The Spider's Web

asses, sturdy pack animals, on whose backs were large covered panniers which appeared loaded and heavy.

That the riders had no idea that they were being observed was obvious. Coarse laughter echoed from their ranks and someone was exchanging ribald remarks about some member of the company.

Fidelma’s eyes narrowed. Bringing up the rear of this procession, after the asses, rode a man without a cloak. She could make out a bow, slung over one shoulder. But the other shoulder was in bandages with the arm supported by a sling.

She drew in a sharp breath.

The line of horsemen proceeded on its noisy way through the forests. They waited in silence until they could hear nothing more of the riders.

Slowly, Dubán rose to his feet, followed by Fidelma, and turned back to where Eadulf and Gadra stood by the horses.

‘I do not understand,’ Eadulf said immediately. ‘Why do we hide from these horsemen?’

Dubán was absently fingering his black beard.

‘I believe that they are the cattle raiders who have been worrying the farmsteads of Araglin.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Fidelma.

‘I saw a body of well-armed men who are strangers in this glen. Why are they here? We know that armed men have been raiding some of our farmsteads. Is it not logical that these are the same men?’

‘Logical enough,’ conceded Eadulf reluctantly.

‘If they were cattle raiders, why are they transporting those heavily laden asses? And to where?’

‘This road leads south out of these valleys towards the coast. You can be in Lios Mhór or Ard Mór in a short time from here,’ Gadra explained.

‘Is this a faster way of reaching Lios Mhór than the road which leads by Bressal’s hostel?’ queried Fidelma, remembering what Bressal had told her.

‘It is a full half a day quicker to reach Lios Mhór by this road than by Bressal’s hostel,’ confirmed the old man.

‘Whoever those men were,’ interposed Eadulf, ‘surely they would not harm us? I may be a stranger here but this I have learnt, it is not the custom to offer violence to those wearing the cloth of the Faith.’

‘My Saxon brother,’ Gadra laid a thin hand on Eadulf’s arm, ‘given a strong incentive, even the most established of customs may be broken. For protection you should rely only on your own common sense and not on what clothes you wear.’

‘Good advice,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘For we have met at least one of these men before.’

Eadulf’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

‘We have?’ he asked.

‘Where?’ demanded Dubán.

‘The one with his arm in the sling,’ went on Fidelma, unperturbed by their consternation, ‘was one of those shot by Eadulf two mornings ago when the hostel of Bressal was attacked. The arrow bit deep.’

‘Eadulf shot the attacker with an arrow?’

Old Gadra was gazing at Eadulf in unconcealed amazement. Then he began to chuckle.

Eadulf sniffed in annoyance.

‘Sometimes I rely on other means apart from the clothes I wear to defend myself,’ he said dryly.

Gadra clapped him on the shoulder.

‘I think I shall like you, brother Saxon. Sometimes I forget the need for the pragmatic. You cannot row across a river unless you have oars to do so.’

Eadulf was not quite sure how to interpret the old man’s remark but decided it was meant as something complimentary.

Dubán was still looking serious.

‘Are you sure that these are the men who attacked Bressal’s hostel?’

Fidelma nodded affirmatively.

‘We were witnesses to it.’

‘I think we must get back to the rath of Araglin as quickly as possible.’

‘What of Menma?’ Eadulf began, only to be silenced by Fidelma with a look of anger that made him blink.

Dubán turned to him with a frown, missing her warning glance.

‘What about Menma?’ he asked.

‘Eadulf was thinking of the need to protect the rath if these bandits attacked,’ Fidelma explained hastily.

Dubán shook his head.

‘Menma will not be of much help. But there is young Crítán and other of my warriors there. However, those outlaws are riding away from the direction of the rath so I would have no concern for the safety of it, brother.’

Eadulf shrugged, realising that for some reason or other Fidelma wanted to keep to herself her belief that Menma had been one of the raiding party at Bressal’s hostel. Fidelma gave him a withering look and began to lead her horse after Dubán.

Eadulf realised that Gadra was examining him with a knowing expression.

He turned irritably and began to lead his horse after Dubán and Fidelma, back to the track.

This time Dubán led them at a much faster pace than before, breaking into a canter whenever the path through the narrow defilesand under the low, overhanging branches allowed an easy passage.

It was after some minutes that Gadra, hanging on behind Eadulf, moved his mouth close to his ear.

‘Be comforted, my Saxon brother,’ the old man called so that only he could hear. ‘If you think twice before you speak, you will speak twice the better.’

Eadulf’s mouth closed in a tight line and he silently cursed the old man’s prescience.

Chapter Twelve

Crítán brought Móen into the guests’ hostel which Fidelma had deemed as the most appropriate place to question him, away from the environment of his imprisonment in the stables. Apart from Fidelma and Eadulf only Gadra was there. Dubán was discussing the matter of the cattle raiders with Crón.

There was a silence as the young warrior, still displaying his surly arrogance, led, almost dragged and propelled, the unfortunate Móen into the room. Fidelma noted with satisfaction that at least Crítán had continued with his attempts to keep Móen clean and with a semblance of human dignity. She could feel sympathy for the poor creature as he was pushed into the room for his face showed abject fear, not knowing, not understanding, what was happening around him.

Crítán forced him to be seated and he half-sprawled in the chair, head to one side. Crítán glanced at them with a smirk.

‘Well?’ he demanded. ‘What now? What tricks are you going to make him perform?’

Gadra moved forward, his breath an angry hiss. For a moment, Fidelma thought the old man was going to physically strike the arrogant youth.

Then a curious thing happened.

Móen began to sniff, raising his head and scenting the air. For the first time, Fidelma saw an expression of hope form on his features and he started to make a soft whimpering sound.

Gadra went straight to his side, seated himself on an adjacent chair and gripped his hand.

Fidelma could not believe that the creature’s face could becomeso altered. It lit up in recognition and joyful pleasure. She saw Gadra grasped the young man’s left hand. It seemed, at first, a ritual, for Móen held his hand palm outward, straight and upright. She watched with surprise as Gadra began to trace motions of his hand on the young man’s palm. Then, with equal surprise, the young man gripped the hand of Gadra and began to make the same motions back. Fidelma realised that this was what the young man had tried to do with her hand in