The Spider's Web

wealth in order to spend the rest of it doing nothing. He would not have been happy doing nothing. But it is sad that he could not have discovered that fact for himself.’

Fidelma nodded. ‘Auri sacra fames — the cursed hunger for gold destroys more than it creates. Did not the blessed Matthew write: “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust do corrupt and where thieves break through and steal”?’

Bressal smiled in agreement with the sentiment.

‘Say a prayer for Morna’s soul, sister.’

They rode on through the woods towards the main road which would lead them to Cashel. In the three days that they had been waiting at the rath of Araglin, since Fidelma’s relevations, news had reached her that the mineworkers had been rounded up and Gormán’s store of gold in the chapel at Ard Mór had been confiscated by the local Brehon, pending the result of the trial of Gormán at Cashel. But the trial would not take place. Fidelma had generously allowed Gormán to be imprisoned in the sacristy of his own chapel. On the day following his internment, Gormán ate a secret store of false morel and died within four hours. Itwas, remarked Brother Eadulf, still feeling delicate in health, a fitting end.

Agdae was appointed temporary tanist of the Araglin by a special meeting of the derbfhine of the family of Eber. Only Crón protested. It was obvious that she would not be confirmed as chieftain of Araglin. Dubán had not even waited for the results of the meeting but saddled his horse and vanished into the mountains. Cranat had also taken what possessions she could and ridden back to the land of the Déisi.

It was Eadulf who voiced Fidelma’s sentiments as they rode along.

‘I shall not be sorry to leave this place. I feel I need to find some good clean water to bathe in after all that has happened.’

It was as they came to the cross roads that Fidelma saw two familiar figures on foot trudging along the road to Lios Mhór. One of them was young but being led by the hand by the elder of the two, an elderly man whose slightly stooping shoulders marked the passing of many years.

‘Gadra!’ called Fidelma, easing her horse forward.

The old man paused and looked round. They saw his fingers drum against the hand of Móen, doubtless explaining why he was halting.

‘Blessings on your journey, Fidelma,’ he smiled at Fidelma and then turned to Eadulf, ‘and on your journey, my Saxon brother.’

Fidelma swung off her horse.

‘We wondered why we had not seen you both these last few days. You should have bidden farewell to us. Where are you and Móen bound?’

‘To Lios Mhór,’ the old man replied.

‘To the monastery?’ asked Fidelma in surprise.

‘Yes. You needn’t look confounded,’ Gadra chuckled. ‘Would not an old pagan like myself be welcomed there?’

‘There is a welcome for everyone in the house of the Christ,’ replied Fidelma solemnly. ‘Though I must confess that your decision to go there does surprise me.’

‘Well.’ Gadra rubbed a forefinger against the side of his nose. ‘If the choice were mine, I would continue a while longer to live in my mountain dwelling. But the boy has need of me.’

‘Ah,’ Eadulf sighed. ‘It is a laudable thing you do for the boy. The confines of a cloister are better protection than the mountain fastness.’

Gadra shot him an amused glance.

‘More importantly, he needs the company of those who can communicate with him. The holy house at Lios Mhór contains members of your religious who have knowledge of the old writing. I can quickly teach them the way of using it. Once Móen is able to communicate with several people then I will have fulfilled my duty to Teafa and Tomnat. I will be able to move on to my destiny and leave him to his.’

Fidelma smiled.

‘That is a generous gesture.’

‘Generous?’ Gadra shook his head. ‘It is no more than is my sacred duty to the intellect which is Móen’s. The boy has demonstrated his sense of smell and guided in the right way I am sure that this quality can be employed.’

‘To what end?’ Eadulf asked with interest.

‘There are any amount of things to do for a person who can sense the aroma of things, from mixing perfumes to identifying herbs in the right quantity or to the making of medicines.’

‘So you and Móen will reside at Lios Mhór?’

‘For the time being.’

Fidelma grinned mischievously

‘And, who knows, even you might become a Christian under such holy influence?’

‘That I never will,’ Gadra chuckled sourly. ‘I have seen too much of your Christian love and charity to want to be part of it.’

‘I am sure that if you listen to the Word, preached by the brothers and sisters at Lios Mhór, you will come to accept that the Word is the Truth,’ declared Eadulf stoutly.

‘Your Word or Gormán’s Word? How can you be so certain that your Word is the Truth for everyone or, indeed, whether it is a Truth at all?’ asked Gadra, good naturedly.

‘One must have Faith or the Truth will elude you,’ Eadulf was stung to reply.

Gadra shook his head and raised his hand to the blue canopy of the sky.

‘Has it ever occurred to you, my Saxon brother, that when the moment comes for that door to open for us to pass into the Otherworld, either one of us might find that these things, about which we argue so vehemently, might be nothing more than some great misunderstanding?’

‘Never!’ snapped Eadulf, outraged.

The old hermit regarded him sadly.

‘Than your faith is blind and you have abrogated your own free will which is against the spiritual order of this world.’

Fidelma laid a hand on Eadulf as she sensed an angry retort.

‘I understand you, Gadra,’ she said, ‘for we are sprung of the same common ancestors. But customs change, just as the days roll by. We cannot bid them halt nor can we return to the point we started out from. But I recognise in you the same virtues that we all have.’

‘Bless you for that, sister. After all, do not all the tracks lead to the same great centre?’

There was a silence and then Móen demanded attention.

‘He says that he is sorry that he did not bid you farewell properly before we set out but he felt that he had imposed too much on your good office. He thinks you know how he feels. He owes you his life.’

‘He owes me nothing. I am a servant of the law.’

‘He says, he feels that the law is like a cage which traps those who do not have the power to secure a key.’

‘If anyone can disprove that statement, it is he,’ replied Eadulf indignantly.

‘It was not the law but the lawyer which provided the key,’ interpreted Gadra.

‘The blessed Timothy wrote in holy scripture that the law is good if it is used lawfully,’ replied Fidelma. ‘And a learned Greek, Heraclitis, once said that a people should fight for their law as if it were their city wall against an invading army.’

‘We will have to disagree. Law cannot dictate morality. But I thank you for what you have done. Farewell, Fidelma of Kildare. Farewell, my Saxon brother. Peace attend you on your road.’

They stood watching the old man leading Móen away through the forest path.

Fidelma felt suddenly very sad.

‘I wish I could have convinced him that our law is a sacred thing, the result of centuries of human wisdom and experience to protect us as well as to punish. If I did not believe it I would not be an advocate.’

Eadulf inclined his head in agreement.

‘Didn’t someone once say that it is not laws which are corrupt but those who interpret them?’