Authors: Peter Tremayne
Tags: #_rt_yes, #Church History, #Fiction, #tpl, #_NB_Fixed, #Mystery, #Historical, #Clerical Sleuth, #Medieval Ireland
The Spider's Web (16 page)
‘I think you should be more respectful to her,’ he was saying earnestly. ‘At least, do not go out of your way to incur her enmity.’
‘Why not? She should not be here that long. I think she is exceeding her instructions.’
Fidelma frowned for the second voice was that of Crón. The voices were coming from a side room to which the door stood ajar. Fidelma trod with cat-like silence nearer to the door.
‘I know she is Colgú’s sister. But do you think he would send her here merely because of that? She is a clever woman. Little escapes those quizzical green eyes.’
‘Ah! You’ve noticed the colour of her eyes?’ The retort was sullen. Fidelma’s eyes widened as she heard the tone of jealousy in the voice of the tanist.
Dubán responded with a chuckle.
‘I’ve noticed that she is someone not to be fooled with. The less her hostility is aroused the better, pulse of my heart.’
Fidelma blinked at the easy endearment which came from his lips.
‘Surely she cannot really believe that Móen is innocent?’ Crón’s tone was slightly mollified.
‘I think she suspects it. Father Gormán believes that she is determined to prove it. He was quite upset when I saw him last night after he had spoken with her.’
‘I thought this matter would be easily resolved. If only my mother had let well alone.’
‘Nothing is ever easy, my dear. If she does believe Móen is innocent, then she will look elsewhere for those who might have
murdered him. You would do well to make her into a friend.’
murdered him. You would do well to make her into a friend.’
There was a slight intake of breath.
‘She might discover how much I hated my father. Is that what you mean?’
‘She will eventually discover how much everyone hated him,’ replied Dubán. ‘Anyway, you must deal with that idiot Muadnat. He would choose this moment to come to the
rath
to create trouble. Can’t you tell him to go away? To return next week when all this is over?’
rath
to create trouble. Can’t you tell him to go away? To return next week when all this is over?’
‘How can I do that, my dear? He is not sensitive enough to understand why. He might present problems. No, I must deal with the matter. Tell Muadnat of my decision and tell him to be here in the hall of assembly at noon.’
‘Then please treat the sister with more grace.’
‘Go now,’ came Crón’s voice more firmly. ‘There is much to do.’
Fidelma quickly retraced her steps, on tip-toe, back to the door. She turned on the threshold, taking the mallet and banging it on the wooden block before entering the hall, as if for the first time. Crón came forwards from the side room. She was alone. She greeted Fidelma civilly enough, although her eyes were guarded.
‘I am looking for Dubán,’ Fidelma announced.
‘What makes you think he is here?’ the tanist demanded defensively.
‘Surely here is as good a place as any to search for the commander of your bodyguard?’ inquired Fidelma innocently.
Crón realised her mistake and forced a smile.
‘He is not here at the moment. He was late abroad last night and probably has not risen.’ The lies fell easily from her lips. ‘If I see him, I shall tell him that you were inquiring for him. Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare for an important matter.’
Fidelma was not to be dismissed so easily.
‘Prepare?’
‘I need to sit in judgment today,’ Crón replied. ‘Minor cases I
may judge even if my mother does not approve of my knowledge of the law.’
may judge even if my mother does not approve of my knowledge of the law.’
It was true that a chieftain could act as judge in insignificant cases if they had no Brehon at hand to help them.
‘What manner of case?’
‘Nothing that would concern you,’ Crón replied immediately. Then she caught herself and conceded. ‘A case of animal trespass. One farmer of our community claims damages against another farmer of our community. It is a matter that needs to be dealt with immediately for the litigant is in great anger.’
Animal trespass cases were common enough. Damage to either land or crops by the domestic animals of a neighbour was a major source of legal action in any farming community. Neighbouring farmers usually exchanged fore-pledges called
tairgille
to cover potential injury by animal trespass.
tairgille
to cover potential injury by animal trespass.
