Whispers of the Dead

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.

“I am Fidelma of Cashel,” she announced.

“In the absence of Brehon Spélan it is I who will hear this case. Does anyone present object?”

There was a silence and she smiled dryly.

“Qui tacet consentit,” she intoned. Silence implies consent. “Let the plaintiff or the dálaigh for the plaintiff stand forward and state their case.”

A man with dark hair, short of stature but well muscled, with clothes that betrayed his calling-a leather jerkin and trousers-stood up hesitantly and coughed as if to clear his throat.

“We are poor folk in Críonchoill,” he began. “We can’t afford the ten séds that a lawyer would cost to represent us. I will speak for my family.”

Fidelma frowned.

“I presume that you are Fécho the smith?” On receiving a gesture of confirmation, she continued: “Before you commence, I would offer a word of advice. If you do not have funds to pay for legal representation, have you considered the possible outcome of legal action? If you cannot present a good case and I find it so then you have to pay the court fees, that is the aile déc, which is called the judge’s fee. And if your testimony is found false against him that you accuse, you may find yourself having to pay fines and compensation.”

Fécho compressed his lips and shuffled his feet as he stood before her.

“I have discussed the matter,” he waved his hand to encompass his entire family, “they have agreed that they will support me in this matter.”

“So long as you are aware of this fact,” Fidelma said. “I, myself, have to lodge five ounces of silver with this court to ensure that I carry out my duties as judge in an appropriate manner. If I do not, that is my loss. And if, on appeal, my decision is overturned because it is found in error, then I am fined one cumal-the value of three milch cows.”

She did not have to explain this but she saw the trusting and un-lettered people anxiously regarding her and felt that she had to make an effort to reassure them.

“Where is the defendant?”

The man who stood up was almost a replica of Fécho the smith, except his hair was a dirty, corn yellow. He, too, was tanned and muscular.

“I am Colla the wainwright,” he announced nervously.

“Understand, Colla, that what I have told Fécho also applies to you. If you are found guilty, you will have to pay the fines and the court costs. Do you understand?”

“I am not guilty and Fécho. .”

“You will have an opportunity to speak later,” she interrupted him sharply. “I am telling you the course of the law. I presume that you have no legal representation?”

“I do not.”

“Then having warned you of the consequence, I presume your fine, your kindred, are prepared to pay if the case goes against you?”

“But it will not. .” he began to protest.

A plump woman at his side tugged at his sleeve and said loudly: “The kindred are prepared to pay and will appeal if the judgment goes against us.”

“So long as you both understand. Colla the wainwright is classed, I see, as a chief expert wright, and his honor-price is adjudged in law as even greater than the highest grade of judge. Some twenty séds is the sum. Likewise, Fécho, the smith, is similarly classed as having an honor price of twenty séds.”

“We know this,” interrupted Colla brusquely. “The equality of our honor prices is why we exchanged the contract for this fosterage.”

Fidelma sighed softly and indicated that the wainwright should be reseated. It was little use explaining to him the etiquette of court procedure.

“Let us hear your case, Fécho. Keep only to the facts as you know them and do not indulge in any story that you have heard or cannot prove.”

The blacksmith ran a hand nervously through his hair.

“My son was called Enda and he was seven years old. I claim he was murdered.”

“Murdered?” Fidelma was startled. “I thought that this was a case of death by neglect?”

“So I thought at first until Tassach. .”

Fidelma raised a hand to still him.

“Let’s us begin at the beginning. You may start by telling me how Enda came to be in fosterage with Colla.”

“As a wainwright Colla was well known to me for he often brought work to my forge. His workshop is on the far side of the hill from my forge. It occurred to me that Colla, who has several children and two apprentices whom he instructs in his art of wagon making, would be the ideal person to foster my son. One month ago we agreed on this course of action.”

“And was this fosterage done for affection or for fee?”

Fécho shrugged.

“As we have explained, we are poor here, and so we agreed that I would supply my services without cost, if Colla fostered the child and taught him his arts.”

Fidelma nodded thoughtfully.

“And this, you say, was agreed just a month ago?”

“It was. A week ago, Colla came to me in his wagon. He told me that there had been an accident. That Enda, my son, had fallen into a pool near the house and drowned. That poor little Enda. .”

