Eadulf flushed. He reached into his purse and held out a screpall.
‘Take it and prosper by it,’ he said shortly.
Marga took the coin, examined it, and then deliberately, she let it fall to the ground. There was a smile of contempt on her lips. She seemed to expect Eadulf to scramble on the ground to retrieve the coin. Eadulf simply stared back into her cold eyes for a moment before proceeding into the building.
His task was not going to be easy if the people of the ráth of Laisre had all decided that Fidelma was guilty before her trial.
He made his way up towards the tower where Fidelma had said Murgal’s apartment and library were. But there were many corridors and several doors. He stood hesitating, wondering what to do.
‘Ha, the Saxon! What are you doing here?’
Eadulf found himself gazing at the flirtatious features of Esnad, the daughter of Orla. She stood in the doorway of an apartment. She was leaning against the door jamb regarding him with a seductive smile.
‘I am looking for Murgal’s library,’ he said.
She pouted.
‘Oh. Books! Why don’t you come in and join me for a game of Brandub instead? If you don’t know how to play it, I will teach you.’ She gestured invitingly into the room beyond. ‘These are my apartments.’
Eadulf flushed in his confusion at her wanton expression.
‘I have much work to do, Esnad,’ he said respectfully, remembering that she was, after all, the daughter of the tanist. ‘If you could tell me where Murgal’s library is … ?’
‘What do you want with my library, Saxon?’ came the deep tones of the Druid. The inquisitorial figure of Murgal stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Esnad let out a hiss of disapproval and flounced into her apartment, slamming the door.
Eadulf was somewhat relieved and turned to the Druid almost in gratitude.
‘In truth, I was looking for you to ask your permission to examine your library.’
Murgal’s eyebrows rose slightly.
‘And what service can it provide you?’
‘I am in need of two law texts and it may be that you might have these.’
Murgal was obviously puzzled.
‘Why would you need such law texts?’
‘You have incarcerated Fidelma of Cashel.’
‘I have,’ agreed Murgal simply.
‘She has appointed me her Brehon.’
Murgal looked surprised.
‘You will plead for her? But you are a foreigner and you are not qualified as a dálaigh.’
‘A person who is not qualified in law has the right to conduct a case before a Brehon if they wish to take the risk,’ Eadulf pointed out. ‘Even a foreigner. I know enough of your law to argue that.’
Murgal thought for a moment and then agreed.
‘Such a person is called a “tongueless person” but if he wastes the court’s time he could be fined heavily. Are you prepared to take that risk?’
‘I am.’
‘Well,’ Murgal admitted, ‘I cannot say that I am surprised that you will support her. But you will have little enough to do. The case is quite clear. Her guilt is obvious.’
Eadulf was quietly outraged.
‘And have you decided what Fidelma’s motive was for killing a fellow cleric?’ he demanded.
‘Oh yes. Christians are always fighting with one another when they cannot find anyone else to fight with. What is it that you supporters of Rome call it? Odium theologicum? There is always mutual hatred among you.’
‘I see. As a Brehon you have already pronounced judgment,’ snapped Eadulf. ‘Perhaps I should expand your knowledge of Latin with the phrase maxim audi alteram partem – hear the other side.’
Murgal blinked and for a moment Eadulf thought he would explode in rage. Then, to Eadulf’s surprise, he started to chuckle.
‘Well said, Saxon; well said! You may examine the law books in my library and I wish you well of them.’
‘There is a second thing I would ask of you?’
‘What further service do you wish of me?’
‘Fidelma of Cashel is incarcerated until her trial.’
‘Yes. There is a statutory limitation of nine days in a murder trial,’ agreed Murgal. ‘After that, she has to answer before the law. No one is immune from this process.’
‘But Fidelma of Cashel cannot prepare her defence unless she is at liberty.’
‘The law is the law, Saxon. Even I cannot change the law to suit an individual.’
Eadulf bowed his head in acknowledgment.
‘The law is the law,’ he echoed softly. ‘But the stricture of the law is often open to interpretation. Surely the word of Fidelma of Cashel, one of rank in this land, is enough to secure her release and to act as árach or surety until the trial. Imprisoning her is not justice.’
Murgal regarded him thoughtfully.
‘You seem familiar enough with our law to make use of such concepts as árach, Saxon.’
Eadulf decided honesty was a better policy.
‘I know little enough. That is why I need to consult some law texts. But as I am representing Fidelma of Cashel, I would like to officially request a hearing before you tomorrow so that I might plead Fidelma’s case for release before her trial.’
‘What law books do you want?’ Murgal inquired with interest.
Eadulf named the texts which Fidelma had advised him to look at. Murgal was thoughtful.
‘You have made a wise choice, Saxon,’ he said begrudgingly.
He gestured to Eadulf to accompany him, leading him up the steps into a tower room. Eadulf was surprised to find it was filled with lines of pegs and book holders. There were even some stands containing wands which he recognised from previous occasions as ‘wands of the poets’ – texts written in the ancient Irish Ogham script which dated back centuries before the Faith was brought to Ireland. Unhesitating, Murgal went to two satchels and took out the volumes.