In most walks of life the law relied on the use of a pledge to ensure that legal obligations were carried out. Even in Fidelma’s own office, being regarded as a professional judge, she had to place, with the chief judge or Brehon of the district, a pledge of five ounces of silver in case of dispute with her judgment. For if her judgment was found faulty by the chief judge, then she had to compensate those she had wronged by a false judgment. The confiscation of her pledge only happened if the litigant expressed dissatisfaction within a given period with her judgment and the chief judge then found her to be at fault. If a judge refused to put up this pledge then they were debarred from further practice in the territory.
It was certainly a trivial matter and one that Crón could adequately deal with. Fidelma was about to make her excuses and leave when a sudden suspicion occurred to her. She swung back hurriedly.
‘Is one of the litigants a farmer called Muadnat?’
Crón stared at her in surprise.
‘Do you have second sight, sister? What do you know of Muadnat?’ she demanded.
Fidelma knew from her startled expression that she was right. Obviously Crón did not know that Fidelma had been Brehon at Lios Mhór. So this was why Muadnat had appeared at the chieftain’s
rath.
rath.
‘Did you know about Muadnat’s case against his kinsman Archú?’
Crón pursed her lips as if this helped her recall a memory. She nodded slowly.
‘I know only what local gossip tells me. Muadnat was forced to appear before a Brehon in Lios Mhór and lost a farm that he was claiming.’
‘I was that Brehon,’ Fidelma announced. ‘It was while I was in Lios Mhór that I received word from my brother to come here.’
The blue eyes of the chieftainess regarded her curiously. Fidelma continued.
‘Against whom does Muadnat enter into litigation?’
‘With Archú again.’
Fidelma’s mind worked quickly.
‘Can you tell me the details of his argument?’
For a moment it seemed that Crón might refuse and then she appeared to think better of it.
‘I think there is a case to be answered by Archú,’ she said defensively.
‘But the details?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘Simple enough. Since Archú took over the disputed farmstead by the Black Marsh, he became a neighbour of Muadnat, for Muadnat’s lands stretch by his. Muadnat claims that Archú, through malice and neglect, allowed his pigs to stray at night across his boundary fences where they inflicted damage to Muadnat’s property. What is more the animals defecated in Muadnat’s farmyard.’
Fidelma took a slow breath and exhaled as she considered the matter.
‘In other words, if Muadnat speaks the truth about his claims
against Archú, then he will be able to demand a great compensation from him?’ she asked.
against Archú, then he will be able to demand a great compensation from him?’ she asked.
Crón’s face indicated that this was obvious enough.
‘Muadnat has already pointed that out to me.’
Fidelma was cynical.
‘So Muadnat has already checked the law?’
‘What are you implying?’ demanded the young tanist sharply.
‘I am simply making an observation, not implying anything. It is true, however, that if through malice and neglect the animal trespass did happen then the owner of the animals is regarded on the same level as human trespass; if that trespass takes place at night, it doubles the level of the fine; that the animals defecated further increases the amount of compensation. In other words, Archú would have to pay a substantial amount in compensation to Muadnat.’
Crón agreed.
‘Probably half or more of what his farm is worth,’ she said. ‘Unless he has additional value in livestock than just the value of the farm, he will doubtless lose the farm.’
‘And we both know that he has not,’ replied Fidelma tightly. ‘Muadnat will settle for nothing less than the farm.’
‘I believe that is the law.’
Fidelma thought carefully before speaking again.
‘As chieftain-elect, it is your right and responsibility to sit in judgment in your clan territory – and you may sit alone when there is no Brehon available.’
‘I am aware of my rights and duties.’ Crón’s eyes narrowed a little in suspicion.
‘I mean no offence when I ask you, to what level have you studied law?’
‘I have studied only the
Bretha Comaithchesa,
the Law of Neighbours, for we are a small farming community and this is the law that most applies here. But I am not qualified in law. I studied at Lios Mhór for only three years to the level of
Freisneidhed.’
Bretha Comaithchesa,
the Law of Neighbours, for we are a small farming community and this is the law that most applies here. But I am not qualified in law. I studied at Lios Mhór for only three years to the level of
Freisneidhed.’