There was a sudden catch in the man’s throat.

“Take your time,” Fidelma advised him gently.

“Tell me what created the suspicion in your mind that this was not an accident as Colla maintained?”

“Things were blurred for a while. I was so shocked, and so was my wife, who even now remains at home prostrate with grief, for little Enda was our only child. I recall that Colla had brought the body of little Enda in his wagon and I lifted it down and carried it into my bothán. We sat a long time before the body. Colla had left. Then it was that my cousin Tassach arrived and he said. .”

“Just a moment. Who is Tassach, apart from being your cousin, and is he in this court?”

A stocky young man stood up.

“I am Tassach, learned Brehon. I am a physician as well as cousin to Fécho.”

“I see. In that case, we will interrupt Fécho’s testimony to hear what you said at this time.”

The young man gestured with his hand toward Fécho.

“I came to visit my cousin and found him and his wife kneeling before the body of little Enda, their only son. His little body was laid out on the table. They were upset; Fécho and his wife, that is. Fécho told me that the child had drowned while in the care of Colla. I was puzzled at this.”

“Puzzled? Why?”

“Because Enda swam like a fish. He was a strong little swimmer. I have seen him fight the torrents of the Siúr like a salmon racing upriver.”

“Even the strongest swimmers can sometimes have accidents and drown,” observed Fidelma.

“This is certainly true,” replied Tassach. “However, to drown in the pool by Colla’s house would take an accident of exceptional means.”

“You speak as if you know that pool?”

“This is a small community, learned Brehon. We all know one another and know the territory of our clan as we know the interior of our own bothán.”

“So you were suspicious and told Fécho so?”

“Not at once. I examined the body of Enda.”

Fidelma had been forming a theory that the claim was being brought by parents motivated by grief and hurt and not able to accept the loss of their only child. But with a physician involved, the evidence was changing. Fidelma turned her undivided attention on the physician.

“And, as a physician, what do you say was the result of your examination?”

“The child had the appearance of having been immersed in water, but on the back of his skull was an abrasion, a deep cut as though he had been hit from behind with something heavy. Perhaps a rock. I believe the child was dead before he was immersed.”

Brother Corbb had to bang his staff several times to still the hubbub that had broken out from Colla and his family.

Fidelma gazed thoughtfully at the physician.

“What you are saying is that the boy was murdered.”

Tassach compressed his lips for a moment.

“That is a matter that only you can decide learned Brehon. I can only report what I found. What is clear is that the boy did not fall into the pool and drown.”

“And did your findings persuade Fécho to bring this action?”

“I would not say that it was my findings alone.”

“Really? What then?”

“Obviously, as one of the fine, the kindred of Fécho, even though I am physician and have taken the oath of Diancecht to uphold the honor of my profession, my word would not carry as much weight as someone who was unconnected with our two families.”

Fidelma stared at the physician in surprise. The man obviously knew the law of evidence.

“And did someone unconnected with the families of Fécho and Colla make an examination of the body of Enda?”

Tassach turned slightly to where an elderly man with long white hair rose to his feet.

“If it please you, learned Brehon, I am the physician Niall. I can confirm the findings of my young colleague, Tassach, in so far as the boy had received a sharp blow on the back of the head.”

Fidelma pursed her lips.

“It seems, in this case, it is a curious coincidence that two learned physicians were on hand at the same time as Colla brought the body of Enda to his parent’s home.”

Niall, the physician, snorted indignantly.

“I was not at hand, learned Brehon, but had to be sent for. Tassach wisely, because of his relationship with Fécho and the dead boy, and because of his concerns as to the nature of the injuries, summoned me to attend at Fécho’s forge. I arrived there about an hour later. I am well known in Críonchoill and anyone will tell you that I have no connection with either family in this case.”

Fidelma stirred a little in discomfort, rebuking herself for thinking aloud so publicly.

“In your opinion, then, Niall, the injury on the boy’s head was one that was inconsistent with a drowning accident?”

To her surprise, he shook his head.

“I thought that you agreed with Tassach?” she demanded sharply.

Niall smiled gently.

