Eye of the Law Page 15

  ‘So Fachtnan and Hugh, I’d like you to go to Lemeanah. Ask questions of the guard in the gatehouse, or the porter, or anyone that you see around, but if they offer to fetch the taoiseach or any member of his family, just say that the Brehon will be seeing them herself.’

  This was a slightly delicate errand and that was why she had chosen this pair for it. Fachtnan was tactful and very well liked by all on the Burren, and Hugh was a nephew to Teige O’Brien and his red curls and innocent blue eyes made him a favourite with all the womenfolk.

  Moylan and Aidan were standing side by side looking eager and she gave them a considering glance. They were at a silly age and if partnered would probably enjoy being out of school too much to be wholly in earnest about their task.

  ‘Enda,’ she continued. ‘I’d like you and Aidan to start at Shesmore and work your way right up to Kilcorney. Do see the priest and his housekeeper.’ That would work out well, she thought with satisfaction. Enda was too tough to take any nonsense from Aidan and he was such a well-mannered, good-looking young man that he would be the ideal person to interview the priest.

  ‘So I have Shane?’ Moylan didn’t look too disappointed.

  It was the first time that he had been trusted to look after one of the younger boys. Shane, Mara privately thought, had far more brains and far more sense of responsibility than had Moylan. However, the thought of being in charge was obviously enticing to Moylan so she nodded solemnly.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You’re fifteen now, so I can trust you. You and Shane have the hardest job. You’ll have to start at Ballymurphy, the townland just behind Lissyslisheen. Go right through to Noughaval, make sure that you enquire at all the houses there and then go through the churchyard, right down through Ballyganner and then come back the same way. Do you think that you can manage all of that?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Moylan nonchalantly.

  Shane nodded vigorously.

  ‘We’ve got the least to do.’ Hugh sounded disappointed.

  ‘Yes, but I want you back quickly. I may have another task for you then.’

  Mara noticed Cumhal hovering outside the window. He and Brigid always seemed to have an instinct that alerted them when anything was wrong. They would have realized that, since Turlough was expected to ride over to Cahermacnaghten tomorrow, that something must have occurred since Mara wanted to send him a message today.

  ‘Take your pens, ink and vellum and store them carefully in your satchels and then go and saddle your ponies,’ she said. ‘Fachtnan, could you just ask Cumhal if he can spare me a minute?’

  Mara’s summonses to Cumhal were always carefully couched in terms of a request. She was always conscious that the scholars should be aware of Cumhal’s position of authority over them when she was absent and she never missed an opportunity to give him the respect that his post as farm manager entitled him to.

  He was with her a minute later, but Mara waited until the boys had ridden out of the law-school gates in a noisy, cheerful cluster before turning to him.

  ‘Cumhal, something very sad and very worrying happened yesterday,’ she said, carefully watching him to see whether he had any knowledge of what she was about to tell him.

  Yesterday afternoon he had planned to visit Donogh O’Lochlainn’s farm at Glenslade. The Cahermacnaghten farm kept a few sheep, mainly for meat purposes, and this year Cumhal had planned to exchange their ram for one from Donogh’s herd. As far as she knew he had gone over to Glenslade as intended.

  He looked at her inquiringly now, but there was no sign of any flash of comprehension in his eyes. If the family of Glenslade knew anything of this second death, they, like the basket maker’s family, were not speaking about it.

  ‘Becan, the uncle of Iarla from Aran, has been murdered, and in just the same way as his nephew. I think he was killed some time early yesterday morning and I want to question the basket maker’s boys. I have a feeling that they did see the body of Iarla long before it was discovered by Fachtnan and Nuala. It’s possible that the same thing happened yesterday and that they were the first to see the body of Becan.’

  Cumhal nodded. He was a man of few words, but she saw a slight look of puzzlement in his eyes. He was wondering what this was to do with him.

  ‘I think that I would like to question those boys, but they are uneasy and silent while their father is around. So I thought I would send you over to fetch them and bring them over here so that I could talk to them away from the parents. What do you think?’

  Cumhal considered the matter for a moment. ‘Just have one of them over here, Brehon, I’d say. If you question two or three of them, they’ll be looking at each other and if one of them tells you something, he will be wondering whether the others will report back to their father.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Mara enthusiastically. ‘We’ll just have the eldest then. What can we use as an excuse?’

  ‘Excuse?’ Brigid had come across, full of curiosity to see what was happening. She had probably guessed that something was wrong from Nuala’s gloomy face.

  ‘I’m doing what you suggested, Brigid. I’m getting my witnesses to come over to me, rather than me going to them. So what can I use for an excuse to summon the basket maker’s eldest son over here?’

