Peter Tremayne - The Spider's Web

‘What would Menma get out of slaughtering his partner Muadnat?’ asked Father Gormán. ‘It does not make sense to me. Agdae would have inherited Muadnat’s wealth anyway.’

‘But, as we have heard, Agdae did not know about the mine and, as it was secret, the partner would continue to reap the benefits whether Agdae took over the farm or not.’

‘Are you claiming that Menma is responsible for all the deaths in Araglin?’ demanded Dubán. ‘I have difficulty following this.’

‘Menma was responsible only for the deaths of Morna, of Muadnat and of Dignait … for they were all slaughtered in the same manner. Menma killed his victims with the same professionalism of a slaughterman killing a lamb.’

‘But why was Dignait killed?’ asked Father Gormán.

‘A simple reason, and the same reason as Morna was killed,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It was to ensure her silence. Dignait did not prepare that dish of poisonous mushrooms which nearly killed Brother Eadulf. A professional cook would know there are better ways to poison someone than to present a dish of false morel which anyone would have recognised.’

‘The Saxon did not,’ Crón pointed out with a sceptical humour.

‘I know morel is usually blanched. I was a stranger in your land and thought this was your way of preparing the dish,’ Eadulf replied defensively, the colour rising to his cheeks. ‘That was why I was not on my guard against false morel.’

‘Dignait would have had a more effective way if she had meant to poison us. No. Dignait was killed for the simple reason that she had seen the real would-be assassin.’

‘And who was that? Menma?’ Grella found the courage to speak up. ‘Menma was about the buildings that morning as usual.’

‘I’ll tell you in good time. Let us continue to unravel the spider’s web first. Let us turn now to the killing of Eber and Teafa. What made this case difficult is that most people here had a reason for killing Eber. He was a hated man. But Teafa was different. Who hated her? I saw that there was a better chance of tracking down the murder of Teafa than of Eber. If the same killer had slain both then we could eliminate some of the suspects.’

She paused for a second and then gave an eloquent shrug.

‘I arrived here having been told a simple story. Eber, the chieftain of Araglin, had been slain and his murderer had been caught. I was told to investigate and to make sure that the law was followed in the prosecution of the murderer. It sounded easy enough. Except that it was not so.

‘The murderer, so it was claimed, turned out to be one who is deaf, blind and dumb. I speak, of course, of Móen. What was more, he was also alleged to have killed the woman who had raised him.

‘I was initially told that Eber was kind and generous and made no enemies. A paragon of every virtue under the sun. Who else would kill him but some crazed animal? That was how Móen was presented to me.’

Móen let out an angry growl as Gadra interpreted what was being said. Fidelma ignored the interruption.

‘Let us proceed along this thread logically. It became apparent that Eber was not the paragon of virtue that everyone first insistedthat he was. It became obvious that Eber was a strange, demented man. It is not my task to comment on what forces twisted Eber’s mind. I was told he also drank and was verbally aggressive. He assuaged those he offended by bribes. His faults were overlooked as he was chieftain. But he and his family hid a dark secret … there was incest among them.’

Crón went white and could not suppress a soft hiss of breath. Cranat, beside her, made no effort to comfort her daughter but sat stiffly, eyes fixed on some distant object.

‘This incest went back a long way, Crón,’ Fidelma said compassionately. ‘It went back to the time Eber was a boy reaching puberty and his two sisters were of similar age. Several people here knew, and others perhaps suspected, about that incest. It was let slip to me in conversation that one person knew that Móen was a child born of incest.’

There was a sudden hush in the hall. Crón cast a glance towards where Móen was sitting. Her face was ghastly.

‘Do you mean that he … that Teafa … his mother? That Eber …?’ She could not articulate properly and gave up with a shudder.

‘I have no doubt that Teafa suffered from Eber’s molestation,’ Fidelma continued calmly. ‘But there was another sister named Tomnát.’

Dubán was on his feet, his face suffused with anger.

‘How dare you bring her name into this!’ he exclaimed. ‘How dare you suggest that she was mother to a … a …’

‘Gadra!’ Fidelma, ignoring his outburst, turned to the old hermit. ‘Gadra, who was Móen’s mother?’

The old man bowed his head, his shoulders slumped in resignation.

‘You know the answer already.’

‘Then tell everyone, so that they may know the truth.’

‘It was the year before Eber married Cranat that this happened. Tomnát became pregnant with Eber’s child. Teafa knew of it.’

‘Tomnát loved me!’ Dubán cried, his voice cracking with emotion. Crón was staring at him unable to believe his outburst. ‘She would have told me if this had been true. She disappeared. Eber killed her, of that I am sure.’

‘Not so,’ replied Gadra sadly. ‘The secret was kept between Tomnat and Teafa. They knew that if it was known, if either Eber or Father Gormán heard of it, then the child might have been killed. Eber to hide his shame and Father Gormán because he is of an intolerant faith. Gormán approves the custom of many Christian lands in which such children born of incest are put to death in the name of morality. There would be no help from Father Gormán for poor Tomnat if she had tried to turn to him.’

‘Why didn’t Tomnat turn to Dubán. He protests that he loved her and that she loved him.’ Fidelma’s lips thinned. ‘Surely, if this were so, she would have turned to Dubán for help?’

‘Not so,’ the old man replied. ‘If it is the truth you want, then here it is. Tomnát knew that Dubán was far too concerned with his ambition to go to Cashel and receive the golden collar of a warrior. In spite of his professed love, Dubán would never have endangered the fulfilment of his ambition. Could she trust him to accept the child, the child of her own brother?’

Dubán leant forward, head cradled in his hands.

‘So she turned to you, Gadra?’ quietly prompted Fidelma.

‘Before her condition became noticeable, Tomnat left Araglin. She came to join me in my hermitage where she knew that she would be safe. Only Teafa knew where she was.’

‘If Tomnat could not tell me, why didn’t Teafa tell me?’ cried Dubán. ‘I spent weeks scouring the valley, thinking that Eber had killed her.’

‘Teafa kept faith with Tomnát’s request,’ the old man said.

‘Go on,’ urged Fidelma. ‘What happened?’

‘When her time came, Tomnat died giving Móen life. Teafa was with her and she resolved to take the baby and bring it up, claiming it to be a foundling. She did not know until later thatthe child was handicapped and then she refused to give him up having sworn an oath to her dead sister.’

Eyes were turned on the young man whose face creased in anguish as Gadra translated what he had been saying.

Fidelma looked round the hall with a contemptuous expression.

‘You are a farming community here. Farmers! You know about inbreeding. You know that the offspring of closely related animals usually have a magnification of certain traits of their parents in behaviour or health. Some of these traits may be favourable ones — they could lead to higher intelligence — but other traits could develop; ones that are detrimental and unhealthy. Traits that give rise to deafness, blindness and the inability to give voice.’