Laws in Conflict (8 page)

‘And Fiona would not be able to resist flirting with the judge,’ said Moylan, entering into Fachtnan’s intentions with his usual ready wit.

‘Perhaps he likes young boys better,’ said Fiona wickedly with a sidelong glance at Mara, and smiling teasingly at Hugh.

Luckily at this moment the steward came back carrying two hot bricks. One he tucked under Mara’s feet and the other was placed beneath the silken tasselled cushion that lay on the floor before the mayor’s feet. None were brought for the bailiffs or for the lawyers

‘I’m going to open the doors now as soon as the constables come in. There’s a lot of riff-raff around. The apprentices have the day off and the shop boys have been given a few hours off as they will be on their feet until midnight with the Shrove Tuesday celebrations. Don’t you take any notice of them, my lady judge – anything I can get you before I go? Glass of wine? The mayor is just taking one now and it’s very good wine – not Spanish or Portuguese wine, good French stuff – all the way from Burgundy.’

Mara regretfully declined the wine, though she was pleased to hear that James Lynch was even now sipping his burgundy. It should make him more good-humoured, she thought as she watched the crowd pour into the onlookers’ gallery above her head. She didn’t recognize any of them. Young Walter obviously had no interest in seeing his father at work, or perhaps a boy who pitied and cared for an abused kitten would dislike to see a sentence handed down to a man whose only crimes were hunger and a lack of wits.

‘All rise!’ bellowed the steward, and suddenly the noise in the gallery ceased as they all rose to their feet. A small procession came from behind a velvet curtain and took their places on the stage.

James Lynch looked much the same as he had last night – the wine seemed not to have taken any more effect on him than had his abstemious consumption in his brother-in-law’s house. His grey eyes were cold and his thin mouth was hard as he took his seat and placed his feet on the warmth of the silken cushion.

His cousin, Thomas Lynch, the senior lawyer in the city, was a much smaller man, small and very thin, also older. A man on the verge of retirement, she thought, and hoped that this might provide Lawyer Bodkin an opportunity for advancement. He sat down on his less prestigious chair and then the two bailiffs took their place. Valentine Blake looked much the same as he looked last night, a pleasant cordial fellow. He bowed and smiled towards Mara and her scholars. He was a man with a smile for everyone, she noticed, even including the crowd in the gallery who responded with a few excited whispers.

‘Bring in the prisoner,’ barked Thomas Lynch, and Mara thought how different everything was to her open-air court in the Burren where proceedings always started with a greeting from her to the assembled people.

Poor Sheedy was dragged in by two of his gaolers. He looked tiny, hunched and bent – almost like a captured spider. Once the door to the prisoner’s dock was bolted from the outside his arms were released. Instantly he covered his eyes with them and cowered away into the corner of the box. The warders forced him forward again and held him facing the lawyer, though they allowed his arms to stay covering his face. Thomas Lynch eyed him with contempt, but his worship the mayor just stared ahead in a bored fashion.

‘Who speaks for the sovereignty of Galway?’ roared the steward, and a lawyer in a gown came forward and bowed to his senior.

‘I do, My Lord,’ he said.

The mayor turned his eyes on him, ‘Call your first witness, Lawyer Joyce,’ he said.

So this was William Joyce, inhabitant of the chambers above Lawyer Bodkin.

‘Call Grocer Joyce,’ called the steward loudly.

‘Another Joyce!’ whispered Moylan.

The steward bawled out the name and a large, pleasant-looking man came from behind the curtain, bowed to the mayor first and then the judge and took his place in the witness stand. He kissed the book held out to him by the steward of the court and muttered some words after him.

‘What’s that for?’ whispered Fiona in Mara’s ear.

‘Kisses the Bible and swears to tell the truth.’ Mara wondered whether it would be a good idea to introduce something like that into Brehon courts but then decided against it. Kissing the Bible and swearing to tell the truth would probably have little significance for a man or woman who had good reason to lie and would be unnecessary for those who wanted to tell the truth in the first place. This was a city where religion and the church were of great importance, she mused. It was interesting that their laws were so savage and inhumane. Rome, she knew, criticized the slackness of the church in Gaelic Ireland, where many of the priests married and had children – had sons that inherited their fathers’ position in the church. The present bishop of Killaloe in the kingdom of Thomond was the son of the previous bishop and he had several children, all of whom had made good marriages due to their father’s position. The bishop of Galway, or warden as he was known, was a much-feared man, appointed by Pope Julius II, nicknamed ‘the fearsome pope’. The clergy of St Nicholas were to be ‘learned, virtuous and well-bred, and were to observe the English rite and custom in the Divine Service’, according to Pope Julius.

