Laws in Conflict (7 page)

‘Your son would enjoy it, though,’ said Mara with a smile.

‘Oh, I would not burden him with his old mother these days,’ said Margaret with a fond smile. ‘He and Catarina will be together.’

‘Why don’t you come with us?’ said Mara impulsively, and then looked across at Lawyer Bodkin. ‘My scholars would enjoy these Shrove celebrations. Would we disgrace you if we went?’

‘Of course not, I would be delighted to escort you,’ he said, and to her surprise he looked quite animated by the thought. ‘I haven’t gone for the last few years because Jane has taken a dislike to the crowds but you need fear nothing for your young scholars. The behaviour is usually very good and the mayor –’ he looked across at James Lynch – ‘always ensures that all available constables are on duty. I will escort you ladies if necessary, but I do assure you, my lady judge, that there is nothing to fear and Mistress Margaret and you would be perfectly safe together.’

‘Well, let’s just go together then,’ said Mara, turning back to Margaret. ‘I will enjoy your company and we can gossip about our sons, and you will show me all the sights of Galway.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Margaret appreciatively. ‘Last year I was to go with Valentine and Cecily, but she gave birth to their son two weeks too early and so was laid up for Shrove Tuesday. Of course, Valentine has his daughters by his first marriage,’ she looked down the table at Eliza – she’s married to one of the D’Arcy family – he’s away at the moment – but you can imagine what it was for him having a son! He just worships that child.’ She raised her voice, looking teasingly down the table at her brother. ‘Valentine, are we going to see little Jonathon? I can’t believe that we are almost at the end of a meal at Blake’s Castle and the young prince has not yet been displayed to your guests.’

There was no doubt that Margaret and James Lynch were an ill-assorted pair, thought Mara, after she had duly admired the strong, handsome one-year-old child, who arrived so quickly in the dining room that his nurse must have been awaiting the summons. Margaret continually tried to repress her exuberant friendliness and high spirits when she saw her husband’s cold eye on her, and young Walter cast frequent guilty looks down the table at his father – especially whenever Catarina’s attention was taken up by her wealthy cousin, Carlos Gomez.

It would be a great blow to James Lynch and his prestige in Galway city if this match between the heiress, Catarina Browne, and his only son were to fail. He was not a man to dismiss the matter with a tolerant shrug and Mara found herself feeling rather sorry for Walter. Judging by the looks exchanged between Carlos and Catarina, she reckoned that the poor boy was not only going to be disappointed in love but was going to be blamed by his father for his failure.

However, all of this was none of her business and she turned back to James Lynch and treated him to a learned lecture on the writings of the ancient Greeks on the finer legal points of ‘laws in conflict’. This took his attention and he surveyed her with interest. She guessed that his own education had not included any knowledge of ancient civilizations – it was interesting how passionate he was about offering the opportunity for education to the sons of the citizens of Galway – in any case, Mara was someone who loved to impart information.

It was ironic, thought Mara, that she was giving a lecture on Roman law to a man who was trusted by the city of Galway to judge cases in that law. He was totally ignorant of anything other than his own privileges and prejudices, she thought, feeling deeply shocked that such a man would hold the power of life and death over his fellow citizens, but not allowing her feelings to show on her face. From time to time she appealed to Henry Bodkin and he did not fail her, deferring to her superior knowledge and flattering her. He was amused, she thought, and wondered how much a clever, learned man like he had suffered by being placed lower in the court than a completely unqualified magistrate, like James Lynch.

‘Of course,’ she said, lightly, ‘when it comes to laws in conflict, the Romans had gone into this matter with even greater thoroughness and had laid down the important principle that all court matters should be easily understandable to the defendant as well as to the plaintiff and officials of the court. I understand,’ she concluded, ‘that the law here in Galway is known as the law of the king and of the emperor, so Roman law is probably very important to you. Lawyer Bodkin was telling me that the court trial of a man speaking only Gaelic will take place tomorrow; now Roman law would give him, as a stranger—’

‘But this man Sheedy had no right to be in our city – no one gave him permission to enter,’ James Lynch interrupted. The mayor, she thought, was beginning to sound rather defensive. Most of the table was listening now. Walter Lynch had given up trying to talk to Catarina Browne and was eyeing her with an expression of awe and apprehension. Philip Browne was looking maliciously pleased. He had been overruled peremptorily about this projected grammar school and seemed delighted that the mayor was getting the worst of the argument. Valentine Blake exchanged a quick grin and wink with his sister Margaret as Mara waved aside the last point.

