monk staying at the abbey.
‘Eadulf is found in bed. He conveniently has a piece of the murdered girl’s bloodstained robe in the bed with him, making no attempt to hide it.’
Forbassach grinned dourly.
‘I think you have scuppered your own arguments,
‘I believe that the irregularities outweigh that evidence and those irregularities must be clarified before the matters of the bloodstains can be taken into account. I have already dealt with the circumstances of his detention which are, I say again, not in accordance with the law. He is detained in the abbey. We know the results. What is not known is how our missing witness, Fial, identified the Saxon Brother. Indeed, how does she know that he was a Saxon Brother when Brother Eadulf has said that at no time did he lay eyes on the girl when he came to the abbey. He spoke to very few people — the abbess, Sister Étromma and a Brother called Ibar. Only they knew him to be a Saxon for he speaks excellent Irish. No one asked the girl how she could recognise the Saxon in the darkness. There are too many questions that have not been asked in this case, let alone answered.’
Fidelma paused for a moment, as if taking breath.
‘On these grounds, Brehon of Laigin, I appeal directly to you with the request that the sentence on Brother Eadulf be suspended until such time as a proper impartial investigation has been made and a fair and just trial be held.’
Bishop Forbassach waited for a moment, as if giving her a chance to continue, and then he asked sharply: ‘Do you have any further arguments to put before me,
Fidelma shook her head. ‘Given the time that I was allowed, that is all I can bring forward at the moment. I think it is enough for a stay of the execution for a few weeks at least.’
Bishop Forbassach turned and held a hurried whispered conversation with Fianamail. Fidelma waited patiently. The bishop turned back to her.
‘I will make the decision known in the morning. However,’ he glanced sourly at Fianamail, ‘if the decision were mine alone I would say it fails.’
Fidelma, usually so self-controlled, took a step backward as if someone had pushed her in the chest. If she admitted the truth to herself, she had realised from the outset that Bishop Forbassach had decided to protect his initial judgment and sentence. However, she had hoped that he might delay the execution for a few days for the sake of appearances. It appeared that Fianamail was more conscious of keeping to the façade of justice than Forbassach. Fidelma was not prepared for such a blatant demonstration of injustice.
‘Why do you say that you would fail my appeal, Forbassach?’ she asked, after she had recovered her voice. ‘I am interested to know the argument. Would the learned judge tell me on what grounds he is dismissing this appeal?’
Her tone was quiet, subdued.
Bishop Forbassach misinterpreted the timbre as an acknowledgment of defeat. There was something of triumph in his expression.
‘I told you that the decision will be announced tomorrow. However, firstly, I was the judge at the trial of the Saxon. I say that he was accorded every respect and facility. He says that this was not so. You have his word, that of a stranger to this land, against mine. I speak as the Brehon of Laigin. There is little doubt whose word should be taken.’
Fidelma’s eyes narrowed angrily. Her temper rose.
‘You reject my appeal because you were judge at that first trial? I did not ask you to be judge at this appeal. I see that you are merely safeguarding your own interests …’
‘Fidelma of Cashel!’ It was Fianamail who stopped her. ‘You are addressing my Brehon. Even your relationship to the King of Muman does not give you the right to insult the officers of my household.’
Fidelma bit her lip, realising that she had let her temper run away with her.
‘I withdraw those words. From the outset, however, I find a judge judging himself … unusual, that is all. I would like to know, apart from the unwillingness of a judge to admit to any mistake that he might have made, what other grounds there are for dismissing this appeal?’
Bishop Forbassach leaned forward.
‘I would dismiss it because you have no facts. You have merely asked a lot of clever questions.’
‘Questions that cannot be answered at this time,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘That is the basis of my plea, a plea to stop the sentence until those questions
‘Unanswerable questions do not bear on the original decisions of the trial. You say this Saxon was a messenger. Where was his white wand of office? You now produce it like a conjurer and your only witness cannot swear that she saw you take it from the spot from which you claimed you took it.’
‘I can produce-’
‘Anything that you can produce,’ interrupted Bishop Forbassach, ‘is invalid as evidence, for who knows but that you brought it to this place yourself. It is not evidence, for we do not know that the Saxon carried it. As to the witnesses, you impute both their knowledge and integrity.’
‘I do not do so!’ protested Fidelma.
‘Ah.’ Bishop Forbassach smiled triumphantly. ‘Are you withdrawing the remarks which you made about them?’
Fidelma shook her head. ‘I do not do so.’
‘Then you must impute their testimony.’
‘I do not. I have put forward a number of questions that they should have been asked at the trial.’
‘We heard their testimony at the original trial and saw no reason to cross-examine them,’ Forbassach said decisively. ‘They are all of upstanding character and, in our judgment, have told the truth. The witness, Sister Fial, clearly saw the Saxon. She was an eye-witness tohis heinous crime. You would dare to impute the credibility of a thirteen-year-old child who has just witnessed the rape and murder of her even younger friend? What justice is that, Fidelma of Cashel? We obviously have different values here, in Laigin, to your courts of Cashel where it is said you entertain the crowds with sharp wit and legal niceties. Here we consider that truth is not games of legal
Fianamail laid a hand on Bishop Forbassach’s arm and whispered urgently into his ear. The Brehon grimaced sourly and nodded. The young King abruptly stood up.
‘This hearing is now ended. In fairness, my Brehon, Bishop Forbassach, has asked to discuss the case with me so that any judgment we may make may be seen to be completely fair. He will announce our adjudication on this appeal at dawn tomorrow. These deliberations are now ended.’
Fidelma felt a moment of black despair as she dropped back into her chair.
‘The courts of Laigin have descended into darkness!’ cried a strident male voice. She barely noticed that it was the elderly
Fianamail hesitated, angered at the demonstration and then, with a scowl on his face, he swept from the chamber. Bishop Forbassach stood, undecided for a moment, and then the abbess went to join him. His features broke into a look of triumph as he turned to her and they left together. As the others began to disperse Dego rose and came forward and placed a hand awkwardly on Fidelma’s shoulder in an effort to comfort her.
‘You did your best, lady,’ he muttered. ‘They are determined to see Brother Eadulf die.’
Fidelma raised her head, aware that there were tears glistening in her eyes, and unashamed of them.
‘Dego, I do not know what else I can do now legally to save him. There is no time.’
‘But they will not give judgment until tomorrow. There is still hope that they will find for your appeal.’ There was no conviction in his voice.
‘You heard how the Brehon Forbassach hectored me. No; he will uphold the sentence he has passed.’
Dego agreed reluctantly. ‘You’re right, lady. That Bishop Forbassach has demonstrated his bias. Did you see the way he went off with Abbess Fainder and both of them smiling and his hand on hers? There is some collusion in this matter.’
‘The only hope left is if the Chief Brehon of Ireland, Barrán himself, arrives and orders a halt to this
