A Prayer for the Damned

direction did he take?’

That something was seriously wrong had finally registered with the arrogant young brehon. He was beginning to look nervous.

‘I wanted to see someone staying in a hostel in the township below. We rode to the town together. I stopped at the hostel and Brother Drón rode on. He told me that he was hoping to find Sister Marga, who had fled without his authority.’

‘Where did he go? In what direction?’ snapped Fidelma, unable to stay silent any longer.

Brehon Ninnid looked nervously at her, and when he hesitated Barrán added sharply: ‘Answer the question.’

‘I think he took the road that runs west to the great river, the Siúr.’

Fidelma sighed. ‘That is of no help. We shall still need Rónán to track him.’

The Chief Brehon gazed sadly at the brehon of Laigin. ‘Know that in your arrogance, Ninnid, you have transgressed the law. Even the fact of releasing a prisoner is as nothing compared to taking the authority of the king without his permission. Did it not occur to you that Drón would not tell you the truth? Did it not occur to you that the warrior was acting with authority and not on some whim of his own? You will be brought before a hearing, Ninnid, and if it is found that you acted out of nepotism because you are of the Uí Dróna you will never hold office again.’

Ninnid swallowed nervously. ‘But it was not that. .’ he began.

Brehon Barrán raised a hand to silence him. ‘Every brehon must bear the responsibility for any mistake he makes,’ he said firmly. ‘As I see it, you are already self-confessed of the mistake of leth- tacrae.’

It was the legal term used when a brehon gave a judgement after hearing only one side of a case. Such a judgement was considered an injustice against the king and the nobles of the kingdom. It was the most serious breach of duty for a judge and the punishment was that he not only be deprived of his office but also pay his honour-price.

Ninnid turned pale. ‘I swear that I did not act out of kinship for Brother Drón. The fact that he was of my people might have influenced the way I felt about my decision, but not the way I came to it. I did believe that I was acting out of right.’

Fidelma suddenly found herself feeling almost sorry for the arrogant young man.

‘I am not excusing the enormity of what Ninnid did,’ she said. ‘But perhaps leth- tacrae might be too strong a term for what was, after all, not a legal judgement but a mistaken opinion, an ignorance born of arrogance.’

The Chief Brehon regarded her in amusement. ‘Are you entering a plea for Ninnid?’

Fidelma met his amused gaze and her eyes twinkled in answer. ‘I was unaware that this was a duly constituted court but thought it merely a means of questioning Ninnid as to what prompted his actions. That those actions were wrong and without legal authority is in no doubt, but perhaps the lesson that we trust he will learn can be underscored by a fine. After all, is there not an often repeated maxim in the law books cach brithemoin a báegul. . to every judge his error?’

Chief Brehon Barrán turned gravely to Colgú. ‘As your sister points out, this is not a properly constituted court hearing of an accusation of misdeed against Ninnid. It is your right, as the injured party, to demand such a hearing before a court of three judges of equal stature to Ninnid. Do you wish to proceed legally against him?’

Colgú looked at his sister as if for guidance and then shrugged. ‘If Ninnid is willing to admit his error, then I am content.’

Brehon Barrán turned back to the Laigin brehon whose arrogance had long since deserted him and who now stood with hunched shoulders and bowed head.

‘The king and the lady Fidelma have been lenient in this matter. As Chief Brehon, I cannot be so lenient, so I will say that you will not only pay five ounces of silver, which would have been the pledge in support of your position of prosecutor of Muirchertach Nár had he lived, but a fine of a cumal, the value of three milch cows, which would have been your fee. Furthermore, you will have no further involvement in the case of either the death of Abbot Ultán or that of Muirchertach Nár. Nor can you be the chief brehon in Laigin but will return to the lower order of judges. Do you accept this ruling or do you wish to appeal?’

Ninnid’s shoulders seemed to sink even lower.

‘I accept,’ he said softly.

When Ninnid had left the Chief Brehon relaxed a little. ‘A vain and silly man. He is talented in his knowledge of law but his arrogance makes him defective in his judgement. Yet perhaps he will learn from this event.’ He suddenly turned to Fidelma. ‘Are you close to a solution to these matters now?’

‘You may tell the High King that tomorrow at midday, either we will have the answers to these deaths or we may have to assume that the culprit has escaped us.’

‘Ah, you mean Brother Drón?’

Fidelma would not comment but made her excuses and left. Colgú stood up, moved to a side table and waved the Chief Brehon to a chair near the fire.

‘A goblet of wine, Barrán?’

The Chief Brehon smiled. ‘Corma would be better still,’ he said.

Colgú poured the drinks and settled in a chair opposite Barrán. They both sipped appreciatively for a moment.

‘I hope my sister will be able to sort out this puzzle,’ Colgú finally commented. ‘It is a bad business, with everyone ready to condemn Cashel if there is no resolution.’

‘I have confidence in Fidelma.’ The Chief Brehon was reassuring. ‘Her reputation has not been won merely by luck. If I had influence with her, I would try to persuade her to separate entirely from the religious and become a brehon instead of just a dálaigh. She has the ability to make such sound judgements that she is often wasted in pleading cases before others. . especially when they are so inferior in judgement as Ninnid.’

‘I know that she has been considering her position in the religious,’ Colgú confided. ‘However, she feels uncomfortable about it because she places such reliance on our cousin’s advice. .’

‘Abbot Laisran of Durrow?’

Colgú nodded. ‘He was the one who persuaded her to enter the religious in the first place. He argued that it would make her independent of a reliance on her work in law. But monastic life was not to her taste. Her first interest and commitment is to the law and, as you know, for the last few years now she has been her own mistress. However, I know that she feels that any severance from the religious will be a betrayal of Laisran.’

‘Do you think her marriage to the Saxon will alter her attitudes?’

‘I think Eadulf is a good man. A stable man. I would, of course, have preferred her to wed one of our own, but he shares her enthusiasm for her work. He is not qualified in our laws, but he seems to have a natural aptitude in helping her to solve these conundrums. I have often suggested that he should study our law, for he was an hereditary. . gerefa, I think is the word. It means a magistrate of his own people in the Saxon lands.’

Barrán sighed deeply. ‘I share your view of Eadulf. A good man, even though he is a Saxon. Perhaps you are right, Colgú. Maybe he will help steer her away from the stormy waters that this new faith is bringing with it. The debates between our native forms and these foreign ways that emanate from Rome are becoming more vicious. Truly, I do fear for the future.’

Fergus Fanat was sitting up with a bandage round his head and looking rueful as Fidelma entered the little room where old Brother Conchobhar nursed his patients. Fidelma had been informed that the warrior had recovered consciousness as she was about to leave the fortress with Caol and Rónán. She told them to continue down to the town to begin the search for Brother Drón and that she would catch up with them later.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked as she dropped into a seat beside his bed.

The warrior managed a brief smile. ‘As if someone has hit me over the head with a cudgel.’