Grocer Joyce gave his evidence clearly – an honest man, if not a compassionate one. He saw Sheedy come into the shop, watched him walk over to the table, seize the pie and go out with it. When he got to the door Sheedy was already running away with the pie in his hand and he shouted to a constable to run after him.

‘What was the value of the stolen article?’ asked Lawyer Joyce in the tone of one who knows the answer already.

‘One shilling and sixpence, and good value, too,’ replied the grocer with a decided nod. Did the man know that these words were condemning a fellow creature to a terrible death? wondered Mara. The answer had to be yes.

‘Do you see the man who stole the pie in this court?’ asked Lawyer Lynch, intervening with the impatient air of one who wants the trial to end as soon as possible.

‘I do, My Lord.’ Grocer Joyce, a man of few words, pointed out Sheedy, still cowering away from the light from the large thick candles.

And then two shop apprentices gave their evidence and also the wife of the shopkeeper across the road. The jury nodded to each other and exchanged smiles with her. Probably they were all shopkeepers, thought Mara.

Lawyer Lynch then summed up the case from the evidence gathered by his junior. The prisoner had stolen a pie worth more than one shilling as had been attested by witnesses of good character. There was little else to say so he sat down, still looking rather bored.

And then the moment came. The mayor addressed the prisoner. ‘Your name is Sheedy O’Connor?’ He said the words in tones so loudly that they echoed off the tall ceiling and startled Sheedy into raising his head.

For a moment something which appeared to be normality seemed to come into the old man’s eyes and then they dulled again. He dropped his head back down on to his arms which were now propped up by the bar of the prisoner’s dock. The mayor carried on without a second glance.

‘Sheedy O’Connor, you have been accused of the crime of stealing a pie worth one shilling and sixpence. Have you anything to say before sentence is passed?’

Sheedy said nothing and did not lift his head. The mayor nodded at the warder in an irritated way.

‘Answer his honour!’ Sheedy got a vicious dig in the ribs which made him look up again.

‘I’m hungry,’ he said in Gaelic.

‘Nothing to say, your honour,’ said the gaoler promptly, and the mayor fumbled in a box that lay on a small table beside him.

That was enough for Mara. She got to her feet instantly. ‘My Lord,’ she said in a loud clear voice, ‘allow me to help to translate. Your prisoner merely said that he was hungry.’ Without giving him time to answer she beckoned to Hugh and swept down to the front of the court with him. Purposefully she had spoken in Latin. If Lawyer Lynch, like Lawyer Bodkin, had qualified in one of the Inns of Chancery, he would have been trained in that language. He appeared to understand, but the mayor stared at her in puzzlement and leaned back to confer with Lawyer Joyce. The two bailiffs leaned over to listen in. Valentine Blake, she noticed, had a broad grin on his face. Mara did not look at them, but turned an earnest glance on Lawyer Lynch.

‘Although a lawyer myself,’ she said still speaking in fluent Latin, ‘I do realize that I am not qualified to take part in this trial but if you will accept the services of this young boy then he will do his best to interpret for the prisoner, who, I suggest, has no knowledge of English.’

She placed the blushing Hugh at a distance from Sheedy so that he could not be accused of conferring with the prisoner and then returned rapidly to her place.

There was some low-murmured muttering going on between the dignitaries of the court. She thought that Valentine Blake appeared to be trying to persuade the others, making large, open-handed gestures and smiling. She felt a rush of gratitude towards him. It was kind of him to be concerned about a poor old man like Sheedy. The others turned and stared at Hugh who looked, with his small, slim figure, to be even younger than his fourteen years and who was blessed with an amiable, open-faced charm. After a minute the mayor said in English, loudly and clearly, ‘The services of the young translator are accepted.’