Fidelma nodded slowly. The degree of three years of study was one which most chieftains in the five kingdoms could boast of obtaining. Chieftains had to be educated for they had to fulfil many duties and being a judge of the tribal court was one of them. She realised that Crón was regarding her with some hostility. She would have to be diplomatic, as Eadulf had implored her to be, for her relationship with Crón was already a difficult one.
‘Would you allow me to sit with you and advise in this case?’
Crón flushed, thinking some insult was meant.
‘I think I am capable of making judgment in this matter,’ she responded protectively. ‘I have sat and watched my father make judgments many times.’
‘I did not say that you were not capable,’ Fidelma replied in a pacifying tone. ‘But I have a feeling that there is something more here than a simple case of trespass. Remember, I have seen Muadnat attempt to use the law to dispossess Archú before.’
‘Wouldn’t that make you biased in your judgment?’ Crón asked, trying hard to repress the hint of a sneer.
‘Perhaps I am biased,’ agreed Fidelma benignly. ‘But what I suggest, however, is that you make the judgment, while I merely am seated at your side to advise you on any matters of law. I promise you that my advice will be strictly on matters of law.’
Crón hesitated, wondering if there was some hidden meaning to Fidelma’s offer.
‘The judgment is mine to make?’
‘You are the chieftain-elect of the Araglin,’ acknowledged Fidelma. ‘You will make the judgment.’
Crón thought for a moment. It was true that Fidelma, as a
dálaigh
qualified to the level of
anruth,
one degree below the highest awarded in the five kingdoms, could simply demand to take her seat in judgment. That was the law for, in a place where there was no permanent Brehon, a visiting judge could, depending on their degree of office, outrank a minor chieftain. That Fidelma had asked permission merely to sit and advise was clearly her
way of showing that she did not wish to interfere with Crón’s authority.
dálaigh
qualified to the level of
anruth,
one degree below the highest awarded in the five kingdoms, could simply demand to take her seat in judgment. That was the law for, in a place where there was no permanent Brehon, a visiting judge could, depending on their degree of office, outrank a minor chieftain. That Fidelma had asked permission merely to sit and advise was clearly her
way of showing that she did not wish to interfere with Crón’s authority.
‘What could be wrong with Muadnat’s plea?’ Crón demanded, still defensively.
‘That remains to be seen. Muadnat was bitter when the law was pronounced against him and he lost the farm to young Archú.’
Crón accepted this.
‘Do you think that Muadnat has concocted this charge then?’
‘As you will sit in judgment on him, it is better, perhaps, if I kept my thoughts to myself,’ Fidelma immediately replied. ‘But let me sit with you and I will advise you merely on the law, and you will judge the facts. My words will be on law, no more. You have my oath on it.’
‘Then, to that I agree.’ For the first time in the presence of Fidelma, Crón gave what appeared to be a genuine smile of friendship.
‘What time is Muadnat to present himself before you?’
‘At the midday hour.’
‘Then I will go and tell Eadulf.’
‘He is an interesting man, that Saxon of yours,’ Crón observed slyly.
‘Of mine?’ Fidelma arched an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Eadulf belongs to no woman or man.’
‘You appear friendly enough,’ Crón replied. ‘Surely, the handsome brother does not believe in the ideas that Father Gormán teaches about the servants of God, male and female, remaining in celibacy?’
Fidelma found herself flushing.
She realised that although she had debated all the aspects of Roman teaching with Eadulf they had never touched on the concept of celibacy. While Rome made no hard and fast rule on the celibacy of the religious, it was true that there was a growing number of the clergy who believed in the idea that members of the religious should not cohabit or marry. It was surely such an alien idea
to human beings that it would never be accepted.
to human beings that it would never be accepted.
She found Crón watching her with some amusement.
She thrust out her chin.
‘Brother Eadulf and I have been friends, and friends alone, since we met at the council held at Hilda’s abbey in Northumbria. That is all.’
It was clear that Crón treated the assurance with some scepticism.
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