Our Lady of Darkness

‘Outrage? You forget to whom you speak, Coba. Besides, my actions have been approved of by the King, his Brehon and his spiritual adviser. Do you dare to say that you are more competent to judge matters than they are?’

‘That I do,’ replied the elderly man, unabashed. ‘Especially if they ignore the principles of our laws.’

‘Our laws?’ sneered the Abbess. ‘The laws recognised in this abbey are those governing the Church of which it is part. We recognise no other law. As for the rest of the kingdom, why — we must not allow it to wallow in ignorance any longer. We must turn to Christian law as given by Rome otherwise we are cursed for eternity.’

The man addressed as Coba took an almost threatening step closer to the table of the abbess. Fainder did not flinch as he bent forward in anger across it.

‘It is strange to hear those words coming from a learned woman, especially one in your position. Do you not recall the words of Paul of Tarsus to the Romans? “When Gentiles, who do not possess the law, carry out its precepts by the light of nature, then, though they have no law, they are their own law, for they display the effect of the lawinscribed on their hearts.” Paul of Tarsus had more sympathy with our law than you do.’

Abbess Fainder’s eyes were dark with anger.

‘You have the effrontery to lecture me on the Scriptures? Do you dare tell the religious, who are your superiors in the Faith, how to interpret the Scriptures? You forget yourself, Coba. You have a duty of obedience to us who are appointed to govern you in the Faith; you will obey and not question me.’

The elderly man looked down pityingly at her.

‘Who appointed you to govern me? I certainly did not do so.’

‘My authority comes from Christ.’

‘As I recall in the first letter of the Apostle Peter from the same Scriptures, and he was Christ’s appointed leader of the Faith, it says to “Tend the flock of God whose shepherds you are, and do it not under compulsion but out of sheer devotion; not tyrannising over those who are allotted to your care, but setting an example to the flock.” Perhaps you should remember those words before you demand unquestioning obedience?’

Abbess Fainder almost choked in frustration.

‘Have you no humility, man?’ Her voice rose, cracking in anger.

Coba laughed coldly. ‘I have humility enough to recognise when I lack humility.’

The abbess suddenly caught sight of Fidelma standing at the door, witnessing the argument with an expression of amused interest on her face. Abbess Fainder’s features immediately dissolved into a cold mask. She turned back to the elderly man.

‘The Brehon and the King have agreed on the matter of punishment, Coba. It will be carried out. That is all I have to say. You may go.’ She turned again to Fidelma and her voice was icy. ‘Now, what do you want, Sister?’

The elderly man had turned to the door as soon as he was aware of Fidelma’s presence. He made no effort to obey the abbess’s summary dismissal.

‘I give you fair warning, Abbess Fainder,’ he said, eyes on Fidelma and cutting across any reply that she was about to give to the abbess. ‘I shall not let this matter drop. You have slaughtered one young Brother already and now you intend to kill the Saxon. That is not our law.’

Fidelma addressed herself to him rather than the abbess.

‘So, you have come to protest against this sentence of death?’ sheasked, regarding the elderly man with interest.

The man called Coba was not friendly.

‘That I have. If you call yourself a religieuse, then you will do likewise.’

‘I have already made my protest known,’ Fidelma assured him. ‘Who are you?’

It was Abbess Fainder who reluctantly intervened.

‘This is Coba of Cam Eolaing of which place he is bó-aire and not an ollamh of law nor of religion,’ she added spitefully. A bó- aire was a local magistrate, a chieftain without land whose wealth was judged by the number of cows he owned, hence he was called a ‘cow-chief’. ‘Coba, this is Sister Fidelma from Cashel.’

The elderly man’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he turned to examine Fidelma.

‘What is a religieuse of Cashel doing in Fearna? Simply to protest at the actions of its abbess, or do you have another purpose?’ he demanded.

‘The abbess failed to mention that I am a dálaigh of the courts with the rank of anruth,’ she replied. ‘Also, I am a friend of the Saxon who lays under the threat of death. I have come here to help defend him from any injustice.’

The elderly chieftain relaxed a little.

‘I see. And I suppose that you have not been able to persuade the abbess to desist from her evil intention?’

‘I have not been able to change the sentence which has been confirmed by the King and his Brehon,’ Fidelma admitted, wording her answer cautiously.

‘Then what do you propose to do? A man was murdered this morning and another is to be murdered tomorrow. Vengeance is not our way.’

Abbess Fainder made some inarticulate sounds but Fidelma ignored her.

‘It is not our way,’ she conceded. ‘I agree. But we can only follow the path of law to fight injustice. I have been given permission to see if there are matters which may form the basis of an appeal.’

The elderly man almost spat. ‘Appeal! Nonsense! The Saxon’s life is to be taken tomorrow. His release must be demanded. There is no time for legal niceties.’

Abbess Fainder’s eyes narrowed. ‘I must warn you, Coba, that demands will be met with resistance. If you try to interfere with the law …’

‘Law? Savagery! Those who support this judicial taking of life have an affinity with murderers and cannot call themselves civilised.’

‘I warn you, Coba, your views will be brought to the attention of the King.’

‘The King? A querulous youth who has let himself be misled in these matters.’

Fidelma laid a hand on the old man’s arm.

‘A querulous youth with power,’ she warned him gently. The chieftain seemed too outspoken for his own good.

Coba laughed dryly at her concern. ‘I am too old and have lived too full a life to be frightened of people with power, whoever they are. And throughout that life, young woman, I have supported our law, our culture and philosophies. No new savagery can replace my principles without my voice being raised in protest.’

‘I can understand your feelings, Coba,’ Fidelma agreed. ‘I share them. But you, as a local magistrate, must know that the only way to challenge and change things is by doing it through the medium of the law.’

Coba stared at her for a moment, his eyes deep set and dark.

‘Your great Christian teacher, Paul of Tarsus, once said that the law was the schoolmaster. What do you think he meant by that?’

‘And which law did he mean?’ snapped Abbess Fainder. ‘Not pagan law but the law the Faith brings.’

Coba ignored her and spoke directly to Fidelma: ‘The most characteristic feature of our law is the procedure by means of which rights and wrongs are respectively vindicated or redressed. The most obvious effect of a crime, any crime, is the infliction of an injury on some other person and the natural consequence that this should bring down on the wrongdoer. In any well-regulated society, the principle is that the wrongdoer must compensate the victim for the injury.’

‘That is the law of the Brehons,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘You sound as if you have studied that principle well.’

Coba nodded absently. ‘In the five kingdoms we have a system of honour prices which, according to the nature of the injury and the status of the person injured, compensation and fines are judged. The philosophy of the Brehons was to make the law a schoolmaster; to teach the wrongdoer that the loss which is then inflicted on him is the loss that he has inflicted on the injured person.’

Abbess Fainder interrupted him again.

‘I believe that the Roman way of punitive redress, that is “an eye for an eye”, is the deterrent and reflects the natural instinct of man. The natural retaliation for murder is to take reprisal from the wrongdoer by killing him