Whispers of the Dead by Peter Tremayne

appointed to the most important legal positions. She turned slightly to face him.
    Firbis’s tone was high-pitched and querulous and he had a habit of sniffing every so often as if in disapproval.
    “Pay attention and do not make any notes. I do not approve of the writing of notes as a means to aid the memory. In the old days, before the coming of the New Faith, the writing of our wealth of knowledge was not allowed. The old religion forbade us to commit our teachings to writing and it is a good rule for pupils who rely on the written word and neglect to train their memories. When pupils have the help of notes, they are less diligent in learning by heart and so their memories rust. Is that not so, young woman?”
    The abruptness of the question startled Fidelma for a moment.
    “It is an argument that I have heard,
Druimcli,
” she acknowledged, solemnly.
    The corners of Firbis’s mouth turned down.
    “But you do not agree?” He spoke sharply, his eyes perceptive.
    “Our ancestors failed to record many essential matters before the coming of the New Faith and the result is that much has been lost to posterity. Philosophy, religion, history, poetry… these things went unrecorded. Because of this refusal to set forth all knowledge in writing, have we not lost much that would be most valuable to our civilization?”
    Firbis stared at her in disapproval and sniffed.
    “I suppose that you are one of the young generation who applauds the work of those scribes in the foundations of the New Faith who spend their time setting forth such matters in the new Latin alphabet?”
    Fidelma inclined her head.
    “Of course. How will future generations know the poetry, the law, the ancient stories and the course of our history unless it is set forth? I would only make this criticism, that such scribes feel constrainedto dress many of the ancient stories of the old gods and goddesses in the images of the New Faith.” Fidelma suddenly felt herself warming to the theme. “Why, I have even seen one text in which the scribe tells how the hero Cú Chulainn is conjured out of Hell by the Blessed Patrick to help him convert the High King Laoghaire to the New Faith and when Laoghaire becomes a Christian Cú Chulainn is released from Hell to go to Heaven.”
    Brehon Morann leant forward.
    “You disapprove?”
    Fidelma nodded.
    “We are told, in the New Faith, that God is good, loving and forgiving. Cú Chulainn was a great champion whose life was devoted to aiding the weak against the strong. He would surely not have been consigned to Hell by such a God and…”
    Firbis cleared his throat noisily.
    “You seem to have radical ideas, young woman. But in reply to your question, future generations should learn by adhering to the old ways, learning by heart, passing on the knowledge one voice to another voice down the ages. Our tradition is that knowledge must be passed on and preserved in oral tradition so that outsiders do not steal it from us.”
    “It cannot be. The old ways are gone. We must progress. But, hopefully, not by distorting the images of our past.”
    Brehon Morann interrupted impatiently.
    “You say, we must progress. Agreed. Progress in the matter we are dealing with today,” he said heavily. “The day grows short and there are other students to be tested before sundown.”
    Inwardly, Fidelma groaned. She had obviously alienated
Druimcli
Firbis by her attitude and annoyed Brehon Morann by her lateness and her inability to keep her views to herself.
    Firbis sniffed rapidly.
    “Very well. Pay attention. I will not repeat myself and, whatever happens outside these walls, I will tolerate no writing of notes.”
    He stared sharply in challenge at her but she did not demur.
    After a moment’s silence, he began.
    “This case involved a Brehon. We will not name him. A case came before him in which he found a woman not guilty of theft. Let us call the woman Sochla.”
    He paused as if he expected a challenge to his opening