‘The original accusation was that Móen had killed Teafa and then made his way to Eber’s apartments and killed him. There were certain things wrong with this idea. Firstly, from the haughty young Crítán I learnt that he had seen Teafa alive after Móen went to Eber’s apartments. To be responsible for both murders, Móen would have had to kill Teafa first and then Eber.’
‘Why couldn’t he have done that?’ demanded Agdae.
‘Because Menma claimed that he had found Móen bending over the body of Eber, knife in hand, having just killed him. The whole essence of the charge is that Móen was caught almost in the act.’
They greeted the point in silence. Then Crón said: ‘But Menma has already been condemned by you as a murderer and therefore a liar. Perhaps he lied.’
‘He told lies right enough,’ agreed Fidelma impassively. ‘But not in this instance. His discovery of Móen at the scene of this crime was a gift. It could not have worked out better. But Teafa was still alive when Móen entered Eber’s apartments. Crítán, returning from Clídna’s establishment, saw Móen on his way to Eber’s apartments and then saw Teafa still alive standing by her cabin with a lamp. For a moment, when he was telling me this story, I think Crítán recognised the illogic of it. But he wanted Móen to be guilty, so he ignored it.
‘Móen had been for a walk in the early hours of the morning and was just entering the cabin of Teafa when someone handed him an Ogam stick. Ogam is the method by which one communicates with Móen. Móen told me that someone with calloused hands, but whom he had thought, by the rich perfume he detected, was a female, had pressed the Ogam stick into his hand. It told him to go to Eber’s apartments at once. He did so and, having stumbled over the body, it was there that Menma found him. The person who pressed the Ogam stick into Móen’s hands was the killer who meant him to be discovered and condemned.’
‘What proof have you of the existence of this fabled stick, instructing Móen to go to Eber?’ asked Father Gormán.
‘Proof? I have the stick itself.’ Fidelma smiled complacently. ‘You see, Móen thought he dropped the stick at the door. It was knocked from his hand before he set off to Eber’s. The killer did not want the evidence found. They had already killed Eber. Just as the killer was going to recover the stick, Teafa, who had been awakened by the encounter, came out. She was holding a lamp and had discovered Móen was missing. She saw the Ogam stick and picked it up. At this point she was seen by Crítán. She asked Crítán if he had seen Móen. The boy lied and went on his way. The killer, who had to wait in the shadows until Crítán moved on, was faced with a dilemma. Teafa had gone back into her cabin to read the faked Ogam message. So now she had to be killed. The oil lamp which Crítán had seen in Teafa’s hand was knocked tothe ground in the struggle and caught fire. That had to be extinguished because the killer wanted to ensure that Móen could also be accused of the murder. The Ogam stick with the instructions on it was thrown into the fire but not entirely burnt. There is still enough on it to compare with Móen’s excellent memory. He recalled that the stick said: “Eber wants you now.” The letters ER and WANTS remained.’
Brother Eadulf was smiling at the simplicity of Fidelma’s reconstruction.
‘Móen did another impossible thing,’ he offered. ‘When Menma found Móen leaning over the body, he said it was just before sunrise. And the lamp was lit by Eber’s bedside.’
‘Well? What is wrong with that?’ asked Dubán. ‘It would be dark before sunrise.’
Eadulf chuckled.
‘Why would Móen need to light a lamp? This disposes of the accusation that Móen entered by stealth and stabbed Eber to death as he lay there asleep.’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Fidelma approvingly. ‘Unless we are to believe that a blind person had need to light a lamp to see what they were doing.’
‘Eber could have lit the lamp himself,’ Agdae pointed out. ‘He could have lit the lamp to let Móen in and …’
‘Of course!’ Fidelma was sarcastic. ‘Eber was awake, lit the lamp and let Móen in. He then obligingly went back to bed and waited while Móen felt his way to where he kept his hunting knives, selected one, found his way to the bed and stabbed him to death. The easier answer is Móen’s version of what happened. That when he entered the room he found Eber already dead. The killer had already struck. The killer then went to divert Móen to Eber’s apartments and then found that they had to deal with Teafa. Eber was not slain in his sleep. He was killed by someone he knew very well; someone he had no suspicion about. He had lit the lamp and allowed that person into his bed chamber.’
‘Who would Eber trust enough to allow into his bed chamber?’ demanded Agdae. ‘His wife?’
Crón let out a gasp.
‘Are you accusing my mother?’
Fidelma looked at Cranat thoughtfully. The widow of Eber was sitting disdainfully watching her.
‘I was waiting for you to reach me with your foul allegations,’ Cranat said sibilantly. ‘Sister Fidelma, I remind you that I am a princess of the Déisi. I have powerful friends.’
‘Your rank and friends mean nothing to me, Cranat. The law applies to us all in equal measure. But we have finally come to the spider in the centre of its complicated web.’
Crón was staring aghast at her mother.
‘It cannot be.’
‘Cranat has never made a secret of the fact that she wanted money and power,’ sneered Agdae.
‘You cannot prove that Cranat had cause to murder her own husband,’ Father Gormán protested to Fidelma.
‘Prove cause? Let me try. Since Crón was thirteen years old Cranat was prepared to put up with her hatred of Eber so long as he supported her. When Teafa told her what Eber was doing, she simply withdrew from his bed but continued to live as chieftainess — wealth before virtue. Eber seemed prepared to tolerate the situation. Perhaps he just wanted a wife for the sake of appearances? Dubán informs me that a few weeks ago there was another argument between Teafa and Cranat when Crón became tanist. The argument included mention of Móen. That was when Cranat learnt the truth about her husband’s son. Did she now plot a day of vengeance?’
Fidelma paused. No one said anything.
‘Virtue after wealth.
Brother Eadulf bent forward, excitement on his face.
‘Móen said that the person who gave him the Ogam stick had calloused hands like a man. But he scented perfume and thought it was a woman. Dignait had calloused hands. Dignait was close to Cranat because Dignait was of the Déisi and had come here as Cranat’s servant when she married Eber.’
‘Only ladies of rank wear perfume,’ corrected Dubán. ‘Dignait would not have worn perfume.
Crón was shaking her head with disbelief.
‘Are you saying that my mother was Muadnat’s partner in the gold mine and that she decided to kill my father to marry him?’
‘Cranat had reason to hate Eber and Móen. Teafa had told her about the relationship.’ She paused and glanced at Crón. ‘You have good Latin, don’t you?’
‘My mother taught me,’ replied the tanist.
‘She taught you well. Actually it was the Latin on a piece of vellum that set in motion the final pieces to this puzzle. Menma, having killed Dignait in her room to prevent her speaking about whom she had seen putting the false morel on the trays in the kitchen, was told to dump the body at Archú’s underground store. Then he was to give me the vellum with the clue written in Latin on it. It was good Latin.
‘Am I accused because my Latin is good?’ sneered Cranat.
‘Is your Ogam also good?’ inquired Fidelma. She went on before Cranat could reply. ‘It is wise to remember the words of Publicius Terentius Afer that no one ever drew up a plan where events do not introduce the necessity of modification. Dubán had followed Menma to the mine, having observed him with the so-called cattle raiders. He reached the mine entrance and heard Muadnat’s partner giving Menma some final instructions. Dubán entered. Menma waylaid him and allowed his chief to get away. I was there as well, and I saw the
