Peter Tremayne - The Spider's Web

‘It cannot be.’

‘Cranat has never made a secret of the fact that she wanted money and power,’ sneered Agdae.

‘You cannot prove that Cranat had cause to murder her own husband,’ Father Gormán protested to Fidelma.

‘Prove cause? Let me try. Since Crón was thirteen years old Cranat was prepared to put up with her hatred of Eber so long as he supported her. When Teafa told her what Eber was doing, she simply withdrew from his bed but continued to live as chieftainess — wealth before virtue. Eber seemed prepared to tolerate the situation. Perhaps he just wanted a wife for the sake of appearances? Dubán informs me that a few weeks ago there was another argument between Teafa and Cranat when Crón became tanist. The argument included mention of Móen. That was when Cranat learnt the truth about her husband’s son. Did she now plot a day of vengeance?’

Fidelma paused. No one said anything.

‘Virtue after wealth. Quaerenda pecunia primum est virtus post nummos. Cranat might have left Eber’s bed but, ironically, she had began to have an affair with Muadnat. With Eber gone she might become the wife of the new chieftain.’

Brother Eadulf bent forward, excitement on his face.

‘Móen said that the person who gave him the Ogam stick had calloused hands like a man. But he scented perfume and thought it was a woman. Dignait had calloused hands. Dignait was close to Cranat because Dignait was of the Déisi and had come here as Cranat’s servant when she married Eber.’

‘Only ladies of rank wear perfume,’ corrected Dubán. ‘Dignait would not have worn perfume.

Crón was shaking her head with disbelief.

‘Are you saying that my mother was Muadnat’s partner in the gold mine and that she decided to kill my father to marry him?’

‘Cranat had reason to hate Eber and Móen. Teafa had told her about the relationship.’ She paused and glanced at Crón. ‘You have good Latin, don’t you?’

‘My mother taught me,’ replied the tanist.

‘She taught you well. Actually it was the Latin on a piece of vellum that set in motion the final pieces to this puzzle. Menma, having killed Dignait in her room to prevent her speaking about whom she had seen putting the false morel on the trays in the kitchen, was told to dump the body at Archú’s underground store. Then he was to give me the vellum with the clue written in Latin on it. It was good Latin.

‘Am I accused because my Latin is good?’ sneered Cranat.

‘Is your Ogam also good?’ inquired Fidelma. She went on before Cranat could reply. ‘It is wise to remember the words of Publicius Terentius Afer that no one ever drew up a plan where events do not introduce the necessity of modification. Dubán had followed Menma to the mine, having observed him with the so-called cattle raiders. He reached the mine entrance and heard Muadnat’s partner giving Menma some final instructions. Dubán entered. Menma waylaid him and allowed his chief to get away. I was there as well, and I saw the figure flying along the path.’

‘You saw the figure?’ sneered Cranat. ‘Do you swear it was me?’

‘It was a figure clad in a parti-coloured cloak, a cloak of office.’

Crón grimaced with an attempt at a smile, pointing to the cloak of office that she was wearing.

‘But I wear such a cloak.’

‘Truly,’ called Eadulf. ‘And I saw such a figure wearing a similar parti-coloured cloak climbing on the track across the hills to the mine on the day we were at Muadnat’s farmstead.’

‘I am now confused. Are you accusing Cranat or her daughter?’ cried Father Gormán.

‘Some time ago Crón told me that this same parti-coloured cloak is worn by all chieftains of Araglin and their ladies. You wear one too, don’t you, Cranat? And you also wear a strong perfume of roses.’

The widow of Eber scowled at her but Fidelma turned to Gadra.

‘Gadra, tell Móen I want him to smell something. Bring him here.’ She turned to the others. ‘Móen, to make up for deficiencies in his other senses, has a highly developed sense of smell which I have previously observed.’

Gadra did as she bid him, leading Móen, shuffling forward, to the front of the dais.

‘Father Gormán, will you come forward and witness this procedure? It must not be claimed later that Móen was in doubt.’

Somewhat reluctantly the priest came forward. Fidelma then turned to Gadra.

‘Instruct Móen to smell as I direct and then identify if he has ever detected the same scent before. Tell him that I want to see if he perceives the same scent as he did when he was handed the Ogam stick.’

She thrust out her hand allowing Móen to sniff at it. Cranat had risen to her feet.

‘I shall not let that beast near me!’ she protested, backing away.

‘You will have no choice,’ Fidelma assured her, signalling Dubán to come forward and stand behind her. Móen had shakenhis head at Fidelma’s wrist. Fidelma motioned to Crón to hold out her hand. Móen sniffed at it. He turned and made some signs on Gadra’s hand.

Gadra shook his head.

Cranat put her hands resolutely behind her back.

‘Father Gormán,’ Fidelma instructed, ‘as Cranat is reluctant to hold out her hand to the boy, will you help her? Perhaps she will not object to a priest’s hand being laid upon her.’

‘I am sorry, lady,’ muttered Father Gormán, with evident distaste, reaching and firmly taking her left arm. Cranat pulled her head away in distaste as Móen sniffed at her wrist.

There was excitement in the hall as he turned and made rapid signs on Gadra’s hand. The old man looked shocked.

‘It is false!’ screamed Cranat. ‘You are in some plot to discredit me!’

But the old man was not looking at Cranat.

‘It is not the scent of the woman which he identifies,’ Gadra said slowly, staring aghast at Father Gormán. The priest had gone white.

Dubán had automatically stepped forward and gripped the priest by the wrist. Then he frowned disconcerted as he stared at the man’s struggling hand.

‘But Móen said that the person he sniffed at Teafa’s door had calloused hands. This priest’s hands are as soft as a woman’s.’

Fidelma was unperturbed.

‘You are not wearing your leather gloves today, Father Gormán?’ she remarked. ‘You see, Dubán, yesterday you gave me the answer that I was looking for when I thought your hands were calloused but, in fact, you were simply wearing leather gloves.’

With a sudden cry Father Gormán wrenched himself free of Dubán’s grasp, leapt from the dais and began to push from the hall. He barely reached half way across the hall when he was overpowered and led away. His features were distorted in a frenzy of rage. He began shouting unintelligibly: ‘And Christ said — “youserpents, you generation of vipers, how can you escape the damnation of hell?”!’

‘A most appropriate text,’ muttered Eadulf to disguise his astonishment.

Cranat collapsed back into her chair, her face flushed, her breathing heavy. She was regarding Fidelma with hatred.

‘You have some explaining to do before we can believe in this fantastic charge,’ she said quietly.

Fidelma was still standing quietly before the dais and regarding them all with a sombre expression.

‘There are few places in these five kingdoms where I have encountered so much hatred, so much deceit and so much sadness,’ she began slowly. ‘Gormán and Menma might be guilty of taking human lives but that which stimulated them to do so is an evil inherent in this valley.

‘Was Eber the instigator of this malignancy or was he also a victim? We shall not know. Tomnát was certainly a victim. She might not have been had she been able to trust at least one person in this valley other than her fellow victim and sister; one person might have saved her.’