  Brigid sniffed. ‘Your father wouldn’t have bothered looking for an excuse. He’d have just sent a message. Still –’ she couldn’t resist the appeal to her inventiveness – ‘I suppose you could pretend that we need some more apple baskets. And there’s not a word of a lie about that, so help me, God! The ones we have are all breaking up. It’s the fault of the lads. They will overload them and then dump them down on the floor of the cabin with no care, just showing off to each other how strong they are.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’ Mara seized on this enthusiastically. ‘That would make a good excuse to bring him over. We’ll have some smaller baskets made from heavier materials. Take the cob for him to ride on, Cumhal, so that we don’t have to delay him too long. He could look at all of our baskets, the turf ones, also. And he could advise about thickness and everything like that. The only problem is that Dalagh might wonder why I haven’t asked him.’

  ‘I’ll say that you wanted this boy to come. I don’t need to give any explanations.’

  Cumhal, like Brigid, was very conscious of Mara’s status in the community and now he sounded quite confident that the approach would work. In his view it would be outrageous for the basket maker to question the Brehon’s wish in any way. She watched him with affection as he went instantly to the stable shouting for Séan as he went. He probably already had a myriad of other tasks lined up for the day, but her word was always law to him.

  Ardal O’Lochlainn came in the gate soon after Cumhal, leading the cob, had disappeared around the corner to the Kilcorney road.

  ‘I met Cumhal,’ he said as he dismounted, handing the reins of his handsome stallion to Donie who looked honoured to have such a fine horse under his care.

  Mara smiled a welcome. ‘Come inside, Ardal, come into the schoolhouse. I’ve sent all of my scholars out on errands so we will have it to ourselves.’ She did not answer his unspoken question.

  ‘I was wondering if you wanted me to go and see the king and tell him about the latest death.’ He followed her into the schoolhouse.

  ‘That’s been already done, thank you, Ardal.’

  ‘So Cumhal is going to Kilcorney. What about . . .?’ He looked at her inquisitively, and then finished by saying, ‘What about the burial?’

  Mara had a feeling that was not the question that he intended to ask, but she answered readily.

  ‘I’m waiting until I hear from the king, but my feeling is that the body has to be sent back to Aran. This man has a wife and family over there. It was different with Iarla.’

  ‘Well, if you need anyone to escort the body, Brehon, I would be at your service.’

  ‘Thank you, Ardal; I’m very grateful to you. And thank you for lending your gelding yesterday. Would it be p
ossible for you to lead it back with you or would you prefer if I sent a man over with it later on?’

  He took the hint, rising immediately. He had not asked after his niece, Mara noticed, and she was determined not to mention Nuala’s name unless he did.

  Cumhal was back quite soon afterwards. He must have ridden at a fine speed along the road to Kilcorney and negotiations had been conducted with the basket maker at quite a quick, decisive pace.

  The eldest son of the basket maker was a fine boy, thought Mara as she came out to meet and greet him. He had an intelligent face with finely moulded bones – no sign of lack of feeding or lack of care in his well-formed body and bold eyes.

  ‘This is Danann, Brehon,’ said Cumhal, carefully polite. His eyes showed an appreciation of this youth and of his bearing.

  ‘Perhaps Danann would like a cup of ale and some honey cakes before you bring him to see your requirements for apple baskets?’ queried Mara.

  Cumhal immediately nodded and with a quick, ‘I’ll see to that, Brehon,’ he left her alone with Danann.

  ‘Come in,’ said Mara, walking directly into the schoolhouse. He followed her; she knew he would do so. He would have been trained to automatic obedience from a very early age.

  ‘What passes between us now, Danann, will stay between us.’ Mara’s tone was confident and matter-of-fact and she kept her eyes fixed on the boy and a friendly smile on her face. ‘You are old enough to know that there are certain things that adults feel that children can’t handle. I can understand and I’m sure that you also can understand that your father did not want you, or any of your brothers, involved in this affair of the murder of the man from Aran.’

  He kept his eyes fixed upon her. He did not answer – not even to nod, but she felt that he understood her point and that he was not afraid.

  ‘I think last Thursday, you, or perhaps it was one of your brothers, saw the ravens hovering over the spot where the dead body of Iarla, the young man from Aran, lay murdered.’

  She stopped there and eyed him in a friendly, straightforward way. He said nothing for a moment, but then, eventually, nodded.

  ‘I was the one that noticed them,’ he said.

  ‘And went over there?’ Purposely her question came quickly – she wanted to catch him off-guard, to jerk him into telling the matter as it really occurred, to give him no time to consider his father’s attitude.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, the word spurting from him as if beyond his control.

  ‘And then you went back and told your father?’