“We can each only give testimony as to what we know. I confirmed Tassach’s medical opinion that the body was more likely than not dead when he became immersed in the water. That the death was due to the blow that the child received, which not only cut him deeply but splintered pieces of his skull. But whether this was an accident or not, I cannot express an opinion. I do not know the pool in which the child is said to have met his death. Were any rocks there? Was the child thrown against a rock by a surge of water? These are things that others must consider.”

Fidelma sat back, unconsciously drumming her fingers on the arm of her chair.

“Very well. Let me return to Fécho.”

The smith rose again.

“You have heard the evidence of Tassach and Niall?”

“I have.”

“It was on this basis that you charged Colla with death by neglect? Death by neglect and not unlawful killing?”

Fécho spread his hands.

“Lady, I am no lawyer. I do not know what happened except that Colla brought my son home and he was dead. Colla said he had drowned. The physicians said he had not. They say some rock struck him on the head. I can only raise the questions and only Colla can provide the answers.”

There was a murmur of agreement in the court.

“Then we shall ask Colla what he has to say about this matter.”

The burly wainwright stood slowly up.

“Fécho has told you the truth in that we agreed that I would take his son Enda into fosterage and instruct him in the art of building wagons. In return for this, Fécho promised that he would do all the work I needed in terms of his smithy’s art.”

“Then proceed to how Enda came by his death. You do not deny it occurred while in your care?”

“He was in my care as fosterer when the death occurred,” agreed Colla.

“I deny that his death occurred through any neglect or any action of mine.”

He paused for a moment, as if summoning his thoughts.

“It was in the morning. My wife was washing clothes while I went to my carpenter’s shop with my two apprentices. We were turning spokes for wheels for a cart. The young children, my daughters, Una and Faife, and my son, Maine, with young Enda, had been allowed an hour of play. My wife, having finished the washing, was going to teach them their letters.” Colla glanced at Fécho. “This was in accordance with our agreement, that Enda would be taught to read and write alongside my own children.”

Fidelma nodded.

“As is customary in such fostering agreements. Continue.”

Colla made a gesture with his shoulder that was not quite a shrug.

“I suppose it was less than an hour later when I heard a shout. My son, Maine, who is nine years of age, came running to me and said there had been an accident in the pool. That Enda had fallen in and drowned.”

“Fallen in?” queried Fidelma sharply. “So the child was not swimming?”

Colla shook his head.

“None of them were.”

“Just describe this pool.”

“It is about one hundred meters from the house. It is hidden by trees but it is a small pool and not at all deep. It is fed by a small spring and it is where my cattle are watered.”

“Can you hazard its dimensions?”

“A circular pool about four meters in diameter. I can wade across it without the waters coming to my chest.”

“What happened next?”

“I went running to the pool, my apprentices were with me, and I saw the child floating face down in the middle of the pool. I waded in and brought him to the bank but he was already dead.”

“Did Maine explain what happened?”

Colla grimaced.

“My son said that he was wandering by the pool when he saw Enda floating there and came to fetch me.”

“Were the other children, your daughters, there?”

He shook his head.

“So Enda was alone when he fell in the water?”

“I asked my children what they knew. They had gone to the woods just beyond the pool. They were going to folacháin-hide and go seek. It seems, according to Faife, that after a while Enda tired of the game and went off on his own. Later, Maine also tired and was returning to the house when he saw Enda. That is all they knew.”

“And then?”

“Then I could do no more than take the body of the young boy in my wagon to his father. What more could I do? I am not responsible for his death. I did not neglect him. It was an accident.”

Fidelma sighed softly.

“Tell me one more thing, Colla. Are there sharp rocks around this pool?”

The wainwright immediately shook his head.

“I told you, my cattle water there. The banks are muddy and slope gently into the pool.”

“And you found Enda in the pool, fully clothed?”

“I did.”

“How do you imagine he came there?”

“How. .? I suppose. .” Colla paused and frowned.

“Did you not consider how he could have fallen into the pool?” pressed Fidelma, “For I see that you are now thinking that it is curious that a child could fall into a pool when it is surrounded by gentle sloping banks on which cattle might safely drink.”

“Maybe he waded in to fetch something, slipped and fell. .”

