Peter Tremayne - The Spider's Web

‘But why did Father Gormán kill my uncle, Muadnat?’ asked Agdae. ‘He was his partner in the illegal mine.’

‘I mentioned the reason briefly before. As Muadnat began to draw more and more attention to himself, trying to legally wrest the land back from Archú, Gormán became fearful. This behaviour could lead to the discovery of the mine because people’s attention was being focussed on the area. Menma was Gormán’s man, not Muadnat’s. He had Menma kill Muadnat to preserve the secret. For the same reason, he had Menma kill Morna and Dignait. And Gorman’s simple greed played the prime part.’

‘What made you realise that Menma served Gormán?’

‘That there was some collaboration between Gormán and Menma became obvious to me. I saw them arguing together once. When Archú told Gormán he wanted to bring Muadnat to court over his land dispute, Gormán told Archú to take his case to LiosMhór. I found this curious until I realised that this would prevent Eber being involved in the case. Eber might have questioned Muadnat too closely. Gormán instructed Archú to go by a longer route to Lios Mhór. Perhaps the reason for this was so that Archú would not encounter the gold being transported to Ard Mór along the quicker route.

‘Gormán then found that one of the miners he was employing, Morna, had taken a piece of rock from the mine to his brother Bressal. Menma was told to kill Morna and also destroy the hostel. The excuse of outlaws in the district would serve as a covering for these acts.

‘There were several things that now drew my attention to Gormán. Eadulf had seen a slight figure wearing a parti-coloured cloak at Muadnat’s farmhouse. The figure vanished. Moments later, Gormán appeared but without a riding cloak. I knew Gormán had possessed such a cloak for I had seen the parti-coloured cloak in Gormán’s sacristy. Gormán’s clothes were also impregnated with a heavy scent from the incense he used in his church. Gormán wore gloves. The implication of these facts, I have already explained.

‘On the night before poor Brother Eadulf took the poisonous mushrooms, Gormán had overheard me expressing confidence to Crón that I could name the murderer by the next day. He slipped into the kitchen early the next morning and placed some false morel on the plates. Dignait had seen him in the kitchen and he realised that when word of the poison became known, she would not hesitate to point the finger at him to absolve herself. Or perhaps he had always meant to lay the blame on her. Menma was sent to silence her and told what to do with her body. Gormán was one of the few people who knew about the underground storage chamber on Archú’s farm for he had, as Archú told me, been there when someone died by accident and it was Gormán who suggested, at that time, the chamber be sealed. Gormán also wrote good Latin and Ogam. The parts of the puzzle were joining together.’

Fidelma paused and spread her hands expressively.

‘But, when all these facts were placed together, one main factor fitted the pieces of the puzzle into a frame. Gormán had been told that Móen was born of Eber’s incestuous relationship with his sister. He let the fact slip out when he was talking to me. His creed of intolerance could not accept it and for that he killed Eber and Teafa in an act whose motives were unrelated to the illegal gold mine.’

Three days later Fidelma and Eadulf stopped at Bressal’s ‘Hostel of the Stars’ to break the news of his brother’s death. The plump keeper of the hostel was shocked but resigned.

‘I suspected that death had overtaken him when he did not return. My brother spent his life searching for wealth in order to spend the rest of it doing nothing. He would not have been happy doing nothing. But it is sad that he could not have discovered that fact for himself.’

Fidelma nodded. ‘Auri sacra fames — the cursed hunger for gold destroys more than it creates. Did not the blessed Matthew write: “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust do corrupt and where thieves break through and steal”?’

Bressal smiled in agreement with the sentiment.

‘Say a prayer for Morna’s soul, sister.’

They rode on through the woods towards the main road which would lead them to Cashel. In the three days that they had been waiting at the rath of Araglin, since Fidelma’s relevations, news had reached her that the mineworkers had been rounded up and Gormán’s store of gold in the chapel at Ard Mór had been confiscated by the local Brehon, pending the result of the trial of Gormán at Cashel. But the trial would not take place. Fidelma had generously allowed Gormán to be imprisoned in the sacristy of his own chapel. On the day following his internment, Gormán ate a secret store of false morel and died within four hours. Itwas, remarked Brother Eadulf, still feeling delicate in health, a fitting end.

Agdae was appointed temporary tanist of the Araglin by a special meeting of the derbfhine of the family of Eber. Only Crón protested. It was obvious that she would not be confirmed as chieftain of Araglin. Dubán had not even waited for the results of the meeting but saddled his horse and vanished into the mountains. Cranat had also taken what possessions she could and ridden back to the land of the Déisi.

It was Eadulf who voiced Fidelma’s sentiments as they rode along.

‘I shall not be sorry to leave this place. I feel I need to find some good clean water to bathe in after all that has happened.’

It was as they came to the cross roads that Fidelma saw two familiar figures on foot trudging along the road to Lios Mhór. One of them was young but being led by the hand by the elder of the two, an elderly man whose slightly stooping shoulders marked the passing of many years.

‘Gadra!’ called Fidelma, easing her horse forward.

The old man paused and looked round. They saw his fingers drum against the hand of Móen, doubtless explaining why he was halting.

‘Blessings on your journey, Fidelma,’ he smiled at Fidelma and then turned to Eadulf, ‘and on your journey, my Saxon brother.’

Fidelma swung off her horse.

‘We wondered why we had not seen you both these last few days. You should have bidden farewell to us. Where are you and Móen bound?’

‘To Lios Mhór,’ the old man replied.

‘To the monastery?’ asked Fidelma in surprise.

‘Yes. You needn’t look confounded,’ Gadra chuckled. ‘Would not an old pagan like myself be welcomed there?’

‘There is a welcome for everyone in the house of the Christ,’ replied Fidelma solemnly. ‘Though I must confess that your decision to go there does surprise me.’

‘Well.’ Gadra rubbed a forefinger against the side of his nose. ‘If the choice were mine, I would continue a while longer to live in my mountain dwelling. But the boy has need of me.’

‘Ah,’ Eadulf sighed. ‘It is a laudable thing you do for the boy. The confines of a cloister are better protection than the mountain fastness.’

Gadra shot him an amused glance.

‘More importantly, he needs the company of those who can communicate with him. The holy house at Lios Mhór contains members of your religious who have knowledge of the old writing. I can quickly teach them the way of using it. Once Móen is able to communicate with several people then I will have fulfilled my duty to Teafa and Tomnat. I will be able to move on to my destiny and leave him to his.’

Fidelma smiled.

‘That is a generous gesture.’

‘Generous?’ Gadra shook his head. ‘It is no more than is my sacred duty to the intellect which is Móen’s. The boy has demonstrated his sense of smell and guided in the right way I am sure that this quality can be employed.’