Valley of the Shadow

Artgal is called as a witness which you call fiadú — one who sees.’

‘That is correct,’ affirmed Murgal.

‘The text says that such a one, in giving testimony, must be sensible, honest, conscientious and of good memory.’

‘I am all that, Saxon,’ intervened Artgal, relaxing with a smile again. ‘So what?’

‘Tell me, learned judge,’ went on Eadulf, ignoring him, ‘what does the legal maxim given in the text mean when it says — foben inracus accobar?’

The question was asked innocently enough but there was a sudden silence in the chamber, an instant tension.

‘It means that “greed detracts from honesty”,’ Murgal interpreted, though everyone felt that Eadulf already knew the meaning well enough.

‘It means that a man cannot give evidence if it brings advantage to himself, doesn’t it? His evidence is thus excluded from the hearing and justified by that legal maxim.’

If a grain of sand had fallen in that chamber, the silence had grown such that Fidelma felt it might well have been heard striking the floor. She wondered to what position Eadulf was proceeding with his arguments.

He had turned to face Artgal whose expression was no longer contemptuous. His features had grown grave, the face slightly ashen.

‘Artgal, do you stand to profit by your evidence against Fidelma of Cashel?’

Artgal made no reply. He seemed to have difficulty speaking.

After several long moments, Murgal spoke slowly and clearly: ‘Witness, you must answer — and, remember, you stand on your oath not only as a clansman but as a privileged warrior-bodyguard of our chieftain.’

Artgal realised the bad impression he was making by his hesitation and tried to recover his poise.

‘Why would I profit?’

‘A question is no answer to the question that I asked you,’ snapped Eadulf. ‘Do you stand to profit from your evidence?’

‘No.’

‘No? You have sworn an oath.’

‘No.’

‘No, again? Do I need to remind you of a certain sum of two séds that has already exchanged hands and a further séd which will pass into your possession when Fidelma’s trial is over? Each séd representing one milch cow?’

There was a gasp through the chamber.

‘You will need to prove this accusation, Saxon,’ Murgal called sharply.

‘Oh, I shall prove it, never fear,’ Eadulf smiled grimly. ‘Do you wish me to name the person from whom this largesse came, Artgal?’

The warrior seemed to deflate before Eadulf s confident stand. He shook his head.

‘Then tell us why you were to receive this money?’

‘It was no bribe,’ Artgal began to protest.

‘No bribe?’ It was Eadulf s turn to sneer. ‘Then why should you be paid for your testimony if it was not a bribe?’

‘I did see Fidelma in the stable. I did see her bending over the man, Solin. She must have killed him.’

‘Must? This is a change from saying you actually witnessed her do so,’ interposed Murgal gravely.

‘One thing must follow from another,’ protested the warrior-blacksmith.

‘Much play on this word “must”,’ Eadulf observed. ‘Must is merely saying “should” or “ought” but not that something actually was.’

‘This court is well aware of the meaning of the word,’ interposed Murgal testily. ‘And we take notice of Artgal’s change of testimony. But, Artgal, do you admit that you were paid to tell that story?’

‘Not to tell it,’ protested Artgal. ‘To ensure I did not change the story.’

Eadulf let out a low breath and only now did he give a triumphal glance towards Fidelma. She was staring at the floor, her shoulders bent in tension.

‘I am at a loss to understand this,’ Murgal was saying. ‘Why would you be likely to change your story?’

‘I would not. It is the truth. However, I was approached a few hours after Fidelma had been incarcerated, by a man who offered me two séds, for sticking to my story. He would pay me immediately and promised a further séd once Fidelma of Cashel’s trial was over. Money has little value in Gleann Geis and so I agreed that this wasthe value of three milch cows. I accepted such a payment. With such a sum I could be assured of security for the rest of my life.’

‘Who was this man who gave you this money?’ Laisre asked heavily, intervening now for the first time since the revelation was made.

‘I know not, my lord. It was dark and I did not see him. I heard only his voice.’

‘How did he sound?’ demanded Murgal.

Artgal raised a hand helplessly.

Something prompted Eadulf to gamble.

‘You heard his voice clearly enough, Artgal,’ he pressed. ‘Did he have a northern accent?’

Artgal’s expression was pitiful now. The bombast had disappeared entirely.

‘Did he speak with the accent of a man of Ulaidh?’ insisted Eadulf.

Artgal nodded miserably.

All eyes turned to the seated figure of Ibor of Muirthemne whose face had coloured but he kept staring stonily in front of him.

‘What did this voice tell you?’ Murgal asked grimly.

‘The man told me that if I went forth this morning I would find the two milch cows tethered near my farmstead. In nine days’ time I would find a third, that was if I did not change my testimony against Fidelma. I swear I had no choice but to accept. He stood in the darkness by my bed. He could as easily have pressed a dagger’s point into my throat as offer me money.’

‘And did you go forth in the morning, this very morning, and find the milch cows?’ asked Murgal.

‘I did.’

‘And so, in short, your testimony was bought,’ Eadulf summed up triumphantly.

‘I made clear my testimony before I received the cows,’ protested Artgal.

Laisre spoke to Murgal almost with an eager tone.

‘He has a point there. Surely this cannot be considered a bribe to give evidence?’

Eadulf was about to protest but Murgal rubbed his chin thoughtfully before replying to the chieftain.

‘It means that, according to the law, we cannot use Artgal’s evidence against Fidelma. He has rendered himself without honour and cannot be believed. There is no evidence other than his against Fidelma of Cashel.’

Laisre turned to Artgal with scarcely suppressed fury.

‘This man who offered you the cows spoke with the accent of the northern kingdom, you say?’

‘He did, my lord.’

‘Are you sure he spoke with a northern accent? Could it not be a Saxon accent for example?’

There was a loud gasp as all those gathered were amazed at the chieftain’s overt accusation.

‘My lord,’ Murgal urged anxiously, ‘it cannot be suggested that the Saxon trapped Artgal to discredit him in order to bring this decision about.’

Laisre glowered at Eadulf.

‘Why not? One explanation is as good as another.’

‘My lord, reconsider your hasty words. The evidence is clear. Artgal would know a northern accent from a Saxon one and would have said so. For you to argue this would be to bring your office into disrepute.’

Laisre looked as if he wanted to prolong the argument but with Murgal’s discouragement he could not.

‘Very well. We must question all those with northern accents, I suppose.’