“Causing the wound on the back of his head?” sneered Tassach from across the courtroom.

“Of course, the boy fell. He was always getting into mischief. The boy was a thief and a liar!”

The woman who had been silent at Colla’s side suddenly rose to her feet as she gave her outburst.

Fidelma met her eye with a stern expression and waited until Brother Corbb had restored some order from the outraged members of Fécho’s family.

“And you are?” she asked coldly.

“I am Dublemna, wife to Colla.”

“What have you to tell us of Enda that is pertinent to this case?”

“Of the death, I know nothing. But let it not be thought of that this Enda was a blameless sweet child.”

Fidelma raised an eyebrow in surprise at her anger.

“You have to explain yourself.”

“We agreed to the fosterage but we found that the child was wayward and undisciplined. My own child Faife revealed to me that the boy was stealing eggs from my own kitchen. Later I discovered that he had been stealing honey from our neighbor’s hives. I told my husband and said that the boy should be returned to Fécho or disciplined severely.”

Fécho was on his feet.

“My boy was not a thief. This is a lie.”

“It was no lie!” returned Dublemna with equal vehemence.

“The reason why I tell it is to show that if ever there was neglect of the child, it was not our neglect. We should have been warned of the child’s behavior by its parents.”

The hubbub of anger and insults now rose between the two families and Brother Corbb had his work cut out to bring them to order again.

“Any further outbursts such as that will require everyone to pay fines to this court,” Fidelma said quietly before turning to Fécho.

“Had the boy ever been in trouble before he went into fosterage? On your word, now. Lies have a habit of catching up with you.”

Fécho shook his head.

“No one will tell you otherwise, Brehon,” he asserted with passion. “He was a good child. Ask anyone in Críonchoill except that woman,” he jerked his head to Colla’s wife.

Fidelma turned to the woman, Dublemna.

“Your child Faife told you that Enda had been stealing eggs? When was this?”

“The day before the boy fell into the pool,” she asserted.

“Were the eggs found?”

“Faife had them. I found her with them. I asked what she was doing with them and she told that it was Enda who had stole them and she had taken them from him. We were going to discipline the boy. A good thrashing would have worked wonders.”

“I am bound to point out,” Fidelma spoke sharply, “that the law of fosterage allows no corporal punishment. Fosterage should be without blemish, so the law says. And as for evidence, all I have heard is accusations and little proof.”

Dublemna’s face was red with anger.

“No proof? Then what of this for proof. .? Later that very same day our neighbor called by to say that during the last few weeks-from the time that Enda came to us as foster child-he had been missing honeycombs from his beehives. He made no accusations but wondered if we had been missing anything. After the boy died, when we were clearing out his things, we found a remnant of a honeycomb in the little box where he kept his personal possessions. Is that proof enough for you?”

Brother Corbb commented dryly.

“Crimes committed by the foster child are the responsibility of the foster father. Technically, if the boy was guilty of these thefts then Colla was facing a fine for the crime. .”

Before Fidelma could rebuke Brother Corbb for ignoring court etiquette, Tassach, the physician, was on his feet, his face showing his excitement.

“I have it! The poor boy was drowned so that Colla would not be held responsible for the theft of the honey from the neighbor’s hives! It was an attempt to hide his responsibility.”

Fidelma raised a hand to stifle the angry murmuring that arose again.

Brother Corbb had to thump the floor with his staff.

“This second warning will be my last to you. The next time everyone here will pay a screpall apiece as a fine for contempt of this court. Let me remind you all of something,” Fidelma said grimly. “This is a court. At the moment, I am giving you maximum latitude in the presentation of evidence. I shall even give latitude when people speak out of turn,” her steely eyes glanced at Brother Corbb, who had the grace to blush. It was unseemly for a steward to comment on law in the presence of a Brehon sitting in judgment. “However, what is law outside this room is also law inside this room. Claims such as the one that you have just made, Tassach, cannot be tolerated unless you are prepared to offer proof. You are not allowed to make accusations without proof.”

The physician was silent but his expression was one of anger.

At her side, Brother Corbb coughed discreetly and leant forward and whispered in her ear.

