The Monk Who Vanished

eyes were penetrating and moved rapidly around, missing nothing; if they looked directly at you they seemed to penetrate right through. He was thin, lean and almost sallow. He was quick to anger and he did not accept fools gladly, especially if they were advocates pleading before him. He moved rapidly to the judges’ bench and took his seat on the right-hand side.

Fachtna, the Brehon of the Uí Fidgente, followed quickly, taking his seat on the left. He was a little older than Dathal. He was also tall and almost emaciated in his appearance. His flesh was drawn tightly over his bony features so that it resembled more of a skull than a face. His skin was parchment-like with a crimson slash on both cheekbones. The eyes were grey, restless, and his lips were a thin slit of red. His hair was grey, parted in the centre, and drawn smoothly back and gathered with a ribbon. He gave the appearance of being in need of a good meal.

Last came the Brehon Rumann of Fearna who took the central seat. Indeed, he would not only be chief of the judges but would undoubtedly make the decisions, for it seemed likely to all who gathered in the Great Hall that the judgements of the Brehons of Cashel and the Uí Fidgente would be biased to reflect the wishes of their respective Princes.

As the Brehon Rumann moved to his seat, he did not look like a judge at all. He was short in stature and corpulent in his face and figure. He wore his silver hair long so that it fell in curls around the nape of his neck. The flesh of his benign features was like the fresh, pink skin of a child, newly scrubbed. The lips were red and full as if he were given to enhancing them with berry juice. The eyes were hazel yet with a brightness that made one think at first glance that they were of a pale colour. He had a general air of geniality about him. In spite of his companions, it was Rumann who dominated the scene. He exuded an air of quiet authority that commanded silence.

When he had seated himself and a hush had fallen in the Great Hall, the steward banged once more on the floor with his staff of office. Abbot Ségdae rose. He raised his hand, holding up his first, third and fourth finger to represent the Holy Trinity. Eadulf had almost grown used to this difference to the Roman usage where the thumb, first and second finger were held up in the same symbolism.

‘Benedictio benedicatur per Jesum Christum Dominum nostrum. Surgite!’

The blessing and the instruction to the court to ‘rise’ marked the beginning of the proceedings.

The Brehon Rumann duly banged the table before him with a small wooden gavel. His voice was soft but commanding.

‘The five paths of judgement are embarked upon. This day was fixed for this hearing and the proper path of judgement was chosen. The securities have been given by the King of Muman and the Prince of the Uí Fidgente. Before we come to the tacrae, the opening statements of the advocates, I have to ask both advocates whether they are ready to proceed. It is their right at this time to make any request for a taurbaid, a postponement, of these proceedings.’

He looked first at Fidelma and then at Solam.

‘I need not remind you that any postponement at this point must be supported by a good reason. The observance of a religious festival, an illness, a bereavement or other such matters will constitute a reasonable excuse.’

When he paused, Solam smiled officiously. ‘We stand ready to press our case,’ he announced.

‘And we are ready to respond to it,’ replied Fidelma.

‘Excellent. As you may have realised, I shall be the voice of all three judges here today. You will address your remarks to me. As neither of you have appeared in my court before, I feel that I must tell you how I expect you to behave. I do not tolerate bad pleading in my court and I adhere to the letter of the Cóic Conara Fugill.’

Eadulf knew well that this was the main book of instruction on procedures known as ‘the five paths of judgement’.

‘I will order any advocate to pay a fine who speaks in an undertone so that I cannot hear clearly what has been said; any advocate who tries to incite the court, or who loses their temper, or who argues in too loud a voice and abuses anyone; any advocate who opposes a known fact or starts to praise themselves. The fine for all such offences will be as prescribed by law — the sum of one séd.’

A séd was the value of one cow. It was a harsh fine. Inwardly Eadulf groaned. The Brehon Rumann was not going to be an easy judge before whom to argue.

There was almost a breathless silence in the court now.

‘Let the tacrae begin.’

Solam rose to his feet, nervous, birdlike in his motions. ‘Before I begin my plea, I must raise a protest.’

The hush that had fallen was like a moment of calm before a storm breaks with all its fury.

The tones of the Brehon Rumann became icy. ‘A protest?’

‘It is ordained in the procedures governing a court that litigants should sit with their advocates. Next to me sits the Prince of the Uf Fidgente, who is the plaintiff in this case.’

A scowl passed across the cherubic-like features of the Brehon, turning that soft, chubby countenance into a hard, angry glare. ‘Is there a point to this?’

‘Behind you sits the other litigant in this case, the defendant, who is the King of Muman.’

Behind the judges, Eadulf could see Colgú stir with embarrassment. The King was not allowed to speak during the proceedings except in exceptional circumstances.

Brehon Rumann’s eyes had widened. For a moment he seemed about to protest and then Fachtna, the judge of the Uf Fidgente, with a sardonic smile of approval towards Solam, leant across to Rumann.

‘The advocate has a strong legal point in procedural rules. A litigant must be seated with his advocate. No exceptions are made in the texts. As defendant the King should be seated next to his dálaigh.’

‘Yet the same rules stipulate where the King must sit,’ pointed out Dathal from the other side of Rumann. ‘We are in the kingdom of Muman and at the King’s seat of Cashel. How can the King not sit in the place ordained by law?’

‘Yet the law says that his place, as defendant, is with his advocate,’ insisted Fachtna with his irritating smile. ‘The King is expected to observe the law with the meanest members of his kingdom.’

Rumann raised his hands as if to pacify his fellow judges. ‘I wouldargue that one cannot impose law on the King. I can refer to heptads and triads of the ancient law books which advise that no one can stand in surety for a King for if the King defaults then the person standing surety has no means to secure compensation, for the King’s honour is more important than any claim.’

‘Are you saying that the Prince of the Uí Fidgente is incorrect in bringing a legal claim against the King of Muman?’ demanded Fachtna, his voice brittle. ‘Are you saying that no legal claim can be made against a King? If that is so, we are wasting time sitting in judgement here. No, I cannot agree to that argument.’

Fidelma rose and cleared her throat.

‘You wish to add something, Fidelma of Cashel?’ asked the Brehon Rumann, watching her with interest.

‘Learned judges-’ Fidelma bowed her head to the Brehons — ‘while, of course, the Brehon Rumann is correct in that the law advises that people should not stand surety for a King, it does not forbid it.’

Fachtna actually smiled broadly. ‘Do I understand that the advocate of Cashel agrees with me? That the King must be recognised as a litigant, as the defendant in this case, and must sit before the judges and not behind them?’

‘There are three questions there, Fachtna,’ replied Fidelma solemnly. ‘If you are supporting Solam’s protest then my answer is — no, I do not agree. And your last question does not therefore follow from your first question.’

Fachtna was puzzled, not sure as to where Fidelma was leading.

Rumann made a curious hissing of his breath demonstrating his vexation at not understanding her answers. ‘The advocate for Cashel should make herself clear. What is she saying?’ he grumbled.

‘May I remind the learned Brehons,’ went on Fidelma, ‘that the law texts do describe the method of balancing a King’s honour with his legal accountability?’

Rumann’s eyes narrowed in his chubby face. ‘Remind us,’ he invited shortly. There seemed a hidden threat in his voice.

‘It is given in a text on the four divisions of distraint. For legal purposes the King may be represented by a