‘I think that it was the Italians who said that a shipwrecked sailor had to be afforded all possible aid if the language of the court was not his own language. In fact,’ she said with conviction, ‘now that I come to think of it, that may be how this man arrived in your city. He may well have been lost overboard from a ship and washed into the shore by dead of night, and crept through the city gate more dead than alive,’ she finished, rather pleased with the picture that she created. ‘And thus his arrival in Galway city could be said to be by
force majeure
– or, as we would put it, by an act of God, and God, as we are taught to believe, is merciful.’

‘I don’t pretend to be able to interpret God’s instructions; I just listen to the evidence and pass sentence,’ said James Lynch in a tone of voice which said that this was going to be his last word. ‘And now,’ he looked across at Valentine Blake, ‘perhaps we could have the next course. I don’t wish to be out late tonight. Tomorrow will be a very busy day for me.’

Mara eyed the implacable face across the table from her and felt a measure of despair for a life depending on any mercy that might be forthcoming from James Lynch.

At the time of this conquest the Irish were governed by what they called the Brehon law, so stiled from the Irish name of judges, who were denominated Brehons. But King John in the twelfth year of his reign went into Ireland, and carried over with him many able sages of the law; and there by his letters patent, in right of the dominion of conquest, is said to have ordained and established that Ireland should be governed by the laws of England:

But to this ordinance many of the Irish were averse to conform, and still stuck to their Brehon law: so that both Henry the third and Edward the first were obliged to renew the injunction; and at length in a parliament holden at Kilkenny, 40 Edw. III, under Lionel Duke of Clarence, the then lieutenant of Ireland, the Brehon law was formally abolished, it being unanimously declared to be indeed no law, but a lewd custom crept in of later times.

‘A
s far as I can tell, under the English law system, the defendant gets a chance to make a statement before the jury – a matter of twelve men from the town selected to listen to the proceedings – to say whether the culprit is guilty or not.’ Mara was giving her scholars a rapid lesson in English law as they stood huddled against the stone-built customs house beside the port of Galway. The icy wind sweeping in from the inlet from the sea ensured that they had complete privacy at this spot and she had something important to say to them. She had refused the rather reluctant offer of Lawyer Bodkin to accompany them this morning and had told him placidly that they would sit in the spectators’ gallery.

‘That’s odd – twelve men who are not lawyers,’ said Fachtnan with surprise.

‘The lawyer explains the law to the mayor or sovereign and he explains the position to the jury,’ said Mara. She frowned slightly. ‘In a way,’ she said reluctantly, ‘I suppose it should be good, an ordinary man’s point of view, but—’

‘But these ordinary men are probably all too scared to go against someone important like the mayor – he seems to be a sort of king here, doesn’t he? It wouldn’t work on the Burren, anyway. Everyone would want to know what you thought before trusting their own opinion – not that they would be scared or anything . . .’ interrupted Moylan, his sharp eyes sparkling.

Mara laughed. ‘I think you are probably right,’ she said, but then quickly grew serious again. ‘Poor old Sheedy! I think that there is no chance that I can speak for him. My qualifications as a lawyer will not be accepted by the court. The only possibility for us is to rely on this speech that the defendant is allowed to make before he is finally found guilty or not guilty. I propose to offer you, Hugh, as a translator.’

‘Me, why me?’ Hugh turned red with embarrassment and astonishment.

‘You are well liked here in Galway,’ said Mara diplomatically. She had chosen Hugh as his English was the least proficient of all her scholars and whenever he stumbled she could interfere and make explanations. She guessed from what Fachtnan said that Sheedy was even more insane than when she had pronounced him to be a
dásachtach
and outside the reach of the law so far as any wrongdoing was concerned. Brehon law was most clear and explicit on this point, even going so far as to make it an offence for any sane person to incite a
dásachtach
into committing an offence and saying that ‘the rights of the insane take precedence over other rights’.

