Free Laws in Conflict by Cora Harrison Page B

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