It still lacked several hours until dawn and Eadulf realised that he would have to wait until then before approaching Murgal for permission to use his library. Murgal, in fact, would have only just retired after the excitement of the night. Eadulf realised that if he were to help Fidelma he needed to be fully alert. For two nights he had not slept well and so he decided to attempt to sleep for a further hour or two. In spite of his mental state, he had barely laid his head on the bed when he was dead to the world.
He awoke hearing sounds of activity in the main room of the guests’ hostel. For a moment Eadulf did not remember the activities of the night before. Then they came to him in a depressing flood. He rose and went down to the bath house.
Cruinn was there staring balefully at him. And the young monk, Brother Dianach, was sitting obviously distressed in a corner. As Eadulf came down the stairs the boy’s face creased in anger. It was clear that the death of Brother Solin and the arrest of Fidelma had been the talking point of the ráth that morning.
‘Why did she do it?’ Brother Dianach’s first words in fierce accusation struck Eadulf like a whip. The boy half rose to his
feet as though to physically threaten Eadulf. ‘Did she hate him so much?’
Eadulf stood at the foot of the stair for a moment regarding Brother Dianach sadly.
‘Sister Fidelma did not kill Brother Solin,’ he replied calmly.
Cruinn muttered something beneath her breath in suppressed anger. The cheery, portly woman had vanished and in her place a fierce harridan had appeared.
Eadulf looked from one to the other of them and shrugged. He could see that neither of them was in any mood to hear Fidelma’s side of the story. He turned into the bath house. By the time that he had finished his toilet there was no sign of Cruinn or Brother Dianach. He made his way up the stairs to his room and dressed. Returning, he found that Cruinn had not left him anything with which to break his fast. It was obviously her protest. Eadulf sighed and went in search of what he could forage.
After a meagre meal of dried bread and some cold meat and mead he sallied forth on the first of his quests. At the building where Fidelma had indicated Murgal’s library to be housed, the first person he encountered was the attractive apothecary, Marga. After what Fidelma had told him about her outburst when she had discovered that he had studied herbal medicine, he expected her to brush by him but to his surprise she stopped in front of him.
‘I cannot express regret,’ she said without preamble. It was clear that she, too, had heard the news. ‘Either for the pig Solin or for your Christian friend. They deserve to be with each other in your Otherworld. I can understand any woman who encountered Solin wishing to end his life.’
Eadulf stood his ground.
‘You are entitled to your opinions, Marga. But Fidelma did not kill Brother Solin.’
The girl’s eyes filled with disbelief.
‘So? And you will prove this?’
‘I shall prove it,’ he corrected. ‘I shall discover the truth.’
Marga’s lips parted in a sneer.
‘Ah, yes. Speaking of truth – I gave you a gift of the foxglove when I thought I was helping someone heal themselves who had no knowledge of medicines. Since you lied to me, there is now a charge. You see, I place a value on truth, Saxon. I think our Brehon would also like to know what value you place on truth.’
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 darted 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 …’