Free The Spider's Web by Peter Tremayne

of polished deal. Behind each screen was a pallet of straw. A carved log of polished wood served as a pillow, a linen sheet and woollen rugs provided the bed coverings. Dignait ensured that they approved of the comfort of their beds. An open section of the building stretched before the cubicles, containing several benches with a table where guests could eat and which generally was used as living quarters. There was a hearth but no fire had been lit. When Dignait remarked on this fact, Fidelma said the weather was too clement for the need of a fire.
    The wash room and privy were found beyond a second door at the far end of the guests’ house. The door was marked with a small iron cross. Fidelma presumed that this was a sign of the work of Father Gormán for the privy was called a fialtech, or veil house, by certain religious who had picked up the concept from Rome. They believed the Devil dwelt within the privy and it
became the custom to make the sign of the cross before entering it.
    When Fidelma pointed out the needs of their horses, Dignait assured her that she would asked Menma, who was in charge of the stables, to wash and feed them.
    Fidelma then expressed satisfaction with the accommodation but called Dignait to stay a moment when she would depart. Dignait seemed to pause with obvious reluctance.
    ‘You must have been in service here for many years,’ Fidelma opened the conversation.
    The old woman’s expression increased in suspicion. The eyes continued to be hooded but she did not refuse to answer.
    ‘I have served the family of the chieftain of Araglin for just over twenty years,’ she replied stiffly. ‘I came here as servant to the mother of Crón.’
    ‘And did you know Móen? The one who is accused of killing Eber?’
    For a second Fidelma thought she saw that flicker of fear again.
    ‘Everyone in the rath of Araglin knows Móen,’ she commented. ‘Who would not? Only a dozen families live here and most are related to the other.’
    ‘And was Móen related to everyone?’
    The old stewardess shivered perceptibly and genuflected.
    ‘He was not! He was a foundling. Who knows from whose womb he sprang or whose seed cursed the womb? The lady Teafa, peace be upon her misguided soul, found him as a baby. That was a day of ill-fortune for her.’
    ‘Is it known why Móen would kill Teafa, then, or Eber, the chieftain?’
    ‘Surely only God would know that, sister? Now forgive me …’ She turned away abruptly to the door. ‘I have work to see to. While you have your wash, I will instruct Menma about your horses and see that food is brought to you.’

    Fidelma stood staring at the closed door for a few seconds after the old woman had hurried away.
    Eadulf looked questioningly at her.
    ‘What troubles you, Fidelma?’
    Fidelma lowered herself into a seat, reflectively.
    ‘Maybe nothing. I have the distinct impression that this woman Dignait is afraid of something.’

Chapter Five
    When they had cleansed themselves of the dust of the morning’s travel and had eaten the midday meal, they returned to the hall of assembly and found Crón, who had been forewarned of their return, awaiting them. She had seated herself in her chair of office while seats had been arranged facing her below the dais.
    Crón rose unwillingly as Fidelma and Eadulf entered. It was a small but reluctant token of respect due to the fact that Fidelma was the sister of the king of Cashel.
    ‘Are you refreshed now?’ queried Crón as she motioned them to the seats prepared for them.
    ‘We are,’ Fidelma replied, as she seated herself. She felt slightly irritated for she disliked being placed in a position where she had to look up to where Crón sat. Fidelma’s rank as a dálaigh, and the degree of anruth, allowed her to speak on a level with kings let alone petty chieftains; and even in the presence of the High King at Tara, she could sit on the same level when invited and converse freely. Fidelma jealously guarded the