Peter Tremayne - Our Lady of Darkness

He did not rise when Fidelma entered the room, as courtesy would have dictated, but merely gestured with a limp hand to a seat on the opposite side of the large hearth.

‘I remember you well, Fidelma of Cashel,’ he greeted her. There was no smile or warmth on his thin, calculating features.

‘And I you,’ replied Fidelma with equal coldness.

‘May I offer you refreshment?’ The young man made a languid gesture to a nearby table on which wine and mead were placed.

Fidelma shook her head quickly. ‘The matter I wish to discuss is pressing.’

‘Pressing?’ Fianamail raised his eyebrows interrogatively. ‘What matter would that be?’

‘The matter of Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham. Have you not received messages from my brother expressing the concerns of Cashel and asking-’

Fianamail sat up abruptly. His brows came together.

‘Eadulf? The Saxon? I had a message but did not understand it. Why is Cashel interested in the Saxon?’

‘Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham is an emissary between my brother and Theodore of Canterbury,’ she confirmed. ‘I have come here to defend him against that of which he has been accused.’

Fianamail’s lips parted slightly; it seemed a gleeful expression.

‘I delayed the trial as long as I could in regard for your brother, the King. Time passed, alas.’

Fidelma felt a growing chill. ‘We heard a rumour on the road that he had already been tried. Surely, after my brother’s intervention, the trial could have been delayed until I arrived?’

‘Even a King cannot delay a trial indefinitely. The rumour you heard is true: he has already been tried and found guilty. It is all over now. He has no need of your defence.’

Fidelma’s face was white, mirroring the terrible anguish which she felt. It was almost as if the blood had suddenly drained from her body.

‘All over? Do you mean that …?’ She swallowed, hardly able to articulate the question that was uppermost in her mind.

‘The Saxon will be executed at noon tomorrow,’ Fianamail said indifferently.

A feeling of relief surged over Fidelma. ‘Then he is not dead yet?’ The words came out as a shuddering sigh. She closed her eyes with momentary solace.

The young King seemed oblivious to her emotions and kicked at a log which had fallen from the fire.

‘He is as good as dead. The matter is now closed. You have had a long journey for nothing.’

Fidelma bent forward from her seat and stared towards Fianamail.

‘I do not consider that the matter is closed as yet. I heard a story on the journey here. It was a story that I would not countenance about a King of Laigin. I was told that you had rejected the native law and decreed that the punishment laid down in the new Penitentials from Rome should be enacted. Is it true that you have declared this thing?’

Fianamail was still smiling, though without warmth.

‘Execution is the punishment decreed, Fidelma of Cashel. That much has been decided. In this I have been guided by both my spiritual adviser and by my Brehon. Laigin will lead the way in shaking off our old pagan ways. Let Christian punishments fit the crimes of this land. I am determined to show how Christian my kingdom of Laigin has become. Death it shall be.’

‘I think you forget the law, Fianamail of Laigin. Even the Penitentials recognise the matter of appeal.’

‘Appeal?’ Fianamail looked astonished. ‘But the sentence has been passed by my Brehon. I have confirmed it. There is no appeal to be made.’

‘There is a judge higher than your Brehon,’ Fidelma pointed out.‘The Chief Brehon of Éireann can be summoned. I think he will have much to say over this matter of the Penitentials.’

‘On what grounds could you make such an appeal to the Chief Brehon of the five kingdoms?’ sneered Fianamail. ‘You have no knowledge of the case nor of the evidence. Besides, the execution is tomorrow and we cannot wait a week for the Chief Brehon to arrive here.’

His self-confident smile provoked anger in Fidelma and she fought to control it.

‘Until I have investigated this matter, I would appeal to you for a stay of the implementation of the sentence on the grounds that Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham might not have been correctly defended; that his rights might not have been fully considered by the court that tried him.’

Fianamail leaned back in his chair with an expression of open derision.

‘That sounds like the appeal of a desperate person, Fidelma of Cashel. You are clutching at straws. Well, you have no audience to appeal to now. Not like the audience you swayed at Ros Ailithir against me and Bishop Forbassach. I am the sole authority here.’

Fidelma knew she would not successfully appeal to Fianamail’s sense of morality. The young man wanted vengeance on her. She decided to change her tactic and raised her voice sharply.

‘You are a King, Fianamail, and whatever your antagonism to me and to Cashel, you will behave like a King for, if you do not, the very stones you walk on will cry out and denounce you as unjust and evil.’

Fianamail stirred uneasily at her vehemence.

‘I speak as a King, Fidelma of Cashel. I am told that the Saxon was given every opportunity to defend himself,’ he said grudgingly.

Fidelma seized upon the point. ‘To defend himself ? Was he not provided with a dálaigh to plead for him — to plead the law on his behalf?’

‘That is a privilege granted to few foreigners. However, it is true that as he spoke our language and apparently knew something of law, he was allowed to offer a defence. He received no less a treatment than we extend to any wandering religious.’

‘Then Brother Eadulf of Seaxmund’s Ham did not tell you of the rank he held?’ Fidelma demanded, beginning to see a faint ray of hope.

Fianamail stared at her, not understanding what she was driving at.

‘The man is a religieux, a peregrinatio pro Christo . What other rank would he have?’

‘He is a techtaire , not merely a travelling religieux. As a techtaire , one should observe the advice of the Bretha Nemed , for Eadulf travelled under the protection of King Colgú as a member of his household.’

The young King was slightly bewildered. He was no dálaigh or Brehon. He did not know the law to which Fidelma referred.

‘Why would the Saxon be under the protection of your brother’s house?’

Fidelma sensed a hesitation in his youthful arrogance.

‘That’s easy to understand. Theodore of Canterbury, archbishop and adviser to all the Saxon kingdoms, sent Eadulf as his personal emissary to my brother. Therefore, he comes with the honour price of eight cumals, half the honour price which you yourself hold as King of Laigin. He has the rights and protection of an embassy. And he is entitled to half the honour price of the man he serves. In returning to Theodore of Canterbury, and bearing messages from my brother, Eadulf continues to bear the same honour price and is therefore in my brother’s service. The law is clear about the protection it affords to members of an embassy.’

‘But he committed a murder,’ protested Fianamail.

‘So your courts have claimed,’ agreed Fidelma. ‘But the circumstances have to be examined, for doesn’t the Bretha Nemed claim that the officers of a King may carry out acts of violence in self-defence during the course of their duties without liability? Is it known what reasons lay behind his offence? It may well be that he carried immunity from prosecution. Was this considered?’

Fianamail was clearly confused by her technical knowledge. He was unable to argue and admitted it.