“Pardon, lady, I am uncertain how you intend to proceed, but so far I have heard no proof that the boy met his end by either neglect or foul play. Should not this matter be addressed?”

Fidelma shot him an irritated glance.

“I know my duty, Brother Corbb. We have not heard all the witnesses yet,” she snapped causing the steward to blink and step back.

She turned back to the court, which had grown expectantly quiet.

“In the circumstances, the court wishes to examine the three last people to see Enda alive. . bring the children Faife, Una and Maine into the court room.”

There was a murmur of surprise. Fidelma felt Brother Corbb take a step forward. She raised her hand to still his protest, but he was not silenced.

“A child under fourteen years of age has neither legal responsibility, nor any right to independent legal action. That means that the children cannot be sworn in as witnesses and given the same weight of authority in their statements as an adult. A fiadu, a witness, has to swear on oath and can only give evidence about what they have seen or heard. What does not take place before a witness’s eyes is invalid. We have heard some supposition in this case about what may or may not have happened. I have to tell you that this is not evidence in the strict sense. However, the law acknowledges that one can accept into judgment indications of guilt other than the direct evidence of an eyewitness, evidence such as the incriminating behavior of the one suspected of the offense.”

Fidelma restrained her anger at his presumption.

“I am well aware of the law in this matter,” she said tightly. “Had you also been qualified to bring a judgment. .” she paused to let her sharp words sink in, “. . then you might know that there is a precedent which gives me the authority to question the three children I have named.”

Brother Corbb flushed and took an involuntary step backwards.

“I was. .”

“I do not know what leeway the Brehon Spélan gives you as his clerk. In my court there is only one judge. Remember that, Brother Corbb.” She then turned to the court. “There is a precedent where a young child’s testimony can be made without oath and can be accepted for consideration. The example given is of a stolen animal believed to have been eaten on the previous night, The child was asked, ‘What did you have to eat last night?’ and his reply was taken into consideration in proving the case against the suspect. I will give the reference to Brother Corbb here to enter it when he makes a record of this procedure. Are the children here?”

“They are,” admitted Colla the wainwright, after some moments of delay.

“Then bring Maine to sit beside me and let me speak with him.”

A young boy, dragging reluctant feet, moved to the platform, and Brother Corbb produced a chair.

Fidelma smiled at the child encouragingly.

“Now, Maine, I understand that you had a shock when you found the body of poor Enda.”

The boy nodded slowly.

“Did you like him?”

Maine looked surprised at the question and then gave it some consideration before responding.

“He was all right,” he said dismissively. “He was my comaltae, my foster brother.”

“Did you like having a foster brother?”

“I have two sisters. It was good to have a comaltae.”

“That’s natural,” agreed Fidelma. “Was Enda liked by everyone in your family. . your sisters, for example?”

“My sisters don’t like boys anyway. That’s why I liked having a comaltae. My father’s apprentices were too old to have time for me. All they cared about was their work and soppy girls in the village when they went to dances. .dances! ” The boy shuddered as he gave expression to the word.

“So only you were friends with Enda.”

“I suppose so. He was two years younger than me.”

“But you liked him?”

“I suppose so.”

“How did your parents treat him? No, don’t look at them, Maine. Look at me,” she added quickly when Colla and his wife started to rise from their seats. She glanced quickly at them and said: “You will both be silent while I am examining witnesses.” She turned back and repeated: “How did your parents treat him?”

Maine shrugged.

“My father didn’t have much to do with us, except when he was teaching us about carpentry and the like. Mother was always moaning about something. I don’t think Enda liked her but that’s just her way.”

“She finds fault with all of you?”

Maine shrugged.

“More with Enda than me or my sisters.”

“Now, when you found the body, I understand that you were all playing together that morning?”

The boy kicked at the floor.

“Because Faife said we should. She’s my eldest sister and. . well, you know what elder sisters are like.”

Fidelma smiled softly.

“Tell me.”

“Bossy. You know.”

“So you all went off to play because Faife told you to? What did you play?”

“Hide and go seek. In the woods. It was boring, ’cos the girls are so easy to find. Enda finally became fed up and said he was going back to the house.”

“But you stayed on?”

