“You speak as if you know that pool?”
“This is a small community, learned Brehon. We all know one another and know the territory of our clan as we know the interior of our own bothán.”
“So you were suspicious and told Fécho so?”
“Not at once. I examined the body of Enda.”
Fidelma had been forming a theory that the claim was being brought by parents motivated by grief and hurt and not able to accept the loss of their only child. But with a physician involved, the evidence was changing. Fidelma turned her undivided attention on the physician.
“And, as a physician, what do you say was the result of your examination?”
“The child had the appearance of having been immersed in water, but on the back of his skull was an abrasion, a deep cut as though he had been hit from behind with something heavy. Perhaps a rock. I believe the child was dead before he was immersed.”
Brother Corbb had to bang his staff several times to still the hubbub that had broken out from Colla and his family.
Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at the physician.
“What you are saying is that the boy was murdered.”
Tassach compressed his lips for a moment.
“That is a matter that only you can decide learned Brehon. I can only report what I found. What is clear is that the boy did not fall into the pool and drown.”
“And did your findings persuade Fécho to bring this action?”
“I would not say that it was my findings alone.”
“Really? What then?”
“Obviously, as one of the fine, the kindred of Fécho, even though I am physician and have taken the oath of Diancecht to uphold the honor of my profession, my word would not carry as much weight as someone who was unconnected with our two families.”
Fidelma stared at the physician in surprise. The man obviously knew the law of evidence.
“And did someone unconnected with the families of Fécho and Colla make an examination of the body of Enda?”
Tassach turned slightly to where an elderly man with long white hair rose to his feet.
“If it please you, learned Brehon, I am the physician Niall. I can confirm the findings of my young colleague, Tassach, in so far as the boy had received a sharp blow on the back of the head.”
Fidelma pursed her lips.
“It seems, in this case, it is a curious coincidence that two learned physicians were on hand at the same time as Colla brought the body of Enda to his parent’s home.”
Niall, the physician, snorted indignantly.
“I was not at hand, learned Brehon, but had to be sent for. Tassach wisely, because of his relationship with Fécho and the dead boy, and because of his concerns as to the nature of the injuries, summoned me to attend at Fécho’s forge. I arrived there about an hour later. I am well known in Críonchoill and anyone will tell you that I have no connection with either family in this case.”
Fidelma stirred a little in discomfort, rebuking herself for thinking aloud so publicly.
“In your opinion, then, Niall, the injury on the boy’s head was one that was inconsistent with a drowning accident?”
To her surprise, he shook his head.
“I thought that you agreed with Tassach?” she demanded sharply.
Niall smiled gently.
“We can each only give testimony as to what we know. I confirmed Tassach’s medical opinion that the body was more likely than not dead when he became immersed in the water. That the death was due to the blow that the child received, which not only cut him deeply but splintered pieces of his skull. But whether this was an accident or not, I cannot express an opinion. I do not know the pool in which the child is said to have met his death. Were any rocks there? Was the child thrown against a rock by a surge of water? These are things that others must consider.”
Fidelma sat back, unconsciously drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair.
“Very well. Let me return to Fécho.”
The smith rose again.
“You have heard the evidence of Tassach and Niall?”
“I have.”
“It was on this basis that you charged Colla with death by neglect? Death by neglect and not unlawful killing?”
Fécho spread his hands.
“Lady, I am no lawyer. I do not know what happened except that Colla brought my son home and he was dead. Colla said he had drowned. The physicians said he had not. They say some rock struck him on the head. I can only raise the questions and only Colla can provide the answers.”
There was a murmur of agreement in the court.
“Then we shall ask Colla what he has to say about this matter.”
The burly wainwright stood slowly up.
“Fécho has told you the truth in that we agreed that I would take his son Enda into fosterage and instruct him in the art of building wagons. In return for this, Fécho promised that he would do all the work I needed in terms of his smithy’s art.”
“Then proceed to how Enda came by his death. You do not deny it occurred while in your care?”
“He was in my care as fosterer when the death occurred,” agreed Colla.
“I deny that his death occurred through any neglect or any action of mine.”
He paused for a moment, as if summoning his thoughts.
“It was in the morning. My wife was washing clothes while I went to my carpenter’s shop with my two apprentices. We were turning spokes for wheels for a cart. The young children, my daughters, Una and Faife, and my son, Maine, with young Enda, had been allowed an hour of play. My wife, having finished the washing, was going to teach them their letters.” Colla glanced at Fécho. “This was in accordance with our agreement, that Enda would be taught to read and write alongside my own children.”
Fidelma nodded.
“As is customary in such fostering agreements. Continue.”
Colla made a gesture with his shoulder that was not quite a shrug.
“I suppose it was less than an hour later when I heard a shout. My son, Maine, who is nine years of age, came running to me and said there had been an accident in the pool. That Enda had fallen in and drowned.”
