The woman shrugged.
‘There is little in this place that I do not know.’
‘Just so. Dux femina facti! You might well have heard secrets whispered on the air.’
‘But not the secret you wish to uncover. There are too many people who disliked Eber. Enough to wish his health would fail. I am not sure how many would go so far as to undertake the task of killing him.’
‘Perhaps Agdae has sufficient motive, for example?’
Clídna shook her head quickly, a flush on her cheeks.
‘Anyway, he was at Lios Mhór at the time Eber was killed. You must know that,’ she said, her cheeks colouring.
Fidelma knew this fact well enough but something prompted her to test Clídna because of the tone of voice she had used when referring to Agdae as her landlord. Fidelma felt that her tone expressed something more than a professional relationship.
‘He would not be capable of hiring someone else to do the deed?’
‘He is not like that. He is a man of impetuous temper and was often led astray by his loyalty to his cousin, Muadnat. But he is not a violent man.’
‘Yet, perhaps, even as we speak, Agdae is out trying to devise a way of killing young Archú. That is what he is reported to have threatened.’
Clídna threw back her head and laughed.
‘Then you are not well informed!’
Fidelma raised her eyebrows in query.
‘Are you so certain?’
Clídna rose, still smiling, and went to a door at the back of the cabin. It opened into another room which was in darkness. She motioned Fidelma to come forward. Warily, she did so. Clídna gestured for her to look into its gloomy depths, placing her finger against her lips.
A strong smell of stale alcohol wafted out of the room, which was obviously a sleeping chamber. She heard a raucous snoring sound and saw a figure stretched out on a small wooden cot.
Clídna moved silently across the floor and pulled back a wooden shutter to allow some strong light to flood the room. There was a slight moan from the figure. Fidelma peered forward. She had no trouble recognising Agdae’s features. After a moment, Clídna pulled back the shutter and led Fidelma from the room.
‘He has been here since the death of Muadnat and scarcely sober since that time,’ Clídna explained. ‘The death of his cousin has affected him. He is not capable of violence. That I know.’
Fidelma sat down again, sipping her beverage thoughtfully.
‘Did Eber ever come here?’
Clídna laughed and shook her head as she returned to her seat. Laughter seemed to come easily to her.
‘I was not to his taste for I was not a young girl neither was I related to him,’ she replied. ‘No, he had other outlets.’
‘You said many people hated him?’
‘He was to the people of Araglin like a raven to a bone,’ reflected Clídna.
‘Why was this reputation for kindliness and generosity, for gentleness and courteousness, spread about?’
‘Because Eber sought power in the king of Cashel’s assembly. He claimed to be a friend of everyone in order to enhance his reputation to win a seat in the assembly.’
‘Woe unto you when all men shall speak well of you,’ muttered Fidelma. She smiled at the disconcerted woman. ‘It comes from the Gospel of the Blessed Luke. In other words, as Aristotle wrote, a man who claims many friends, has no friends. Tell me about the people who disliked him.’
‘Where should I begin?’ Clídna asked sceptically.
‘Start within his own family circle?’
‘A good enough place,’ she agreed. ‘Everyone in it hated him.’
‘Everyone?’ Fidelma leant forward with interest. ‘Then let us be more specific. What of his wife?’
‘Cranat? Yes, she hated him. There is no doubt. If you have spoken to her, you will know that she considers herself to be badly treated. To have married below her station. A princess of the Déisi. She disliked having to live in Araglin. Her arrangement was purely for money. You spoke a line of Latin earlier. I learnt such a line once from …’ she hesitated and smiled, ‘ … from a friend. It was — quaerenda pecunia primum est virtus post nummos.’
‘A line from Horace’s Epistles,’ Fidelma recognised it, ‘and well remembered. Money is to be sought after first of all, virtue after wealth. So Cranat married Eber, seeking wealth before virtue?’
Clídna smiled agreement.
‘And Crón is her only child by Eber?’
Clídna rubbed the side of her nose with a forefinger and nodded. Then added: ‘She is.’
‘When did Cranat cease to live with Eber?’
Clídna shook her head.
‘That happened when Crón was about twelve or thirteen years old. There was talk of course.’
‘Talk?’
‘That Eber preferred his own daughter to the company of his wife.’
Fidelma sat back and looked long and thoughtfully at the prostitute.
‘More of this tea?’ asked Clídna, unperturbed at the effect that she had.
Fidelma nodded automatically, holding out her mug.
‘Let us speak of Crón, then. How did she feel about her father?’
‘I am told that she had a close relationship with him. She worked closely with him and, indeed, she had barely come to the age of choice when she was made his tanist. We are a rural community here, sister, and there was some anger at this.’
‘Anger?’
‘Oh yes. A young girl being heir-elect to the chiefdom.’
‘It is not unusual,’ Fidelma pointed out. ‘Women can aspire to all offices in the five kingdoms.’
‘But are rarely elected among farmers. Anyway, there was another problem. Muadnat was already the heir-elect.’
Fidelma fought to control her surprise.
‘Muadnat?’
‘Yes. Didn’t you know that he was cousin to Eber and as Eber had no immediate male heirs, he was appointed tanist a long time ago? When Eber disinherited him and caused his own daughter to be elected tanist, there was talk that Eber paid much in bribes for that support.’
Fidelma’s mind was racing.
‘Wake Agdae for me!’
Clídna frowned and was about to protest but she recognised the resolute expression on Fidelma’s face.
It took some moments to bring Agdae round. The man sat on the bed blinking and rubbing his eyes. He was clearly not yet sober.
‘Listen, Agdae,’ Fidelma’s voice was harsh, ‘listen carefully. I want you to tell me the truth. If you do not, then your life might be in danger. Do you understand?’
Agdae groaned in befuddled protest.
‘When was Muadnat deposed by the derbfhine of the house of the chieftains of Araglin?’
Agdae screwed up his eyes as if trying to focus on her. He gazed at her blankly.
‘When?’ persisted Fidelma.
‘When?’ echoed Agdae stupidly. ‘Oh, three weeks ago.’
‘Only three weeks ago? And were you one of the derbfhine?’
Agdae rubbed his tousled head and nodded reluctantly.
‘Give me a drink.’
‘Were you a member of the derbfhine?’ Fidelma raised her voice sharply.
‘I was.’
‘Did you vote for Muadnat to remain tanist?’
‘Of course, why I …’
‘Who else voted for Muadnat … who else?’
Agdae’s head rolled back as if he wanted to go to sleep.
‘Who else supported Muadnat at that assembly?’
She shook him by the shoulders.
‘All right! Enough!’ he protested. ‘Only Cranat, Teafa and myself … oh, and Menma. No one else.’
‘So Menma was a member of the derbfhine?’
‘The stableman is a cousin and entitled to a voice in the derbfhine,’ interposed Clídna.
Fidelma let Agdae collapse in his stupor back onto the bed. She stood for a moment deep in thought before returning to the other room. Clídna followed her, shutting the bedroom door softly. Fidelma sank back in her chair. Cautiously, Clídna reseated herself.