The Spider's Web sf-5

by Peter Tremayne

  It did not take them very long to traverse the valley and move upwards, this time emerging overlooking the back of the farm buildings. Nothing was moving below them, they could not even see any workers around the barns or in the fields.

  It was some time before they finally joined the second track and began to follow its course up into the northern hills.

  ‘Well,’ Fidelma exclaimed, as she examined the track carefully, ‘it can’t be claimed that this is unfrequented. Dubán’s men obviously did not search this path long enough. It may be stony at the bottom of the hill but up here, where there is less stone, you can plainly see the marks of horses and asses, even a cart.’

  The Saxon religieux looked concerned.

  ‘Shouldn’t we return for Dubán’s warriors?’

  Fidelma gave him a withering look.

  In silence they followed the track and it began to turn aroundthe side of the steeply sloping hill, away from the valley of the Black Marsh, until Eadulf pointed out that it had doubled back on itself.

  ‘We are on the far side of the hill to Muadnat’s farmstead now.’ He pointed upwards. ‘Do you see where the sun is?’

  ‘This is a circuitous route indeed,’ agreed Fidelma.

  What was more interesting was that the path was now completely level, keeping at the same elevation along the hillside. They continued on, with the pathway leading directly due eastward and then swinging abruptly due south almost on a high plateau.

  ‘I don’t understand. We have doubled back on ourselves entirely,’ Fidelma said.

  ‘Not just doubled back,’ Eadulf smiled, ‘I think we have worked around parallel to the area of the valley where Archú’s farmstead is.’

  Fidelma did not understand and said so.

  Eadulf pointed to the slope of the hill on his right side.

  ‘If we climbed over the top of this hill and looked down from the summit we would be looking down onto Archú’s farmlands, perhaps onto the farm itself.’

  Fidelma accepted his reckoning without comment.

  They had gone about half a mile when the hillside became a vast wooded vista, the trees moving over the summits of the hills, growing closely together. The track plunged straight into the woods but still kept its widely spaced borders along which a vehicle had apparently moved regularly. There were ruts caused by wheels easily discernible in the track.

  ‘We seem to be going on for ever,’ grumbled Eadulf in protest. ‘Perhaps we should return to the rath now for we cannot continue much further and expect to be able to return there before nightfall.’

  ‘Just a little bit further,’ cajoled Fidelma. ‘I think we may be coming to …’

  She halted abruptly and signalled Eadulf to do likewise.

  ‘Let’s get our horses away from this track and proceed on foot,’she instructed. ‘I think there is something up ahead.’

  Eadulf was about to protest again but decided to follow her orders. They dismounted and led the horses a short distance from the track but far enough into the forest so that anyone passing along it would not spot them. Then, with Fidelma leading, they began to make their way through the wood, keeping parallel to the track.

  They had not gone far before they realised that they were coming to a clearing. A sudden banging sound made them both start. It took them a few moments to realise that it was the sound of someone chopping wood. They came to a cautious stop on the edge of the clearing.

  It was a wide space set against the hillside, an area of windblown grasses with grey granite rocks thrusting up here and there. There was a group of horses in a small makeshift corral composed of a rope fence. Alongside these horses were a dozen asses, sturdy little pack animals. A wagon stood nearby. Close by the wagon was a fire on which a hank of meat was roasting with a sizzling, spluttering sound as the fat dropped onto the eager flames. A man, a stranger whom they did not recognise, was chopping wood. There were also a few other men about the area apparently engaged on various tasks. Fidelma examined them closely, frowning slightly.

  She laid a land on Eadulf’s arm and pointed to the far side of the enclosure. There was another smaller enclosure in which a few cows stood patiently chewing the cud and ignoring the fate of their erstwhile companion who was about to provide the men with a meal.

  A little way up on the hillside stood a small cave mouth, the entrance high enough to take a full grown man standing. Surrounding the cave was bare grey-blue granite. It was protected by an overhang, a green dome and grey granite forehead, jutting over the mouth of the cave.