“Fallen in?” queried Fidelma sharply. “So the child was not swimming?”
Colla shook his head.
“None of them were.”
“Just describe this pool.”
“It is about one hundred meters from the house. It is hidden by trees but it is a small pool and not at all deep. It is fed by a small spring and it is where my cattle are watered.”
“Can you hazard its dimensions?”
“A circular pool about four meters in diameter. I can wade across it without the waters coming to my chest.”
“What happened next?”
“I went running to the pool, my apprentices were with me, and I saw the child floating face down in the middle of the pool. I waded in and brought him to the bank but he was already dead.”
“Did Maine explain what happened?”
Colla grimaced.
“My son said that he was wandering by the pool when he saw Enda floating there and came to fetch me.”
“Were the other children, your daughters, there?”
He shook his head.
“So Enda was alone when he fell in the water?”
“I asked my children what they knew. They had gone to the woods just beyond the pool. They were going to folacháin—hide and go seek. It seems, according to Faife, that after a while Enda tired of the game and went off on his own. Later, Maine also tired and was returning to the house when he saw Enda. That is all they knew.”
“And then?”
“Then I could do no more than take the body of the young boy in my wagon to his father. What more could I do? I am not responsible for his death. I did not neglect him. It was an accident.”
Fidelma sighed softly.
“Tell me one more thing, Colla. Are there sharp rocks around this pool?”
The wainwright i
mmediately shook his head.
“I told you, my cattle water there. The banks are muddy and slope gently into the pool.”
“And you found Enda in the pool, fully clothed?”
“I did.”
“How do you imagine he came there?”
“How . . .? I suppose . . .” Colla paused and frowned.
“Did you not consider how he could have fallen into the pool?” pressed Fidelma, “For I see that you are now thinking that it is curious that a child could fall into a pool when it is surrounded by gentle sloping banks on which cattle might safely drink.”
“Maybe he waded in to fetch something, slipped and fell . . .”
“Causing the wound on the back of his head?” sneered Tassach from across the courtroom.
“Of course, the boy fell. He was always getting into mischief. The boy was a thief and a liar!”
The woman who had been silent at Colla’s side suddenly rose to her feet as she gave her outburst.
Fidelma met her eye with a stern expression and waited until Brother Corbb had restored some order from the outraged members of Fécho’s family.
“And you are?” she asked coldly.
“I am Dublemna, wife to Colla.”
“What have you to tell us of Enda that is pertinent to this case?”
“Of the death, I know nothing. But let it not be thought of that this Enda was a blameless sweet child.”
Fidelma raised an eyebrow in surprise at her anger.
“You have to explain yourself.”
“We agreed to the fosterage but we found that the child was wayward and undisciplined. My own child Faife revealed to me that the boy was stealing eggs from my own kitchen. Later I discovered that he had been stealing honey from our neighbor’s hives. I told my husband and said that the boy should be returned to Fécho or disciplined severely.”
Fécho was on his feet.
“My boy was not a thief. This is a lie.”
“It was no lie!” returned Dublemna with equal vehemence.
“The reason why I tell it is to show that if ever there was neglect of the child, it was not our neglect. We should have been warned of the child’s behavior by its parents.”
The hubbub of anger and insults now rose between the two families and Brother Corbb had his work cut out to bring them to order again.
“Any further outbursts such as that will require everyone to pay fines to this court,” Fidelma said quietly before turning to Fécho.
“Had the boy ever been in trouble before he went into fosterage? On your word, now. Lies have a habit of catching up with you.”
Fécho shook his head.
“No one will tell you otherwise, Brehon,” he asserted with passion. “He was a good child. Ask anyone in Críonchoill except that woman,” he jerked his head to Colla’s wife.
Fidelma turned to the woman, Dublemna.
“Your child Faife told you that Enda had been stealing eggs? When was this?”
“The day before the boy fell into the pool,” she asserted.
“Were the eggs found?”
“Faife had them. I found her with them. I asked what she was doing with them and she told that it was Enda who had stole them and she had taken them from him. We were going to discipline the boy. A good thrashing would have worked wonders.”
“I am bound to point out,” Fidelma spoke sharply, “that the law of fosterage allows no corporal punishment. Fosterage should be without blemish, so the law says. And as for evidence, all I have heard is accusations and little proof.”
Dublemna’s face was red with anger.
“No proof? Then what of this for proof . . .? Later that very same day our neighbor called by to say that during the last few weeks—from the time that Enda came to us as foster child—he had been missing honeycombs from his beehives. He made no accusations but wondered if we had been missing anything. After the boy died, when we were clearing out his things, we found a remnant of a honeycomb in the little box where he kept his personal possessions. Is that proof enough for you?”
Brother Corbb commented dryly.
“Crimes committed by the foster child are the responsibility of the foster father. Technically, if the boy was guilty of these thefts then Colla was facing a fine for the crime . . .”
