‘I’ll give you shelter and food but for a price.’
Eadulf’s features tightened in annoyance.
‘I remember that you charged to drive us to the abbey. I should have suspected that you would not bring people out of a blizzard and allow them to share your home for nothing.’
Mul was grinning. ‘As a farmer I have learnt that money is like dung. It does no good unless it is spread, gerefa. I perceive that you have some to spread and that will help me survive the losses I will endure this winter.’
‘That is not a Christian idea of charity …’ protested Eadulf.
‘As the woman will remind you,’ returned Mul, ‘I am not a Christian.’
‘Eadulf,’ Fidelma interrupted softly, ‘the man has a point. A quid pro quo — something for something.’
Mul nodded towards her.
‘A good philosophy, woman. Two things that are important, a good mind and the ability to use it. I am sure that you will not begrudge me a penny for this night’s lodging, for the blizzard is set in now. You will not be able to leave here until tomorrow morning.’
Eadulf was disapproving.
‘I fear that you have many faults, Mul.’
Mul grinned back.
‘Is it not said that money will hide many faults?’ he countered.
‘Very well, Mul,’ sighed Eadulf. ‘But as you did not receive your fee until you had delivered us to the abbey, nor shall you receive your fee until we are about to depart.’
Mul grinned without rancour.
‘It is agreed, gerefa. And now I think my stew is ready. It is a sparse meal, for I was not expecting guests, but there is plenty of cheese and bread to follow. Seat yourselves,’ he added, indicating the table.
‘Can we do anything?’ inquired Fidelma politely.
Mul hesitated and then grimaced.
‘No, thank you, woman. I have grown used to my own company and way of doing things.’
He fetched platters and spoons and soon set before them wooden bowls of the steaming pork to which some root vegetables had been added. Bread and cheese were also placed on the table along with more cider.
The hound gave the appearance of sleeping by the fire but once, when Eadulf moved too quickly, the eyelids flickered open. The lips of the animal drew back across the teeth in a silent growl.
Mul snapped an order and the dog closed its eyes again.
Fidelma waited until the remains of the stew had been cleared away before turning to the subject that had been in her mind ever since Eadulf had told her that they were at the farmhouse of Mul.
‘I recall, Mul, that on the night you left us at Aldred’s Abbey, you had little good to say about it. Was that a general indictment of Christians or specific to the inhabitants of the abbey?’
Mul fixed her with his piercing bright eyes.
‘You will find few in these parts who have anything good to say about that place,’ he replied.
‘If I recall,’ Fidelma pressed, ‘you felt that the devil dwelt in that place.’
‘You have a good memory, woman,’ the farmer said, helpinghimself to more cider. ‘I said that the devil had cast his shadow over Aldred’s Abbey. I still say it.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘You have met the abbot?’
‘Abbot Cild. I did not see him, for I fell ill when we arrived, but Eadulf met him several times.’
Eadulf nodded.
‘I would say that he might be described as a devil but not the devil,’ he affirmed, taking another piece of cheese.
Mul looked at him wryly.
‘Even though you be Christians, I would not have thought that either of you would have had much good to say about Abbot Cild.’
Fidelma heard some underlying meaning in his tone. She stared at him, trying to get beyond his bright, piercing gaze.
‘Why would that be, Mul?’ she asked softly.
Mul leant back smiling.
‘Your companion, the gerefa Eadulf, is a person who reacts first and thinks afterwards,’ he said. ‘I have noticed it and so has Bragi there.’
The hound raised his head at the sound of its name.
Eadulf had stiffened slightly.
‘Explain yourself, Mul,’ he snapped.
‘I just want to warn you not to move suddenly.’ Mul continued to smile. ‘Bragi does not like it. He also reacts and, poor animal, has no mind to reason whether the movement has an evil intent or not. I would not like you to respond physically to what I am about to say.
Eadulf’s scowled deepened.
‘Go on,’ demanded Fidelma. ‘What do you want to tell us that may cause consternation?’
‘A rider from the abbey has been going around the surrounding farms and villages announcing that the abbot has placed a reward of three gold pieces on your heads. He urges anyone who encounters you to either take you captive or send to the abbey to report your whereabouts. Three gold pieces seems a great fortune. Especially to the poor farmers of this area.’
Fidelma glanced anxiously at Eadulf. He had gripped the edgeof the table with his hands. His jaw was clenched but he did not otherwise move.
‘And what reason does Abbot Cild give for announcing this reward?’ Fidelma asked evenly.
Mul returned her composed stare.
‘You probably know that well enough, woman. You are accused of witchcraft and the gerefa here is accused of aiding and abetting you.’
Eadulf had still not moved but now he said quietly, ‘As you say, Mul, three gold pieces is a lot of money.’
The farmer nodded complacently. ‘More than I will earn this year and even next year put together with this year. Aye, it is indeed a lot of money. More than I could ever hope to have at one time.’
‘And we know how you like money,’ muttered Eadulf, his eyes darting here and there in search of some means of self-defence.
The hound’s head had risen and its eyes were wide open and alert. It had that amazing canine ability to detect atmosphere in the slight nuances of the human voice.
Mul was sitting back in his chair, a slight smile on his face, the cup of cider in his hand.
‘You appear to be very much alarmed, gerefa,’ he said mildly.
‘Alarm is a reasonable reaction when you have confessed that your main interest is money and that you are in dire financial straits because of this winter,’ replied Eadulf. ‘Let me tell you why you should shun this gold …’
Fidelma reached forward in an easy manner and laid her hand on his arm.
‘I do not think any eloquence will alter the intention of Mul. Publilius Syrus once wrote that when gold argues the cause, eloquence is impotent.’
Mul chuckled in appreciation.
‘You have intelligence and wit, woman. The trouble with the religious is that they attempt to preach morality to the starving. Give a man an eloquent lecture on good and evil and give another man a penny and you will see which one of them will respect you the more.’
There was a silence and then Fidelma asked quietly: ‘So what do you intend to do, Mul?’
The farmer poured another beaker of cider.
‘Do? Nothing.’
For a moment neither Eadulf nor Fidelma replied.
‘I don’t understand,’ Fidelma said after a while. ‘Are you saying that the three gold pieces are not a temptation to you?’
‘Oh, they are a temptation right enough. But I would not trust Abbot Cild to pay them after he has secured what he wants. I denounce him as the devil. I would rather freeze to death than deal with him.’
Eadulf sat back, relaxing slowly.
‘Are you playing games with us, Mul?’
‘You, gerefa, leapt to your own conclusion. You believed that I cared more for gold than for my own principles. Who am I to correct your errors?’
‘Well, now that you have corrected our errors,’ interposed Fidelma, ‘perhaps I should explain that the abbot’s accusations are false.’
Mul shrugged. ‘I would not care one way or another. There was evil in that abbey before you went there and doubtless it will be there after you are gone.’