‘These are the texts you require. Take them to the guests’ hostel and study them but they must be returned as soon as possible,’ he instructed, handing them to Eadulf.
‘I shall look after them carefully, have no fear.’
Murgal ushered him out of the room and locked the door again.
‘And the hearing?’ pressed Eadulf. ‘Will you hear the plea on Fidelma’s behalf for her release pending her trial?’
Murgal shook his head negatively.
‘It is not a matter I can give an answer to immediately. Some thought must be given to it. To call a hearing necessitates some fresh arguments and might go against the wish of my chieftain, Laisre.’
‘Doesn’t the law stand above a chieftain’s wishes?’
Murgal smiled thinly.
‘Is that your only argument?’
‘No. There is the undeniable argument that Fidelma of Cashel is not just a religieuse, or just an advocate of the court. She is also sister to the king of Muman and as such she has a rank that must be respected. It is her right to be heard as to why she may not stand liberate on her own recognisances.’
‘I will let you know my answer before this night is over. It will also depend on whether you tell me that you have found the right path to judgment in those law books you hold. May justice guide your quest, Saxon.’
Thus dismissed, Eadulf made his way carefully towards the guests’ hostel. He was passing along the wall of the building under the walkway against the wall of the ráth when some sixth sense made him swing aside from the path. He did not know what prompted him to do so. Perhaps it was some extra-sensory perception, or some faint sound heard in a fraction of a second, or some other inexplicable sense. A large, heavy stone, dislodged from the battlement, crashed at his feet, so close that he felt the hiss of air and had his foot been so much as an inch or so before him it would have been smashed.
Eadulf sprang back, losing hold of the law books which dropped to the ground.
His heart beating fast he peered up quickly. A shadow dar
ted back before he could identify it.
He stood for a moment or two with the sweat standing out on his forehead. He had passed within a fraction of death.
Then he was aware of a figure hurrying down the steps from the battlement towards him. He stepped back to defend himself.
The figure was Rudgal. There was an odd expression on his features.
‘Are you all right, Brother?’ he asked anxiously.
Eadulf composed himself as the threat receded.
‘I seem to have put my heart in the place where my throat is,’ he admitted.
Rudgal was bending down and picking up the fallen law books.
‘It was a near thing, Brother. Such accidents can be dangerous.’
Eadulf’s eyes narrowed.
‘Accident you say?’
Rudgal’s expression was bland.
‘Wasn’t it an accident? Some of these stone blocks on the battlement are ill-placed and loose.’
‘There was someone up there on the battlement who gave that particular stone a helping hand.’
Rudgal was shocked.
‘Are you so sure, Brother? Did you recognise anyone?’
‘I saw no one that I could identify,’ confessed Eadulf. ‘But you were up on the battlement. You must have seen whoever it was?’
Rudgal shook his head.
‘There were a few people about. I was walking along and heard only your cry. When I peered over, I saw you and the stone at your feet. You seemed to be shaken. I saw no …’
He paused with a thoughtful frown.
‘You saw … what?’ prompted Eadulf.
‘Probably nothing. There was the young brother, what is his name – Dianach? Yes, I saw him walking in the other direction with Esnad and, of course, Artgal was walking nearby with Laisre, who was talking with him. Perhaps they saw something, though I do not think so otherwise they would have come to see what was wrong. No one else had apparently heard your cry of alarm.’
Eadulf shook his head firmly.
‘I do not think that will get us very far,’ he reflected, taking the books from Rudgal’s hands. ‘Artgal is the chief witness against Fidelma and young Brother Dianach made his dislike of me very clear this morning. No. We will not say any more about this.’
He left Rudgal and continued back to the hostel. Inside, he put the books carefully on the table and sat before them. He yawned and wished that he had had even more sleep. Then he thought of Fidelma in her cell and felt suddenly penitent for there would certainly be no sleep for her alone in that unfriendly place. But even the hostel was deserted. Neither Cruinn nor Brother Dianach had returned to the hostel. It was plain that they were avoiding him.
Slowly he began to turn the pages of the law texts.
Time passed, the characters on the pages began to take on a life of their own, twisting and swimming before his eyes. He seemed unable to take in the easiest of concepts. His eyelids felt heavier and heavier and his head began to droop.
He must have fallen asleep.
There was a sound at the door.
Eadulf jerked his head up from the manuscript, blinking rapidly and uncertain of where he was for the moment.
It was Rudgal who stood on the threshold.
‘What is it?’ Eadulf asked, yawning and feeling ashamed that he had dropped asleep. He pushed the law book away from him and turned to Rudgal.
‘I come with a message from Murgal, Brother. It is about the hearing which you requested.’
‘And?’ Eadulf was fully awake now and he rose to his feet. ‘Will he grant me a hearing tomorrow?’
‘Murgal says that you are within your rights to demand such a hearing before him as Brehon of Gleann Geis. I am to return the books to him – he said you would know which ones he wants. And, further, if you can assure him, through me, that you can cite procedure under law, he will accede to such a hearing. But the hearing must be held in the chieftain’s council chamber this afternoon before the evening meal.’
Eadulf was startled.
