The Second Death (Sister Fidelma Mysteries)

by Peter Tremayne

  ‘You mean those who adopt the Penitentials?’ Eadulf asked in surprise. ‘I am surprised you even speak of them. They only apply to certain religious communities and not to the countryside beyond.’

  Brother Finnsnechta’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you condemning the Penitentials, Brother?’

  ‘Since coming to this land I have learned much from the laws of the Fénechus,’ Eadulf replied flatly. ‘One thing I did learn was that, when your High King Laoghaire set up his commission to revise the laws of the land, he involved three leaders of the New Faith – Patrick, Benignus and Cairneach. They sat on the commission with the leading Brehons of the day as well as three Kings, including the High King. It is even written in the Senchus Mór that what did not clash with the word of God in the written law and in the Gospels, or with the conscience of Christians, was confirmed as the laws of the Brehons. There should be no difference between the law of the people and the laws of Christianity. So it is the Penitentials who are in error and not the law of the Brehons.’

  Brother Finnsnechta smiled – a smile without any humour in it. ‘Very well, we will talk about the laws of the Fénechus and whether the girl is answerable to them. Remember that if a wife circulates a false story about her husband, if she vilifies him in any way, she has to pay compensation and can be cast out by her husband.’

  Eadulf was annoyed. ‘The husband is dead and I can bear witness to his cruel behaviour.’

  ‘It could be argued,’ the old man said, with a sideways glance at Eadulf, ‘that your role is questionable. You could have been trying to alienate the girl’s affections, and when the husband discovered this, it was the cause of his attack on you.’

  Eadulf tried to control his temper. Brother Finnsnechta chuckled as he saw the expressions crossing the young man’s features.

  ‘I am merely suggesting what a Brehon might argue,’ he added.

  The girl suddenly rose to her feet, turned away from them and ripped off her tunic, exposing her bare back. She said nothing. She did not have to. There was a criss-cross of scars on her back, the result of many beatings.

  ‘Put your tunic back on,’ Eadulf told her gently. ‘You have made your point.’

  The girl did so, still without saying anything, and returned to her seat.

  ‘Now Brother Finnsnechta, I trust you are satisfied?’ Eadulf asked.

  ‘Not exactly,’ replied the man, to his surprise. ‘We are dealing with murder here – the killing of a husband. Ríonach, you say your husband ill-used you, and you show us proof that someone has beaten you. Very well. Let us accept that it was Rechtabra. Why did you not leave him and seek a divorce or separation under the law, to which you are entitled? There are seven categories of divorce in which either side may end a marriage, and no penalties or special compensation are incurred. Furthermore, there are also seven other categories where a woman may leave her husband, demanding compensation from him and the return of her dowry.’

  He turned to Eadulf. ‘You may be able to correct me, Brother. But one of those categories states that any woman who has been beaten by her husband, especially having been struck a blow which causes a blemish or mark on her skin, has an immediate right to have her marriage declared void.’

  ‘I have heard this is so,’ agreed Eadulf. ‘Nevertheless …’

  ‘Nevertheless, the girl shall answer why she did not report her husband’s behaviour,’ the religieux said sharply. His tone caused the little terrier to come to its feet with a curious whining snarl. The girl calmed it with a gentle word.

  ‘I was too scared,’ she replied awkwardly. ‘Out there in the marshes, who could I run to before Rechtabra would overtake me? I ran away only once; was caught and beaten. Rechtabra told me no one of the New Faith would protect me. Where would I go? Who would believe me? Even you do not believe me – and I thought that as a friend of my mother and as someone who knew me as a child, I could trust you.’

  Brother Finnsnechta thrust out his jaw aggressively.

  ‘Trust does not come into a matter of law! Even Brother Eadulf here will know that. A crime has been committed. You have killed your husband. Even the Fénechus law accepts that the most serious crime is that which deprives a person of his life – and the worst of the crimes of murder is that of fingal – kinslaying.’

  Ríonach looked helplessly at Eadulf and he felt a growing anger at the religieux.

  ‘There is the matter of self-defence,’ he said.

