Fidelma’s eyes narrowed.
‘Am I to understand that you prefer to accept the rule of Rome in this land?’
‘I am of the Roman school,’ the abbess conceded.
‘So we know where we stand,’ Fidelma replied softly.
Fidelma was well aware of the growing conflict between the church in the five kingdoms of Eireann and Rome. There was also a growing debate on the systems of law. The five kingdoms had long been steeped in legal tradition ever since twelve centuries before the High King Ollamh Fodhla had ordered the laws of the Brehons, the judges, to be gathered into a unified code. But with the coming of the New Faith, new ideas were entering the land. From Rome, the advocates of the New Faith had, despising the laws of the lands which they converted, devised their own ecclesiastical laws. These canon laws were based on the decisions of councils of bishops and abbots, which ostensibly dealt with the government of the churches and clergy and administration of the sacraments and were now beginning to challenge the civil laws of the land.
In a few instances, some religious foundations had tried to claim that they were above the civil laws, indeed, even above the criminal laws. But these were few and far between. However, she knew that Ultan of Armagh favoured a closer merger with Rome and encouraged ecclesiastical legislation. Ultan himself had become a figure of controversy for, since he had succeeded Commené as archbishop six years ago, hehad demonstrated time and again that he wanted to centralise the church of the five kingdoms after the manner of Rome.
‘I stand by the teachings of Ultan and in the evidence that he has revealed showing that we should not be governed by the laws of the Brehons,’ Draigen said.
‘Evidence?’
The abbess pushed forward a small manuscript book that was resting on her table.
Fidelma glanced at it: ‘The bishops Patrick, Auxiliius and Isernius greet the priests and deacons and all the clerics …’ She put down the manuscript.
‘It was no secret that Ultan is circulating this document,’ Fidelma told Draigen. ‘I know that he claims it to be the record of a council held two hundred years ago by those who took a leading part in converting the five kingdoms to the new Faith. Archbishop Ultan claims that the thirty-five ordnances of this supposed synod are the basis of ecclesiastical law and the first ordnance states that any member of the Church who appeals to the secular courts of Éireann merits excommunication.’
Abbess Draigen stared at her in surprise.
‘You seem to know the work well, Sister Fidelma,’ she admitted warily.
Fidelma shrugged.
‘Well enough to question its authenticity. If such rulings had been made in this land two hundred years ago we should have known about them.’
Draigen leaned forward in annoyance.
‘It is obvious that it was suppressed by those who reject Rome’s right to lead the Church.’
‘But no one has seen the original manuscript, only the copies made on the orders of Ultan.’
‘Do you dare question Archbishop Ultan?’
‘I have that right. This book states ordnances which, while in agreement with Rome, are against the civil and criminal laws of Éireann.’
‘Exactly so,’ agreed Draigen smugly. ‘That is why we argue that those of the Faith should ignore the civil law and turn to the ecclesiastical law for the way of truth. As the laws of Patrick say — no one of the Faith should appeal to a secular judge on pain of excommunication.’
Fidelma was amused.
‘Then that argument is of itself a riddle for is it not recorded that Patrick employed his own Brehon, Erc of Baile Shláine, to represent him in all legal proceedings in the courts of this land?’
Abbess Draigen was taken aback.
‘I do not …’
‘Even more puzzling,’ pressed Fidelma, seizing the advantage, ‘is Patrick’s written support of the laws of this land. This book is no more than a forgery by your pro-Roman faction if for no other reason than Patrick himself, with his companions, the bishops Benignus and Cairenech, served on the commission of nine eminent persons which gathered together by request of the High King, Laoghaire, studied, and revised the laws of the Brehons before committing them to writing in the new Latin characters. That was in the year of Our Lord Four-Hundred-and-Thirty-Eight. Surely you would agree, Draigen, that it would have been inconceivable for Patrick and his fellow churchman to advise on the civil and criminal laws of Éireann, lending their public support to them, while drawing up a set of rules contrary to them and demanding that no member of the church appeal to them on pain of excommunication?’
There was a silence. Abbess Draigen’s face worked in anger as she tried to summon up a logical refutation. Fidelma smiled gently at her reddening face and leaned forward, tapping the manuscript book of Ultan with a forefinger.
‘You will read in the opening lines of this forgery a piece of wise advice — it is better to dispute than to be angry.’
The abbess sat in outraged silence and Fidelma continued her attack.
‘One thing that does intrigue me, mother abbess. If you believe in what you claim, why did you ask Abbot Brocc to send a Brehon to investigate this matter in the first place? You have no respect for secular law and would deny it.’
‘We are still governed by secular law,’ the abbess’s voice was waspish. ‘Adnár claims magisterial jurisdiction as bó-aire. I would recognise the authority of the Devil himself in order to check the power of my brother and prevent his interference in the affairs of this abbey.’
Fidelma’s mouth drooped.
‘So you accept the law of the Brehons only when it is for your benefit. That is no example to set for your community.’
Draigen took a moment to recover herself.
‘You will not convince me. I stand by Ultan’s declaration in the validity of this book.’
Fidelma inclined her head.
‘That is your privilege, mother abbess. If so, then I should point out to you that the ecclesiastical laws of Rome which Lerben quoted to me this morning are not justifiable.’
‘Which are?’ demanded Draigen.
‘Those she claimed gave her authority to seize and kill Sister Berrach, had she even been guilty of the crime that you accused her of. Doubtless, because of her youth, you instructed Lerben in these matters. The book of Exodus, chapter twenty-two, verse eighteen, was quoted.’
Draigen nodded swiftly.
‘You know your scripture. Yes; that is the law. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. On that basis, Berrach, when demonstrated to be a witch using pagan practices, could be killed.’
‘But, if you stand by Ultan’s declaration, and seek justification in that text which purports to be the laws of Patrick’s first synod in this land, pick it up and read to me the sixteenth law.’
An uncertainty crept into Abbess Draigen’s eyes as shereturned the calm gaze of the younger woman. After a moment’s hesitation, she reached forward and picked up the book and began to read.
‘Would you read this law aloud?’ pressed Fidelma.
‘You know what it says,’ countered the abbess in annoyance.
Fidelma reached over and took the book gently from her and began reading the law aloud.
‘A Christian who believes that there is such a thing in the world as an enchantress, which is to say a witch, and who accuses anyone of this, is to be excommunicated, and may not be received into the church again until — by their own statement — they have revoked their criminal accusation and have accordingly done penance with full rigour.’
With deliberateness, Fidelma closed the book and replaced it, then sat back and regarded the abbess thoughtfully.
‘Do you still stand by the edicts of Ultan, for if you do, you must accept that this is the ecclesiastical law which you must obey?’
Abbess Draigen did not reply. She was clearly confused.
‘The penalties are clear,’ Fidelma’s voice was soft but contemptuous. ‘Excommunication or a recantation of such accusations and penance with full rigour.’