Whispers of the Dead sf-15

by Peter Tremayne

  The Brehon Morann sat at his desk, alone in his study, as Fidelma obeyed his gruff instruction to enter after she had timidly tapped upon his door. He was an elderly man with a kindly face but whose features could mold into a look of stern disapproval within a moment. He wore such an expression now.

  “Well, Fidelma,” he said softly, as she came breathlessly to stand before him, “is it not said that judges begin to count the faults of those who keep them waiting?”

  Fidelma colored in annoyance.

  “Fer-leginn,” she addressed him by his official title of “Principal,” “It is not my fault that I. .”

  She saw him begin to scowl and her mouth snapped shut.

  “They are truly good who are faultless,” sighed Brehon Morann. His face was still somber but his twinkling bright eyes regarded her for a moment. She swore that he was laughing at her. “What were you saying, Fidelma?”

  She shook her head.

  “I am sorry for my lateness.” She tried to sound contrite. It was no use explaining that for some inexplicable reason the key had been turned in the lock of her door from the outside and it had taken her some time to attract attention and extricate herself from her room. She realized that it was no use explaining her lateness for this examination. She harbored ill thoughts against the student who would have played such a silly and petty trick on her. That they did it this morning of all mornings, when she was due for her examination, increased her thoughts of vengeance on the perpetrator. Morann had doubtless heard many excuses from students over the years and, even though her excuse was, in fact, a reason, any attempted explanation would not enhance her image in the eyes of her venerable examiner.

  “Then I accept your contrition,” replied the Brehon solemnly, sitting back and placing his fingertips against one another, hand to hand, so that the tips of the thumbs touched just under his chin. “Sit down.”

  Fidelma sat down, feeling hard done by.

  “Tell me what you know of The Blemish?”

  Brehon Morann asked the question without preamble and for a second Fidelma had to compose her thoughts.

  “The Blemish? You mean, what is a blemish in legal terms?” she countered, playing for time.

  Again, the frown of annoyance crossed Brehon Morann’s brow.

  “You are in a college for the study of law,” he pointed out dryly, leaving her to make her own deduction.

  Fidelma began to speak, hoping as she did so that the information would come to her mind.

  “The law text Uraicecht Becc opens with the sentence that our system of law is founded on truth, right and nature. A judge must give a surety of five ounces of silver that the judgment they give is truthful to the best of the knowledge provided to them. They forfeit that sum if an appeal against their judgment is upheld. If it is found that they have made an erroneous judgment when the facts presented to them are clear then they are fined one cumal.”

  “Are you saying that honest error is not allowed in law?” snapped Morann.

  “It is allowed for-isn’t there a saying which is ‘to every judge an error’? But a judge must pay for his errors if that error is obvious, and if the error arises from bias then it is said that a blemish will raise itself on his face. A serious false judgment will result in the judge being deprived of his office and his honor.”

  Brehon Morann nodded slowly. He ignored the expression of triumph that crossed Fidelma’s face as she finally arrived at the answer to his initial question on “The Blemish.”

  “And this blemish-how would you describe its physical manifestation?” He smiled softly.

  Fidelma hesitated for a moment and then decided that she would put forward her own concept.

  “When the ancients talked about a blemish being raised, I do not think that they meant it to be taken literally.”

  Brehon Morann’s brows drew together sternly.

  “Ah, so you are an interpreter of the meaning of the ancient texts?”

  Fidelma’s chin came up at his tone of mockery.

  “I make no such pretension although, surely, it is the task of the Brehon to elucidate the texts? I believe that what is meant by this reference to a blemish is that the loss of a judge’s honor and the fact that he becomes known in public as someone who has delivered a false judgment puts a blemish on his character in the minds of the people; the blemish is in the mind, not physically on the skin.”

  “Indeed?” Brehon Morann’s voice was dry and non-committal.

  Brehon Morann leant forward and picked up a small silver handbell. As its tinkling tones died away the door opened and a short, wiry man with an abundance of white curly hair entered. He closed the door behind him and made his way to a chair at the side of Morann’s table facing Fidelma. His face bore no expression at all. His features were bland.

  “This is the Druimcli Firbis of Ardagh. He will set a case before you and you will tell me if and why a blemish should have been raised on the judge involved in the case.”

  Fidelma stirred nervously in her chair. A Druimcli was a person who had mastered the entire course of learning, and was not merely a Brehon but could be appointed to the most important legal positions. She turned slightly to face him.

  Firbis’s tone was high-pitched and querulous and he had a habit of sniffing every so often as if in disapproval.

  “Pay attention and do not make any notes. I do not approve of the writing of notes as a means to aid the memory. In the old days, before the coming of the New Faith, the writing of our wealth of knowledge was not allowed. The old religion forbade us to commit our teachings to writing and it is a good rule for pupils who rely on the written word and neglect to train their memories. When pupils have the help of notes, they are less diligent in learning by heart and so their memories rust. Is that not so, young woman?”

  The abruptness of the question startled Fidelma for a moment.

  “It is an argument that I have heard, Druimcli, ” she acknowledged, solemnly.

  The corners of Firbis’s mouth turned down.

