The Spider's Web (31 page)

Read The Spider's Web Online

Authors: Peter Tremayne

Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland

BOOK: The Spider's Web
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‘I usually mean what I say,’ Fidelma replied waspishly.
‘Then that will be a relief to Crón.’
‘And doubtless you …’
What she was about to say was cut short by a plaintive lowing of nearby cattle. It was an odd, frenzied cry of fear.
Dubán reined in his horse abruptly and gazed across the hillside into the twilight. Fidelma halted her mount beside him.
She could see the shadows of the shaggy haired cattle moving restlessly in the semi-gloom and hear their curious protest.
‘What is it?’ she asked, finding herself whispering.
‘I do not know,’ confessed Dubán. ‘I think something is worrying them. An animal, perhaps. I’d better have a look.’
He slid from his horse and handed the reins to Fidelma.
She sat watching the warrior move cautiously off towards the cattle into the gloom.
It was chilly and she drew her cloak firmly around her shoulders. After a moment she became aware of Dubán’s horse snorting and tugging against its rein.
‘Whoa!’ she called irritably. ‘Hold still, beast.’
Then, without warning, her own mount reared back on its hind legs, causing her to lose her grip and go tumbling over its flank, hitting the ground with her shoulder. It was lucky that the turf was soft and springy for it cushioned her fall and she lay winded for a moment, feeling more indignant than hurt that she had taken the tumble. She raised herself to her knees and began to rub her right arm which had taken most of the impact. She felt embarrassment that she had allowed herself to fall like some novice who had never been astride a horse in their life.
‘Hey!’ she cried, as both mounts began to trot off into the descending darkness.
She took a hesitant step after them and a sudden coldness gripped her. Her ears detected the soft rustle of undergrowth nearby. Was that the sound of a low growl that she heard?
She stood perfectly still.
A long, low black shape emerged from the nearby underbrush and stopped. The eyes glinted in the gloom and its muzzle drew back showing sharp white canine teeth.
The wolf stared up at her and let forth a deep throaty growling.
Fidelma knew that if she made the slightest move the mighty animal would be on her, its great jaws seeking her throat, ripping and tearing. She tried to prevent herself from blinking; from even breathing. Fidelma had seen wolves before, had even been threatened but always when she was able to out-pace them on horseback or had some other means of protection. Wolves were the commonest predator in the five kingdoms but they usually kept to the mountain fastness or forest passes and attacked only when disturbed or found an unfortunate unarmed wayfarer on foot. There was easier prey in the country than humans such as the better tasting meat of farm animals or wild game like the deer herds.
But here she was alone on foot with no weapons and only yards separating her from a large animal in search of prey. Her rational mind, working alongside the fearful emotions which swept through her, recognised the animal as a bitch, a hungry mother needing food to bring to its whelps.
It seemed that an eternity passed as wolf and human stood gazing upon one another. Fidelma felt her body begin to shake and she knew that any sudden movement would be fatal.
Then she felt something fly past her. Something seemed to hit the wolf for it uttered a terrible cry, a wild yelp, a rough hand caught her and propelled her aside, and even as it did so she saw the wolf turning and disappearing into the undergrowth.
Then she swung round and was facing Dubán in the gloom.
‘Are you all right?’ the warrior demanded. His voice was anxious.
She gave a nervous laugh.
‘I am not sure that I shall ever be all right again,’ she confessed. She breathed deeply several times to recover her equilibrium. She rubbed her arm carefully where he had grasped her. ‘You have rough hands for a warrior.’
Dubán chuckled.
‘Leather gloves, sister. They save callouses. Now, we’d best find the horses. That wolf might bring the pack back in search of us.’
‘I am sorry.’ Fidelma was contrite.
‘For what?’ demanded the warrior.
‘For being such a fool as to lose the horses.’
Dubán shrugged indifferently.
‘Even the best horseman cannot provide for every contingency, sister. The wolf was unnerving the cattle. It must have been circling through the underbrush behind you and suddenly startled the horses. I heard the cry and came hurrying back. Thank God there were a few stones on the ground and I let fly with them. You did well not to move for any movement would have been fatal.’ He paused and added. ‘But you were not hurt in the fall?’
‘Only my dignity is hurt,’ smiled Fidelma in the gloom. And the sense of pride in my own logic, she added silently. Had Dubán been the sort of person she was suspecting him to be then she would be lying back there with her throat ripped out by the ravening wolf.
‘Thank God it was only that and nothing more,’ replied Dubán. They turned and began to walk across the springy turf.
‘Do you really think the wolf might come back?’ Fidelma asked.
‘From the size of it, it was a bitch.’ Dubán confirmed her own estimate of the wolf’s sex. ‘She’ll be back looking for food for her hungry cubs.’
‘Do they often come this close to the farmlands?’
‘More often in winter than in spring or summer. Sometimes they have been known to break into the
rath
itself and make
off with chickens and even a piglet as I recall.’
He halted and pointed.
‘Look, there are our horses standing by those trees. They did not go far.’
Fidelma utter a silent prayer of thanks. She did not fancy a long trudge through the night.
The two horses actually seemed pleased to see their erstwhile riders and moved towards them. They allowed themselves to be caught and mounted without any fuss.
After a while, as they began to ride on Fidelma said: ‘You saved my life there, Dubán.’
The warrior shrugged. He seemed embarrassed.
‘I took my warrior’s oath before Maenach, when he was king of Cashel, and swore to protect those in need.’