“For a while. It was Faife’s turn to hide and it took a long time to find her. This time she hid herself well. Had it not been for the business of Enda, I think our mother would have been very angry with her.”

“Angry? Why?”

“I found her hiding under some bushes where it was wet and muddy. Her dress was in a terrible mess. Mother would have given her a good hiding had it not been. . well, you know.”

“So what did you do then?”

“Faife wanted another game but I was bored, like Enda. I decided to go to look for him.”

“And that is when you found him in the pond?”

The boy nodded quickly.

“When I saw him in the middle of the pond, I ran off to find my father.”

“Two more questions. How far was the pond from where you were playing your game?”

The boy frowned.

“Not very far.”

“Did you know about the theft of the eggs?”

Maine nodded quickly.

“What did Enda say when he was accused of taking the eggs?”

“He said he had not taken the eggs. That it was a story that had been made up by the girls ’cos they didn’t like him. Mother wanted father to wallop him good, but father said he couldn’t but would speak to Enda’s father when he could.”

Fidelma dismissed him and called for Una to come forward.

She was eight years old and nervous.

“Did you like Enda?” Fidelma asked.

“Not much. Boys are rough creatures. I don’t see why we had to have him living with us and he was. .”

Fidelma examined her sharply.

“He was-what?”

“A thief. Mummy said so. Thieves are punished. That’s why he probably drowned in the pool. God probably drowned him. Mummy said so.”

“But Enda denied he was the thief.”

“He would, wouldn’t he? He’s a liar because mummy said so.”

“And you always believe you mother?”

“She’s my mother,” the girl replied with simplicity. Fidelma let her return to her seat.

Faife was eleven years old, solemn, and trying to behave as a grown-up. When Fidelma posed her initially question the girl frowned in thought.

“I did not dislike him.”

“Not even when you discovered that he was a thief?”

The girl sniffed.

“I knew he had done wrong. I told my mother that he had stolen the eggs.”

“Did he admit that he had stolen the eggs?”

“I found him with the eggs. He could not deny it.”

“Why would he steal eggs from the kitchen?”

Faife frowned.

“I don’t understand.”

“He was living with your family and being fed by your family. What need had he of eggs?”

She shrugged as if it was either not important or she did not care.

“I can’t answer for him.”

“What makes you so sure that he did steal the eggs?”

“I said so, didn’t I?” A note of belligerence crept into her voice.

“But how do you know?” pressed Fidelma, not put out by the girl’s tone.

“Because I found him with the eggs.”

“What happened?”

The girl hesitated and then nodded quickly.

“I went to where Enda slept sharing a room with my brother and my dad’s two apprentices.”

“Why?” Fidelma’s voice interrupted sharply.

There was no hesitation.

“I went looking for Enda to come for the daily lesson my mother gave us in how to tell our letters.”

“And?”

“He was on his bed with the eggs. It is my job to go to the hen house and collect the eggs each morning. I had done so that morning and put them in the kitchen. He had stolen them from there.”

“Did you ask him where the eggs came from?”

The little girl chuckled.

“He told me that he found them under his bed. Of course, no one believed him. Anyway, I said that I would take charge of them and return them.”

“Did you do so?”

“I was taking them back to the kitchen when my mother came. Enda had already scuttled off. My mother asked me what I was doing with the eggs and I had to tell the truth, ’cos that’s important, isn’t it?”

Fidelma looked at the earnest expression on Faife’s face and sighed deeply.

“What did your mother say?”

“Mummy said that Enda would be in for a good beating when daddy returned.”

“And was he?”

Faife pouted, almost in disapproval.

“Daddy said he was not allowed to touch Enda. We get hit when we do something wrong, why was it wrong to hit Enda?”

“In what way do you get hit?”

“Mummy usually hits us with a switch across the back of the legs.”

“Go back to your place, Faife,” Fidelma said quietly. She paused for a moment. The law, according to her reading of it, was quite clear and did not only apply to foster children. Corporal punishment was prohibited against a child except for a single smack in anger with the palm of the hand. She wondered if she should make a point of this. She decided to leave it to judgment.

“Is the neighbor whose honey was stolen here?” she demanded, when Faife returned to her seat.

