The Spider's Web sf-5

by Peter Tremayne

  The young man, an eager smile on his lips, took the left hand, which she offered him, and held it palm up. Then came his finger against the palm. A diagonal for ‘M’; two dots on the line for ‘o’; a slight pause before four dots for ‘e’ and then four strokes to the right for ‘n’. Móen.

  It was so simple. And this sentient creature had been treated as if he were no more than an animal. Fidelma felt a thrill of outrage as she realised the enormity of it.

  Slowly Fidelma began to spell out on Móen’s palm.

  ‘I am an advocate of the courts, come to investigate the murder of Eber and Teafa. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes. I did not kill them.’

  ‘I want you to tell me what happened so far as you know.’

  At once the youth began to use his fingers rapidly against her palm. So rapidly that she had to interrupt him.

  ‘You are too fast. I am unused to this means of communication. Speak with Gadra here and he will translate what you have to say more rapidly.’

  ‘Very well.’

  Fidelma sat back and explained to Gadra who immediately took over. The door opened abruptly. Fidelma glanced up as Dubán entered and stood watching the proceedings in amazement. He stirred uneasily as he caught her inquiring gaze.

  ‘Crítán has protested to me that you …’ he began but Fidelma cut him short.

  ‘I am well aware of what Crítán might have reported,’ she said.

  Dubán grimaced.

  ‘I am not without an understanding of that young man’s faults. I will see to it that he no longer stands guard over Móen, if that is your wish.’ He glanced towards Gadra and Móen. ‘It is true, then. Can he really communicate?’

  ‘As you see, Dubán, we can communicate with him and he with us. Would you mind waiting outside? We must accord Móen the same privacy in this interrogation that any one of us is entitled to under the law.’

  Though disappointment showed on his face, the commander of the guard jerked his head in agreement and left the room.

  Fidelma and Eadulf now turned back to watch with some awe and amazement as Móen’s fingers worked rapidly over Gadra’s palm. The old man would halt the flow now and then and presumably asked a question for the sake of clarification. As he did so, he began to interpret between Fidelma and Móen.

  ‘Tell us, Móen, did you kill Teafa or Eber?’

  ‘I did not.’ A pause. ‘I loved Teafa. She raised me as my mother.’

  ‘Will you tell us what happened that night, the time when you were made prisoner?’

  ‘I will try.’

  ‘Take your time and try to put in as much detail as you can remember.’

  ‘I will try. I sometimes have difficulty in sleeping. It is then I rise and go for a walk.’

  ‘A walk at night?’

  ‘Night or day makes no difference to me.’

  Fidelma with a start realised that Móen was actually smiling at the joke that he had made.

  ‘Did you do so that night?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘You do not know at what hour this was?’

  ‘Alas, I do not. Time is meaningless to me except I know when it is hot and when it is cold, when I scent certain flowers and when I scent others. I can only tell you that it was cold when I went for my walk and there was a scent of dampness but no flowers. I rose and went to the door of our cabin. I am adept at moving about quietly.’

  Fidelma realised that this could be a mark against Móen. She decided to ask for amplification.

  ‘How well could you move around the village by yourself?’

  ‘Unless someone has left some object discarded on the paths, something which should not be in the way of the passes between the buildings, then I usually have no difficulty. Once or twice I have fallen over a box or something of that sort which has been left lying about. Then I rouse the dogs and people get angry. Usually I manage very well.’

  ‘Where did you go for your walk?’

  ‘I cannot tell you. I can show you by repeating it, if you like.’

  ‘Later. What did you do on your walk?’

  ‘I did little except I sat by the water where the scents are often so beautiful and caress your mind and body and soul. But there were no scents at that time.’

  ‘You sat by the water?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Flowing water?’

  ‘Yes. Teafa calls it a river.’

  ‘Have you done this before?’

  ‘Many times. It is an enjoyment in life especially when it is warm and there is a scent upon the air. I can sit there and just reflect.’

