‘Well, Agdae is already accusing Archú of this murder.’
‘On what grounds?’
‘Because Archú is the only person in Araglin who has been at enmity with Muadnat. He says that Archú, through you, blamed Muadnat for the raid on his farmstead yesterday.’
‘That is not quite accurate.’ Fidelma turned to Eadulf. ‘We’d better ride out to this cross and see for ourselves.’
He was in agreement and asked Crón: ‘How long will it be before Dubán returns?’ Adding: ‘It may be that we shall have need of his services in protecting Archú from the wild accusations of Agdae.’
Crón was annoyed.
‘Why should you spend time on this matter? It has nothing to do with the death of my father, Eber, or Teafa. Surely you should be devoting yourself to uncovering the murderer if, as I believe you now claim, it is not Móen … though I think it will take much persuasive power to convince the people of Araglin that he is innocent.’
Fidelma suppressed a passing feeling of exasperation.
‘I find it is better to keep an open mind when conducting an investigation. There is much secrecy in Araglin. I have been told things which are not true. I do not know whether the death of Muadnat has anything to do with the deaths of Eber and Teafa. If you know differently then perhaps you would share your knowledge with me?’
Crón had difficulty in controlling her features and, with grim satisfaction, Fidelma saw uncertainty and even fear in her eyes. After a moment or two, Crón controlled her emotions.
‘No, I do not have such information. I only make what I consider a logical observation. If you must ride out to the big cross, thenyou must. But I think your investigation into this matter is taking an overly long period to complete.’
‘It will take as long as it takes,’ replied Fidelma resolutely. ‘People must have patience.’
‘Agdae may not have patience. He has sworn to find Archú and exact vengeance.’
Fidelma looked sharply at her.
‘Then I would advise you to send after Dubán and have him restrain Agdae unless you want to see one injustice follow another. Perhaps Archú and Scoth should be brought here to this rath for their own protection until I can investigate the matter properly.’
‘Agdae was kin to Muadnat, as, indeed, I was. He will not let his killer escape justice,’ Crón said coldly.
‘Then,’ replied Fidelma equally icily, ‘we must ensure that the killer is found — whoever he or she is.’
She turned and strode quickly from the assembly hall with Eadulf trailing in her wake. In a short while they were riding at a rapid pace uphill towards the distant high cross.
The young warrior Crítán was already there with a couple of burly men, farm workers by the look of them. Nearby stood an ass which had obviously been prepared to receive the body of Muadnat. The purpose of the gathering seemed to be a preparation for the taking down of the body. Muadnat was hanging by his neck by a rope which had been passed over the cross-bar of the granite cross. His feet were little more than a few inches above the ground. Yet Fidelma could immediately see the stains of blood over the front of the man’s shirt as if massive wounds had been inflicted while he was alive.
One of the farm workers who had been about to place a ladder against the back of the cross suddenly saw the approach of Fidelma and Eadulf and paused, muttering something to his two companions. They turned and regarded the two religious with hostility.
Young Crítán moved forward disdainfully.
‘You are not welcome here,’ he greeted.
Unperturbed, Fidelma halted her horse and dismounted.
‘We do not ask a welcome,’ she said calmly.
Eadulf also slid from his mount and hitched his reins together with those of Fidelma’s horse.
Crítán stood hands on his hips. He gazed resentfully at Fidelma. His was a character which would never forgive her for apparently humiliating him. Now he made his aggression clear.
‘It would be well if you left here, woman. Twice you have exonerated Archú in his feud against Muadnat. Now see where this has led. This time Archú shall not succeed. Nor will your attempts to conspire with that creature of the Devil and let him go free after he has murdered Eber and Teafa.’ His tone of menace matched his words.
Fidelma did not appear troubled, standing hands demurely folded in front of her, even smiling at the youth.
‘I am an advocate of the courts of the five kingdoms, Crítán,’ she said pleasantly enough. ‘Do you dare threaten me?’
Arrogance and inexperience combined in Crítán to cause stupidity to replace even his natural cunning. He thrust out his jaw.
‘This is Araglin, woman. You do not have the protection of your church or of your brother’s warriors here.’
He was disconcerted to see Fidelma’s smile broaden.
‘I do not need them to exert my authority here,’ she replied.
The two farm hands had stood hesitantly, allowing Crítán to be their spokesman. Now the one with the ladder, realising that the young warrior might have gone a little too far with his threats, put down his burden and came forward.
‘It is true that you are not wanted here, sister,’ he said, with slightly more respect in his voice. ‘Our kinsman,’ he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the high cross, ‘has been slain and we know who must pay for it. You should be about your own business.’
‘You appear to have made your mind up about the identity ofthe person who you want to punish for Muadnat’s death whether they are guilty or not,’ observed Eadulf dryly. ‘Is it not better to wait until you find the real culprit?’
‘No one asked for your interference, Saxon,’ snapped Crítán. ‘Now be gone, the both of you. It is a fair warning that I give you.’
Fidelma’s mouth turned down almost in a wistful expression. It was always a dangerous sign with her but only Eadulf realised that fact. She had noticed that the youth’s words were studied, the face flushed, eyes bright and gestures exaggerated. It was obvious, now that she had a chance to observe him more closely, that the young man had taken drink to bolster his courage that morning.
‘I will overlook your ill-manners, Crítán, for this time I shall take into account your youth and inexperience. Now I mean to examine Muadnat’s body and I do so by the authority I hold.’
Crítán, having used verbal force and found it not intimidating, was somewhat taken aback. He glanced at the two farm hands for support. They were looking embarrassed. Now Crítán saw that he was being humiliated again in front of others.
‘These are kinsmen of Muadnat,’ he said stubbornly. ‘We will not allow you to bend the law to allow Archú to escape our justice.’
‘And are they your witness to this murder?’ Fidelma demanded, turning to the two men. ‘You,’ she suddenly pointed to the one who had adopted a more reasonable tone with her, ‘did you see Archú kill Muadnat?’
The man flushed.
‘No, of course not, but …’
‘And you?’ Fidelma wheeled sharply to the second man.
‘Who else but Archú would do this?’ replied the man resolutely.
‘Who else? Isn’t that a matter to be considered by the law before you exact vengeance on someone who may be innocent?’
Crítán intervened with a sneering laugh.
‘You are good at playing with words, woman. But we have hadenough of words. Be gone from this spot before I force you to leave.’ His hand fell on his sword. The gesture needed no interpretation.
Eadulf came forward, his movements purposeful, but Fidelma reached out and held his arm firmly. Even so, Eadulf was flushed with anger.
‘Would you dare threaten a woman?’ he growled ominously. ‘A woman of the cloth?’
In fact, Crítán had drawn his sword as soon as Eadulf had moved towards him. The youth’s face was red, his eyes bright.