The courthouse in Galway city had a queue in front of it when they arrived. This afternoon and tomorrow would be a holiday and it looked as if the townspeople had already begun their Shrove celebrations. A noisy crowd of young boys whose badges declared them to belong to the guild of tanners were wrestling with each other in the queue. Mara gave a long look at them and regretted declining Lawyer Bodkin’s offer to escort them. She had no desire to seat herself and her scholars among this unruly mob.

However, at that moment they were approached by a steward who bowed respectfully and said the mayor had observed them from his room and wished to offer them accommodation in the courtroom if they were minded to watch the trial.

And thus they were ushered into an empty courtroom, and shown a bench where the scholars could sit. The steward carried over a heavy oaken chair ornately upholstered in brocade for Mara. She took her seat, spread her skirts and smiled her thanks to the steward, dispatching a polite message of thanks to the mayor.

‘Lawyer Bodkin sent a message to the court this morning,’ he said chattily. ‘He told me that you were a lady lawyer and that you were a guest of his and that your lads –’ his eyes slid over Fiona, blinked, and then he hastily corrected himself – ‘your pupils would benefit from seeing a trial conducted in . . . I mean . . . conducted in our manner.’

‘Yes, indeed, it should be most beneficial to them. The judge sits there, does he?’ Mara indicated an elaborate chair sumptuously upholstered in red velvet. ‘You have a lawyer for a judge, I presume,’ she added, as he seemed surprised by her words. She was interested to hear what his reactions would be to that statement.

‘No!’ He seemed quite appalled at that. ‘That chair is for his worship, Mayor Lynch; these two chairs are for Bailiff Blake and Bailiff Skerrett – the mayor is the judge and he sits there, and the jury sit over on that bench to the side so that they are near to the judge and he can tell them what to make of the evidence.’

‘And the prisoner?’ asked Mara.

‘Over there.’ He indicated a tall, box-like enclosure. ‘Of course, when they are really vicious, like some of those wild O’Flahertys, then they are brought into the court in cages.’

‘In cages!’ exclaimed Shane.

‘That’s right.’ The steward smiled kindly at the boy. ‘You’d have liked to see that, wouldn’t you? But this man that is being tried today is just a poor old fellow. The case will be over in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.’

And then he was off, promising to bring back a hot brick for the lady’s feet.

‘Brehon, what am I going to do if what Sheedy says doesn’t make sense? What am I going to say
?
’ Hugh was working himself up into a state. His freckled face alternatively flushed a bright pink and then paled. He ran his fingers through the copper curls which had taken the fancy of Jane Bodkin. The other scholars looked at him with commiseration.

‘I’ll do it if you like,’ offered Fiona.

‘No,’ said Mara decidedly. ‘You speak English with a Scottish accent and Shane speaks it with a northern accent. I taught Hugh and he speaks in a way that will be understood by all in the court.’ And if this left Fachtnan, Moylan and Aidan, all of whom had been taught English by her, to be quite unaccounted for, well, no one, she hoped, would be brave enough to point out that fact. Hugh had brought up a good point, though, and she was glad of a few minutes’ privacy in the unoccupied courtroom to answer it.

‘All I want you to do, Hugh, is faithfully and conscientiously to translate each word that Sheedy says into English – even if it doesn’t make sense. If you are unsure – just repeat the word and look across at me for help.’

Moylan’s eyes sparkled with intelligence at those last words, and he and Fiona glanced at each other mischievously.

‘What the Brehon means, Hugh,’ intervened Fachtnan hastily, ‘is that she can trust you just to give Sheedy’s words. If it was Moylan, well, he’d have to make things sound better. You know the way he is always saying “let me rephrase this” when someone says something at law school, and then if it was Aidan, he couldn’t resist the temptation to make a joke.’ Fachtnan gave a humorous glance at the two older boys and they both grinned.

Mara found herself, not for the first time, thinking what a very good Brehon Fachtnan, with his talent for diplomacy, would make if he were able to pass his final examination. A law like Brehon law which had no gaols, no hangings, no whippings, had to be administered purely by the consensus of the people of the kingdom. Tact, diplomacy and an understanding of human nature were essential qualities for any candidate for the post. Every one of the numerous small kingdoms in Gaelic Ireland had to have its Brehon; eventually Fachtnan would find a post, but in the meantime he had a lot of studying, not easy for him, to go through.