  Fidelma swallowed at the sensitivity of the young man who everyone thought was a mere animal.

  ‘Then what did you do?’

  ‘I began to return to the cabin.’

  ‘To Teafa’s cabin?’

  ‘That is so. It was when I was at the door that someone reached for my arm. They thrust a piece of wood into my hand. They took my other hand and ran it along the wood. I think they did this to make sure I understood that there was writing on it.’

  ‘Writing?’

  ‘The carved symbols in the manner in which we are speaking now.’

  ‘Do you know who it was?’

  ‘I do not. Their scent was unknown to me.’

  ‘What did the symbols say?’

  ‘It said, “Eber wants you now.” Meaning I was to go to Eber.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I went.’

  ‘Did you not think of waking Teafa to tell her?’

  ‘She would not have approved of my going to Eber.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘She thought that he was a bad man.’

  ‘And what did you think?’

  ‘Eber was always nice to me. Several times he gave me food and tried to communicate with me. I felt his hand on my head and face but he did not have the knowledge. I once asked Teafa to instruct him on the means of communication but she would not.’

  ‘Did she explain why she would not?’

  ‘Never. She simply said he was a very bad man.’

  ‘So when you received the message, you must have thought that he had discovered the means of communication?’

  ‘I did. If Eber could use the symbols to communicate by the stick, then he had obviously found the means.’

  There was no faulting the logic.

  ‘So what did you do with the stick?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘I dropped it, I think. No, I must have caught it on something for it seemed to be pushed out of my hand. I do not think I bothered to bend down to search for it. I was intent on going to Eber.’

  ‘So then you found your way to Eber’s apartments?’

  ‘It was not hard. I can find my way very well.’ He paused.

  ‘Continue,’ Fidelma pressed.

  ‘I went to the door. I tapped on it as Teafa has taught me. Then I lifted the latch and went in. No one approached me. I stood for a while, thinking that if Eber was there he would make himself known. When he did not, I moved forward, realising that there must be another chamber. I moved along the boundary of the wall and eventually found the second door and I tapped on this. The door did not open and so I sought out and lifted the latch on it and managed to enter.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Nothing. I stood for a while, expecting Eber to approach me. When he did not, I wondered if there was yet another chamber. I began to move along the wall. Holding one hand out before me. I had not gone far when my hand encountered something hot, uncomfortable. I believe it to be what you call a lamp. Something which burns by which you are able to see in the dark.’

  Fidelma nodded and then realising the futility of it responded: ‘Yes. There was a lamp alight on the table. What then?’

  ‘I moved around the table and my feet encountered something on the floor. I recognised this as a mattress. I decided to crawlover it and continue my journey using the wall as my guide on the other side of the room. I was
intent on finding a door to another chamber. I went on my hands and knees and began to climb over what I thought was the mattress …’

  The tapping fingers paused. Then: ‘I realised that there was a body lying there. I touched it with my hand. It was wet and sticky. The wet had a salty taste and made me feel ill. I reached forward again to touch the face but my hand encountered something cold and also wet. It was very sharp. It was a … a knife.’

  The young man shuddered.

  ‘I knelt there not knowing what to do. I knew Eber’s scent. I smelt that this was Eber before me and the life had gone from him. I think I moaned a little. I was making up my mind to seek a way out and rouse Teafa when rough hands gripped me. I feared for my life. I thrashed out. Other hands hit me, hurt me, and I was bound. I was dragged somewhere. It smelled vile. No one came near me. No one tried to communicate with me. I spent an eternity in purgatory not knowing what to do. I worked out that Eber must have been killed with a knife, the same that I had found and held. I also worked out that those who had seized me were either his killers or, worse, that they must have thought that I had killed Eber myself.

  ‘I tried to find something to carve a message to Teafa on. I could not understand why she had abandoned me. Now and then I was thrown scraps of food. There was a bucket of water. Sometimes I managed to eat and drink but often I could not find the scraps they threw me. No one helped me. No one.’

