The Spider's Web

Brother Eadulf turned his head slightly.

‘Do you know why we are heading there?’

Archú contrived to shrug on his perch behind the monk.

‘The Father Abbot did tell us the news from Araglin,’ he replied.

‘Did you know Eber?’ asked Fidelma. The youth had not seemed unduly alarmed that his chieftain had been murdered. She was interested by his lack of concern.

‘I knew of him,’ Archú admitted. ‘Indeed, my mother was related to him. But most people in Araglin are related in some way. My mother’s farm was in an isolated valley known as the valley of the Black Marsh, which is some miles from the rath of the chieftain. We had little cause to go to the rath of the chieftain. Nor did Eber ever come to see my mother. Her marriage to my father was not approved of by her family. Father Gormán came to visit us now and then but never Eber.’

‘And you, Scoth? Did you know Eber?’

‘I was an orphan, raised as a servant on Muadnat’s farm. I never was allowed to go to the rath of the chieftain, though I saw Eber several times when he came to feast or hunt with Muadnat. And once he came to Muadnat’s farmstead some years ago to raise the clan to battle against the Uí Fidgente. I remember him as being in the same mould as Muadnat. I have seen him drunken and abusive.’

‘My father, Artgal, answered his call and went off to fight the Ui Fidgente but never returned,’ added Archú angrily.

‘So there is little you can tell me about Eber?’

‘What is it that you wish to know?’ asked Archú with interest.

‘I would like to know about the sort of person he was. You say that you have seen him drunk and abusive. But was he an able chieftain of his people?’

‘Most people spoke well of him,’ Archú offered. ‘I think he was well-liked but when I sought advice from Father Gormán, about making a legal claim against Muadnat, he advised me to take the claim to Lios Mhór rather than appeal directly to Eber.’

Fidelma found this a curious piece of advice for a priest to give. After all, the first step in any litigation was an appeal to the clan chieftain; even a petty chieftain of a small sept had the right to make an initial judgment. She was reminded that Beccan had mentioned that Araglin did not have a Brehon to advise on the law, so perhaps Father Gormán’s advice was sound enough and not a reflection on the prejudice of Eber.

‘Did Father Gormán offer any reason why you should appeal directly to Lios Mhór?’ she asked.

‘None.’

‘Isn’t it curious that two people can be raised in a clan territory yet hardly see the chieftain of their clan?’ Eadulf questioned.

Archú laughed disarmingly.

‘Araglin is not some small territory. You could easily get lost among the mountains. Indeed, you might dwell all your life there and not meet the neighbour on the other side of the hill. My farmstead,’ the boy paused and savoured the phrase, ‘my farmstead, as I have said, is in an isolated valley and there is only one other farmstead in it, the farm of Muadnat.’

Scoth sighed deeply.

‘It is to be hoped our lives will be different now. I hardly knew the countryside beyond Muadnat’s kitchen.’

‘Why didn’t you run away from Muadnat then?’ asked Fidelma.

‘I did as soon as I was of legal age. But where could I go? I was soon brought back to his farmstead.’

Fidelma raised her eyebrows in astonishment.

‘Were you taken back by force? By what right did Muadnat 28force you back? You were not one of the unfree class?’

‘Unfree class?’ interposed Eadulf. ‘Slaves, you mean? I did not think there were slaves in the five kingdoms.’

‘There are not,’ replied Fidelma immediately. ‘The “unfree class” is the class who have no rights at all within the clan.’

‘What are they but slaves?’

‘Not so. They consist of those who were prisoners, taken in war, hostages and cowards who deserted their clan in time of need. They also include law breakers who could not or would not pay the compensation and fines judged against them. These are deprived of all civil rights but not excluded from society. They are placed in a position where they have to contribute to its welfare. Of course, they could not bear arms or be elected to any office within the clan.’

Eadulf pulled a face.

‘It sounds like slavery to me.’

Fidelma showed her annoyance.

‘The “unfree class” are divided into two groups. One group can rent and work on the land and pay taxes while the other are those who are untrustworthy and in constant rebellion against the system. Anyone in either position can redeem themselves by working until the fines are met.’

‘And if they are not met?’ queried Eadulf.

‘Then they remain in that position, without civil rights, until they die.’

‘So their children become slaves?’

‘Not slaves!’ Fidelma corrected again. ‘And the law states “every dead person kills their own liabilities”. Their children become full citizens once again.’

She caught the smile of amusement around Eadulf’s mouth and wondered whether he was using her tactic of playing devil’s advocate in order to provoke her. She had often used this stratagem to bait Eadulf in the past about his beliefs. Could it be that Eadulf had finally learnt a more subtle humour? Shewas about to say something when the girl, Scoth, intervened.

‘I was not of the “unfree class”,’ she said hotly, reminding them of the origin of the discussion. ‘Muadnat was simply my legal guardian and had control of me until I reached the age of choice. He had no hold on me after that but I had nowhere to go. I left his farmstead but there was nowhere I could get work and so I had to return.’

‘Things will be different now,’ Archú insisted.

‘Well, I would caution you to beware of Muadnat,’ Fidelma advised. ‘He struck me as a man who harbours grudges.’

Archú agreed emphatically.

‘That I do know. I shall be watchful, sister.’

The track along which Fidelma and Eadulf guided their horses began to rise more rapidly up into the hills, away from the stately pushing river, upwards towards the more towering rounded bald peaks of the mountains, which poked up from the skirting forests. The lower periphery of the hills was thickly forested but the track across the mountain had been used for countless centuries so that the trees fell away on either side leaving a fairly clear roadway which even a good sized wagon could traverse in dry weather.

The air was still, the quiet broken only by the heavy snorting breath of the horses as they moved upwards. Now and again they could hear the excited yap of wild dogs and the protesting howl of a wolf, warning against intrusion into its territory.

The sun was already dipping below the peaks to the west and long shadows were spreading rapidly. As the sun began to disappear, the air turned chill. Fidelma was reminded that tomorrow would be the feast in remembrance of Conlaed of blessed name, a skilled metalworker of Kildare who had fashioned the sacred vessels for Brigid’s monastery. She must remember to light a candle in his name. But the thought caused her to acknowledge that they were already into the month regarded as the first month of the summer period which ended with the feast of Lughnasa, one of the popular pagan festivals which the new Faith had been unable 30to abolish. The horses climbed slowly and deliberately and Eadulf began to cast nervous glances towards the glowing tip of sunlight behind them to the west.