Free Laws in Conflict by Cora Harrison

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.
    ‘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