Peter Tremayne - The Spider's Web

‘A brothel? Yes, so I have been told.’

‘Those of your calling do not usually come to visit a woman of secrets, such as myself, unless they wish to attempt to convert us to a new path in life.’

Fidelma grinned at the euphemism ‘woman of secrets’ as aterm for a prostitute, though it was widely used within the five kingdoms. It suddenly seemed appropriate for her.

‘Dux femina facti,’ she said the phrase aloud. ‘A woman was the leader in the deed. It is because you hold so many secrets that I have come to you, Clídna.’

The prostitute looked puzzled a moment but gestured towards the cabin.

‘Will it offend you if I ask you to come inside and partake of some hospitality?’

‘It will not.’

‘Then enter my house, sister, and let me offer you something to drink. Alas, my means are modest so I do not have grand wines or sweet meads to offer.’

She turned and led the way into the cabin and, once inside, indicated a seat for Fidelma while she turned to where a pot was simmering over a wood fire.

‘I have just prepared this woodsman’s tea,’ Clídna told her. ‘I think you might like it. It is plain and simple.’

‘How do you prepare it?’ asked Fidelma, sniffing the aroma. It had an odour of the forests about it.

‘Easy to say,’ smiled the woman. ‘I tap a birch and drain off a quantity of the sap. Then I heat the sap infusing it with pine needles. When it is heated, I strain the mixture through sedge leaves.’

She handed Fidelma an earthenware mug.

Fidelma sipped cautiously. There was an unusual tang to the taste but it was not unpleasant.

‘It is very good,’ she pronounced after she had taken another sip.

‘Not compared with the beverages you drink in the palace of Cashel, I’ll be bound?’

Fidelma raised an eyebrow.

‘So you know who I am?’

‘I am a woman of secrets.’ There was humour in Clídna’s eyes.‘Where else do whispers and rumours come to rest but in the ears of such as I?’

‘Will you tell me of yourself? How did you come to follow this calling?’

‘I was the daughter of hostages. My parents were of the Ui Fidgente, taken prisoner after the battle of the Ford of Apples where Dicuil son of Fergus was slain by the men of Cashel.’

Fidelma knew that hostages had no rights in society and were made to work until ransom was paid or the next generation were freed automatically.

Clídna seemed to read her mind.

‘I was born before my parents were captured. Therefore I was not a free woman. I had no rights within the clan and this is why I am as you see me now. A woman of secrets. Without honour-price, without status, without bride-price. Without property.’

‘Who owns your cabin then?’

‘It is on the land of Agdae.’

‘Ah. Agdae of the Black Marsh?’

Clídna smiled briefly.

‘I pay him rent, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘I am not ashamed of my life.’

‘Did I imply that you should be?’

‘Usually those of your calling, Father Gormán for example, would have me scourged and driven out of this land.’

‘Father Gormán is extreme in his views.’

Clídna looked at Fidelma with some surprise.

‘You cannot tell me that you approve of me?’

‘Approve of you, or approve of the profession you have undertaken?’

‘Are they separate?’

‘It depends on the individual. My mentor, Morann of Tara, told me never to measure another person’s coat on my own body.’ Fidelma paused. ‘However, I have not come to discuss the mannerof your life, Clídna. I came because I would be glad if you could assist me with information.’

The woman shrugged.

‘There is little in this place that I do not know.’

‘Just so. Dux femina facti! You might well have heard secrets whispered on the air.’

‘But not the secret you wish to uncover. There are too many people who disliked Eber. Enough to wish his health would fail. I am not sure how many would go so far as to undertake the task of killing him.’

‘Perhaps Agdae has sufficient motive, for example?’

Clídna shook her head quickly, a flush on her cheeks.

‘Anyway, he was at Lios Mhór at the time Eber was killed. You must know that,’ she said, her cheeks colouring.

Fidelma knew this fact well enough but something prompted her to test Clídna because of the tone of voice she had used when referring to Agdae as her landlord. Fidelma felt that her tone expressed something more than a professional relationship.

‘He would not be capable of hiring someone else to do the deed?’

‘He is not like that. He is a man of impetuous temper and was often led astray by his loyalty to his cousin, Muadnat. But he is not a violent man.’

‘Yet, perhaps, even as we speak, Agdae is out trying to devise a way of killing young Archú. That is what he is reported to have threatened.’

Clídna threw back her head and laughed.

‘Then you are not well informed!’

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in query.

‘Are you so certain?’

Clídna rose, still smiling, and went to a door at the back of the cabin. It opened into another room which was in darkness. She motioned Fidelma to come forward. Warily, she did so. Clídna gestured for her to look into its gloomy depths, placing her finger against her lips.

A strong smell of stale alcohol wafted out of the room, which was obviously a sleeping chamber. She heard a raucous snoring sound and saw a figure stretched out on a small wooden cot.

Clídna moved silently across the floor and pulled back a wooden shutter to allow some strong light to flood the room. There was a slight moan from the figure. Fidelma peered forward. She had no trouble recognising Agdae’s features. After a moment, Clídna pulled back the shutter and led Fidelma from the room.

‘He has been here since the death of Muadnat and scarcely sober since that time,’ Clídna explained. ‘The death of his cousin has affected him. He is not capable of violence. That I know.’

Fidelma sat down again, sipping her beverage thoughtfully.

‘Did Eber ever come here?’

Clídna laughed and shook her head as she returned to her seat. Laughter seemed to come easily to her.

‘I was not to his taste for I was not a young girl neither was I related to him,’ she replied. ‘No, he had other outlets.’

‘You said many people hated him?’

‘He was to the people of Araglin like a raven to a bone,’ reflected Clídna.

‘Why was this reputation for kindliness and generosity, for gentleness and courteousness, spread about?’

‘Because Eber sought power in the king of Cashel’s assembly. He claimed to be a friend of everyone in order to enhance his reputation to win a seat in the assembly.’

‘Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you,’ muttered Fidelma. She smiled at the disconcerted woman. ‘It comes from the Gospel of the Blessed Luke. In other words, as Aristotle wrote, a man who claims many friends, has no friends. Tell me about the people who disliked him.’

‘Where should I begin?’ Clídna asked sceptically.

‘Start within his own family circle?’

‘A good enough place,’ she agreed. ‘Everyone in it hated him.’

‘Everyone?’ Fidelma leant forward with interest. ‘Then let us be more specific. What of his wife?’

‘Cranat? Yes, she hated him. There is no doubt. If you have spoken to her, you will know that she considers herself to be badly treated. To have married below her station. A princess of the Déisi. She disliked having to live in Araglin. Her arrangement was purely for money. You spoke a line of Latin earlier. I learnt such a line once from …’ she hesitated and smiled, ‘ … from a friend. It was — quaerenda pecunia primum est virtus post nummos.’