Peter Tremayne - Act of Mercy

Murchad was scratching the back of his head and gazing at Fidelma as though to seek her guidance.

‘Sanctuary?’ he said, looking baffled. ‘I am not sure I understand …’

Father Pol interrupted.

‘Sister Fidelma will tell you that it is written in the Book of Numbers that the Lord God said, “You shall designate certain cities to be places of refuge, in which the homicide who has killed a man by accident may take sanctuary. These cities shall be places of refuge from the vengeance of the dead man’s next of kin …”.’

‘We know what is written in Numbers, Father Pol,’ Fidelma agreed in a quiet tone. She turned to Murchad in explanation. ‘This ecclesiastical sanctuary is compared with our own law of the Nemed Termann in which a person who is accused of an act of violence, even if he is guilty of it, can seek sanctuary for a time until his case is heard in a proper manner — but our law, Father,’ she turned to Father Pol, ‘also states that the guilty one in seeking sanctuary is not thereby enabled to finally escape from justice.’

Father Pol bowed his head in acknowledgment.

‘I understand this, Sister. However, we are not governed here by your laws of Eireann. The law is God’s law as given in His Holy Writ. Exodus says, “The slayer may flee to a place which I shall appoint for you”. He is allowed asylum in that place until such time as he can prepare a proper defence against those who would seek vengeance on him.’

‘Father Pol, we do not seek vengeance. But Brother Cian must come forward to defend himself against this crime.’

‘He has asked for asylum in the proper manner and been granted it.’

Fidelma thought quickly.

‘In a proper manner?’ she echoed.

She was trying to behave as a dalaigh should, acting without emotion and only with regard to the facts, but this was Cian they were talking about, not some stranger fleeing from the law. Cian! Whether she hated him now, she had been enamoured of him once. She had to ignore her emotional involvement, for she did not trust her feelings any more. She must think only of the law. The law was all that mattered now.

‘He asked for sanctuary in a proper manner?’ She repeated her question.

Father Pol chose not to reply, sensing she was about to make a point.

‘You quoted the law from Exodus just now, but you did not finish that quotation. The verse ends, “But if a man has the presumption to kill another by treachery, you shall take him even from My altar to be put to death”. Is that not so?’

‘Certainly. But what treachery was there in war? In war, killing may be done. A warrior may have a battle fever and lose his mind. If he did so, Cian will certainly answer for the consequences. But I doubt if you can claim that treachery was part of his act.’

‘We are not speaking of the crimes of which Toca Nia accused Brother Cian when he was a warrior,’ she replied slowly. ‘We are referring to the fact that Toca Nia was murdered in his bunk on board Murchad’s ship this morning at the same time that Brother Cian fled from it to seek sanctuary with you.’

Father Pol looked startled and dropped his hands to his side.

‘He did not say anything about that.’

Fidelma leaned forward like a hunter whose prey is in sight.

‘Then let me remind you of the law as given in Joshua. “When a man takes sanctuary … he shall halt at the entrance and state his case in the hearing of the elders …” Did he halt and state his case relating to the murder of Toca Nia?’

Father Pol was clearly troubled.

‘He did not speak of that. He sought sanctuary only for the crime of which Toca Nia accused him.’

‘Then, under the ecclesiastical code which you quote, he did not properly state his case, and cannot now claim asylum.’

Father Pol was in conflict. Finally he made up his mind and stood back with a gesture for them to precede him.

‘We shall put the matter to Brother Cian,’ he said quietly.

Cian was sitting in the shaded garden at the back of the church whenFather Pol led Murchad and Fidelma to him. He stood up, looking nervously from Fidelma to Murchad.

‘I have been granted sanctuary,’ he announced. ‘You can tell that to Toca Nia. I shall remain here. You and your laws cannot touch me.’

Murchad frowned and opened his mouth but Fidelma silenced him with a gesture.

‘What makes you think that Toca Nia will listen?’ she asked innocently.

‘You have a way with words, Fidelma. You can tell him about the law of sanctuary.’

‘I do not think Toca Nia is interested in the law any more.’

Brother Cian blinked rapidly.

‘Do you mean that he is withdrawing his charges?’

Fidelma gazed deeply into Cian’s eyes. She saw suspicion, she saw hope even, but there was no guile nor cunning there.

‘I mean that Toca Nia is dead.’

There was no mistaking the surprise in Cian’s reaction.

‘Dead? How can that be?’

‘Toca Nia was murdered about the same time as you fled from the ship.’

Cian took an involuntary step backwards. His shock was genuine; he could not be acting.

Father Pol shrugged helplessly.

‘This puts me in an awkward situation, Brother. Under our ecclesiastical law, I granted you asylum within this church, but only in respect to the charge you claimed that you stood accused of. Now this …’

Cian looked from the priest to Fidelma in bewilderment.

‘But I know nothing about Toca Nia’s death. What is he saying?’ he demanded of her.

‘Do you deny that your hand struck those blows that deprived Toca Nia of life?’

Cian’s eyes widened even more in confusion.

‘Are you serious? Do you mean that … that I am accused of his killing?’

Fidelma was unsympathetic.

‘So you do deny it?’

‘Of course I deny it. It is not true,’ cried Cian in outrage.

Fidelma’s face assumed a cynical expression.

‘Are you claiming that his murder was a coincidence? That you know nothing about it?’

‘Call it what you like, I did not kill him.’

Fidelma took a seat on the bench from which Cian had risen.

‘You have to admit that if this is a coincidence, then it is an extremely convenient one. Perhaps you will tell me why you fled from the ship?’

Cian sat down opposite her, leaning forward towards her. His whole attitude was one of someone pleading.

‘I did not do this thing, Fidelma,’ he said with a quiet intensity.

‘You know me. I admit that I have killed in war, but I have never killed in cold blood. Never! You must know that I would not-’

‘I am a dalaigh, Cian,’ she interrupted sharply. ‘Tell me the facts as you know them. I need no other appeal.’

‘But I know nothing. I have no facts to tell you.’

‘Then what made you flee from The Barnacle Goose and come seeking sanctuary here?’

‘That should be obvious,’ Cian responded.

‘Unless you killed Toca Nia, I would say that it is far from obvious.’

Cian flushed angrily.

‘I did not …’ he began and then stopped. ‘I came here for sanctuary because I needed time to think. When you interrogated me after Toca Nia’s accusation, I realised that you were in earnest. That you and Murchad were going to restrain me and send me back to face trial in Laigin. It is certain that I would be found guilty of the slaughter at Rath Bile.’

‘As I recalled, you admitted to the slaughter.’

‘To the action, not to a crime. It was war and I was simply doing what I was told to do.’

‘Then you should be prepared to answer to the accusation. If you were not guilty of murder then you should put your trust in the law.’

‘I needed time to think. It was so sudden, being accused like that.’