  It was in this clearing that the mysterious track ended. Of that there was no doubt. They had come to the lair of the cattle raiders.

  Fidelma and Eadulf exchange a glance. Eadulf was clearly perplexed but Fidelma, observing some of the tools which lay placed against the wagon, was beginning to see a light. She was about to signal him to withdraw when there was a movement from the cave entrance.

  A tall, burly man emerged, blinked in the light and yawned, stretching his arms skyward. He had a coarse red beard and long shoulder-length hair.

  This time there was no mistaking the ugly features of Menma, the chief stableman at the rath of Araglin.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They had ridden back to the edge of the forest in silence. Fidelma’s brows were drawn together in concentrated thought. Eadulf did his best to fight down the numerous questions which kept tumbling into his mind. Finally, as they emerged out of the shade of the forest, he could keep silent no longer.

  ‘What do you think it means, Fidelma?’ he demanded at last.

  ‘If I knew that, then I might have the answer to this entire mystery,’ she replied impatiently. ‘However, at least we have discovered the lair of the men who have been raiding the farms of Araglin.’

  ‘Why would Menma and these outlaws be hiding in that cave? And why should Menma be associated with cattle raiders?’

  For a moment Fidelma’s lips parted in a grin.

  ‘I do not think that they are cattle raiders neither are they are exactly hiding.’

  ‘What then?’ demanded Eadulf.

  ‘Didn’t you see the tools lying about in the glade?’

  ‘Tools? No. I was too busy watching the men. What tools?’

  Fidelma sighed gently.

  ‘You must always remember that observation and the analysis of that observation is essential to the art of truth seeking. There were several tools by the wagon. They told me that the cave must undoubtedly be a mine.’

  Eadulf was astonished.

  ‘A mine?’

  ‘It is not unusual to find mines in this country. Had we left Lios Mhór and travelled due west along the Abhainn Mór we wouldcome on a plain called Magh Méine, or the Plain of Minerals, where copper, lead and iron are mined.’

  ‘I seem to have heard of that place before.’

  Fidelma looked at him pityingly.

  ‘The hostel keeper, Bressal, mentioned that he had a brother who was a miner at the Plain of Minerals,’ she said softly.

  ‘Of course. But what was Menma doing at this mine, if such it is?’

  ‘That we must discover for ourselves.’

  ‘And why would …’

  ‘It is no good asking questions to which we do not have sufficient evidence to even make a guess at answering.’

  ‘Perhaps we should have made our presence known and demanded an explanation,’ suggested Eadulf. ‘After all, you are an official of this kingdom.’

  Fidelma smiled broadly.

  ‘Those men are up to no good. Do you think they care for my office?’

  ‘We might have been able to surprise them, disarm them …’

  ‘There is a line in Horace’s Odes, my good friend. Vis consili expers mole ruit sua.’

  Eadulf nodded slowly: ‘Force without good sense falls by its own weight,’ he repeated.

  She peered up at the summit of the hill above them, shading her eyes against the sun.

  ‘You said earlier that if we climbed across
the summit we should find ourselves above Archú’s farmstead. Is that correct?’

  Eadulf frowned at her abrupt change of subject.

  ‘It is,’ he agreed stiffly.

  ‘Do you want to see if you are right?’

  Eadulf thought she was jesting with him. She was not.

  ‘But the slopes are far too precipitous for horses,’ he protested. ‘On foot we could climb the hill but …’

  She pointed silently upwards.

  Further along the hill Eadulf saw a movement. The red brown of an animal. He screwed up his eyes to focus. It was the sleek, muscular figure of a stag, herding his deer before him.

  Fidelma grinned quickly.

  ‘Where a stag may lead his herd, there might a horse and rider go. Are you willing?’

  Eadulf raised his arms in unwilling surrender.

  ‘There is something like a path just up ahead.’ Fidelma turned. ‘I think it is the deer run over the hill. Look!’