  There was a pause before the finger tapping continued.

  ‘I do not know how long had passed. It seemed forever. Finally, I smelled a scent, the scent I smell now … The person called Fidelma. After that, hands, though rough, cleaned me, fed me and gave me water. I was still shackled but I was given a comfortable straw palliasse and the place smelled sweeter. Yetthe time sped on. It is only now that I can talk and only now that I realise fully what has taken place.’

  Fidelma gave a long sigh as Gadra finished the translation from the tapping, moving fingers of the young man.

  ‘Móen, a great injustice has been done,’ she said at last. Gadra dutifully translated. ‘Even had the guilt been yours you should not have been treated like an animal. For that we must beg your forgiveness.’

  ‘You have nothing to be forgiven for, Fidelma. It is you who have rescued me from this plight.’

  ‘Not rescued yet. I fear that you will not be rescued until we have proved your innocence and identified the one who is guilty.’

  ‘I understand. How can I help you?’

  ‘You have helped enough for the present, though I will talk with you again. You will return to live in the cabin which you shared with Teafa, as this will be familiar to you. If Gadra is willing, he will be there to take care of you until our search for the guilty one is over. For your own protection I would urge you not to walk abroad unless you are accompanied.’

  ‘I understand. Thank you, Sister Fidelma.’

  ‘There is one more thing,’ she suddenly added, as the thought struck her.

  ‘Which is?’ prompted Móen through Gadra after she had paused.

  ‘You say that you were able to smell me?’

  ‘That is so. I have had to develop the senses that God left me. Touch, taste and smell. I can also feel vibrations. I can feel the approach of a horse or even a lesser animal. I can feel the course of a river. These things can tell me what is happening round me.’

  He paused and grinned, looking, so it seemed, straight towards Brother Eadulf.

  ‘I know you have a companion, Fidelma, and that he is a male.’

  Eadulf shifted awkwardly.

  ‘This is Brother Eadulf,’ interposed Gadra, and turning toEadulf, said: ‘If you do not know Ogam, squeeze Móen’s hand in acknowledgment.’

  Cautiously, Eadulf reached forward, took the young man’s hand and squeezed it. He felt an answering pressure.

  ‘Blessings on you, Brother Eadulf,’ Móen’s finger movements were quickly traced by Gadra.

  ‘Let us return to your sense of smell,’ cut in Fidelma. ‘Cast your mind back, Móen. Remember the time when the person grabbed your hand and placed into it the stick with the Ogam instructing you to go to Eber? You said that you did not recognise the scent. Can you confirm that there was a scent?’

  Móen thought for a while.

  ‘Oh yes. I have not thought of it since. It was a sweet scent of flowers.’

  ‘A scent of flowers? Yet it was cold, as you say. To us this would be night and judging from the time you were found at Eber’s apartments, this certainly seems so. There are few flowers that give out scent in the early hours of the morning.’

  ‘It was a perfume. At first I thought the person who handed me the stick was a lady by the scent. But the hands, the hands that touched mine were coarse and calloused. It must have been a man. Touch does not lie; it was a man who passed me the stick with the writing on.’

  ‘What type of perfume was it?’

  ‘I can identify smells but I cannot give them labels as you know them. However, I am sure that the hands were those of a man. Rough and coarse hands.’

  Fidelma exhaled softly and sat back in her chair as if deep in thought.

  ‘Very well, Gadra,’ she said eventually to the old man, ‘I am placing Móen in your custody. You are to look after him and confine him to Teafa’s house for the time being.’

  Gadra regarded her anxiously.

  ‘Do you believe that the boy is innocent of the crimes which he stands accused of?’

  Fidelma was dismissive.

  ‘Believing and proving are two different things, Gadra. Do your best to see he is comfortable and I shall keep you informed.’

  Gadra assisted Móen to his feet and led him to the door.

