‘A bunch will do well enough,’ Eadulf agreed.
The Angelus bell had tolled its last chimes that evening when people began to gather in Becc’s great hall. Eadulf, taking an unobtrusive seat at the back of the hall, observed that most of the people were those who had been in attendance at the funeral that morning. There were also several of the religious from the abbey.
Bébháil and Tómma had been brought in to sit in front of those attending, facing the chieftain’s chair. Immediately behind them was a group of people whom Eadulf recognised as relatives of Bébháil come to support her. At either side of the chieftain’s chair of office were several other seats.
Accobrán entered bearing a staff of office which he thumped on the ground three times calling for quiet. Then Becc entered, followed by Fidelma and Abbot Brogán. The chieftain took his seat with Fidelma on his right hand side and the abbot on his left, with Accobrán seated on the abbot’s left.
Becc turned to Fidelma and motioned for her to proceed.
‘This is a sad matter,’ Fidelma began softly. ‘Thankfully, it is a simple one. Bébháil has confessed to the unlawful killing of her husband, Lesren the tanner. The obstruction of justice by giving false testimony has been confessed to by Tómma. Bébháil and Tómma have described the circumstances of this crime from their view. Your chieftain and I have discussed these circumstances in the presence of the abbot and the tanist. We are all agreed on a resolution to this matter.’
She paused and glanced down to where Bébháil and Tómma were seated with pale faces and eyes downcast.
‘The crimes being confessed, all that now remains is the announcement of the penalties. Does either of you have anything to say as to why we may not now impose such penalties upon you?’
The widow of Lesren shook her head quickly while Tómma looked up. He seemed about to open his mouth to say something but his companion laid her hand on his arm and he dropped his gaze again.
‘Very well. To the crime of fingal as charged against Bébháil, we have taken into account the circumstances of this act. The Cairde text, as I have already indicated to those who have confessed, takes into account that it is permitted to kill in self-defence and the text is clear — every counter-wounding is free from liability. We have fully taken into account that Bébháil was driven to a point where she was not in control of her actions and, in this condition, she killed Lesren. So she leaves this court without penalty as to that killing. However’ — Fidelma said the word quickly as the audible murmur began to gather throughout the hall — ‘we must impose a small fine for the delay before which she confessed the matter to me, which wasted time and could have led to a potentially harmful situation. For that Bébháil must pay her chieftain two screpalls.’
Bébháil was in tears now but smiling through them. It was a small sum for a tanner’s widow to pay. Members of her family were gathering round and patting her on the back.
Fidelma turned to Tómma, who had clearly been surprised and happy about the lightness of his companion’s punishment, and called for silence.
‘Tómma, I am afraid it is you who have committed the more serious of the offences that has to be judged this day. I have told you that a false witness is deemed beyond God’s forgiveness. If we do not have truth, then we have nothing. For this false testimony you must pay the consequences.’
Bébháil was clutching her companion’s hand now and she raised her tear-stained face to Fidelma. ‘But he did it for my sake, to protect me, lady. He was willing to perjure his soul to protect me. Can you not find mercy…can you…’
Fidelma regarded her coldly, causing her to hesitate and fall silent.
‘The law cannot admit to justification for lies,’ she replied firmly. ‘But as judges and interpreters of the law, we have taken into account the circumstances as, indeed, we must. But still the law demands its price for lies.’
Tómma patted Bébháil’s hand in pacification.
‘I am ready to answer to justice, lady.’
‘You will lose your honour price for a year and a day. In token of which you will pay a fine of that honour price.’
There was quiet in the hall as people tried to reckon up how much this would mean. Fidelma smiled grimly at their puzzled expressions.
‘Tómma, I believe that you are of the class that is not yet possessed of any land handed down from your father or family. You are of the Fer Midbad.’
The tanner nodded slowly.
‘You have been in this position for fourteen years?’
‘I have.’
‘Then your honour price in accordance with law is the value of a heifer cow of one year in age, which is four screpalls. Can you pay that sum?’
Tómma swallowed as he felt the relief surge through him. ‘That I can, lady.’
‘A year and a day from now, providing you give no further cause for legal action, your honour price will be returned to you.’
There came some muted cheering in the hall among those who had nursed a dislike for Lesren and had been sympathetic to Bébháil. The relatives were now leaning forward and congratulating both of them. No one argued that the judgement was harsh. No one took any notice of Accobrán’s stern remonstrance to be silent. Becc glanced at Fidelma, smiled and shrugged.
‘Let us leave them all to their moment of relief,’ Fidelma said, rising from her seat. ‘In their joy they have failed to remember that we still have a murderer to find.’
Fidelma and Eadulf paused to rest their horses on the brow of the hill and looked down the road along which the bothán of Menma the hunter lay.
Eadulf was irritable since his attempts to make Fidelma swallow a draught of the potion he had prepared from an infusion of St John’s Wort had come to nothing. She had instructed him to throw it away and no amount of cajoling could make her even taste it.
‘This is a waste of time,’ he said crossly.
‘I have never known you to have a feeling about an investigation that is not based on logical deduction from tested information,’ he replied moodily. ‘Usually, it is information that I have neglected to assess.’
Fidelma shook her head immediately.
‘I have no more information than you have,’ she replied firmly.
‘Very well.’ Eadulf was almost surly. ‘You do not convince me. I know you too well. Let us find Menma and explore this place, whatever it is. You will obviously explain it to me in your own good time.’
They halted in front of the log cabin that was Menma’s home. Before they dismounted, an attractive young woman with shoulder-length corn-coloured hair came out. She was wiping her hands on a cloth and looked from one to the other with a frown and then smiled abruptly.
‘You must be the lady Fidelma and her companion. My man Menma told me about you yesterday. Have you come in search of him?’
Fidelma bent across her horse’s neck with a smile. ‘We have. Are you Menma’s wife?’
‘I am. My name is Suanach, lady.’
‘Is it an inconvenient time to come in search of your husband?’
‘Not so, lady. I will call him.’
She went to one of the wooden beams of the porch, where hanging from a nail was a horn on a leather thong. The girl took it, tried a few experimental breaths and then blew into it, long and loud. While the sounds echoed away, she replaced it and stood for a moment or two with her head to one side. Eadulf started to say something but she raised a finger to her lips to stop him. A moment later, the sound of another horn echoed through the forest.
Suanach smiled at them. ‘He is not far away. He will be here shortly. Will you dismount and come in and take some mead?’