Free Laws in Conflict by Cora Harrison Page A

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