Peter Tremayne - Chalice of Blood

‘And who is the killer?’

‘ Tempus omnia revelat .’ Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘Time reveals all things. I have sent messengers to summon several people to come here. Cumscrad of the Fir Maige Féne, Uallachán of the Uí Liatháin, who are staying within two kilometres to the west and south of here, and, of course, Lady Eithne at An Dún to the east. I have told them that the courtwill convene in the abbey refectorium at the etarthráth — noontide.’

‘Are our guards enough if there is trouble?’ Colgú asked her.

‘So long as Dego and Enda do not move before the hour stipulated.’

‘They won’t,’ her brother assured her.

‘Excellent.’ She glanced across the quadrangle. ‘Ah, the first service has ended and here come the dour-looking steward, Brother Lugna, and an anxious-looking Abbot Iarnla. They will be worried by your presence, particularly that of Abbot Ségdae.’

Colgú chuckled. ‘Then we better put them out of their anxiety.’

Eadulf noticed that Fidelma was now walking with a lighter step and he actually heard her singing a snatch of song beneath her breath.

Diesque mirabilium

Tonitruorum forium

Dies quoque angustiae

Maetoris ae trititae

Thunder shall rend the day apart

Wonder amazes each fearful heart

Anguish and pain, deep distress

Shall mark the day of bitterness

The refectorium was so crowded that many of the brethren were forced to stand. The table at which the abbot and his senior advisers usually had their meals was occupied by Colgú, with Brehon Aillín on his right and Abbot Ségdae on his left. Behind Abbot Ségdae, who was there in his role as Chief Bishop of the kingdom, sat his steward, Brother Madagan. Caol, as commander of the Nasc Niadh, stood directly behind Colgú,with the King’s standard bearer. Facing them, but in the main body of the hall, were Abbot Iarnla and his steward, Brother Lugna. Lady Eithne, who had arrived with three of her bodyguards, sat to their left. Clustered behind the abbot were all the senior members of the abbey. The two rival chieftains, Cumscrad, with his son Cunám, and Uallachán, with Brother Temnen of Ard Mór, plus their two bodyguards apiece, had taken seats on opposite sides of the hall. Standing where they could were Saor and his group of builders, with the young boy, Gúasach. The rest of the hall was filled with as many members of the community who could squeeze in. Gormán and the two remaining warriors of the Nasc Niadh had positioned themselves at the door.

Fidelma had taken her position at a small table to the right of the raised platform. Eadulf sat with her, with notes and papers, to aid her if needed. But the arguments before Brehon Aillín had to be made by a qualified dálaigh and so Eadulf could be of no assistance to her in the direct presentation of the case.

Brehon Aillín glanced at Fidelma and then stood up. He raised his staff of office and banged it on the floor three times.

‘At this court we are here primarily to attempt to discover cause and responsibility for the death of Brother Donnchad. However, there are other matters that we must consider. The raids on the Fir Maige Féne and death of Dubhagan of the tech-screptra at Fhear Maighe. We shall also attempt to discover cause and responsibility for the death of the master builder Glassán.’

There was a ripple of subdued but surprised voices. Most knew only that Brother Donnchad’s death had been under investigation, while Glassán’s death had been thought an accident. As for raids and the death of Dubhagan, little gossip had infiltrated the abbey.

Brother Lugna immediately rose, protesting. ‘Are these notseparate matters? How are they to be heard all at once? Sister Fidelma’s only responsibility is to tell us who killed Brother Donnchad.’

Brehon Aillín regarded him with disapproval. ‘This is now a court of law and I have proclaimed the matters it will consider. Fidelma of Cashel, will you proceed?’ he added solemnly.

‘I shall.’ Fidelma bowed her head towards the Brehon, as protocol demanded, before turning to face the assembly.

‘We shall deal first with the murder of Glassán. For that is a separate matter.’

When the astonished murmur died down, Fidelma raised her voice a little. ‘Yes, it was murder even though it was made to look like an accident. Glassán was bludgeoned from behind with a blackthorn stick, dragged to the wall and the scene made to look as if one of the stones from the wall had become loose and fallen on him. This murder had long been in the planning.’

She held the audience’s attention completely now.

‘Sometimes,’ she continued, ‘when one has been so long investigating murders, one becomes too used to looking for the complicated and the unexpected. With the killing of Glassán we were, in fact, dealing with the obvious but thought we were looking for something deeper, more complicated and not so obvious; something that we thought would link up with the murder of Brother Donnchad. We nearly missed what was staring us in the face.’

‘And that was?’ prompted Brother Lugna, unable to restrain himself.

Brehon Aillín rapped on the table and snapped, ‘There are to be no interruptions. I have already pointed out that this is now a court of law and protocol is to be followed.’

‘I shall respond to the steward, with your approval,’ Fidelma replied mildly. ‘This was an act of vengeance, part of a blood feud.’

Fidelma waited for the hall to grow silent again before continuing.

‘The most serious offence in any society is for one person to deprive another of their life. I have travelled in many lands and found that the laws governing what punishment should be given varies.’

Once again, Brother Lugna was on his feet.

‘In Rome it is considered that the execution of the offender is the only just punishment. Among many members of our Faith beyond the seas, this punishment is supported because this is the justice that Faith proclaims. Is it not written in the ancient texts that life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth shall be the punishment? Even if death is caused by negligence, death must be returned as retribution.’

Brehon Aillín had reached for his staff of office, anger on his brow, but Fidelma held up her hand.

‘I will respond, with your permission. Let us make allowance for the fact that Brother Lugna has been so long in Rome that he has forgotten how our courts of law are conducted. We do not believe that the teaching that you have cited is compatible with the Faith, for did not Christ tell us to ignore it? Perhaps, Brehon Aillín, you would allow Brother Eadulf, who has also studied in Rome, to remind us of Christ’s teaching?’

At a nod from the Brehon, Eadulf rose. ‘It is to be found in the Gospel according to Matthew: audistis quia dictum est oculum pro oculo et dentem pro dente … ego autem dico vobis non resistere malo sed si te percusserit in dextera maxilla tua praebe illi et alteram .’

‘You have heard that it has been said, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you …’ She stopped translating. ‘I am sure that Brother Lugna knows the passage, as do we all. I rejoice that we live under more enlightened laws,though some would have us adopt the Penitentials of Rome where we must cut off the hand that steals, blind the eye that is covetous, kill the person who is responsible for the death of another directly or indirectly.’

Brother Lugna was looking outraged. He exchanged a glance with the grim-faced Lady Eithne.

‘The basis of our law,’ went on Fidelma, unperturbed, ‘is that we allow someone who has transgressed to atone for his crime, even if they have caused the death of another. Moreover, our law says that as well as being given the opportunity for rehabilitation in our society, compensation must be given to the victim or the relatives of the victim. What use is the dead body of the killer to a wife left without a husband, a child left without a mother or a father? Vengeance has but momentary satisfaction. Only in extreme circumstances, where a killer is shown to be incorrigible, unrepentant and unwilling to provide the compensation and pay the fines required by law, do we say they should be placed in the arms of fate, that they should be cast adrift in a boat without sail or oar and with food or water for one day. Their fate is left up to the winds and the waves.