  Eadulf could just see a worn strip of land, stretching through the fern and furze.

  ‘We cannot ride along that,’ he protested again.

  ‘No, but we can lead our horses,’ Fidelma assured him. She slid from her horse and took its bridle, picking her way carefully up the tiny animal-trodden path towards the shoulder of the rounded hill before them.

  Eadulf groaned inwardly, then he, too, slipped from his horse and began to lead it after Fidelma. In truth, Eadulf had no liking for high, exposed places and so he kept his eyes closely on the path before him.

  ‘I cannot see why you wish to use this short cut to Archú’s place. We could have easily returned along the main track,’ he complained, more to keep his thoughts occupied as they ascended than with the desire to argue with Fidelma.

  ‘This is quicker. And we do not want to alert anyone at Muadnat’s farm who are in league with our friends back at the mine.’

  ‘I cannot see how any of this ties in with Eber’s murder.’

  Fidelma did not bother to answer him.

  A wind was gusting across the hills and the horses were getting skittish. It required all their strength to keep a tight rein on them. In front, Fidelma saw the herd of deer making slow progress, grazing as they went. The wind held no fears for them or for the great antlered stag who paused now and then, like some impressivestatue, staring down at them as if anxiously watching their progress as they climbed steadily upwards. The stag would pause for a while and then turn, with a curious barking bellow, and urge his charges to increase their pace. They would bound upwards for a while before pausing once more to graze.

  The path was almost indistinguishable from the grazed grassy inclines around them but Fidelma pressed on, moving at an easy pace around the shoulder of the rounded hill. The winds were bluff and Eadulf found himself bending his head, not only to avoid contact with the wide open spaces but to meet the onslaught of the strong gusts. He prayed that his horse would not become too skittish for he did not know whether he would be able to hold on to the beast.

  Suddenly he was aware of Fidelma halting.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded.

  ‘See for yourself,’ she replied.

  Eadulf plucked up courage for a quick nervous glance.

  The L-shaped valley stretched away below them. He had an impression of some buildings far below and he dropped his gaze as soon as he could.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked again. ‘Archú’s valley?’

  Fidelma turned and gazed at him thoughtfully.

  ‘Do heights bother you, Eadulf?’ she asked in concern.

  Eadulf bit his lip. There was no point denying it.

  ‘Not heights exactly,’ he replied. ‘It is a fear of being on high exposed places, not so much of falling downwards but of falling outwards. Does that sound strange?’

  Fidelma shook her head slowly.

  ‘You should have told me,’ she rebuked softly.

  ‘I would not be of use to anyone if I confessed this fear.’

  ‘My mentor, Morann of Tara, once said that a mouse can drink no more than its fill from the stream.’

  Eadulf was puzzled.

  ‘That sounds like an obscure philosophy.’

  ‘Not so. We must recognise our weaknesses as well as our strengths. Only then shall we know the strength in our weakness and the weakness in our strength.’

  ‘Are you telling me that I should have accepted my fear and told you?’

  ‘What else should you have done? Had I been forewarned then I might have been prepared if anything had happened.’

  Eadulf sighed impatiently. He disliked talking about his weaknesses.

  ‘This is not the time and especially not the place to debate my failings.’

  Fidelma was immediately contrite.

  ‘Of course,’ she said consolingly. The contriteness was not suited to her character but it seemed genuine enough. ‘I am not thinking clearly. From now on we shall be descending. You were right. Below is Archú’s farmstead. This is the valley of the Black Marsh.’

  Eadulf set his shoulders.

  ‘Then let us set forth,’ he said irritably. ‘The sooner we begin the descent then the sooner we shall reach the bottom.’

  Fidelma continued to lead the way carefully. The deer herd had drifted off some way and Fidelma observed that they had left the main track. While steep, it was not impossible to move along at a reasonable pace. Only now and then did they have to pause to negotiate some sheer part of the path, where a drop of only two feet caused the elevation to seem more precipitous than it actually was. At one or two points, they had to twist and turn and double back on themselves several times within a space of a few yards. But eventually they came to the more gentle lower slopes of the hill where clumps of ash trees and briars formed a boundary marker through which they found a reasonable pathway.