  “But you do not agree?” He spoke sharply, his eyes perceptive.

  “Our ancestors failed to record many essential matters before the coming of the New Faith and the result is that much has been lost to posterity. Philosophy, religion, history, poetry. . these things went unrecorded. Because of this refusal to set forth all knowledge in writing, have we not lost much that would be most valuable to our civilization?”

  Firbis stared at her in disapproval and sniffed.

  “I suppose that you are one of the young generation who applauds the work of those scribes in the foundations of the New Faith who spend their time setting forth such matters in the new Latin alphabet?”

  Fidelma inclined her head.

  “Of course. How will future generations know the poetry, the law, the ancient stories and the course of our history unless it is set forth? I would only make this criticism, that such scribes feel constrained to dress many of the ancient stories of the old gods and goddesses in the images of the New Faith.” Fidelma suddenly felt herself warming to the theme. “Why, I have even seen one text in which the scribe tells how the hero Cú Chulainn is conjured out of Hell by the Blessed Patrick to help him convert the High King Laoghaire to the New Faith and when Laoghaire becomes a Christian Cú Chulainn is released from Hell to go to Heaven.”

  Brehon Morann leant forward.

  “You disapprove?”

  Fidelma nodded.

  “We are told, in the New Faith, that God is good, loving and forgiving. Cú Chulainn was a great champion whose life was devoted to aiding the weak against the strong. He would surely not have been consigned to Hell by such a God and. .”

  Firbis cleared his throat noisily.

  “You seem to have radical ideas, young woman. But in reply to your question, future generations should learn by adhering to the old ways, learning by heart, passing on the knowledge one voice to another voice down the ages. Our tradition is that knowledge must be passed on and preserved in oral
tradition so that outsiders do not steal it from us.”

  “It cannot be. The old ways are gone. We must progress. But, hopefully, not by distorting the images of our past.”

  Brehon Morann interrupted impatiently.

  “You say, we must progress. Agreed. Progress in the matter we are dealing with today,” he said heavily. “The day grows short and there are other students to be tested before sundown.”

  Inwardly, Fidelma groaned. She had obviously alienated Druimcli Firbis by her attitude and annoyed Brehon Morann by her lateness and her inability to keep her views to herself.

  Firbis sniffed rapidly.

  “Very well. Pay attention. I will not repeat myself and, whatever happens outside these walls, I will tolerate no writing of notes.”

  He stared sharply in challenge at her but she did not demur.

  After a moment’s silence, he began.

  “This case involved a Brehon. We will not name him. A case came before him in which he found a woman not guilty of theft. Let us call the woman Sochla.”

  He paused as if he expected a challenge to his opening statement.

  “The circumstances were as follows: Sochla worked in the hall of the King of Tethbae. Do you know where that is?”

  Fidelma nodded automatically.

  “It is a petty kingdom bordering on the west of Midhe, not far from here,” she answered. Fidelma prided herself on her geographical knowledge.

  “Indeed,” muttered Firbis, as if disappointed that his question had received a correct answer. “It was a small kingdom founded two hundred years ago by Maine, a son of the High King, Niall of the Nine Hostages.”

  Fidelma also knew this information but did not say anything further.

  “As I was saying,” began Firbis querulously, as if she had interrupted him, “Sochla worked in the hall of Catharnaigh, the King. In a casket, in the hall, the Kings of Tethbae kept an oak and bronze casket. In this casket was the preserved skull of Maine, founder of the kingdom, who died in battle. Maine of the Bright Deeds was how the poets described him. His skull was preserved in the ancient tradition as the rallying symbol of his people in Tethbae. It was valued beyond price by them.”

  “There are many similar icons in other kingdoms,” observed Fidelma quietly.

  “We are not speaking of other kingdoms,” snapped Firbis. “I speak of Tethbae! The skull of Maine was beyond price and kept in pride of place in the hall of Catharnaigh.”

  He stared at Fidelma, challenging her to speak. When she did not, he continued less querulously.

  “Catharnaigh and his retinue had left the hall to go to the Field of Contentions to attend a game of hurley. No one was left in the hall except for Sochla, whose task was to prepare the feasting hall for the King’s return. When Catharnaigh returned, he found the casket, containing the skull, was missing. Only Sochla had been in the hall during Catharnaigh’s absence and she was summoned. She denied any knowledge. Yet Catharnaigh was suspicious. Sochla’s quarters were searched and the casket was found under the woman’s bed. A learned Brehon was summoned and the case was heard. Sochla was found guilty of the theft.”

  Firbis paused and sat back.

  “This was the case. Did the Brehon render a true or a false judgment?”

  Fidelma sat quietly for a moment. Then she raised a slender shoulder and let it fall.

  “It is impossible to make an answer based on the facts that you have cited.” She glanced quickly at Brehon Morann. “I presume that I am allowed to ask questions of the Druimcli before expressing any opinion?”

  Firbis interrupted before the Brehon could answer.

  “I thought the facts were plain enough, young woman. The casket was found under the bed of Sochla. Have you overlooked that fact?”

  “I have not,” replied Fidelma.

