‘But Muadnat had a rich farm,’ Crón pointed out. ‘He could have fed those miners without resorting to such subterfuge as cattle raids.’
‘That would mean that Agdae would come to know what was happening. You forget that Agdae was Muadnat’s chief herdsman. Agdae would know if Muadnat was killing more cattle and supplying food to a source which he could not account for. And if Muadnat dismissed Agdae from that job it would look very suspicious. After all, Agdae was Muadnat’s closest relative.’
Agdae was flushed in mortification.
‘What made you think that the cattle raids were not genuine?’ demanded Dubán.
‘I have heard of cattle raiders, of outlaws, running off cattle. But, as Eadulf pointed out, never in ones or twos. Outlaws seek cattle to sell. That being so they would move entire herds or certainly enough cattle to make the sale worthwhile. I suspected that these cattle were being taken for food only. This was confirmed when we encountered some of the raiders when we were coming back from Gadra’s hermitage. They were moving south, with asses loaded with panniers. The panniers were doubtless filled with gold.’
‘Some of the raiders?’ queried Dubán.
‘Menma was not with them and neither were others we will identify shortly,’ explained Fidelma.
‘But I do not see the connection between Muadnat’s gold mine and the death of Eber and Teafa?’ Agdae protested sullenly.
‘We will eventually get there, following the strands of the spider’s web,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Muadnat’s wish was to hang on to the mine. He did his best to do so. Perhaps even against the advice of his partner.’
There was a silence.
‘Muadnat would never take Menma’s advice about anything,’ sneered Agdae.
Fidelma chose not to ignore the jibe.
‘Even while he was at Lios Mhór, Muadnat’s partner had probably decided that he would take over the gold mine,’ Fidelma said. ‘The reason was that Muadnat was drawing too much attention to himself in arguing law with Archú. The mine was meant to be secret. More importantly, Muadnat had fallen out of favour with Eber.
‘Muadnat had been Eber’s tanist until a few weeks ago. He had been due to be chieftain when Eber died. But suddenly he found himself dispossessed. Eber had persuaded the derbfhine of his family to accept his daughter Crón as tanist instead of Muadnat.
‘The raid on Bressal’s hostel, for example, was probably conducted without Muadnat’s knowledge. The raid was led by the man I later recognised as Menma. He had been told that Morna, Bressal’s brother, the miner who had discovered the mine, was being too free with his tongue. In fact, Morna had taken a rock to his brother, a rock which contained a gold trace, and told his brother that he would grow rich by it. It was not realised that Morna had not passed on any specific information. By chance we happened to be there and thwarted Menma’s attack.’
‘What happened to this miner named Morna?’ demanded Dubán. ‘Was he killed?’
‘He was, indeed. He had been captured, killed and was later left at Archú’s farm where, it was thought, he would simply be regarded as an outlaw killed in the raid. His relationship to Bressal was only obvious to me by the similarity of the features of the two brothers.’
‘Are you saying that Muadnat knew nothing about the raid of Bressal’s hostel and the slaughter of Bressal’s brother?’ asked Eadulf in surprise.
‘I do not see how this story of Muadnat’s gold mine relates tothe murder of my father,’ Crón insisted impatiently.
Fidelma allowed herself to smile briefly.
‘I have but unravelled the first thread of the spider’s web. Muadnat’s death became inevitable because of two old human emotions — fear and greed. Menma killed him, of course. Menma slaughtered Muadnat as one might slaughter an animal. It was the same way he had slaughtered Morna. It was the cold professionalism that pointed to Menma. One of his tasks was to slaughter meat for his chieftain’s table. I am not sure whether it was his idea to have Muadnat hanged on the cross after the act. Presumably this was a method of distracting me. Menma made one mistake. Before dealing the death blow, Menma allowed Muadnat to grasp some strands of his hair and pull out a tuft by the roots. It was left at the scene.’
‘What would Menma get out of slaughtering his partner Muadnat?’ asked Father Gormán. ‘It does not make sense to me. Agdae would have inherited Muadnat’s wealth anyway.’
‘But, as we have heard, Agdae did not know about the mine and, as it was secret, the partner would continue to reap the benefits whether Agdae took over the farm or not.’
‘Are you claiming that Menma is responsible for all the deaths in Araglin?’ demanded Dubán. ‘I have difficulty following this.’
‘Menma was responsible only for the deaths of Morna, of Muadnat and of Dignait … for they were all slaughtered in the same manner. Menma killed his victims with the same professionalism of a slaughterman killing a lamb.’
‘But why was Dignait killed?’ asked Father Gormán.
‘A simple reason, and the same reason as Morna was killed,’ replied Fidelma. ‘It was to ensure her silence. Dignait did not prepare that dish of poisonous mushrooms which nearly killed Brother Eadulf. A professional cook would know there are better ways to poison someone than to present a dish of false morel which anyone would have recognised.’
‘The Saxon did not,’ Crón pointed out with a sceptical humour.
‘I know morel is usually blanched. I was a stranger in your land and thought this was your way of preparing the dish,’ Eadulf replied defensively, the colour rising to his cheeks. ‘That was why I was not on my guard against false morel.’
‘Dignait would have had a more effective way if she had meant to poison us. No. Dignait was killed for the simple reason that she had seen the real would-be assassin.’
‘And who was that? Menma?’ Grella found the courage to speak up. ‘Menma was about the buildings that morning as usual.’
‘I’ll tell you in good time. Let us continue to unravel the spider’s web first. Let us turn now to the killing of Eber and Teafa. What made this case difficult is that most people here had a reason for killing Eber. He was a hated man. But Teafa was different. Who hated her? I saw that there was a better chance of tracking down the murder of Teafa than of Eber. If the same killer had slain both then we could eliminate some of the suspects.’
She paused for a second and then gave an eloquent shrug.
‘I arrived here having been told a simple story. Eber, the chieftain of Araglin, had been slain and his murderer had been caught. I was told to investigate and to make sure that the law was followed in the prosecution of the murderer. It sounded easy enough. Except that it was not so.
‘The murderer, so it was claimed, turned out to be one who is deaf, blind and dumb. I speak, of course, of Móen. What was more, he was also alleged to have killed the woman who had raised him.
‘I was initially told that Eber was kind and generous and made no enemies. A paragon of every virtue under the sun. Who else would kill him but some crazed animal? That was how Móen was presented to me.’
Móen let out an angry growl as Gadra interpreted what was being said. Fidelma ignored the interruption.
‘Let us proceed along this thread logically. It became apparent that Eber was not the paragon of virtue that everyone first insistedthat he was. It became obvious that Eber was a strange, demented man. It is not my task to comment on what forces twisted Eber’s mind. I was told he also drank and was verbally aggressive. He assuaged those he offended by bribes. His faults were overlooked as he was chieftain. But he and his family hid a dark secret … there was incest among them.’
Crón went white and could not suppress a soft hiss of breath. Cranat, beside her, made no effort to comfort her daughter but sat stiffly, eyes fixed on some distant object.
‘This incest went back a long way, Crón,’ Fidelma said compassionately. ‘It went back to the time Eber was a boy reaching puberty and his two sisters were of similar age. Several people here knew, and others perhaps suspected, about that incest. It was let slip to me in conversation that one person knew that Móen was a child born of incest.’