Peter Tremayne - Act of Mercy

Gurvan grinned, looking sheepish. It appeared that the entire crew of The Barnacle Goose were known on the island for it was a frequent port of call.

‘Come, join me in refreshment at Lampaul,’ the priest continued, waving his hand towards the pathway. ‘Do you bring me any interesting news?’

They began to follow him up the path.

‘Bad news, I am afraid, Father. News of the Morvaout.’

Father Pol halted and turned sharply.

‘The Morvaout ? She set sail from here only this morning. What news do you bring?’

‘She went to pieces on the rocks north of the island.’

The priest crossed himself.

‘Were there any survivors?’ he asked.

‘Only three men. Two sailors and a passenger who was bound for Laigin. I’ll land the sailors shortly.’

Father Pol appeared sorrowful for a moment.

‘Ah well, this is often the fate of those who sail these seas. The crew were all from the mainland. We will light some candles for the homecoming of their souls.’ He caught sight of Fidelma’s puzzled expression. ‘We are an island people here, Sister,’ he explained. ‘When our people are lost at sea, we set up a little cross and light a candle, and sit up in a vigil all night, praying for the repose of the souls of those lost. The next day, the cross is deposited in a reliquary in the church and then in a mausoleum among the crosses of all who have disappeared at sea. There they will await the homecoming of the souls from the sea.’

They reached the village, a typical seaport settlement spreading around the central structure of a grey, stone-built chapel.

‘There is my little chapel.’ Father Pol indicated the building. ‘Come, we will join in a prayer of thanks for your safe arrival.’

Murchad coughed discreetly.

‘There is something we need to talk to you about most urgently,’ he began.

Father Pol smiled and laid a hand on his arm.

‘Nothing is ever so urgent that a prayer of thanks need not take precedence,’ he observed firmly.

Murchad glanced at Fidelma and then shrugged.

They went into the little chapel and knelt before an altar which surprised Fidelma by its opulence. She had thought that the island was poor but there was gold and silver displayed on the silk-covered altar table.

‘You appear to have a rich community here, Father,’ she whispered.

‘Poor in goods but rich in heart,’ replied the priest indulgently.

‘They donate what they have to God’s house to praise His splendour. Dominus optimo maximo …’

He failed to notice the corners of her mouth turning down in disapproval. She did not approve of idle opulence when people lived in poverty.

Father Pol bent his head and intoned a prayer of in Latin while they echoed the ‘amens’.

Finally he led them to his small house next to the church and offered them pottery cups of cider while Murchad explained the situation about Toca Nia and Cian.

Father Pol rubbed the side of his nose reflectively. It seemed a habit of his.

‘Quid faciendum?’ he asked when Murchad had finished. ‘What is to be done?’

‘We were hoping that you might have some suggestions,’ Murchad replied. ‘I cannot keep Toca Nia and Cian on board my ship all the way to Iberia and then back again to Laigin. I am advised that these charges must be heard before a competent judge in Eireann but I cannot take these men directly there, nor can I afford to wait until a ship bound there puts into Ushant.’

‘Why should you do either?’

‘Because,’ intervened Fidelma carefully, ‘Toca Nia has to make his accusations before the courts of Eireann. I think Murchad was hoping that you might keep them both securely here until the next ship for Eireann puts in.’

Father Pol considered the matter for a moment and then made a dismissive gesture.

‘Who knows when that might be? Anyway, surely you cannot dictate to a Brother of the Faith that he must leave a pilgrimage to answer these charges? What do you know of law, Sister?’

‘Sister Fidelma is a lawyer of our courts,’ explained Murchad hastily.

Father Pol turned to her with interest.

‘Are you an ecclesiastical lawyer?’

‘I know the Penitentials but I am an advocate of our ancient secular laws.’

Father Pol seemed disappointed.

‘Surely ecclesiastical law has precedence over secular laws? In which case, you do not need even consider these claims.’

Fidelma shook her head.

‘That is not how the law works in our country, Father. Toca Nia has made one of the most serious charges possible. Cian must answer them.’

Father Pol pondered for a moment or two before shaking his head negatively.

‘I have to say, as leader of the community here, and as representative of the Church, that your law does not run on this island. I can do nothing. If, out of their free will, this Brother Cian or Toca Nia, or both of them, wish to leave your ship and stay here until a ship bound for Eireann arrives, then they are free to do so. Or if they want to go anywhere else, they are free to do so. But I am not able to dictate or restrain them unless they break the laws that govern this island. You must decide what is best.’

Murchad was clearly unhappy.

‘It seems,’ Fidelma said, turning to him, ‘there is now only one choice. Your ship is your kingdom, Murchad, which you rule as chiefaccording to the laws of the Fenechus. It is your obligation to keep Cian and Toca Nia on your ship and eventually take them back to Eireann.’

Murchad started to raise objections but Fidelma raised a hand and silenced him.

‘I said, it is your obligation. I did not say it was your commitment. You are the arbiter of what must be. I can only advise you as to how the law might view the matter.’

The captain shook his head despondently.

‘It is a hard decision. Where do I get recompense for all this? Cian will certainly refuse to pay me for his return passage, with his journey made under duress, and Toca Nia’s jewellery will provide insufficient compensation. I have to think not only of my own welfare, you understand, but that of my crew, who need to be fed and who also have families to support.’

‘If Toca Nia’s charges are proved, then the King of Laigin should compensate you. If not, then you can issue a distraint claim on Toca Nia.’

Murchad was reluctant to make a decision.

‘I doubt if he has money or property. I must think about this.’ Father Pol clapped his hands as if to dismiss the subject.

‘And while you do, friend Murchad, your passengers may come ashore here to relax from the toils of the sea and to join in the feast of the great martyr of my country, Justus.’

‘You are kind, Father Pol,’ muttered Murchad, although he was still clearly preoccupied with the problem.

‘I would also thank you, Father,’ Fidelma added. ‘It is good of you to take this trouble over our internal matters.’ She paused. ‘The Feast of Justus? I know several great churchmen of that name but I cannot place a Justus from this part of the world.’

‘He was killed when he was a young boy,’ Father Pol explained.

‘It happened during the persecutions of the Emperor Diocletian. It is said that he hid two other Christians from the Roman soldiers and was killed for it.’

Father Pol rose slowly and Murchad and Fidelma followed his example, together with Gurvan who had taken no part in the discussion.

‘I presume that you wish to take on fresh water, bread and other stores?’

The captain agreed that was his intention.

‘Gurvan will see to it, Father, and I will have my passengers land to stretch their legs.’

‘Our service of Justus will begin at sundown and will be followed by the feast.’