“It was my honey that was stolen.” A man with thin, sallow looks rose from his seat. His dress was of leather-patched woolen trousers, a short sleeve jacket and boots. “My name is Mel, lady. I am a neighbor of Colla and Dublemna.”

“And you keep bees?”

“Don’t worry,” grinned the man. “I know all about the Bechbretha, the law of bees, and I can assure you that I have given the necessary pledges to my four neighbors allowing them to have swarms from my hives to guarantee me immunity from any claim of trespass. However, as Colla had no wish to keep bees, I guaranteed him combs of honey from my hives in fair exchange. So I am aware of the law and I keep the law.”

Fidelma regarded the farmer with a solemn look.

“That is good. We have heard it suggested that you found that honeycombs were being removed from your hives?”

“I can confirm it. I noticed the missing combs a few weeks ago and I went ’round to my neighbors to warn them that there might be a thief about. However, it was only one comb that went missing at a time and that only every few days. It seemed so petty. It was only a few days ago, after the boy-this boy Enda-drowned in the pool, that Dublemna told me that they had found part of a honeycomb in his belongings. Of course, I would not prosecute my neighbors for what the boy had done, even though Colla had taken on this role as aite-foster father.”

Fidelma heaved a long inward sigh as she dismissed the bee-keeper. She sat in thought for a while.

“I am going to adjourn this case for an hour or so,” she suddenly announced. “I want to see where this death occurred so that I might fully understand the situation.”

It took them just under an hour to reach Colla’s homestead. Fécho, Tassach, Niall and Colla, Dublemna and their children as well as Mel accompanied Sister Fidelma and Brother Corbb. The party, at Fidelma’s request, made straight for the pond where Enda had been found. A copse of alder trees obscured it from the homestead. They all halted at a respectable distance while Fidelma went forward to make her examination. It was as Colla had described it. Indeed, it did not take long to realize that with such gently sloping banks, it was beyond question that the boy could have fallen in by accident. She walked around the pond several times, scrutinizing the area in search of rocks, stones or anything else that could have made the wound described by Tassach and Niall.

She turned and waved Maine forward.

“I want you to show me where you were playing that morning,” she told him.

The boy pointed to a section of larger woodland just beyond the copse.

“Exactly where?” she pressed.

The boy led her across to the woodland. It was not spacious between the trees and within a few meters one could be hidden along its paths. Fidelma noticed the ground was fairly hard and stony. There was an outcrop of boulders in one clearing. It was useless looking for the precise stone that came into contact with Enda’s head. Fidelma turned to the boy.

“Just tell me again, Maine, because I would like to be absolutely sure ofthis. . when you were playing here and Enda became bored with the game. He left.”

The boy nodded.

“And you all continued to play until you became bored and went off after him?”

“We did so.”

“Any idea of how long this was?” She did not ask with any hope, knowing that children really had no conception of the same sense of time as adults.

“I think it was a long time. Long enough for Faife to insist we play another game of hide and go seek. And I know that she was a long time being found. That’s when I became fed up. Una thought that Faife had gone home for I was the seeker and I easily found Una. Then we both sought for Faife.”

“But you found her eventually, under a bush?”

“We did.”

“Near here?”

“She was under that big bush there,” he pointed.

Fidelma moved forward and glanced quickly at it.

Maine led the way back to where the others were still waiting by the pool. There was little else to be seen that would help her. Fidelma examined their expectant faces.

“I will reserve my judgment in this matter. You will have my judgment on the seventh day from now.”

She hurried away so as not to see the crestfallen, puzzled expressions.

Three days later she was sitting in front of a fire in Brehon Spélan’s chambers. The old judge was seated on the opposite side of the fire to her, sipping mulled wine. Fidelma had just finished recounting the extent of the case to him.

“I see your difficulty, Fidelma,” the old judged sighed. “It is not often that it seems obvious what happened but there is insufficient evidence to pronounce the guilt of the person.”

“This is, indeed, a sad case,” she agreed. “Poor little Enda was placed in an environment that was hostile to him and that very hostility led to his murder. Indeed, not death by neglect, but murder. Colla tolerated him simply as a business transaction so that he would get all his smithy work done by Fécho. Colla’s wife Dublemna hated the boy. I think she is a bad woman who is not averse to physically punishing her children. .”