  Brother Finnsnechta sniffed. ‘For one who wears the Roman tonsure, I would refer you to the old scriptures that have been translated for us. Is it not written in Exodus: Sin autem mors eius fuerit subsecuta reddet animam pro anima, oculum pro oculo, dentem pro dente, manum pro manu, pedem pro pede—?’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ the girl said miserably.

  ‘It is in Latin, from one of our religious texts,’ Eadulf explained gently, ‘which says that one should take a life for a life, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a hand for a hand, a foot for a foot. Brother Finnsnechta forgot to add that it goes on to say … a burn for a burn, a wound for a wound, a bruise for a bruise. The girl has plenty of burns, wounds and bruises from her husband. Doesn’t that give her the right to seek similar compensation?’

  Brother Finnsnechta snorted indignantly. ‘The text is clear.’

  ‘The text is from the Old Testament of the Hebrews which I thought we did not follow? If we did, then let us proceed with the next sentences, for does it not also say that if an ox or bull kills someone by accident, then not only is the animal to be put to death, but the owner of the animal also? Thankfully, the laws of the Fénechus are more enlightened than those which people adhered to in another land and in another age.’

  ‘You are clever, young Brother. You have acquired a honeyed tongue.’

  ‘Not so. I am a plainspoken man. I know the law recognises the circumstances in which the killing of another is justified. I have studied the Cairde law texts in which it states diles gac frithgiun – every counter wound is free from liability. In other words, self-defence is a defence – and the perpetrator is absolved from any consequence.’

  Brother Finnsnechta was silent for a moment. Then he rose and, appearing to be chuckling with amusement, took up a jug and replenished their drinks.

  ‘Wonderful, wonderful,’ he beamed. ‘I have not had such a stimulating exchange for many years. I congratulate you, Brother Eadulf.’

  Eadulf took his mug of cider automatically, totally bewildered.

  The hermit then turned to the girl and patted her on the shoulder, saying, ‘You must forgive me, young Ríonach. I had to be cruel to you. I do accept your story and I am truly sorry for the plight that you have been in. But it seems you have found a worthy advocate in Brother Eadulf here.’

  ‘But …’ began the baffled girl.

  ‘Killing and the killing of one’s husband is a grave matter. I had to make sure of the circumstances.’

  ‘I still do not understand,’ Eadulf said frankly.

  Brother Finnsnechta turned to him. ‘It was not my role to sit here and simply be sympathetic. I had to know how your story would stand up to a serious examination by a Brehon. You have put the case very well and, as you say, it seems a clear case of self-defence. It is Rechtabra who stands as a fer coille cáin – a violator of the law – and, as such, no punishment is due to the one who takes a life in defence of their own.’

  The tension in Eadulf’s body eased a little. ‘So you were simply testing us?’

  Brother Finnsnechta nodded in amusement. ‘Will you both forgive me? Now what is it you intend to do? Remember, I am merely an old man dwelling on the mountain. I have chosen a hermit’s life. There is little I can do.’ He turned to Ríonach. ‘What is your wish, my child? To go back to the farm?’

  The girl shook her head swiftly. ‘I never want to see it again.’

  ‘Yet you have the right to it and the value. As I recall, Rechtabra was without kinsmen and … ah, he did hold his lands under tribute to t
he Lord of the Marshes.’

  ‘That would be Coileach?’ Eadulf queried. Brother Finnsnechta made an affirmative gesture. ‘I heard a rumour that he was dead. If so, who is the new Lord of the Marshes?’

  Brother Finnsnechta seemed surprised. ‘Coileach dead? I heard a story from one local man that he had gone to pay his respects to the new High King in Tara. He was always a reclusive man but not a bad lord. His own brother serves as his Brehon; that is Ruán. I think he had a son in service with the Prince of Osraige.’

  ‘Whether Coileach is alive or dead, he is welcome to the farm,’ the girl interrupted.

  ‘But surely you would want some recompense?’ asked the old religieux of the girl.

  ‘I’d rather beg by the highway than have anything more to do with Rechtabra or his farm,’ the girl said vehemently.

  ‘That will not be necessary,’ Eadulf assured her. ‘I have already suggested that I could find you some employment in Cashel.’

  Brother Finnsnechta raised his brows a little as Eadulf fell silent. ‘But you have to sort out the legal situation first. You must inform a local Brehon, just as you have told it to me.’

