‘Go, Brother Adamrae,’ ordered Fidelma, ‘and remember that even a judgement given in ignorance can still evoke penalties.’
The young man turned and strode angrily away.
Conrí shrugged and glanced at the hanging body. ‘Even so, Fidelma, death is often better than habitual crime.’
‘Not in our law,’ she replied stubbornly. ‘Our lawgivers believe if you kill the evil-doer, you are as bad as they are. These Penitentials being adopted by the religious are foreign ideas that are simply laws of vengeance. They resolve nothing. Those who adopt them are the enthusiasts for these new teachings from Rome. Well, they have not yet replaced our own legal system. You would have been wise to wait until you found a qualified Brehon before listening to that arrogant youth.’
‘Perhaps,’ the Uí Fidgente war chief said thoughtfully. ‘I fear though that you have made an enemy in Brother Adamrae. Young, arrogant men take the questioning of their abilities as a personal insult.’
Fidelma smiled thinly. ‘If I were worried about who I upset by the advocating of the law and my decisions pertaining to it, I would not have become a dálaigh. How did that young man come here – and how is it that you have no proper qualified Brehon?’
‘Prince Donennach left for Tara last week to see the new High King, Cenn Fáelad. In his retinue he took the Brehon who serves us locally. Therefore, for this time, we had no one to give the sanction of the law.’
‘So how did Brother Adamrae come here?’
‘About a week ago, he appeared in our settlement to join Brother Cronan at the little chapel. It seemed Brother Cronan was in poor health, for he fell ill with a fever soon after Brother Adamrae arrived. The young man therefore started to conduct the services. He preached in favour of these new ideas coming from Rome. He said that councils of the church leaders had been deciding that the religious should cease to wear the tonsure of John and adopt instead the universal tonsure of Peter; that they should follow the new rules as laid down from Rome, which was the heart and centre of the Faith. He spoke of many things that were new to us, Fidelma.’
‘And did he do so with the approval of Brother Cronan?’ queried Eadulf.
Conrí frowned. ‘Brother Cronan has been confined in his chamber at the chapel by his illness, which is said to be contagious. So it was opportune that Brother Adamrae arrived and preached for him.’
Fidelma sighed deeply. ‘It is true that there have been many great councils in recent years in which the advocates of the new rules adopted in Rome have been victorious in debates with the churches in the Five Kingdoms, those in the island of Britain and those in Gaul. I attended the one at Streonshalh, which persuaded the King of Northumbria to follow Rome, so that all our religious had to leave the kingdom. And more recently, there was the great council at Autun in Neustria that demanded that all the abbeys and monasteries should adopt the new rules. Alas, the young man is right in that respect.’
‘But religion is one thing; law is another,’ Eadulf pointed out.
‘True,’ said Conrí. ‘He spoke of the fact that he had studied law at the Abbey of Maolchai and I needed someone to judge our prisoner. I did not enquire just how much law he had studied. Perhaps I should. Now what am I to do? Chase him from this township?’
‘I would refer the matter to your own Brehon when he returns. If Adamrae simply preaches whatever interpretation of the Faith he wants to, then he may stay. But if he speaks against our law and tries to govern lives by rules that are foreign to us, then he cannot be allowed that liberty. Two centuries ago, when the Faith was officially accepted among the Five Kingdoms, when our laws were inscribed in the great law books, they were examined and approved of by the leading clerics of the country. They remain our laws.’
‘Very well, lady. We will keep a watch on the young man to see that he does not overstep his authority.’
Fidelma glanced up at the hanging body. ‘I would cut the man down now and accord him burial. He was a stupid fellow, but now he and his followers have no chance to reflect on their stupidity and make recompense to the people they have injured.’ Then she turned with a quick smile to Socht. ‘However, our thanks are due to you for retrieving our belongings. I trust none of your men were hurt in the conflict with the brigands?’
‘A few bruises and minor cuts, lady, that is all,’ replied Socht more cheerfully.
They made their way back to the hall and were grateful for the corma that Conrí’s attendants provided. Albeit used to encountering unnatural deaths, Fidelma still felt a sense of outrage when people were killed wrongly in the name of the law. The death penalty was no deterrent, merely vengeance. The ancients were right to emphasise that punishment must be coupled with repayment to the victim. Death was too easy. No one benefited from it, not the dead or the living.