Inside, the stable was dark, dank and stale.
‘I’ll get a lamp,’ Dubán said apologetically. ‘We have no place to confine prisoners and so we turned out the horses which Eber kept here and put them in the pasture. This has been converted into a prison.’
Fidelma sniffed disapprovingly as she peered into the blackness.
‘Surely there must have been somewhere better to confine him? This place reeks enough without the added indignity of darkness. Why wasn’t a light left for the prisoner?’
The young warrior, Crítán, chuckled loudly behind her.
‘You have a wit, lady. That is rich!’
Dubán gruffly ordered the youth to return to his post outside and then shuffled into the darkness. Fidelma and Eadulf, as theireyes adjusted to the gloom, could see the shadowy outline of his figure bending over something, then they heard a sound as he struck a flint and a spark caught an oil wick which began to glimmer. The warrior turned with a lamp in his hand. He beckoned them further inside the cavernous stables and pointed to the far corner.
‘There he is! There is Móen the killer of Eber.’
Fidelma moved forward.
Dubán held up the lamp as high as he could in order to shed its light around the smelly interior. In the far corner was what seemed, at first, to be a bundle of clothes. Dirty, smelling rough homespuns. The bundle twitched and a chain rattled. Fidelma swallowed hard as she saw that the clothes were, in fact, the covering of a man who was shackled by the left foot to one of the support posts which held up the roof of the building. Then she saw a tousled head raise itself with a jerky motion, back towards her, and it seemed as if its owner was listening, the head slightly to one side. A strange whimpering sound came from it.
‘That is the creature, Móen,’ Dubán said hollowly at her shoulder.
Chapter Six
Fidelma could not restrain the shudder which passed through her as she gazed on the grotesque figure.
‘God look down on us! What is the meaning of this? I would not keep an animal in such conditions, much less a man, even one suspected of murder.’
She moved forward and bent down to touch the shoulder of the crouching form.
She was unprepared for what happened next.
The figure jumped at her touch with an anguished howl. It scurried away on all fours like an animal, moaning, until the length of the chain attached to its ankle caused it to jerk to a halt. It fell; fell full-length on the dirty straw of the floor, and lay there, at the same time raising both hands as if to protect its head from a blow. Pausing in that position only for a moment or so, it scrambled up and turned to face them. Fidelma and Eadulf were unprepared for what they saw; the eyes were pupilless, wide staring white orbs.
‘Satan it is, brother,’ Dubán agreed in humourless tones.
The figure was that of a male. It was so covered in dirt and excrement, the hair so wild and matted, that they could not clearly discern its features. Fidelma had the impression that it was not elderly. Then she recalled that Crón had said that Móen was only twenty-one years old. The mouth was a wide slobbering aperture and a terrible moaning noise continued to issue forth. But it was the eyes that held the attention of both Fidelma and Eadulf. Thosepitiful white opaque orbs with scarcely any sign of a pupil at all.
‘Is this Móen who is accused of killing Eber and Teafa?’ whispered Fidelma aghast.
‘Indeed it is.’
‘Móen,’ muttered Eadulf grimly. ‘Of course! Doesn’t the very name mean one who is dumb?’
‘You have the right of it, brother,’ agreed Dubán. ‘Dumb has he been since he was found and given a home by the lady Teafa.’
‘And sightless?’ queried Fidelma, staring in horrified pity at the figure crouching before her.
‘And deaf,’ Dubán added grimly.
‘And it is claimed that such an unfortunate could kill two healthy beings?’ breathed Fidelma in disbelief.
Eadulf stared at the creature with distaste.
‘Why were we not told about the condition of this person before?’
The warrior looked surprised.
‘But everyone knows Móen. It never occurred to me that …’
Fidelma silenced his protests.
‘No. It is not your fault that I have not been informed before now. Let us be perfectly clear; am I to understand that it is this deaf, dumb and blind creature who is charged with the slaughter of Eber and …’
She paused for the figure had moved cautiously forward and was holding his head up like an animal, his nostrils flaring. He was sniffing. Fidelma stared down at him as he approached near to her on all fours.
‘I would stand back a little, sister, for he smells people even if he can’t see or hear them,’ warned Dubán.
It was too late, for a cold, dirty hand suddenly stretched out and touched Fidelma’s foot. She started back in alarm.
Móen stopped abruptly.
Dubán moved towards him, one hand holding the lamp while the other was raised as if to strike the unfortunate.
Fidelma saw the action and reached out a hand.
‘Do not strike him,’ she commanded. ‘You cannot strike one who cannot see the blow.’
Indeed, it was just as well for Móen was sitting his face upturned and now he had raised his hands, waving them in curious motions before him.
Fidelma shook her head sadly.
‘Ignore him, sister,’ muttered Dubán, ‘for he is cursed by God.’
‘Can you not have him cleaned at least?’ demanded Fidelma.
Dubán looked astonished.
‘For what purpose?’
‘He is a human being.’
The warrior grimaced sarcastically.
‘Not that you would notice it.’
‘According to the law, Dubán, you have already committed an offence by mocking someone who has a disability.’
The warrior opened his mouth to protest but Fidelma went on grimly, ‘I want him clean before I next see him. You may still confine him but he must be given food and water and be cleaned. I will not see one of God’s creatures suffer this way. Whatever they have been accused of.’
She turned on her heel and strode from the stable. Eadulf hesitated a moment; he felt an unease as he watched the bitter emotions chase themselves across the middle-aged warrior’s face as he stared after Fidelma.
Fidelma was standing outside breathing deeply as if in an effort to control her anger. There was now no sign of the other warrior, Crítán. They hesitated a moment before walking slowly in the direction of Eber’s apartments.
‘One cannot blame Dubán,’ Eadulf tried to act as conciliator. ‘And remember, this poor creature, as you call him, did kill Eber, his chieftain.’
He almost winced as Fidelma’s green eyes suddenly blazed at him with an angry fire.
‘Móen’s guilt has first to be proved. He is a human being and has the same rights before the law as everyone else. In the meantime there is no excuse to treat him as if he were less than an animal.’
‘True,’ conceded Eadulf. ‘He should not be treated in such a way but …’
