Whispers of the Dead

of it, and they would know their punishment would be that much more harsh should I have discovered it. This man Febrat was indulging in liquor or was a liar.”

Díomsach nodded slowly.

“In this we find agreement, my friend. But then, two days afterwards, Febrat came to me with the same tale. He had the same sincerity and anguish as he had the first time he reported such an event. He named his neighbor, claiming this farmer was the man leading the raid. We had to take him seriously and so I accompanied Fallach and some warriors to investigate again only to find that once more there was nothing to justify his complaint.”

Sister Fidelma sat with raised eyebrows.

“He came twice to you claiming that his farmstead was being raided and each time you found nothing? Did you question his wife and did you also question the man whom he charged led the raid?”

Díomsach nodded quickly.

“We did. The man that he claimed led the raid was a farmer named Faramund. He was aghast at the accusation, and as we found nothing, nothing further was done.”

“And what did Febrat’s wife say? What did you say her name was? Cara?”

“Cara said that she thought her husband was imagining such things for she knew nothing.”

“What did Febrat say to this?”

“He was trying to persuade his wife that it had happened.”

“But if she was there, and if it happened, she would know,” Fidelma pointed out. “How could he persuade her otherwise?”

“’That’s just it. On both occasions Febrat’s wife was away that night. I think she was staying with her mother.”

“On both occasions?” pressed Fidelma.

Díomsach nodded: “That is the sum total of it, Fidelma of Cashel.”

“Has the man a history of instability?”

“I do not know,” Díomsach replied.

“And what does his wife say about this imagining?”

The chief shrugged.

“Only that perhaps her husband was working too hard or drinking too much.”

Conrí nodded in grim satisfaction.

“So long as the good name of the Uí Fidgente has been cleared on this matter, I care not about the man.”

“But he is here and wishes to make another supplication,” Fidelma pointed out.

“Why?”

There was a silence.

“Maybe he wishes to test our wits again,” Díomsach replied. “Or he is truly mad and we must bring in a physician to judge him.”

“Brother Colla,” Sister Fidelma instructed the scriptor quietly, “ask Fallach the warrior to come before us. . but without his prisoner.”

Fallach was a lean but muscular, dark-haired man. He came to stand before them with an expression of detached disdain.

“Fallach, I understand that a farmer called Febrat came to make supplication before this court,” Fidelma said. “You hold him prisoner. Tell me why and what you know of this man.”

Fallach frowned for a moment, glancing swiftly toward his chief, Díomsach.

“Lady,” he began, addressing her as such for he knew her to be sister to the King of Muman and not merely a religieuse or simple dálaigh. “I did not want you to be bothered by the fantasies of this man, Febrat. That is why I detained him before he could enter this court.”

“What do you know of these fantasies?”

Fallach shifted his weight for a moment.

“Lady, twice he has come to my chief, Díomsach, claiming that the Uí Fidgente were raiding his land and harming his livestock. Twice have these claims proven to be untrue. On both occasions we have gone to his farm and found it to be in perfect peace. No harm has come to his farm or to his livestock. His wife, Cara, cannot explain her husband’s attitude. She has told us that nothing has ever happened to make her husband behave in this manner.”

Sister Fidelma nodded thoughtfully.

“Yet I am told that Febrat has been specific in his charge?”

Fallach frowned.

“Specific? Ah, you mean on the second occasion when he laid a claim against Faramund, a neighboring farmer? We went to see him. .”

Conrí’s eyes narrowed.

“I have just realized that to speak with Faramund, you went into Uí Fidgente territory. That is an act of aggression. Compensation must be. .”

Sister Fidelma cut in sharply.

“The territory is part of the kingdom of Muman and I am sitting in judgment on a matter pertaining to the kingdom. We will hear no more about disputed boundaries. Díomsach and Fallach were quite right to pursue an investigation relating to a potential criminal raid against a peaceful farmstead. That is the law.” She turned to the warrior. “And what did Faramund say?”

“He assured us that he was nowhere near the farmstead of Fallach and with the testimony of Cara and the lack of evidence of a raid, there was only one conclusion. To be honest, Faramund, while an Uí Fidgente, is trustworthy. He even studied law at one time.”

“Then is your opinion that the man, Febrat, is either lying for some reason or that he has become deranged?”

Fallach shrugged expressively.

“I would say that the man is deranged. He has dwelt within this community for as long as I can recall, though I scarcely know him well. He was merely a daer-fuidhir, one of the itinerant laboring classes. Then he was able to buy a little unfertile land and afterwards. .”

Díomsach interrupted with a smile.

“Well, I think that decides the matter. Dispatch him back to his farm. There is little we can do until his wife, who is his next of kin, declares him incapable and has him examined by the physicians. Then it will be a decision for the law as to whether he should be declared as a dásachtach.”

Fallach made to turn but Sister Fidelma stayed him.

“Since the man is here, we might as well examine him. You, Díomsach, have reminded me of the law Do Brethaib Gaire that is concerned with protecting society from the insane. If the man is truly displaying manic symptoms then we should not let him wander back to his farmstead. He is married and thereby his wife may have to become the conn, the guardian, who will be responsible for his behavior.”

Conrí shrugged with studied disinterest while Díomsach frowned with displeasure. He was looking forward to the feasting and did not want to delay any longer. He had ordered a boar to be roasted and had bought red Gaulish wine from a merchant. Nevertheless, the court could only be brought to a close by the presiding lawyer and he had to defer to Fidelma.

“Bring Febrat before us,” instructed Fidelma and Fallach inclined his head in acknowledgement and left them.

When Febrat stood before Sister Fidelma she almost smiled. He reminded her of a pine-martin, the slopping forehead, pointed features, dark restless eyes seemingly without pupils, and graying hair. He stood stock-still, erect, hands twisting together in front of his stomach. The only movement was his head, looking from side to side as if seeking for an enemy, while it seemed his neck and body stayed still.

“Well, Febrat,” Sister Fidelma began, speaking softly to put the man at his ease. “I understand that you have come to make a supplication to this court. Is this correct?”

“Indeed, indeed, indeed.” The rapidity of the repeated word made her blink.