“Even though corporal punishment is against the law?” interposed Spélan.

“Even so,” agreed Fidelma. “That much Faife made clear. And only Colla seems to have prevented harm coming to Enda because he had obviously been told the law of fosterage when he made the contract.”

“So, from what you say, only little Maine welcomed Enda and in him did the child find any sense of companionship?” queried Spélan.

“That is so. But Dublemna was a vindictive and cruel foster mother as well as mother.”

“So you think it was she who actually killed Enda in some rage against the boy?” the old judged was frowning.

Fidelma shook her head.

“Enda left his game of hide and go seek that morning and walked back to the homestead. At the pond he was hit over the head by someone wielding a stone and then pushed into the pond. Maine found him and then ran to fetch help. .”

“But who did it?”

“Dublemna’s influence was strongest on her daughters. Both of them took their cue of hatred for Enda from her. I suspect they were both hated by their mother and sought to please her. One of them, in fact, went out of her way to please the mother. That was Faife.”

“But why?” Spélan was astonished. “Why would this child resort to murder?”

“The logic of a child is not the same as that of an adult. I think that Faife, overhearing her mother’s anger at her husband for having brought the child into fosterage with them, and her dislike of the child, thought it would please her mother if the child was punished-especially when her father refused to punish the boy.”

“It is strange thinking but I have heard similar tales of children trying to appease parents by doing things they think will please them.”

“In fact, I believe that Faife even decided to provide some ammunition for her mother to justify her dislike. She was the one taking the honey. She stole the eggs and planted them under the bed and then came to accuse Enda.”

“But what happened at the pond?”

“I believe that when they were playing hide and go seek, Faife decided-having overheard the conversation between her mother and father-to physically hurt Enda as her mother wanted. Enda had left the game. The next game began-we heard from Maine that it took a long time to find Faife. In the time she was supposed to be hiding-when Maine and Una were trying to find her-she went after Enda, found a stone, and hit him on the back of the head. We may never know if her intention was to kill him. When she discovered he was dead she pushed his body in the pond. That’s how she muddied and soaked her dress. She tried to disguise it by pretending she was hiding under a bush. But the bush grew in stony, dry ground. It would not have been soaked or muddied, merely dirtied.”

Brehon Spélan whistled softly.

“But we cannot prove that Faife killed the boy. You are Brehon enough to know that your reconstruction would not stand up as proof in court.”

Fidelma sighed deeply.

“I know. That is the sad thing. There is no redress in law for Fécho unless he is persuaded to change his claim back to death by neglect. They have a good chance of being compensated by Colla paying half the dire, or honor price. Enda was over the age of seven, so after that age, the child’s honor price becomes half that of his father. Under law we can do no more. I can also fine Dublemna for hitting her own children as an infraction of the law but I don’t think I will make her see that her hatred of Enda, indeed, her dislike even of her own children, led to this tragedy. Colla and Dublemna will stop up their ears. The next recommendation is, that due to the fines, they be refused any position as fosterers in the future.”

Brehon Spélan shook his head sadly.

“This is one of those times when justice and law are not the same thing, Fidelma. I am sure that we will be able to get Fécho to accept that he press for the lesser charge. I agree about Colla and Dublemna. But what about Faife? What is to stop her the next time she feels like using violence as a solution? I know that you are fond of quoting Publilius Syrus, Fidelma. Didn’t he say that the judge is condemned when the guilty one goes free?”

“He did. But then we are here to interpret and maintain the law, for whenever the rule of law ends rule by tyranny begins. At least we have our great féis every three years at which we can argue, with others, and attempt to change the laws that are wrong and expand those that need such amendment. But here and now it is not the law which is wrong but lack of evidence.”

“Perhaps sometimes circumstantial evidence should be taken into judgment when it is very strong. . such as when you find an overturned and empty pail of milk and a cat sleeping beside it. It is clearly the cat that is guilty.”

Fidelma smiled mischievously.

“Yet a good lawyer might argue that perhaps a dog happened by, overturned the pail, emptied the milk, which evaporated and afterwards a cat came along and merely went to sleep beside it. Who can with certainty say that the cat was the guilty party?”