It was certainly a trivial matter and one that Crón could adequately deal with. Fidelma was about to make her excuses and leave when a sudden suspicion occurred to her. She swung back hurriedly.
‘Is one of the litigants a farmer called Muadnat?’
Crón stared at her in surprise.
‘Do you have second sight, sister? What do you know of Muadnat?’ she demanded.
Fidelma knew from her startled expression that she was right. Obviously Crón did not know that Fidelma had been Brehon at Lios Mhór. So this was why Muadnat had appeared at the chieftain’s rath.
‘Did you know about Muadnat’s case against his kinsman Archú?’
Crón pursed her lips as if this helped her recall a memory. She nodded slowly.
‘I know only what local gossip tells me. Muadnat was forced to appear before a Brehon in Lios Mhór and lost a farm that he was claiming.’
‘I was that Brehon,’ Fidelma announced. ‘It was while I was in Lios Mhór that I received word from my brother to come here.’
The blue eyes of the chieftainess regarded her curiously. Fidelma continued.
‘Against whom does Muadnat enter into litigation?’
‘With Archú again.’
Fidelma’s mind worked quickly.
‘Can you tell me the details of his argument?’
For a moment it seemed that Crón might refuse and then she appeared to think better of it.
‘I think there is a case to be answered by Archú,’ she said defensively.
‘But the details?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘Simple enough. Since Archú took over the disputed farmstead by the Black Marsh, he became a neighbour of Muadnat, for Muadnat’s lands stretch by his. Muadnat claims that Archú, through malice and neglect, allowed his pigs to stray at night across his boundary fences where they inflicted damage to Muadnat’s property. What is more the animals defecated in Muadnat’s farmyard.’
Fidelma took a slow breath and exhaled as she considered the matter.
‘In other words, if Muadnat speaks the truth about his claimsagainst Archú, then he will be able to demand a great compensation from him?’ she asked.
Crón’s face indicated that this was obvious enough.
‘Muadnat has already pointed that out to me.’
Fidelma was cynical.
‘So Muadnat has already checked the law?’
‘What are you implying?’ demanded the young tanist sharply.
‘I am simply making an observation, not implying anything. It is true, however, that if through malice and neglect the animal trespass did happen then the owner of the animals is regarded on the same level as human trespass; if that trespass takes place at night, it doubles the level of the fine; that the animals defecated further increases the amount of compensation. In other words, Archú would have to pay a substantial amount in compensation to Muadnat.’
Crón agreed.
‘Probably half or more of what his farm is worth,’ she said. ‘Unless he has additional value in livestock than just the value of the farm, he will doubtless lose the farm.’
‘And we both know that he has not,’ replied Fidelma tightly. ‘Muadnat will settle for nothing less than the farm.’
‘I believe that is the law.’
Fidelma thought carefully before speaking again.
‘As chieftain-elect, it is your right and responsibility to sit in judgment in your clan territory — and you may sit alone when there is no Brehon available.’
‘I am aware of my rights and duties.’ Crón’s eyes narrowed a little in suspicion.
‘I mean no offence when I ask you, to what level have you studied law?’
‘I have studied only the Bretha Comaithchesa, the Law of Neighbours, for we are a small farming community and this is the law that most applies here. But I am not qualified in law. I studied at Lios Mhór for only three years to the level of Freisneidhed.’
Fidelma nodded slowly. The degree of three years of study was one which most chieftains in the five kingdoms could boast of obtaining. Chieftains had to be educated for they had to fulfil many duties and being a judge of the tribal court was one of them. She realised that Crón was regarding her with some hostility. She would have to be diplomatic, as Eadulf had implored her to be, for her relationship with Crón was already a difficult one.
‘Would you allow me to sit with you and advise in this case?’
Crón flushed, thinking some insult was meant.
‘I think I am capable of making judgment in this matter,’ she responded protectively. ‘I have sat and watched my father make judgments many times.’
‘I did not say that you were not capable,’ Fidelma replied in a pacifying tone. ‘But I have a feeling that there is something more here than a simple case of trespass. Remember, I have seen Muadnat attempt to use the law to dispossess Archú before.’
‘Wouldn’t that make you biased in your judgment?’ Crón asked, trying hard to repress the hint of a sneer.
‘Perhaps I am biased,’ agreed Fidelma benignly. ‘But what I suggest, however, is that you make the judgment, while I merely am seated at your side to advise you on any matters of law. I promise you that my advice will be strictly on matters of law.’
Crón hesitated, wondering if there was some hidden meaning to Fidelma’s offer.
‘The judgment is mine to make?’
‘You are the chieftain-elect of the Araglin,’ acknowledged Fidelma. ‘You will make the judgment.’
Crón thought for a moment. It was true that Fidelma, as a dálaigh qualified to the level of anruth, one degree below the highest awarded in the five kingdoms, could simply demand to take her seat in judgment. That was the law for, in a place where there was no permanent Brehon, a visiting judge could, depending on their degree of office, outrank a minor chieftain. That Fidelma had asked permission merely to sit and advise was clearly herway of showing that she did not wish to interfere with Crón’s authority.
‘What could be wrong with Muadnat’s plea?’ Crón demanded, still defensively.
‘That remains to be seen. Muadnat was bitter when the law was pronounced against him and he lost the farm to young Archú.’
Crón accepted this.
‘Do you think that Muadnat has concocted this charge then?’
‘As you will sit in judgment on him, it is better, perhaps, if I kept my thoughts to myself,’ Fidelma immediately replied. ‘But let me sit with you and I will advise you merely on the law, and you will judge the facts. My words will be on law, no more. You have my oath on it.’
‘Then, to that I agree.’ For the first time in the presence of Fidelma, Crón gave what appeared to be a genuine smile of friendship.
‘What time is Muadnat to present himself before you?’
‘At the midday hour.’
‘Then I will go and tell Eadulf.’
‘He is an interesting man, that Saxon of yours,’ Crón observed slyly.
‘Of mine?’ Fidelma arched an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Eadulf belongs to no woman or man.’
‘You appear friendly enough,’ Crón replied. ‘Surely, the handsome brother does not believe in the ideas that Father Gormán teaches about the servants of God, male and female, remaining in celibacy?’
Fidelma found herself flushing.
She realised that although she had debated all the aspects of Roman teaching with Eadulf they had never touched on the concept of celibacy. While Rome made no hard and fast rule on the celibacy of the religious, it was true that there was a growing number of the clergy who believed in the idea that members of the religious should not cohabit or marry. It was surely such an alien ideato human beings that it would never be accepted.
She found Crón watching her with some amusement.
She thrust out her chin.