Fidelma regarded him with interest. It meant that Dubán was a warrior of the ancient order of the Golden Collar. It was said that a thousand years before the birth of Christ, Cashel sent a High King to rule over the five kingdoms of Eireann. He was Muinheamhoin Mac Fiardea, the eighth king to rule after Eber the son of Mile. And it was this High King from Cashel who instituted the order of the Golden Collar among his warriors.
‘I did not know that you were a warrior of the order of Cashel,’ Fidelma said quietly.
‘I do not often wear my golden chain of office,’ he confessed. ‘I returned to Araglin only a few years ago when I felt I was no longer young and virile enough to serve the kings there. Eber had need of an experienced man to be his commander of the guard.’ He sighed. ‘It was not an onerous position. But maybe I should have stayed in Cashel.’
Fidelma frowned at the inflection in his voice.
‘I understand that you did not like Eber?’
‘Eber the kind and generous?’
Dubán’s tone was cynical.
‘You doubt it?’
‘Someone should tell you the truth about Eber, sister.’
‘Perhaps you should tell me.’
‘I am not ready to prove my accusations. And if I cannot then I may lose what security I have made here to last me into old age.’
Fidelma was studied.
‘I have no wish to harm your prospects of a peaceful life, Dubán. But if it is security you wish, I am sure my brother, as king of Cashel, and therefore hereditary head of the order which you have taken an oath in, would not see you suffer for fulfilling your oath to tell the truth. I have already warned you that I know that the truth has been distorted. Why did you kill Menma?’
Her question came sharply, like an arrow from a bow. She heard his sharp intake of breath.
‘You know … that?’
He was silent for a moment. Then he replied.
‘I followed Menma to that cave. I had been out searching for Dignait when I came across Menma with some other men and a heavy wagon at Muadnat’s farm. They did not see me. I recognised the men as some of those who had passed us on the trail. The cattle raiders. Menma was giving them orders and left them to ride alone into the hills along the track that Agdae told us led nowhere. Naturally I followed.’
‘Where did the other men go?’
‘They headed south. I followed Menma to the cave. There was someone already at the cave.’
‘Who was it?’
‘I couldn’t see. Menma and this other person were inside the cave talking as I arrived. The other person was giving Menma instructions to kill someone in order to silence them.’
‘You did not see who this other person, the person giving instructions, was?’
‘I did not. But a battle fury descended on me when I heard. Forgetting I had only my bow in my hand, I pushed into the cave
and challenged them. Menma fought back fiercely while the other person, no more than a dark shadow in the gloom of the cave, fled by me. I heard them gallop away while I was struggling with Menma. He broke loose and managed to flee to his horse. I could not let him escape. You saw what happened.’
‘I did. And I can confirm that someone else fled from the glade.’
‘Who?’
‘That I did not see. But you heard their voice.’
‘I did not recognise it.’
‘Was it male or a female?’
‘It was a whisper but deep. I think it was male.’
‘Tell me why you hated Eber? The truth, on your honour.’
In the gloom she saw Dubán’s hand go to his neck as if expecting to find the golden chain of the order of warriors there.
She saw his lips compress a moment.
‘You do well to remind me of honour, Fidelma,’ he said. ‘Maybe these last few years in Araglin I have forgotten what honour really means.’
‘Because you have spent too long mixing with young ruffians who think they are warriors? Thugs like Crítán?’
In the gloom ahead they could see lights across the valley.
‘There is the
rath
. We shall soon be there,’ muttered Dubán.
‘Then it is best you tell me what is on your mind, Dubán, before we reach it.’
‘Eber was not what he claimed himself to be. He was a chieftain without honour.’
‘In what way?’
‘He was morally corrupt.’
‘Moral corruption may take many forms. Can you be more specific.’
‘Have you asked why his wife quit the bed of her husband? It is rumoured that he was like a stag on heat and any deer of the herd which crossed his path was subject to his abuse.’
‘I see …’ murmured Fidelma.
‘No, I do not think you do. I mean …
any
deer of the herd. Even within his own family,’ muttered Dubán.
‘You mean that he sexually abused members of his own family?’ Fidelma said quietly. She knew the allegation but wanted to hear Dubán’s version.
‘I cannot prove it. Neither can I prove the other thing that I know within my bones … that Eber was a murderer.’
Fidelma was surprised at this assertion.
‘You may speak in confidence with me, Dubán. You must tell me why you suspect Eber of murder.’
‘Very well. I was in love once with Eber’s young sister.’
‘With Teafa?’
‘No. Not Teafa. She was a year older than Eber. Tomnát was the younger sister. She was fearful of her brother. When I tried to persuade her to accompany me to Cashel as my wife, she said she could not for the shameful thing that was on her.’
‘Did she explain what she meant by that?’
‘No, neither did I understand at the time. But within a day or so Tomnat had disappeared from the
rath,
indeed, from the very valley of Araglin, and was heard of no more. It was my belief that Eber had her killed lest she reveal the evil of his mind and soul.’
‘How can you say this? You must have something which makes you suspicious.’
‘I knew that the night before Tomnat disappeared, she and Eber had a terrible row.’
‘You witnessed this row?’
‘I heard their voices raised. I was on guard and could not enter Eber’s private chambers. After a while there was silence and the next morning Tomnat had vanished. I loved Tomnat. She was as attractive as Crón is today.’
‘And you said that there was a widespread search made for the missing girl?’
‘For months everyone made inquiries for Tomnat. Teafa eventually came to me and told me that it was best for me to
forget her sister. Teafa was the only other person who knew my feelings for Tomnat. She told me that ever since Tomnat was a little girl, Eber had forced her to sleep with him. She was never found and eventually I went off to Cashel and pledged myself in the bodyguard of the king, Máenach.’

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