Gadra did as she bid him, leading Móen, shuffling forward, to the front of the dais.
‘Father Gormán, will you come forward and witness this procedure? It must not be claimed later that Móen was in doubt.’
Somewhat reluctantly the priest came forward. Fidelma then turned to Gadra.
‘Instruct Móen to smell as I direct and then identify if he has ever detected the same scent before. Tell him that I want to see if he perceives the same scent as he did when he was handed the Ogam stick.’
She thrust out her hand allowing Móen to sniff at it. Cranat had risen to her feet.
‘I shall not let that beast near me!’ she protested, backing away.
‘You will have no choice,’ Fidelma assured her, signalling Dubán to come forward and stand behind her. Móen had shakenhis head at Fidelma’s wrist. Fidelma motioned to Crón to hold out her hand. Móen sniffed at it. He turned and made some signs on Gadra’s hand.
Gadra shook his head.
Cranat put her hands resolutely behind her back.
‘Father Gormán,’ Fidelma instructed, ‘as Cranat is reluctant to hold out her hand to the boy, will you help her? Perhaps she will not object to a priest’s hand being laid upon her.’
‘I am sorry, lady,’ muttered Father Gormán, with evident distaste, reaching and firmly taking her left arm. Cranat pulled her head away in distaste as Móen sniffed at her wrist.
There was excitement in the hall as he turned and made rapid signs on Gadra’s hand. The old man looked shocked.
‘It is false!’ screamed Cranat. ‘You are in some plot to discredit me!’
But the old man was not looking at Cranat.
‘It is not the scent of the woman which he identifies,’ Gadra said slowly, staring aghast at Father Gormán. The priest had gone white.
Dubán had automatically stepped forward and gripped the priest by the wrist. Then he frowned disconcerted as he stared at the man’s struggling hand.
‘But Móen said that the person he sniffed at Teafa’s door had calloused hands. This priest’s hands are as soft as a woman’s.’
Fidelma was unperturbed.
‘You are not wearing your leather gloves today, Father Gormán?’ she remarked. ‘You see, Dubán, yesterday you gave me the answer that I was looking for when I thought your hands were calloused but, in fact, you were simply wearing leather gloves.’
With a sudden cry Father Gormán wrenched himself free of Dubán’s grasp, leapt from the dais and began to push from the hall. He barely reached half way across the hall when he was overpowered and led away. His features were distorted in a frenzy of rage. He began shouting unintelligibly: ‘And Christ said — “youserpents, you generation of vipers, how can you escape the damnation of hell?”!’
‘A most appropriate text,’ muttered Eadulf to disguise his astonishment.
Cranat collapsed back into her chair, her face flushed, her breathing heavy. She was regarding Fidelma with hatred.
‘You have some explaining to do before we can believe in this fantastic charge,’ she said quietly.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fidelma was still standing quietly before the dais and regarding them all with a sombre expression.
‘There are few places in these five kingdoms where I have encountered so much hatred, so much deceit and so much sadness,’ she began slowly. ‘Gormán and Menma might be guilty of taking human lives but that which stimulated them to do so is an evil inherent in this valley.
‘Was Eber the instigator of this malignancy or was he also a victim? We shall not know. Tomnát was certainly a victim. She might not have been had she been able to trust at least one person in this valley other than her fellow victim and sister; one person might have saved her.’
She turned and regarded Dubán without a change of expression.
The warrior lowered his gaze before her fiery green eyes.
‘Teafa had also been a victim but she had saved some of her self respect as well as her sister’s son. Móen was the saddest victim of them all.’
‘And wasn’t I a victim?’ demanded Cranat harshly. ‘I was a princess of the Déisi and yet I was forced to reduce myself in wedlock to this depravity?’
‘Forced? You were prepared to put up with it. Even when Teafa first came to warn you years ago that your husband was continuing his degeneracy and had encouraged your own daughter into his bed when she was only twelve or thirteen!’
‘That’s not true!’ gasped Crón, starting forward, her face draining of blood.
‘No?’ Fidelma grimaced sourly. ‘You have already confessedas much. Better these dark secrets should now be made known. Teafa saw Eber’s vileness starting all over again with you, Crón. You became a victim too. She went to warn Cranat to leave, to divorce and take you with her. But Cranat was content to merely remove herself from her husband’s bed and continued to live here because here was wealth and security. She left her daughter to fend for herself. It was not Cranat who then refused to speak further with Teafa but Teafa with Cranat.’
There was a deathly silence in the hall of assembly.
Fidelma turned to Crón and regarded her sorrowfully.
‘Yes, Crón, you were a victim but you also made yourself mistress of the situation. You used your father’s lascivious desires to wheedle yourself into power. Muadnat had been your father’s tanist. A few weeks ago you felt yourself strong enough to be able to demand that your father nominate you as tanist and then use his power to ensure the derbfhine support you. Indeed, because of Eber’s bribes only four people stood against you. Your own mother and Teafa, who both knew the price that you were paying; Agdae, Muadnat’s nephew; and Menma who was bound to Muadnat not only as a relative but by the power of Muadnat’s gold. You are unfit to hold office.’
She swung round again on Dubán.
‘And without office, Dubán, how long will you declare your love for Crón? Tomnat recognised that relentless ambition in you twenty years ago, when she felt that she could not confide her terrible secret. Now that Crón’s secret, the same secret, is out, will you remain faithful? No!’ She raised her hand as he made to answer. ‘No protestations now. Do not answer me until after the meeting of the derbfhine has declared whether Crón is to be chieftain of Araglin or not.’
Fidelma turned to the hall, sweeping everyone with her passionate gaze.
‘Morann of Tara once said, evil can enter as a tiny seed and, if unchecked, grows into an oak tree. A forest has grown here. Thehope of Araglin lies in the innocence of youth, of boys like Archú and girls like Scoth.’ She smiled suddenly at Clídna. ‘And if any single haven of morality exists in this place, it is to be found here within this woman.’
Clídna blushed and hung her head.
Agdae rose slowly to his feet.
‘Your judgment on Araglin is harsh, sister,’ he said quietly. Then, with an awkward glance to the silent Cranat and her daughter, he added: ‘But it is not unjustly spoken. However, tell us how you came to identify Father Gormán? You also built up a good argument against Cranat.’
‘I knew it was unlikely that Cranat had killed them for a simple reason: if she had been the murderess then she would not have sent to my brother at Cashel to send a Brehon to make a formal investigation.’
‘Why did she do that?’ asked Eadulf.
‘Above all things, as we have learnt, Cranat is a princess of the Déisi. She did not want any finger of suspicion to be pointed at her house. She thought that the presence of a Brehon would lend moral weight to the matter. I believe that she really thought that Móen was guilty having discovered the truth of his birth.’