5- The Spider's Web by Peter Tremayne

Author:Peter Tremayne [Tremayne, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: _rt_yes, Church History, Fiction, tpl, _NB_fixed, Mystery, Historical, Clerical Sleuth, Medieval Ireland
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2012-03-08T05:00:00+00:00

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 become so 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 the stables. There was little doubt in her mind that an entire conversation was now taking place. The finger gestures flew fast and furious.

Suddenly, Móen began to groan as if in physical anguish, rocking back and forth on his seat as if in pain. Gadra put his arms around the creature’s shoulders. He looked up sadly at Fidelma.

‘I have just told Móen of the death of Teafa. He regarded her as his mother.’

‘How did he take the news of the death of Eber?’ asked Eadulf.

‘Without surprise,’ replied Gadra. ‘I think he knew of that. I have told him what has happened and what he is suspected of.’

‘Told him?’ It was Crítán who spoke, his voice a bark of cynical laughter. ‘Come now, old one. A joke is a joke but …’

‘Quiet!’ Fidelma’s voice was icy. ‘You will leave us now. You may remain outside until we send for you.’

‘I have been placed in charge of the prisoner.’The young warrior flushed angrily. ‘It is my duty to …’

‘It is your duty to do as you are told.

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