do you recall what the meal consisted of?’

‘The meal?’ She was surprised at such a question. ‘Did you not eat it?’

Fidelma grimaced a little bitterly.

‘What did it consist of?’ she repeated.

‘Colds meats, bread, oh and some mushrooms and apples and a jug of mead.’

‘The mushrooms were poisonous. They were false morel.’

The girl paled. There was shock in her features but no sign of guilt.

‘I did not know,’ she gasped in horror.

‘Where is Dignait?’

‘She is not here. I think she went to her room after breakfast. Shall I show you where her cabin is?’

The girl turned and scurried fearfully before Fidelma, leading her from the hall of assembly, through some more buildings to a ramshackle cabin of wood.

‘This is where she dwells.’

Fidelma called through the door.

There was no answer.

She hesitated a moment before trying the handle. The latch lifted easily and she pushed into the single-roomed building. She was surprised at the shambles which met her eye. Bedding and items of clothing were strewn here and there among personal possessions.

Grella exclaimed in amazement as she peered over Fidelma’s shoulder.

Fidelma stood on the threshold and peered around with keen eyes. Someone had been looking for something. Was it Dignait who had made the untidy search of her own chamber? Or was it someone else? If so, where was Dignait? Her eyes dropped to a table. They narrowed suddenly. There was a thin smear of red across the edge of the table. Fidelma did not have to examine further to realise that it was blood.

There was little else that could be learnt from Dignait’s deserted room.

She turned to where Grella was standing, open-mouthed with agitation.

‘You’d best get back to your work, Grella. When you have finished I want you to go and stay with the Saxon brother. He may need your help. He has eaten some of the poisonous morel.’

The girl let out a soft exclamation and genuflected.

‘He is already taking a purge,’ explained Fidelma, ‘but he might need someone to help him later. I must be in search of Dignait and do not want him left alone. When you have finished your work here, go and stay at the hostel and watch him carefully. Do you understand?’

Grella signalled her compliance with a jerk of her head and scurried away.

Fidelma closed the door of Dignait’s chamber and made her way back to the hostel.

Eadulf was sitting with a pale face, still drinking water.

She glanced at him with an unarticulated question. He nodded slowly.

‘How do you feel?’ she asked softly.

Eadulf shrugged ruefully.

‘Ask me that in a few hours’ time. That will be when the poison takes effect if it is going to. I hope I have vomited most of it out. You never can tell.’

‘Dignait is missing. Her room is in disorder and there is a stain of blood on her table.’

Eadulf’s eyes widened.

‘You think that Dignait …?’

‘She is a logical person to question as it was she who apparently prepared the food and told Grella to bring it to us. I have asked the young girl to keep an eye on you while I am away.’

‘I am coming with you to find Dignait,’ Eadulf protested. Fidelma gazed at him almost tenderly and shook her head firmly.

‘My friend, you must sit and continue to purge yourself. I will go to find out what I can.’

Eadulf began to object but observing the steely glint of fire in Fidelma’s eyes thought better of it.

Fidelma found Crón in the hall of assembly looking morose. She straightened up a little as Fidelma approached her.

‘Is it true?’ she demanded. ‘I have just spoken with Grella.’

‘True enough,’ replied Fidelma. ‘Do you have any idea where Dignait might have gone?’

Crón shook her head.

‘I saw her earlier today. Grella says that you have already searched her apartment?’

‘She seems to have disappeared. Her chamber is deserted and in disarray and there is a smear of blood on the table there.’

‘I do not know what to advise. She must be somewhere within the rath. I will ask that a search be made immediately.’

‘Where is your mother, Cranat? I am told she knows Dignait better than anyone and she was speaking with her earlier this morning.’

‘My mother has gone for her usual morning ride in the company of Father Gormán.’

‘Let me know when she returns.’

Fidelma’s next stop was at the cabin of Teafa.

Gadra opened the door, saw Fidelma’s worried expression and silently stood aside so that she might enter.

‘You are abroad early, Fidelma, and bear an expression of ill-favour on your face.’

‘How is your charge?’

‘Móen? He is still asleep. We were late to bed for we were discussing matters of theology.’

‘Discussing theology?’ She was startled.

‘Móen has a profound grasp of theology,’ Gadra assured her. ‘We were also discussing what might be his future.’

‘I suspect that he does not want to stay here?’

Gadra chuckled cynically.

‘After all that has happened?’

‘I suppose not,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But what will he do?’

‘I have suggested to him that he might like to find sanctuary from the evils of the world in a religious cloister — perhaps at Lios Mhór. He needs the order that a life among the religious can give him and many will be able to communicate with him there for, as you yourself have shown, a knowledge of the ancient Ogam can quickly be adapted to a method of communication.’

‘It sounds a reasonable idea,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But one that hardly fits in with your philosophy.’

‘My world is dying. I have already admitted this. Móen needs to be part of the new world, not the old.’ Gadra suddenly frowned. ‘But I can see that you are preoccupied. You did not come here to talk of Móen. Has anything else happened?’

‘I fear for the life of my companion, Eadulf,’ Fidelma said curtly. ‘Someone tried to poison him and myself this morning.’

Gadra’s face registered shock.

‘Tried? How so?’

‘Poisonous mushrooms.’

‘Most people can easily recognise the poisonous varieties.’

‘Agreed. But false morel can easily pass as morel.’

‘But it is only in a raw state that it is highly toxic. As morel is never eaten raw there is little chance …’

‘It was the fact that the miotóg bhuí, the morel, was raw that made me glance at it twice. I did not touch it but, unfortunately, Brother Eadulf had already begun to eat the noxious fungus before I recognised it.’

Gadra looked serious.

‘He should be purged immediately.’

‘He has vomited and I have made him drink as much water as he can to increase the vomiting.’

‘Is it known who is responsible for this attempt to poison you?’

‘It seems likely that it is Dignait. But Dignait does not appear to be in the rath. She has disappeared. Her room is in uproar and there is blood on her table.’

Gadra raised his eyebrows in concern.

‘It will be your duty to ask a question of me. I shall answer it now: neither I nor Móen have left this dwelling this morning.’

Fidelma grimaced.

‘I did not suspect that you had.’

Gadra turned aside to his sacculus. The bag lay on the table. He drew out a small bottle.

‘I carry my medicines about with me. This is an infusion which is a mixture of ground ivy and wormwood. Tell our Saxon friend to drink it all down mixed in a little water, the stronger potion he can drink, the better it will be. It will help him in ridding his stomach of the poison.’