Valley of the Shadow

‘Does the Saxon have that right, Murgal?’ the chieftain demanded.

‘He does, lord.’ Murgal sounded almost apologetic.

Laisre’s mouth was set in a straight, thin line but he indicated that the proceedings should continue.

‘Forgive me, Laisre of Gleann Geis,’ Eadulf began hesitantly, stepping out of procedure to address the chieftain directly. ‘Perhaps I might set your mind at rest as to my position. You rightly call me Saxon; it is true that I am not born in this land. I was a hereditary gerefa in my own land which is a magistrate similar to a Brehon, giving judgments under the law of my own people. I was converted to the path of Christ by a man called Fursa; a man of this land, who came to preach the new religion in my own land of the South Folk. He persuaded me to come and seek education in this land and I did so, studying at Durrow and Tuam Brecain, although my knowledge of your tongue and your laws is still imperfect.’

Murgal answered for the scowling chieftain.

‘Your speech demonstrates that your judgment of yourself is harsh, Saxon. You are a tribute to Fursa’s faith in you. You have but to ask of this court and we will be indulgent in guiding you through our laws. On what grounds do you bring us hither to judge whether Fidelma of Cashel shall be released pending trial?’

Eadulf glanced at Fidelma and smiled swift encouragement for she sat pale and stiff, unused to being in the position of the accused before a Brehon. She remained with an expressionless face gazing into the middle distance. Eadulf continued.

‘I am here to offer a plea for the release of Fidelma of Cashel by virtue of her rank.’

Laisre shook his head and leaned towards Murgal.

‘Does he plead law?’

Murgal ignored his chieftain’s question. He was, after all, a Brehon sitting in judgment.

‘This is an unusual step, Saxon. The charge against Fidelma of Cashel is one of murder. Even rank does not automatically grant rights in that respect.’

‘I would argue against that. The Berrad Airechta, if I have understood the text, says that even with a charge of murder, if the suspect is of princely rank and of good character and the evidence is unclear, then they may be released on the decision of the Brehon until nine days expire when the trial must be held.’

Fidelma had turned to study Eadulf, her expression one of approval at his acquired knowledge. He had spent his time among Murgal’s books well. She vaguely recalled this law but she doubted that it would work to gain her freedom for the next nine days in these hostile circumstances.

‘You have studied well.’ Murgal echoed her thoughts and even he spoke approvingly. ‘That is, indeed, the law. Let me hear how you think it should apply in these circumstances.’

Eadulf gave a nervous jerk of his head.

‘You will correct me if I am in error?’ he asked.

‘Be assured of that,’ Murgal affirmed with grim humour.

‘The legal commentaries, as I understand them, say that the status and character of a suspect must be taken into account in this decision. Will anyone in this court deny that Sister Fidelma is of noble status and degree not only in her birthright but in her legal qualification as a dálaigh?’

There was a stirring among the people in the chamber.

‘We have never denied this,’ Murgal replied with a tired voice.

‘Is there anyone in this court that challenges the fact that Sister Fidelma is of unblemished character and her name is spoken of with affection not only in Cashel but in Tara’s halls?’

Again his voice rang through the chamber in challenge and there was silence.

‘No one denies this,’ affirmed Murgal.

‘Then you must accept that, according to law, if Sister Fidelma takes oath, the fír testa, as you call it, then you must accept her word until proof is sworn against her. Sister Fidelma can leave this court on her own recognisances.’

Laisre looked at Murgal sharply, an eyebrow raised in question, but Murgal shook his head and spoke directly to Eadulf.

‘That is the law. As you say, we can accept her oath until proof is sworn against her. But we have a witness whose testimony cancels out her oath.’

Fidelma had seen this coming. She had seen enough cases being tried before competent Brehons to know that Murgal would know that a witness to the murder, making a statement to that effect, would cancel out the oath Eadulf had alluded to. The fact that the witness was only relating what he or she thought they saw did not invalidate the statement until disproved at the trial.

Eadulf’s eyes had sought out Artgal who stood grinning at the back of the chamber.

‘Bring forward your witness,’ Eadulf instructed coldly. ‘Let him testify.’

‘He will testify at the trial in nine days’ time,’ Murgal replied sharply. ‘This is not the time for his testimony.’

‘He must testify now!’ insisted Eadulf raising his voice above the murmur from the people. ‘It is today that we are dealing with the competence of Fidelma’s oath and if his testimony cancels out that oath then he must testify now.’

Murgal swallowed hard. He stared at the Saxon with a mixture of surprise and growing admiration. He had brought forth alegal stratagem to examine Artgal’s testimony without waiting for the trial.

Artgal came swaggering forward even before Murgal had instructed him to do so.

‘I am here, Saxon,’ he announced boastfully, ‘and I am not changing my testimony in spite of your strutting and pretence at being a dálaigh.’

Murgal stirred uncomfortably at the hostility of the witness.

‘Artgal,’ he warned sharply, ‘the Saxon is a stranger in our land. Let us show him that we respect our laws of hospitality by giving him respect.’

Artgal drew himself up but the sneer did not leave his face. He remained silent.

Eadulf glanced towards the Brehon and imperceptibly grimaced his thanks before he turned to the warrior.

‘I have no wish to make you change your testimony, Artgal,’ he began quietly. ‘I accept that you have related what you thought you saw.’

There was an intake of breath from several people and even Fidelma turned with a puzzled stare wondering where Eadulf was heading with his strategy.

‘Then why do you wish to question him?’ demanded Murgal, somewhat perplexed, putting the question that had sprung into her mind.

‘Forgive me, Murgal,’ Eadulf almost looked as if he were pleading, ‘I merely need advice on the law at this point.’

Fidelma was not the only one who wondered if Eadulf had realised the advantage that he was throwing away by not pursuing Artgal’s evidence and seeking to destroy it. For Fidelma it seemed the only logical route that he could take.

Murgal cleared his throat noisily.

‘Well, my advice is that if you have no wish to interrogate Artgal to make him change his testimony against Fidelma, then he need not be summoned and his testimony against Fidelma stands. That being so, your argument for her release falls.’

Artgal gave a bark of sardonic laughter and started to move back to his former position.

‘Stay where you are!’

The sharpness in Eadulf’s voice was so unexpected that it rooted Artgal to the spot in astonishment. Eyes turned to Eadulf as if they could not believe that the mild supplicant of a second ago had spoken so harshly. Even Fidelma was momentarily shaken by the stern manner of his command.

Eadulf had turned back to Murgal and resumed in a quieter tone.

‘I have yet to put my question,’ he protested mildly, though it seemed that there was a tone of rebuke in his voice.

Murgal blinked a little in wonder.

‘Then proceed,’ he invited after a moment or two.

‘I know little of the procedure of the court but I have consulted the text called “the five paths to judgment”.