  “Bearing that fact in mind, do you tell me that you do not think it is a simple, open and shut case? Surely you do not wish to waste time here? The answer is simply a negative or positive one. Was a true or false judgment rendered when Sochla was pronounced guilty of the crime?”

  Fidelma turned to Brehon Morann.

  “I think it is right that I should ask questions,” she said stubbornly, determined not to be cowed by the Druimcli. “No one would be able to express support for a judgment without knowing all the facts.”

  The Brehon smiled gravely.

  “You may ask, but do not waste time.”

  Fidelma turned back to Firbis.

  “What was the motive according to the Brehon who pronounced the woman guilty?”

  Firbis blinked and glanced at Brehon Morann with a raised eyebrow. Then he turned back to Fidelma and shrugged indifferently.

  “With a priceless relic, I would have thought that the matter of motive was obvious.”

  “Really? I would have thought that the motive became more obscure.”

  Firbis’s eyes narrowed. Before he could respond, Fidelma asked another question: “Was this Sochla an intelligent woman? Was she half-witted or did she have any other defects that would cause her a lack of common sense?”

  “She was intelligent,” replied Firbis tightly.

  “Then she would have known that it is impossible to make financial gain from a priceless article such as the skull of Maine of Tethbae. Who would want to buy such a relic apart from those to whom it is priceless?”

  “She could have taken it to demand a ransom from Catharnaigh, the King of Tethbae, for its safe return,” pointed out Brehon Morann quietly.

  “That would be equally preposterous,” replied Fidelma. “Once she had revealed that she had the casket and skull, she would be in a vulnerable position and, even if she succeeded in the negotiation, thereafter she would condemn herself to a life of exile from Tethbae and from the reach of its King. No, there is no motive in theft for profit. . if, as you say, the woman was intelligent.”

  Firbis shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  “Are you saying that, on this reasoning alone, you believe that the judge made a false judgment?”

  Fidelma shook her head at once.

  “Not on that reasoning alone,” she smiled softy. “In all cases, as you know, there must be motive, means and opportunity. All three things must come together in one pattern. You tell me that the opportunity was there. . that she was in the hall alone when everyone had gone to watch a game of hurley. Presumably we can be assured that the casket and skull were observed to be in their place before people departed for the game and then were gone when they returned? To remove a casket containing a skull does not require any great means.”

  “So you admit that the judge was correct on means and opportunity?” pressed Firbis.

  Fidelma pursed her lips thoughtfully.

  “I have heard no evidence that this Sochla possessed the only means and opportunity. Is there such evidence? Is it not possible that someone could have happened by and removed the casket while Sochla was elsewhere in the hall of Catharnaigh? Is it not possible that some other person could have planted the casket under Sochla’s bed?”

  Firbis laughed, amused by the suggestion.

  “For what motive?”

  “There might be several motives, but one would need to ask a great many questions to find and validate them.”

  “It seems to me, Fidelma, that you are attempting to make the woman in this case, Sochla, innocent,” observed the Brehon Morann.

  Fidelma shook her head quickly.

  “Not at all. I am attempting to find out the facts before rushing to judgment. I certainly would have asked more questions on means and opportunity. Tell me more about this Sochla. Is she young or old, what is her disposition, is she married, does she have lovers and, if so, who are they?”

  “She is of young age,” Firbis replied. “She is barely over the ‘Age of Choice.’ Her father was of the daer-nemed class, that is a manual worker. In this case he worked as an assistant to the king’s blacksmith, while the girl worked as a manual worker, a cleaner, in the king’s hall.”
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  “And why was one so young and of such a class left alone in the king’s hall while all others went to a ball game? Did the king fear no enemies, no envious hands, that he would leave his house and wealth unguarded?”

  Firbis exchanged another glance with Morann.

  “Presumably this line of questioning was pursued with Catharnaigh?” pressed Fidelma when there was no response to her question.

  Firbis sniffed: “What are you implying?”

  “Druimcli, surely you should know that I could not imply anything. It is merely my duty to ask questions and through the answers to discover the truth.”

  The Druimcli looked uncomfortable.

  “The King had no cause to fear his enemies nor to fear envious hands in his property.”

  “Yet, is it not unheard of that such a noble would vacate his hall and possessions in this manner?”

  “The facts are as I have told them. It is not my task to comment or speculate on why a person should do this or that.”

  Fidelma leaned forward quickly.

  “But isn’t that the very task of a Brehon-to examine motivation behind each fact and ascertain what lay behind the fact and whether the person had criminal intent or not?”

  Druimcli Firbis sat up more stiffly.

  “I declare, you now exceed the parameters of your position, young woman. You are here to answer my question, which you have not yet done.”

  “I have not done so because the question cannot be answered in the manner in which it is given,” she replied stubbornly. “You said that Sochla was young. Was she married?”

  “She was not.”

  “Did she have a lover?”

  Firbis hesitated and inclined his head.

  “And where was he on this day?”

  “He claims that he was with Sochla.”

  Fidelma pursued her lips in astonishment at this new revelation.

  “And Sochla? What does she say?”

  “That after the king and his entourage left, she began to work and then her lover came by. That they spent some time together. . ”

  “Was she out of sight of the casket?” interrupted Fidelma.