  Dubán was still standing outside. He stood back to allow Gadra and his charge to pass after Fidelma had told him her wishes.

  ‘There will be some in this rath who will not like this decision, Fidelma,’ the warrior muttered.

  Fidelma’s eyes flashed angrily.

  ‘I certainly expect the guilty to be unhappy,’ she replied.

  Dubán blinked at her sharp tone.

  ‘I will inform Crón of your decision about Móen. However, I came to inform you of some news which may interest you.’

  ‘Well?’ she asked, after he had paused.

  ‘A rider has just come into the rath with the news that one of the outlying farms was attacked early this morning. I am taking some men immediately to see what assistance we can render. I thought that you might be interested to know whose farm it was which was attacked.’

  ‘Why?’ demanded Fidelma. ‘Get to the point, man. Why would I be interested?’

  ‘It was the farmstead of the young man Archú.’

  Eadulf pursed his lips in a soundless whistle.

  ‘A raid on Archú’s farmstead? Was anyone hurt?’

  ‘A neighbouring shepherd brought us the news and reported that he had seen cattle being run off, barns set alight and he thinks someone was killed.’

  ‘Who was killed?’ demanded Fidelma.

  ‘The shepherd was unable to tell us.’

  ‘Where is this shepherd?’

  ‘He has left the rath to get back to his unattended sheep.’

  Eadulf turned to Fidelma with a troubled look.

  ‘Archú told us that there was only himself and the young girl, Scoth, working the farm.’

  ‘I know,’ Fidelma replied grimly. ‘Dubán, when are you and your men leaving for Archú’s farmstead?’

  ‘At once.’

  ‘Then Eadulf and I will accompany you and your men. I have grown to have an interest in the welfare of those young people. Has the whereabouts of Muadnat been established? I would have thought that he could well resort to attacking Archú and throwing suspicion onto your cattle raiders.’

  ‘I know you do not like Muadnat but I cannot believe that he would do anything so stupid. You misjudge him. Besides, we have seen the bandits with our own eyes.’

  Eadulf was thoughtful.

  ‘
It is true, Fidelma. You cannot deny the presence of bandits.’

  Fidelma glanced scornfully at him before returning her gaze to Dubán.

  ‘We did, indeed, see the horsemen. But, if you recall, they were heading south and we saw no cattle with them. All we saw were asses loaded with heavy panniers. Where were the cattle if they were cattle raiders? Come, let us ride for Archú’s farmstead.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dubán had gathered half a dozen riders; all were well armed. Fidelma was relieved to see that the arrogant young Crítán was not one of them. Fidelma noticed that neither Crón nor her mother, Cranat, came to observe their departure from the rath. In a column of twos, with Fidelma and Eadulf bringing up the rear, they turned through the gates of the rath and proceeded at a gentle trot along the river’s southern bank towards the eastern end of the fertile valley of Araglin with its grain fields and grazing cattle herds. Dubán did not hurry the pace but kept the column moving at a steady rate.

  They had not gone more than a few miles when the track came to a bend in the river which looped in such a way as to create a sheltered peninsula with the river forming a natural barrier on three sides. It was a small haven of land that also had the protection of trees. Flowers grew in abundance here and rising on the land was a picturesque single-storeyed cabin built of wooden logs and planks. There was a garden before it. Standing in this garden, watching them pass, obviously disturbed in the process of tending to the flowers, was a small, fleshy blonde woman.

  They passed too far away for Fidelma to note the details of her features. The woman stood making no effort to raise her hand in greeting but continued to watch them as they rode by. Fidelma noticed with curiosity that a couple of Dubán’s men exchanged sly, grinning glances and one of them even gave an audible guffaw.

  Fidelma eased her horse towards the front of the small column to where Dubán rode.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked.

  ‘No one of importance,’ replied the warrior gruffly.

  ‘This no one of importance seems to create an interest among your men.’