  ‘Now that we have had this discussion with you, I am sure that Ríonach will be less anxious about having the matter legally sorted out.’

  ‘It is a comfort to know that I am not to be condemned,’ the girl agreed. ‘I feared no one would listen to me.’

  ‘Eadulf here is a good advocate,’ Brother Finnsnechta assured her. ‘You should have nothing to worry about. However, the matter must be reported. On the road to Cill Cainnech you will pass the Hill of Ruán, the place where Brehon Ruán has his homestead. It will be easy to call in there and report this matter. There’s no finer man than Ruán. I know him well. He is also a fair and just lawyer. You may safely place your case before him. Then he can record the circumstances and you will be free to leave the territory as you will.’

  ‘Why should she be confined to the territory anyway?’ asked Eadulf, suddenly cautious again. ‘She will be accompanying me to the capital of Muman, to the court of the King.’

  ‘Ah, you forget, young Brother. This is Osraige. We have our own prince here, and while we currently bend the knee to Cashel, it was not always so. It is the curse of being a tiny principality caught between two big kingdoms – Muman to the west of us and Laigin to the east of us. We are betwixt and between, my friend. And being so, we tend to keep ourselves to ourselves and rely on what is best for us in all circumstances.’

  Eadulf could see the logic in what the man was saying.

  ‘So you believe it is best for us to make sure the matter is cleared with the local Brehon before leaving the territory?’

  ‘Exactly so,’ the religieux replied. ‘Trust Brehon Ruán, trust him with all the facts.’

  ‘Very well.’ Eadulf gave a smile of encouragement to the girl, who remained silent but was clearly anxious.

  ‘Excellent. Hold nothing back.’ He turned to Ríonach. ‘You must know the way to Tulach Ruán?’

  ‘When I was little, my father used to take me on the road that runs by there. It was whenever he had a bull or a cow to sell at Cill Cainnech.’

  ‘So it is on the way to Cill Cainnech?’ asked Eadulf, remembering that the shephered had said he had seen Fidelma riding in that direction.

  ‘When you leave here, you have to return to the bottom of the mountains, onto the marsh plain, and then turn north. There is no other easy route around the Mountains of the High Fields. As you proceed north you will find yourself in a narrow valley that swings to the east. As the valley opens to the southern plains you will see a hill, called Tulach Ruán …’

  ‘Tamhlacht Ruán?’ Eadulf frowned, for the words sounded similar when pronounced.

  Brother Finnsnechta chuckled. ‘Tulach Ruán. Tulach is a hill while tamhlacht is a graveyard. The Hill of Ruán is where the Brehon dwells. It dominates the great road to the east that leads directly to Cill Cainnech.’ He glanced to the window. ‘Ah. The clouds have blown away and you still have time to reach Tulach Ruán before nightfall.’

  Eadulf was thankful, as he did not fancy spending a night at the old hermit’s stone hut. The sooner he could move on and be reunited with Fidelma, the better.

  ‘Then we shall disturb you no more,’ he said, rising.

  ‘Disturbance?’ beamed the religieux. ‘It was no disturbance to engage in a battle of wits and knowledge.’ He turned to the girl. ‘I am sorry I put you through that, Ríonach. I had to ensure the truth.’

  ‘So long as the truth is known,’ the girl replied, also rising.

  ‘Truth is great and will prevail. Is that not a saying of our Brehons? Anyway, the least I can do is ensure you fill your water bags and take some baked bread and some cheese that I have produced with the help of my goats.’

  The old man seemed in a good humour now.

  As they were leaving his cabin, Brother Finnsnechta suddenly exclaimed, ‘Wait! I know another way in which I can assist you. As I have said, I have known Ruán since he qualified as a Brehon. We both respect one another. I shall write him a note to declare that you come to him with my blessing. Just a moment.’

  He turned back into the hut. They heard him moving around inside and eventually he reappeared with a piece of folded papyrus. He handed it to Eadulf.

  ‘Put it straight into your beltbag, my friend. It merely says that we have talked and that I support all that you and Ríonach have to say.’

  Eadulf took the note and put it in his bag which he had taken, with some distaste, from Rechtabra’s body.

