Crón shook her head.
‘It was Menma who heard his death cry and burst into my father’s chamber to discover Móen in the act of slaughter.’
‘Ah. Menma. And who is Menma?’ queried Fidelma, trying to remember where she had heard the name before.
‘He is the head of my father’s,’ Crón paused and corrected herself, ‘head of my stables.’
Fidelma remembered that Dignait had mentioned the name.
‘So far as your own knowledge is concerned,’ Fidelma continued after a moment, ‘the facts of this matter are clear and simple? You have not been troubled or mystified by them?’
‘There is no mystery. The facts are clear.’
‘What reason do you offer as to why Móen would kill both Eber and Teafa?’
The reply came without hesitation.
‘No logical motive. But then logic would not be part of Móen’s world.’ Her voice was bitter.
Fidelma tried to fathom her meaning.
‘As I understand it, Teafa had raised Móen from a baby. He had much to be grateful to her for. Are you saying logic did notplay any part in this deed? Then what do you ascribe the motive as, for surely there must be a motive?’
‘Who can tell what passes in the dark still mind of one such as Móen?’ replied the tanist.
For a moment, Fidelma wondered whether to press her for an explanation of her choice of words. She felt that she should not bias herself before she had spoken with Móen. However, there was one person to see before she spoke with Móen and that was the person who had discovered him in the act of killing Eber.
‘I will now speak with Menma,’ she announced.
‘I could save you trouble,’ replied Crón sharply, ‘for I know all the details of this matter as Menma and Duban told them to me.’
Fidelma smiled tightly.
‘That is not the way a dálaigh works. It is important that I gather the facts at first hand.’
‘What is of importance is that you pronounce the legal punishment that Móen must suffer. And pronounce it soon.’
‘So there is no doubt in your mind that Móen did this deed?’
‘If Menma says that he found Móen in the act of doing it, then he did so.’
‘I do not question it,’ Fidelma said, rising to her feet, with Eadulf following. Fidelma turned to the door.
‘What will you do with Móen?’ demanded Crón, nonplussed, for she was unused to people rising in her presence and leaving before she had formally dismissed them.
‘Do?’ Fidelma paused and gazed back at the tanist for a moment. ‘Nothing, as yet. Firstly, we must speak to all the witnesses and then hold a legal hearing, allowing Móen to make his defence.’
Crón startled them by letting out a peal of laughter. It sounded slightly hysterical.
Fidelma waited patiently for it to subside and then asked: ‘Perhaps you will tell us where we may find the man, Menma?’
‘At this hour you will find him at the stables just beyond theguests’ hostel,’ Crón replied, between giggles.
As they were about to leave the hall of assembly, Crón managed to control her amusement and called to stay them a moment more. She became serious.
‘It would be a wise course to give judgment in this matter as soon as possible. My father was well liked among his people. Kind and generous. There are many among my people who feel that the old laws of compensation are inadequate to cope with this crime and that the words of the new Faith, the creed of retribution, are more suited. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, burning for burning. If Móen is not dealt with swiftly by you, there may be willing hands to exact justice.’
‘Justice?’ Fidelma’s voice was icy as she spun to face the young tanist. ‘You mean mob vengeance? Well, as chieftain-elect of this clan … presuming that you are confirmed in office by your derbfhine … you may pass this word on from me — if anyone lays hands on Móen before he is tried and judged in accordance with the law, they will find themselves being judged in turn. I promise that, no matter what station they hold in life.’
Crón swallowed hard as she met the cold blast of anger from the religieuse.
Fidelma returned the gaze of the hostile blue eyes of the woman with equal coldness.
‘One more thing, I would like to know,’ she added. ‘Who has preached a creed of retribution in the name of the Faith?’
The tanist thrust out her chin.
‘I have already told you that we have only one person here who attends to the needs of the Faith.’
‘Father Gormán?’ offered Eadulf.
‘Father Gormán,’ confirmed Crón.
‘This Father Gormán seems out of step with the philosophy of the laws of the five kingdoms,’ Fidelma observed quietly. ‘And where is this gentle advocate of the Faith to be found? In his church?’
‘Father Gormán is visiting some outlying farmsteads. He will be back here tomorrow.’
‘I shall look forward to meeting with him,’ Fidelma replied grimly as she led the way from the hall.
It turned out that Menma was a heavy-set man who had ugly features and a bushy red beard. They found him sitting on a tree stump in front of the stable buildings, honing a billhook with a stone. He paused and looked up as they approached. His expression was one of cunning. He rose slowly to his feet.
Eadulf heard Fidelma give a sharp intake of breath and glanced at her in surprise. She was examining the fox-like features of Menma with curiosity. They came to a halt before him. Eadulf was aware of an awesome rancid smell. He gazed distastefully at the man’s dirty matted hair and beard and shifted his position slightly for the breeze seemed to blow the stench of the man against him.
Menma gave an occasional tug at his red beard as he stood before Fidelma.
‘Do you understand that I am an advocate of the law courts, charged by the king of Cashel to investigate the killing of Eber?’
Menma nodded slowly.
‘I have been told, sister. The news of your coming has quickly spread here.’
‘I am told that it was you who discovered the body of Eber?’
The man blinked.
‘It is so,’ he said after a moment’s reflection.
‘And what is your task at the rath of Araglin?’
‘I am head of the stables of the chieftain.’
‘Have you served the chieftain long?’
‘Crón will be the fourth chieftain of Araglin that I have served.’
‘Four? That is surely a long service.’
‘I was a young lad in the stables of Eoghan, whose life is remembered by the high cross which marks the clan lands on the road from the high mountains yonder.’
‘We have seen it,’ affirmed Eadulf.
‘Then there was Eoghan’s son, Erc, who died in battle against the Ui Fidgente,’ Menma continued as if he had not heard him. ‘And now Eber has passed to the Otherworld. So I am serving his daughter Crón.’
Fidelma waited a moment but there was no further response. She suppressed a sigh.
‘Tell me the circumstances of your finding Eber.’
For the first time the pale blue eyes of Menma seemed to focus with a slightly puzzled expression.
‘The circumstances, lady?’
Fidelma wondered if the man were slow-witted.
‘Yes,’ she said, trying to be patient. ‘Tell me when and how you discovered the body of Eber.’
‘When?’ The muscles in the broad face of the man creased the features. ‘It was the night when Eber was killed.’
Brother Eadulf turned aside to hide his amusement.
Fidelma gave an inward groan as she realised the type of person she was dealing with. Menma was slow-witted. Not a half-wit but merely someone whose thoughts moved laggardly and were ponderous. Or was he being so purposely?
‘And when was that, Menma?’ she coaxed.
‘Oh, that was six nights ago now.’
‘And the time? At what time did you find the body of Eber?’