‘So Crón was elected tanist only three weeks ago?’ Fidelma reflected. ‘I know that there is a relationship between Crón and Dubán. What of Dubán’s relationship to Eber?’
Clídna pulled a face.
‘That is easy. It was rumoured that Dubán hated Eber.’
‘Yet he was commander of his bodyguard. Did Eber know of his hate?’
‘Eber was wrapped in a cocoon of self-absorption. He was susceptible to flattery and even when he found enemies, his method was, as I have said, of buying them off. When Dubán returned after many years away from Araglin and offered his services to Eber, Eber was flattered that a renowned warrior in the fight against the Ui Fidgente would offer his services to him.’
‘I see.’ Fidelma was thoughtful.
Clídna regarded her expression.
‘If you suspect Dubán of killing Eber, I would advise against it. Dubán is an ambitious, single-minded person but he is also a warrior with a code of honour. He would slaughter Eber in singlecombat but never sneak up on him in the night and cut his throat.’
‘I have known the most unlikely people resort to means that are out of character.’
‘Well, of all the people in Araglin, I would say that Dubán, in spite of his dislike of Eber, would be the last to resort to murder.’
‘Do you know why Dubán hated Eber?’
‘Ah, that is a story lost in the past. I think something happened when Dubán was a young man here, something which prompted his going to join the armies of the Cashel kings.’
‘You said that if you were considering this matter, you would place other people before Dubán. Such as who?’
Clídna grinned awkwardly.
‘You will not be offended if I speak my mind?’
‘Why should I be?’
‘You may not like what I have to say.’
‘Like or dislike may not enter into it, if it places my footsteps on the path to truth. Truth is what we seek in whatever direction it lies. Vincit omnia veritas.’
‘Father Gormán hated Eber. He was a fanatic about what he believed to be moral. He was always threatening people with hell and fiery furnances. He threatened Eber and Teafa.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘I learnt it from that little conceited boy who pretends to be a warrior. He was often a visitor here.’
‘Crítán?’
‘The same. He was drunk here one evening and in his cups he told me Father Gormán had denounced both Eber and Teafa in the most vehement fashion. He called him a vile whoremonger who would burn in hell and said that Teafa was no better. Father Gormán accused them of many sins, so many that he claimed hell was not hot enough, nor eternity long enough, to punish him.’
‘When was this?’
‘Two weeks ago, according to Crítán. Eber was so outraged by Gormán that he struck him.’
‘Eber struck the priest?’ Even Fidelma was surprised.
‘It is so.’
‘Were there witnesses?’
‘According to Crítán he witnessed this himself for it took place in the stables. They did not see him because he was in the hayloft.’
‘What was the row about?’
‘You should ask Crítán.’
‘I doubt that he would tell me. Don’t worry. If you tell me what Crítán said I shall see that you are not implicated if any of the information needs to be acted upon.’
‘Crítán was in the hayloft of the stables. He was apparently asleep there. He was awakened by the sounds of an altercation. It was the priest with Eber and Teafa. He could not hear precisely what the argument was about except that Father Gormán was censuring them both for their lack of morality. Crítán said something was mentioned about Móen. It was then that Eber actually struck the priest.’
‘What happened then?’ prompted Fidelma when the woman paused.
‘Father Gormán fell to the ground. Crítán said that he cried out words to the effect that Eber would be struck dead in return for that blow.’
Fidelma leant forward with interest.
‘He said those very words?’
‘According to Crítán.’
‘What were the exact words … according to Crítán?’
‘I think he said that Father Gormán cried out — “Heaven will strike you dead for that blow” — or something like that.’
‘Ah, heaven. He did not say that the blow would be struck by himself?’
Clídna shook her head.
‘Well, I shall not implicate you in this. Tell me, though,’ Fidelma smiled briefly, ‘is Agdae a good landlord?’
‘No better or worse than any other man,’ Clídna was self-consciously offhand.
‘But you like him more than any other man?’
‘It is nice to dream beyond one’s station in life,’ she admitted.
‘What can you tell me about Muadnat?’
‘Hot-headed. He was always used to his own way.’
‘Did Muadnat and Agdae both frequent your … your house?’
Clídna laughed humorously.
‘They and half of Araglin. I am not ashamed. It is what I do.’
‘Did you ever hear either of them speak about a mine?’
‘A mine? Do you mean a mine here in Araglin?’
‘Yes. Or in the Black Marsh, on Muadnat’s land, for example.’
‘No. Nor anywhere else in this land.’
Fidelma was disappointed.
Clídna was rising from her seat when she suddenly turned round, frowning.
‘Mind you … it may be nothing …’
Fidelma waited expectantly.
‘Menma said something once.’
Fidelma was patient but her mind fully alert at the mention of the red-haired man.
‘Menma said something about a man who found a rock which would make him rich.’
‘What?’
‘I did not understand then neither do I understand now, sister. Menma is often here and often drunk. Some weeks ago he was talking in his cups about extracting riches from the earth. I had no idea of what he was talking about. Then he said something about a man knowing the secret of making rock turn to wealth and wealth buying more power than even Eber could imagine.’
‘Did he mention who this man was?’
‘It was a name like Mór … Mór something.’
‘Morna?’ queried Fidelma.
‘I think so. Now that you have mentioned mines. Don’t the rocks yield up precious metals?’
‘Have you heard any other talk? Did Muadnat ever say anything?’
‘Nothing. One interesting thing, though, during this same period Menma and Muadnat appeared to become close friends. Muadnat had never been friendly with the stableman before. It was curious. I know because Agdae once complained to me that Muadnat and Menma often went hunting in the hills and he felt excluded.’
Slowly, thoughtfully, Fidelma rose from her seat.
‘I am most grateful for all the information you have given me, Clídna. You have been of much help to me.’
Clídna grimaced sceptically.
‘I cannot see how, sister.’
Fidelma handed her back the empty pottery mug.
‘I thank you for your hospitality. May you be happy in your life.’
Fidelma mounted her horse and headed towards the valley of the Black Marsh, deep in thought.
Chapter Eighteen
Her first plan had been to set out in search of Dubán to see if he had discovered where Dignait might have fled to. But she was troubled. Even though Clídna had told her that there were others in Araglin whom she would suspect of murder before the burly warrior, Fidelma was suspicious. If he hated Eber, why had Dubán returned to Araglin and taken service with him? And if he loved Crón, the death of Eber was of benefit to them both. She had already become suspicious of the pair of them because of the lies that they had told her. She found herself unconsciously guiding her horse directly over the hills towards the mine.