‘Perhaps the question might be repeated to the prisoner,’ suggested Valentine Blake. The mayor gave his brother-in-law an angry look, but said nothing. Valentine Blake nodded in a kind way to Hugh and Mara nodded as well.

‘Sheedy, have you got anything to say about taking that pie from the shop?’ asked Hugh in Gaelic. The boy’s voice shook, but that would do no harm. ‘I asked him if he had anything to say about stealing the pie,’ he said to the mayor timidly.

At the familiar sound of the Gaelic, Sheedy raised his head.

‘Hungry,’ he wailed and Hugh translated.

Now all eyes were on Sheedy and he responded by looking around the big room in a confused manner.

‘I am the king, the king, the king,’ he said in a sing-song voice, looking across at Hugh and nodding his head as Hugh turned the Gaelic words into English.

Then came a flood of broken phrases. The word ‘hungry’ recurred again and again. Hugh had to struggle to keep up. His face was flushed scarlet and his eyes were large with apprehension, but he kept drawing out the English words to the best of his ability. Mara had thought that she would have to intervene, but was happy to see that there was no need to do so. Neither the lawyers, nor the mayor had liked her fluent Latin, she surmised. Best leave it to Hugh who was shining with earnestness and with perspiration.

‘Me a king; me hungry; me fox,’ muttered Sheedy continuously.

Hugh translated, adding timidly, ‘In our law a hungry fox, that is a hungry man, must be fed, your worship.’ Mara’s eyes shone with pride in him, one of her least able boys. She swore inwardly that, by hook or by crook, this gentle, diffident boy should be got through his examinations.

Then Sheedy began to scream, ‘Water, me choking, drown him, drown him.’

‘He’s mad,’ shouted a brave apprentice from the gallery. There was a chorus of laughter after that and Sheedy stopped screaming and smiled gently up at the gallery. ‘Me king, me king of Galway,’ he said proudly, and this time he waited for the translation before going back with the monotone mutterings about hungry foxes.

And then, quite suddenly, he stopped. He put his head down on his arms again and it almost seemed as though he had fallen into a sleep.

‘Have you finished?’ enquired the mayor. The warder kicked Sheedy and Hugh repeated the words, but Sheedy said no more.

‘He’s mad,’ repeated the voice from the gallery.

‘The court will be cleared if there are any more comments,’ said the mayor. He paused and then said solemnly, ‘I will now sum up.

Members of the jury, I advise that you pay very good heed to my words.’

He then went on to say that the crime was clearly committed by the defendant – the evidence was overwhelming. It had been witnessed by three people of good character; it had not been denied by the defendant, ‘In fact he had the pie in his possession when he was overtaken by the constable.’ Mara listened to him with growing apprehension.

He paused then and directed a sharp glance at the gallery. ‘No medical evidence has been presented to the court about the defendant’s state of mind. We have provided him with a translator, rather unusually in a city where no one, who does not speak English, has a right to be present, unless they are in the service of someone who will speak for them. We have listened carefully to what he has had to say and I am sure that the young translator rendered his words faithfully. I can find no denial, no new evidence in the prisoner’s words. So, members of the jury, the decision is now yours. Do you wish to retire?’

There was a short whispered conversation between them and then the foreman spoke up. ‘No, your worship,’ he said.

Mara’s heart beat fast. Was that a good sign or not?

‘And have you all agreed your verdict?’

‘Yes, your worship.’ Fiona’s hands were clenched and Hugh had gone very white. Mara signalled to him to return to his place beside her.

‘We find the defendant guilty of stealing a pie to the worth of one shilling and sixpence,’ said the leader of the jurymen. He hesitated, and looked at his fellow jurors. ‘But we would . . .’ he said and then stopped. The chief lawyer impatiently gestured to him and he sat down abruptly. The judge received his words impassively. He turned and began, once more, to root around in the box on the table beside him. This time he found what he was looking for and donned a black cap.

‘Sheedy O’Connor,’ he said. ‘You have broken the law of this city state of Galway and have stolen goods to the value of more than one shilling. I therefore recommend that you be hung by the neck until you are dead.’

There was a dead silence in the court. Even the rowdy apprentices and the shop boys celebrating the beginning of the festival were silent. All eyes were fixed on Sheedy who lifted his head once more and then gave a friendly, childlike wave to Hugh.