Hemlock At Vespers Read Online Free PDF Page A

confirmation and he nodded.
    “How long have you been a herb gatherer, Rimid?” Fidelma suddenly asked.
    “Since I was a boy,” the man replied, hestitating slightly at her abrupt turn of tack.
    “Did you, or Hand the herbalist, supply herbs to Brother Fergal?”
    “I did not, but I knew that Hand did. I gather herbs for Hand. Fergal suffered from want of breath and took herbs for the condition.”
    “Was that well known?”
    “Many knew,” replied Rimid.
    “Barrdub knew?”
    “Yes. She mentioned it to me once when we were at religious service.”
    “Congal? Did he know?”
    Rimid shrugged. “Many knew. I do not know who specifically did or who did not.”
    Fidelma paused and then smiled.
    “I am finished.” She turned to the Brehon. “I am now prepared to plead before the court tomorrow.”

    Most of the clan of the Eóghanacht of Cashel were assembled in the great hall of the chieftain. The chieftain, Eóghan himself, sat on the right-hand side of the Brehon, who would sit in judgment. It was law and courtesy to consult with the chieftain of the clan when judgment was made.
    Brother Fergal stood before the Brehon and the chieftain, a thickset and muscular clansman at his shoulder, with sword and shield, to keep order. Fergal was placed before a small waist-high wooden bar which was known as the cos-na-dála, the foot of the court, from which all accused before the Dál, or court, had to plead.
    To the right of this was a small platform which had been erected for the prosecution’s advocate or dálaigh; a thin, sharp-faced man. To the left, on a similar platform, sat Sister Fidelma, hands demurely folded in her lap, yet her clear green eyes missing nothing. The witnesses had been summoned and the Dál was crowded with the men and women of the clan, for never in the memory of the village had a member of the religieux been charged with the heinous crime of murder.
    The Brehon, calling for silence, asked Brother Fergal if he accepted Sister Fidelma as his advocate for it was, according to ancient law, Fergal’s right to conduct his own defense. Brother Fergal shook his head and indicated that Sister Fidelma would speak for him.
    The prosecution then delivered his case in the manner which the Brehon had already advised Sister Fidelma.
    There was a murmur of expectation as Sister Fidelma finally rose to address the Brehon.
    “Brother Fergal is innocent of this crime,” she began in a loud compelling tone.
    There was silence among the people.
    “Do you dispute the evidence?” asked the Brehon, smiling slightly now. “Remember, I went with Congal and discovered Barrdub’s body lying in Brother Fergal’s bothán with Fergal asleep on his bed. I saw the blood on his clothes.”
    “I do not dispute that,” Fidelma assured him. “But that in itself is no proof of the act of murder. The events as the prosecution describes them are not in contention, only the manner of their interpretation.”
    Rimid let out an angry protest from the well of the court.
    “Fergal is a murderer! She only seeks to protect one of her own!”
    The Brehon gestured him to silence.
    “Continue with your defense, Sister Fidelma.”
    “Brother Fergal suffers from asthma. He is known to take herbal remedies to relieve his condition. This was known to several people. That night he returned to his bothán exhausted. He usually lit a fire of stramóiniam leaves and inhaled them before bed. But sometimes, when he was too exhausted, took a drink of an infusion of similar herbs.”
    Brother Fergal was staring at her.
    “Fergal, did you inhale or drink the herbs that night?”
    “I was too tired to sit up and prepare the inhalation. I always kept a kettle with an infusion of herbs ready. So I merely heated and drank a measure.”
    “And you knew no more until the morning?”
    “Nothing until I was awakened by the Brehon and Congal,” agreed the monk.
    “You slept soundly. Is that usual?”
    Brother Fergal hesitated, frowning as if he