Before Fidelma could rebuke Brother Corbb for ignoring court etiquette, Tassach, the physician, was on his feet, his face showing his excitement.
“I have it! The poor boy was drowned so that Colla would not be held responsible for the theft of the honey from the neighbor’s hives! It was an attempt to hide his responsibility.”
Fidelma raised a hand to stifle the angry murmuring that arose again.
Brother Corbb had to thump the floor with his staff.
“This second warning will be my last to you. The next time everyone here will pay a screpall apiece as a fine for contempt of this court. Let me remind you all of something,” Fidelma said grimly. “This is a court. At the moment, I am giving you maximum latitude in the presentation of evidence. I shall even give latitude when people speak out of turn,” her steely eyes glanced at Brother Corbb, who had the grace to blush. It was unseemly for a steward to comment on law in the presence of a Brehon sitting in judgment. “However, what is law outside this room is also law inside this room. Claims such as the one that you have just made, Tassach, cannot be tolerated unless you are prepared to offer proof. You are not allowed to make accusations without proof.”
The physician was silent but his expression was one of anger.
At her side, Brother Corbb coughed discreetly and leant forward and whispered in her ear.
“Pardon, lady, I am uncertain how you intend to proceed, but so far I have heard no proof that the boy met his end by either neglect or foul play. Should not this matter be addressed?”
Fidelma shot him an irritated glance.
“I know my duty, Brother Corbb. We have not heard all the witnesses yet,” she snapped causing the steward to blink and step back.
She turned back to the court, which had grown expectantly quiet.
“In the circumstances, the court wishes to examine the three last people to see Enda alive . . . bring the children Faife, Una and Maine into the court room.”
There was a murmur of surprise. Fidelma felt Brother Corbb take a step forward. She raised her hand to still his protest, but he was not silenced.
“A child under fourteen years of age has neither legal responsibility, nor any right to independent legal action. That means that the children cannot be sworn in as witnesses and given the same weight of authority in their statements as an adult. A fiadu, a witness, has to swear on oath and can only give evidence about what they have seen or heard. What does not take place before a witness’s eyes is invalid. We have heard some supposition in this case about what may or may not have happened. I have to tell you that this is not evidence in the strict sense. However, the law acknowledges that one can accept into judgment indications of guilt other than the direct evidence of an eyewitness, evidence such as the incriminating behavior of the one suspected of the offense.”
Fidelma restrained her anger at his presumption.
“I am well aware of the law in this matter,” she said tightly. “Had you also been qualified to bring a judgment . . .” she paused to let her sharp words sink in, “ . . . then you might know that there is a precedent which gives me the authority to question the three children I have named.”
Brother Corbb flushed and took an involuntary step backwards.
“I was . . .”
“I do not know what leeway the Brehon Spélan gives you as his clerk. In my court there is only one judge. Remember that, Brother Corbb.” She then turned to the court. “There is a precedent where a young child’s testimony can be made without oath and can be accepted for consideration. The example given is of a stolen animal believed to have been eaten on the previous night, The child was asked, ‘What did you have to eat last night?’ and his reply was taken into conside
ration in proving the case against the suspect. I will give the reference to Brother Corbb here to enter it when he makes a record of this procedure. Are the children here?”
“They are,” admitted Colla the wainwright, after some moments of delay.
“Then bring Maine to sit beside me and let me speak with him.”
A young boy, dragging reluctant feet, moved to the platform, and Brother Corbb produced a chair.
Fidelma smiled at the child encouragingly.
“Now, Maine, I understand that you had a shock when you found the body of poor Enda.”
The boy nodded slowly.
“Did you like him?”
Maine looked surprised at the question and then gave it some consideration before responding.
“He was all right,” he said dismissively. “He was my comaltae, my foster brother.”
“Did you like having a foster brother?”
“I have two sisters. It was good to have a comaltae.”
“That’s natural,” agreed Fidelma. “Was Enda liked by everyone in your family . . . your sisters, for example?”
“My sisters don’t like boys anyway. That’s why I liked having a comaltae. My father’s apprentices were too old to have time for me. All they cared about was their work and soppy girls in the village when they went to dances . . .dances! ” The boy shuddered as he gave expression to the word.
“So only you were friends with Enda.”
“I suppose so. He was two years younger than me.”
“But you liked him?”
“I suppose so.”
“How did your parents treat him? No, don’t look at them, Maine. Look at me,” she added quickly when Colla and his wife started to rise from their seats. She glanced quickly at them and said: “You will both be silent while I am examining witnesses.” She turned back and repeated: “How did your parents treat him?”
Maine shrugged.
“My father didn’t have much to do with us, except when he was teaching us about carpentry and the like. Mother was always moaning about something. I don’t think Enda liked her but that’s just her way.”
“She finds fault with all of you?”
Maine shrugged.
Whispers of the Dead Page 32
