‘Doing nothing at all increases that violence,’ sneered the Abbess. ‘You are an old and foolish man, Coba.’
‘What our law seeks to do is to solve the problems of the attitude of wrongdoers. The best corrective measure is to make the child understand that stealing involves pain to someone, by taking away something belonging to the child every time they commit a theft. Most children respond to this rather than to a smack or physical pain. Thus we have a law system by which the naughty child can learn. If they have any capacity for sympathy, then they realise the pain they have inflicted and further, they may be led into changing their ways.’
‘I cannot stand here arguing this nonsense, Coba. Your laws and their punishments have failed otherwise we would now live in a society free from all crime.’
Fidelma felt a strong desire to enter the argument again.
‘Every breach of law is effectively an injury to another, and if a man is brought to the realisation of that injury then his soul is saved; when he has been so rehabilitated he may go on to lead a worthwhile life. Thus the law is a work of moral education by being a curative punishment, as well as a compensatory and preventative punishment.’
Coba nodded in approval at her explanation.
Abbess Fainder turned to them both with an expression of cynicism.
‘You will not persuade me to change my mind. The Saxon has been judged and tomorrow he will hang for the crime he has committed. Now let us go and greet the King.’
Chapter Eight
It was late evening when the appeal court finally assembled in the great hall of the fortress of Fianamail of Laigin. It had taken some insistence on Fidelma’s part to force Fianamail and his Brehon, Bishop Forbassach, to agree to the hearing during their meeting in the chapel of the abbey. Bishop Forbassach and Abbess Fainder argued strongly against any such hearing but Fidelma pointed out that the young King had given his word that if Fidelma could discover legal objections to the conduct of the trial apart from objections to punishment under the Penitentials then he would order a consideration of those objections. Bishop Forbassach immediately demanded to know what the objections were but Fidelma pointed out that the arguments could not be revealed unless it was done during a formal hearing.
It was with reluctance that Fianamail realised that he would have to abide by his promise. Clearly, the abbey was no place to hold the appeal as several scribes and officials needed to be summoned to attend. The great hall of the fortress was deemed the only suitable place at such short notice.
The hall was lit by flickering torches, balanced in their iron holders on the walls, and warmed by a central fire. Fianamail took the central position on a dais in his carved oak chair of office. At his right side sat Bishop Forbassach, Brehon of Laigin.
Abbess Fainder was in attendance and, as her support, she had brought her rechtaire Sister Étromma and, strangely — or so Fidelma thought — the villainous-looking Brother Cett. Brother Miach accompanied them. There were several religious, scribes and some of the King’s household and warriors including Mel. Seated among the others, Fidelma had spotted Coba, the local chieftain, who was so against the introduction of the Penitentials. Dego and Enda sat at the rear of the chamber to watch the proceedings.
It was not a true court of law in the sense that in an appeal to stay a sentence, the defendant did not have to be present, there was no prosecutor, nor were witnesses usually called. The arguments to staythe sentence rested on the ability of the dálaigh to raise questions about the procedures of evidence heard at the previous trial or even present questions on the inappropriate severity of the sentence.
Fidelma had taken a seat before the dais. A stillness descended when Bishop Forbassach rose and called the assembly to order.
‘We are here to hear the plea of the dálaigh from Cashel. Proceed,’ he instructed Fidelma before he resumed his seat.
Fidelma rose reluctantly to her feet. She had been growing puzzled at the sight of Forbassach apparently about to moderate over the court.
‘Am I to understand that you are presiding at this hearing, Forbassach?’ she demanded.
Bishop Forbassach stared coldly at his old antagonist. He was a man with an unforgiving nature and she sensed his enjoyment at her confusion.
‘That is an odd opening for your plea, Fidelma. Do I need to answer such a question?’
‘The fact that you presided over Brother Eadulf’s trial must surely exclude you from sitting in judgment on your own conduct of that trial.’
‘Who has a greater legal authority in this kingdom than Bishop Forbassach?’ intervened Fianamail irritably. ‘A lesser judge has no authority to pronounce criticism of him. You should know that.’
Fidelma had to admit that this was true and a matter she had overlooked. Only a judge of higher or equal rank could overturn a judgment made by another. Yet for Forbassach to judge this matter would clearly be a further injustice.
‘I had hoped that Forbassach might have sought the advice of other judges. I see only Forbassach sitting here and not even a qualified dálaigh to adjudicate the evidence with him. How can a judge be judge of their own judgments?’
‘I shall note your objections, Fidelma, if you wish to register them.’ Bishop Forbassach’s smile was triumphal. ‘However, as Brehon of Laigin I acknowledge no other person to have authority to preside in this court. Should I remove myself it could be argued that I was admitting that I have been guilty of prejudice in this matter. Such objections from you are overruled. Now I will hear your appeal.’
Fidelma’s mouth compressed and she glanced across to where Dego was sitting, a bemused spectator. He caught her eye and grimaced, a small gesture of support. She realised now the bias against her evenbefore she began her plea. There was nothing else to do but proceed as best she could.
‘Brehon of Laigin, I wish to make a formal appeal to you to postpone the execution of the Saxon, Brother Eadulf, until such time as a proper enquiry and a new trial can be arranged.’
Forbassach continued to regard her with an unchanging sour expression. Fidelma found his attitude almost contemptuous.
‘An appeal must be backed by the weight of evidence of irregularities of the first trial, Fidelma of Cashel,’ Forbassach acknowledged dryly. ‘What are the reasons for your appeal?’
‘There are several irregularities in the presentation of evidence at the trial.’
Forbassach’s disagreeable expression seem to deepen.
‘Irregularities? Doubtless you are suggesting that such irregularities are due to the fact that I, who presided at that trial, am responsible for them?’
‘I am well aware that you presided at the trial, Forbassach. I have already made my objection known to your judging your own conduct.’
‘So what are you charging me with? What exactly?’ His voice was cold and menacing.
‘I am not charging you with anything, Forbassach. You know enough of the law not to misinterpret my words,’ snapped Fidelma. ‘An appeal is merely to lay facts before the court and put forward questions, the answers are left to the court to pursue.’
Bishop Forbassach’s eyes narrowed at her barbed response.
‘Let me hear your so-called facts and you may also ask your questions, dálaigh. It cannot be said that I am not a fair man.’
Fidelma felt as if she were beating against a wall of granite and tried to gather some inner strength.