‘What hour is it now?’ Eadulf demanded, feeling that Murgal was playing cat and mouse with him.
‘Nearly an hour after the noon meal.’
‘That means I have only a few hours to prepare.’
Eadulf tried to quell his sudden panic. Rudgal’s face was expressionless as he watched him.
‘Murgal says that if you are unable to make your plea by this afternoon, then you have not comprehended the necessary law.’
Eadulf ran a hand distractedly through his hair.
‘At least Murgal is prepared to hold the hearing,’ he admitted. ‘You will have to tell him that I shall need another hour or so with these books. I shall return them later.’
He looked down at the open law book on the table in apprehension.
‘It seems my only hope is that he will accept the oath of Sister Fidelma, take into account her rank and her position as an Eóghanacht princess to free her until the hearing in nine days’ time.’
Rudgal smiled warmly.
‘It will be good for the Sister Fidelma to be released from the Chamber of Isolation, Brother. It is not fitting for one such as she to be incarcerated there.’
‘I wish I were optimistic about the outcome.’
Rudgal’s eyes narrowed.
‘You do not think that you are knowledgeable enough to secure freedom for Sister Fidelma?’ he demanded. He gestured to the books on the table. ‘What do these books tell you to do?’
Eadulf gave a painful laugh.
‘They tell me that my knowledge of law is poor and that the little that I do possess is not sufficient to ensure her release.’
‘Surely there is something you can do?’
‘There is only one thing other than Murgal’s acceptance of the oath of Fidelma as sister of the king of Cashel as guarantee for her appearing before him at the time of the trial.’
‘What is that?’ demanded Rudgal.
‘The other thing would be if I could show that Artgal is not a reliable witness.’
Rudgal rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
‘He is an ambitious man. A first-class blacksmith and a good warrior, I know that.’
‘Perhaps he has some secret. Maybe he betrayed a colleague in battle?’
Rudgal chuckled.
‘Look somewhere else, Brother. We fought together, side by side, at Hill of Aine against the Arada Cliach last year. He showed himself courageous in battle.’
Eadulf was staring at the man in surprise.
‘You fought there against the Arada Cliach? But that means that you fought against the army of the king of Cashel?’
Rudgal dismissed the matter with a grim smile.
‘We answered the call of our chieftain, Laisre, who in turn served Eoganán of the Uí Fidgente. But now Eoganán is dead and there is peace between the Uí Fidgente and Cashel again. So there is peace between Laisre and Cashel, too. But Artgal’s ambition lay not in wars. I know this, for he said his ambition was soon to be fulfilled in peace.’
‘I swear I do not understand your internal politics,’ muttered Eadulf. ‘Even if I did it still would not help me. Apart from Artgal’s prowess as a blacksmith and a warrior, is there nothing you can tell me about him? What is this you say about Artgal’s ambition?’
‘Ambition is no crime.’
‘But you said that he indicated that his ambition might be fulfilled.’
‘In fact, he swore as much this morning.’
‘What ambition?’ insisted Eadulf.
‘To expand his small farmstead and smithy and employ an apprentice, to be able to afford to have a wife. You’ll find nothing sinister in that.’
‘Indeed. Innocent enough. Why did it become an ambition?’
‘He had not been able to save enough to buy milch cows to form the basis of his stock. His smithy is inactive because Goban is the chief smith here. Most people go to him for more crafted work. Artgal’s farmstead is poor and he is always looking for work. He mainly ekes out an exi
stence on the largesse he receives from Laisre as his bodyguard. But now he has been able to purchase two milch cows.’
‘Well, there is nothing in that which I can use to show that his word is not to be trusted.’
Rudgal agreed.
‘True enough. Though I don’t think he actually saved to buy the cows. Two days ago he was without money. We were gambling at Ronan’s farm and Artgal was losing heavily. At one point, he even offered to put up his farmstead and smithy shop as surety for his bet.’
Eadulf was not particularly interested.
‘So he won the cows or the money for them by gambling. That, too, is not to be condemned.’
Rudgal shook his head.
‘But he didn’t. He won sparingly enough to ensure that he did not lose his farmstead. He did not make any money. He left the game as broke as he had entered it. He took out only what he had put in.’
Eadulf felt a flicker of interest.
‘So where did he get the two cows from and how do you know about this?’
‘Only a short while ago I heard him talking to Ronan about nearly losing his farmstead in the game that night. He said, and I overheard this clearly, that fortune had smiled on him because he had just been given two milch cows as a reward for telling the truth.’
Eadulf looked up sharply.
‘He used those very words?’
‘The very words. He also said that in nine days’ time he would have a further milch cow to make three. With three milch cows he would be secure.’
Eadulf was staring hard at the fair-haired warrior who did not seem concerned at the effect that his words had.
‘Just repeat this – you said that you heard Artgal say that he had been given two cows as a reward for telling the truth and that in nine days’ time he would receive a further cow? Are those the exact words?’
Rudgal scratched his head as if this helped him to concentrate.
‘Indeed. Those are the words he said.’
‘But are you sure that he particularly used the expression “in nine days’ time” he would receive another cow? That is what he said?’
‘Oh yes. Nine days were mentioned.’
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