  As they emerged from the copse of ash and beech they found two horsemen waiting for them. They were both armed with bows, arrows drawn.

  ‘Sister Fidelma!’

  The startled voice of Archú halted them. Fidelma supposed that the second man was one of the men Dubán had left behind. Archú immediately put down his bow and was apologetic.

  ‘We did not know who you were.’

  ‘We saw two figures coming over the shoulder of the hill. A strange route,’ muttered the warrior with him.

  ‘Strange and dangerous,’ sighed Eadulf, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  ‘We have been watching you for the past hour for my companion here spotted you soon after you appeared over the hill. Why were you taking that precipitous path? It is only sheep and deer that I have seen upon the mountain.’

  ‘It is a long story, Archú,’ Fidelma replied. ‘And if Scoth could provide us with some refreshment we shall tell it to you.’

  ‘Of course,’ Archú agreed eagerly. ‘Forgive me. Let us ride up to the farmhouse.’

  The warrior was still looking suspiciously up at the mountain.

  ‘Were you being followed, sister?’ he asked.

  Fidelma shook her head.

  ‘Not that I know of. Did you see anyone following us?’

  ‘No. But we must be careful. Have you heard that Muadnat has been killed?’

  ‘Yes. We came here some hours ago and saw Dubán on the road. He told us that he had left you and another man to guard young Archú in case Agdae decided to do something foolish.’

  Archú turned to his companion.

  ‘Perhaps, you should stay here a while and check if anyone else comes over the hill. But I shall take Sister Fidelma and Brother Eadulf to my house.’

  The warrior accepted the instruction without comment.

  Fidelma and Eadulf followed Archú towards the distant farmstead.

  ‘This is a bad, bad business, sister. If Dubán had not left his men behind yesterday, so that they were witness to the fact that Ihad not stirred from the farmstead, then I have no doubt that I would be in grave trouble.’

  Fidelma did not bother to answer. That much was
obvious.

  ‘I knew Muadnat all my life and although he hated me, I cannot say his death leaves me unmoved. But he was my cousin. May he rest in peace.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ agreed Eadulf, having recovered his spirits a little.

  ‘And how do you stand with Agdae? Did you know he was Muadnat’s adopted son?’

  Archú grimaced.

  ‘That I did. He is also my cousin. His parents were killed in some pestilence many years ago. Agdae survived and Muadnat brought him up in his own home. My mother told me that Muadnat wanted her to marry him but she rejected Agdae for my father. We did not like each other, I confess it freely. He was raised with Muadnat’s lack of tolerance and dislike of me.’

  ‘And you dislike him in turn?’

  ‘I cannot say that I could feel other than dislike. Agdae is not a likable person.’

  ‘Who do you think killed your cousin?’ Fidelma asked the question sharply.

  Archú was silent for a time; for such a long period, in fact, that Eadulf thought he was refusing to answer the question. But then the young man gave a long sigh.

  ‘I do not know. Nothing makes sense any more. The deaths of Eber and Teafa were distant to me. Their deaths did not really concern me. But Muadnat’s death was closer to me, even though I disliked him. I do not understand it.’

  Scoth greeted them at the farmhouse door.

  The second warrior whom Dubán had left behind had come forward to take their horses.

  Archú led the way inside.

  ‘There is cider to drink,’ Scoth said, going to fetch a jug and mugs.

  Eadulf smiled appreciatively.

  ‘A blessing on you for that,’ he said. ‘My throat is shrivelled for want of a drink.’

  Archú bade them be seated while Scoth poured the drinks and offered a bowl of fruit.

  Eadulf finished most of his mug in a single draught with a deep gasping sigh while Fidelma sipped more gently and appreciatively at her drink.