“My desire was to save Connla from condemnation,” protested Father Máilín.
“Had Connla resorted to suicide, then he would have been condemned for his action,” Fidelma said. “What was it that Martial wrote?
When all the flattery of life is gone
The fearful steal away to death, the brave live on.
“But, as you frequently remarked, the Venerable Connla was a brave man and would have lived to argue his case had he not been murdered. I will leave it to you to arrest Brother Ledbán and await instructions from the abbot.”
She smiled sadly and turned toward the door.
“Must everything come out?” called Father Máilín. “Must all be revealed?”
“That is up to the abbot,” replied Fidelma, glancing back. “Thankfully, in this case, it is not in my purview to make such moral judgments on what took place here. I only have to report the facts to the abbot.”
THE FOSTERER
Fidelma! I am glad that you have come.”
Brehon Spélan was looking somewhat harassed as Fidelma entered the old judge’s chamber. She had known Spélan for many years and had ridden to the fortress of Críonchoill, the place of the withered wood, in answer to his summons. He had sent her a message that he required some urgent assistance. Now his face was wreathed in a tired smile of relief as he came forward to welcome her.
“What ails you, Spélan?” Fidelma examined him with concern. He did not seem physically ill and a moment later he confirmed that fact to her.
“I did not mean to alarm you, Fidelma.” He was apologetic. “I was due to hear a case this morning; a case of death by neglect and now I have been called to hear a case of kin-slaying in the neighboring territory. The kin-slaying concerns a cleric of noble rank and, as you will know, takes precedence. I am afraid that I must leave at once and yet all the witnesses of the death by neglect case have already been summoned here. It is too late to cancel the hearing. I asked you here to beg a favor of you.”
Fidelma smiled wryly.
“You want me to hear this case of death by neglect?”
“You are qualified to do so,” pointed out the elderly Brehon, as if it might be a matter for dispute.
She nodded in agreement. Being qualified to the level of anruth, only one degree below the highest the law courts could bestow, she could sit in judgment on certain cases, but her main task as a dálaigh was to prosecute or defend and, more often than not, simply to gather information for presentation to the higher courts.
“Of course I will do so. A case of death by neglect? Do you have details?”
“A father whose son has died while in fosterage brings the charge. That is all I know, except such a case should be fairly simple. I have a copy of the Cáin Íarraith, the law on fosterage, should you need it.”
Fidelma inclined her head slightly.
“I would be grateful, Spélan. While I know generalities of the law pertaining to fosterage, I may need to refresh myself on the specifics.”
The old judge moved to his table, picked up a well-thumbed manuscript book and handed it to her. He seemed in a hurry to depart for he glanced at her in embarrassment.
“Thank you for standing in for me, Fidelma. I must be on my way now. My clerk is Brother Corbb. I am leaving him behind. He will guide and advise you.”
He raised his hand in a sort of salutation, picked up the leather satchel, which he had just finished packing as she entered, and left the room.
Fidelma stood for a moment regarding the closed door with a faint smile of amusement. Brehon Spélan had not really given her time to think and she hoped that she had not been pushed into a wrong choice. She dropped her eyes to the law text that the old judge had thrust into her hand and sighed deeply. What did she really know of fosterage? She seated herself at the desk vacated by Brehon Spélan and placed the book before her.
Altram-fosterage-was the keystone of society and practiced in the five kingdoms of Éireann since remote times and by all social ranks. Children were sent to be reared and educated, and those who undertook this responsibility became foster parents of the child. Usually children were sent to fosterage at the age of seven years. They remained in fosterage until the age of fourteen, for girls, and seventeen for boys, when they were deemed to have reached the “Age of Choice.”
There were two types of fosterage, fosterage for affection and fosterage for payment. Kings sent their sons to other kings to be fostered. Had not Lugaid, son of the High King Conn Cétchathach of the Uí Néill, been sent to the Eóghanacht King of Muman, Ailill Olumm, to be raised and educated? From fosterage grew close ties between families. The relationship was regarded as something sacred and often the foster children became more attached to their foster parents than to members of their own family. Cases had occurred where a warrior had voluntarily laid down his own life to save that of his foster father or foster brother.
Fidelma had been told that in the year of her birth, at the great battle of Magh Roth, the High King, Domhnall mac Aedo had been concerned for the personal safety of his rebellious foster son, Congal Cáel, King of Ulaidh, against whom he was fighting. In spite of Congal’s attempt to oust his foster father from the kingship, both foster father and foster son regarded one another with affection, and when Congal was slain, Domhnall lamented as if he had lost the battle.
The law on fosterage was written down in minute detail.
For a while Fidelma thumbed through the text and then she suddenly realized the passage of time. She reached forward and picked up the small silver handbell and shook it. The door opened immediately to its summons and a thin-faced religieux with rounded shoulders scurried into the room to stand before her.
Brother Corbb had been Brehon Spélan’s clerk for many years. He did not look prepossessing but Fidelma knew that he understood his job thoroughly and was as well versed in law as many who had qualified.
“Has Brehon Spélan told you that he has asked me to hear this case of death by neglect in his absence?” she opened.
The thin-faced man inclined his head. It was a swift almost sparrow-like movement.
“He has, lady.” Brother Corbb preferred to ignore her religious office and address her as the sister to Colgú, King of Muman.
“I am told it concerns a death in fosterage. Who is the plaintiff?”
“Fécho is the father of the dead child. He is a smith.”
“And the defendant?”
“Colla, a wainwright, lady, a maker of wagons.”
“Are they both in attendance in the Hall of Hearings? And all who are witness to this matter also present?”
“They are. Shall I give you the details about them?”
Fidelma shook her head.
“I do not want to prejudge anything, Brother Corbb. I will hear from the witnesses themselves and make my own interpretations and judgments as we proceed.”
“Be it as you wish, lady.”
She rose from the desk and Brother Corbb moved to the door to hold it open for her to pass through. Then with nimble movements he contrived to close the door behind her and then move back into a position to lead her into the Hall of Hearings.
There were many people there, comprising of the two extended families involved-the families of both the plaintiff and those of the defendant. Young as well as old were included. As Brother Corbb led Fidelma into the hall and up to the raised platform on which she would sit as judge, a murmuring broke out which was quickly hushed by a movement from Brother Corbb, who banged a wooden staff on the floor to indicate the court was in session. Fidelma had put down the manuscript book and taken her seat. She examined the expectant upturned faces slowly before speaking.