Peter Tremayne - Penance of the Damned

Abbot Nannid resumed his seat, sitting with folded arms and a smug look on his face.

An obvious threat was implied. Unless Gorman was turned over to punishment under the terms of the Penitentials – and that meant certain death – then Abbot Nannid believed that a civil warfare could be unleashed among the Ui Fidgente. Abbot Nannid must be sure of his support, Fidelma thought, otherwise he would not have dared to speak so openly and in such terms to the prince.

Fidelma rose to her feet again. ‘I think we have reached a conclusion about where we all stand,’ she said. ‘Prior Cuan and I, representing the King of Cashel and his Chief Brehon, agree that the laws of these kingdoms are the laws we must use. Whereas Abbot Nannid, saying he represents all the churchmen of the Ui Fidgente, implies that in accepting the New Faith we must also accept the Penitentials as the law of that Faith. He suggests that Prince Donennach should convene a council to discuss whether the laws of the Ui Fidgente be changed from the laws of the Brehons to the laws of the Penitentials. That is a great task and one which, undoubtedly, will threaten repercussions not only in Muman, but in Laighin, Connachta, Ulaidh and even in Midhe, the Middle Kingdom of the High King.’

She looked around at all those present.

‘That will be the choice facing the Ui Fidgente – and no one can tell you which choice to make. However, we are not really here to discuss the right of the Ui Fidgente to hold a council to decide such a matter. We are here to discuss a matter that is more specific: should Gorman of Cashel, in the current circumstances, face punishment under the laws of the Fenechus, the judgement of the Brehons, or face punishment under the rules of the religious community as advocated by Abbot Nannid? Is that not the basic question?’

There was some further muttering and then Prince Donennach uttered a tired sigh. ‘Put like that, lady, it is the main question.’

‘Then we are not considering it correctly.’

There was a silence while everyone stared in bewilderment at her.

‘Not considering it correctly?’ queried Brehon Faolchair. ‘How so?’

‘It is simple. We are looking at the sentence before the hearing.’

A frown crossed Brehon Faolchair’s features. ‘I am Prince Donennach’s Brehon, and I enquired into this case. A hearing was held under my jurisdiction and attended by the prince. How is that not correct?’

‘You examined the witnesses and then you constituted a formal hearing at which you judged the accused as guilty?’

‘I have said as much. That is the normal course of events.’

‘Indeed it is,’ Fidelma confirmed solemnly. ‘And as this was a serious matter of homicide, advocates and others are usually invited to attend. So who represented the prisoner ?’

The question was asked with sudden emphasis and Brehon Faolchair blinked for a moment.

‘The prisoner represented himself. No other advocate was here to receive the log mberla ,’ he said, referring to the payment that was given to an advocate to represent the defence of an accused. ‘But as well you know, a prisoner can represent himself.’

‘And was this explained to Gorman?’ she asked. ‘Did he know the rights of an aintengthaid ?’ The legal term meant a ‘tongueless person’ who was not qualified to plead in law, but nonetheless could do so at the invitation and advice of the Brehon. ‘I was not aware that Gorman had knowledge of law to enable him to know his rights and make the right decision.’

Brehon Faolchair stared at her, a look of dawning comprehension on his face.

‘I did not think it necessary to inform him of his rights, being that he was in the service of the King of Cashel and I presumed he knew them.’

‘Even though there is a legal obligation on you to do so? And did you, Brehon Faolchair, go through the necessary formalities by depositing five unga of silver, in whatever form, to serve as a pledge for the support of your judgement if that judgement was subsequently challenged?’

Even Eadulf, who knew an unga was equivalent to an ounce, began to understand her thinking. She was moving towards an appeal against the judgement. He remembered that the law texts said a judgement had to be defended by pledges in case of an appeal.

‘I did not put forward such a pledge,’ admitted Brehon Faolchair. ‘I have to admit that no such judgement has yet been formally given.’

‘Are you saying that there has been no such judgement?’ Fidelma was astounded. ‘I thought that it was that very judgement that was the reason for our gathering here. You must explain this to me.’

Brehon Faolchair did his best to look contrite but there was a hidden smile on his lips. ‘A hearing was held at which the evidence was heard. It seemed that there was little defence for the accused to be made. But as for a formal judgement, it was felt that this should be delayed until we could discuss the merits of the system under which the accused could be judged. This is the conversation that we have been pursuing.’

Fidelma realised that Prince Donennach and his Brehon were either displaying a lack of knowledge of the law or that they were playing a secret game in which they were enticing her to use her knowledge of law to outwit the arguments about which law the punishment should follow.

She spoke up. ‘A hearing is subject to the law as it stands. Therefore I shall claim the faircsi dligid , the appeal before the law, that this case has not been properly heard, let alone judged. That being so, Gorman’s guilt or innocence has yet to be decided.’

Abbot Nannid was on his feet, his face contorted and red with anger.

‘This is ridiculous! We know the man is guilty. Are we going to waste time going through the matter all again?’

Fidelma continued to keep her focus on Brehon Faolchair.

‘According to the Bretha im Fuillema Gell , the Law of Appeals, I make my formal submission to Prince Donennach and his Brehon. I argue that the case against Gorman must now be heard with all due legal formality. I will give my own pledge of five unga of silver to represent Gorman for this hearing.’

‘This is nonsense!’ shouted Abbot Nannid. ‘Gorman had time to make his own appeal and did not do so. He remains guilty.’

‘Am I in error of the law, Brehon Faolchair?’ Fidelma asked.

Brehon Faolchair, who clearly had no respect for Abbot Nannid, did not hide his smile as he answered. ‘You are not in error, lady. I accept that the proper procedures were not observed and therefore no legal hearing was made and so no judgement was given. You are therefore entitled to question all the witnesses and prepare a defence for Gorman before a new hearing.’

‘The facts are known.’ Abbot Nannid almost bellowed. ‘There is no defence. Can it be that an Ui Fidgente prince is simply afraid of facing Eoghanacht displeasure? We demand the pronouncement of the punishment!’

Prince Donennach rose and the room gradually fell silent.

‘I will forget those words, Nannid of Mungairit,’ he said in stern reproof. ‘Had they been spoken by any other than a churchman of your rank then you would expect to defend them by sword for daring to question my honour. I am minded that you are a distant cousin to me, so I will say this to you: when the correct legal procedures are carried out, then – and only then – shall a judgement be rendered in accordance to the law. Do I make myself clear?’

Abbot Nannid held himself back for a moment and then the habitual sneer reappeared.

‘You have made yourself perfectly clear and I will await the outcome of such a new hearing when doubtless our distinguished guest from Cashel will find a means to prove that this warrior was nowhere near this fortress when the murder took place and that-’