  ‘We are grateful, Brother,’ he acknowledged. He went towards his horse as Ríonach had already mounted, picked up the little terrier and handed it to her. Once more it settled across her saddle bow. Then Eadulf was in the saddle and following the girl out of the small clearing and descending slowly between the trees. He glanced back and saw the elderly religieux standing watching them depart. He raised his hand in a gesture of farewell and received an answering wave.

  For Eadulf, who never regarded himself as a horseman, and much preferred any other possible means of transport, it was not the most comfortable of journeys. He felt that he was going to slide over the horse’s neck several times as it plunged down the steep incline of the mountain track. He wished that he still had his steady cob. This was a stallion, more a warrior’s horse, and he was not used to handling the beast.

  He was glad that he had allowed the girl to ride ahead, leading the way down the small path through the trees, for his horse seemed content to follow her. Ríonach appeared fairly comfortable on a horse as most people were who were raised on farms. Even with the added burden of the little terrier, she rode with an assured and confident attitude. So Eadulf allowed his horse its head. The animal needed no guidance, treading with sure feet behind its fellow. Eadulf’s sole concern was to keep his seat, and so focused on this task was he, that he was surprised to find himself coming out of the trees and on to the verdant plain again.

  Ríonach had halted and waited until he brought his horse alongside her.

  ‘We proceed in that way,’ she said, pointing ahead. Then she added: ‘Once more, you did not tell the whole truth.’

  ‘In what way?’ Eadulf wanted to know.

  ‘You did not mention the Fellowship of the Raven to Brother Finnsnechta,’ she said. ‘He might have heard something about the mysterious lord whom Rechtabra was serving.’

  ‘That is true, but …’

  She frowned. ‘Why do you say “but”?’

  ‘Your people have a saying: there is danger in an open laugh.’

  ‘I don’t understand you.’

  ‘I just thought it strange that Brother Finnsnechta started off being so vehement in his condemnation of you, then suddenly changed to the opposite view.’

  ‘He explained that he was testing us,’ she replied.

  ‘I think it was more than that. Why should he change to being so friendly and smiling?’

  ‘That is easily
understood,’ replied the girl. ‘Having assured himself of the truth, he resorted to his normal pleasant self. He was a friend of my mother, don’t forget.’

  ‘Perhaps I worry too much,’ Eadulf said, before turning with a smile to the girl. ‘Let’s get on. The sooner we get there the better as there is less than half a day before nightfall.’

  Once again the girl led the way, but this time Eadulf hung back. His mind was still turning over Brother Finnsnechta’s behaviour. The hermit had indeed been helpful, but there was something niggling at the back of his mind. Had he been too helpful? While the girl rode on ahead, Eadulf reached into his beltbag and extracted the piece of folded papyrus which Brother Finnsnechta had given him. Holding the reins with one hand, he peered at what the religieux had written to Brehon Ruán.

  If he had hoped to understand it, he was disappointed. It was written in Ogham, the ancient form of writing which, it was claimed, had been given to the people by Ogma, the God of Learning and Literacy in the time before the coming of the New Faith. Eadulf had never mastered it and it was difficult to deduce what Brother Finnsnechta had written.

  He refolded it with his one hand and thrust it back into the beltbag. Now his suspicions were deepened. Of course, there was a logical explanation. Brother Finnsnechta was an educated man and so was Brehon Ruán. Why should they not write to one another in the ancient form? Yet, if the note was simply saying that the old religieux was introducing Eadulf and Ríonach to him, and that he approved of and supported them, why disguise it in Ogham? Why not write it out in plain form which all understood? Was there something to hide? He wished Fidelma was here to decipher it.

  Fidelma! He suddenly felt guilty. He had not thought about her for a while. Then his mind turned to the Fellowship of the Raven. What did it mean? What was its purpose? Was it just a group dedicated to the Old Religion? But the Fellowship definitely had something to do with the mysterious wagon and the deaths of its two occupants.

  He was a bit put out that they had to pause in their journey to report to Brehon Ruán. He stared around. The Mountains of the High Fields still rose on the right side of the road while, to their left, the verdant marsh plains with little islets and clumps of trees and bushes spread as far as the eye could see. The two of them were approaching a small stream that came down the mountains and gushed like a waterfall over the grey sandstone rocks to cross the track and bubble on to feed the marsh.