  ‘Yes.’ This time the word was steadier. He was an intelligent boy. He knew that he had gone too far now. He had to see the matter out.

  ‘And he was alarmed?’

  Danann took his time to think about this, to turn the matter around, to explain the situation to someone like the Brehon, who could not be expected to understand the life of someone like his father.

  ‘He was worried,’ he said eventually. He looked at her and his gaze was very direct, very honest. ‘He wasn’t worried because he had anything to do with it, but he was worried because of . . .’

  And then he was silent and she got the impression that he was searching for words, searching to explain something to her that he had never formulated even in the secret depths of his own mind.

  ‘You see, Brehon,’ he said eventually. ‘We are very poor. And we depend on goodwill to make a living.’ He stopped again and Mara nodded gently.

  ‘I understand,’ she said. ‘You are dependent on the O’Lochlainn for the lease of the sally gardens and of your cottage.’

  ‘Not just that.’ He frowned a little as if she had failed to understand him. ‘We are dependent on everyone. People could make their own baskets, you know. There is no great skill in it, just a lot of hard work. But people say, “Look at Dalagh and his wife and their family, they have no farm, no land, no cattle. Those children will starve if they can’t sell the baskets.” And then they decide: “We’ll buy the baskets from them and this will save us the trouble of making our own and we will feel that we have done a good deed.”’ He frowned again. ‘It’s not that they actually say this, Brehon, but that’s what is behind it.’

  ‘I understand,’ said Mara again. She felt a quick rush of admiration for this boy. In a different circumstance he could have made a fine scholar. That had been very well expressed. ‘Your father felt that he didn’t want to cause any trouble. He knew that Iarla of Aran had come on a very unpopular errand and that many people would have been glad that he had disappeared.’ Her mind went quickly to the sullen, disappointed Donogh of Glenslade and his bright happy son, Donogh Óg, and then strayed over to Ardal at Lissylisheen, contented in his work, in his relationship with his brother and his brother’s children. And then her mind went back to Teige, blazing with anger at the insult to his daughter.

  ‘And of course, there was another reason to avoid drawing any connection between the dead man and the basket maker’s family.’ She eyed him very closely, uncertain as to the extent of the family’s knowledge on this subject. ‘On St Patrick’s Night, when he arrived from Aran, Iarla danced for a long time with your sister Orlaith. This was after your parents had left, but people do gossip . . .’ Purposely she allowed her sentence to tail out into silence and she watched him closely. There was no doubt that he was dismayed at her acquaintance with this matter. He thought for a moment and then raised his chin.

  ‘The word was that it was the daughter of the O’Brien who was being courted by Iarla of Aran,’ he said courageously, and she warmed to him even more because of that courage and his family loyalty.

  ‘I know all about that,’ she said brusquely. ‘But I also know that when Mairéad O’Lochlainn took Saoirse up to her mother, Iarla turned his attentions towards another girl and that this girl was your sister Orlaith.’

  Now he looked alarmed. He didn’t challenge her statement, just looked worried and suddenly rather young and out of his depth.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Mara put a hand on his arm. ‘I mean no harm to any of you, but I must have the truth. Sit down here by the fire.’

  She went to the door and opened it. It was as if she had sent a signal. Brigid immediately appeared at the door of the kitchen house, a tray in her hand. Mara waited as Brigid crossed the cobbled yard with her quick footsteps and then took the tray from her. Brigid, she knew, would tell Cumhal that young Danann would not be joining him yet. I’m blessed with such tactful servants, thought Mara as, with a quick smile at Brigid, she closed the door behind her.

  ‘Have some ale,’ she said solicitously. ‘And a honey cake.’

  Danann ate and drank heartily and seemed glad of the break in the questioning and she allowed a comfortable silence to develop between them until she saw the wary look go from his eyes. He looked around the schoolhouse with interest, eyeing the solid oaken benches and tables, the ink horns and the trays of well-sharpened quills, and the shelves of the wooden press filled with scrolls and leather-bound books. It must seem a strange life to him, the life that her boys led, with their clean, smooth hands and their carefree shouts as they galloped over the Burren on their ponies. Their study of books, memorizing of law texts and continual sharpening of their wits would seem, perhaps, a luxurious existence to him.

  ‘Can you read, Danann?’ Mara asked the question with interest. There was something about the way that his eyes scanned the books that aroused her curiosity.

  He smiled reminiscently. ‘A little, Brehon. When I was serving on the altar as a seven-year-old the priest here at Kilcorney taught me my letters. I can read a bit, but I never progressed.’ He paused for a moment, then added with dignity, ‘Myself and the priest of that time fell out.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Mara said no more. She had vivid memories of the former priest of Kilcorney and she would not wish any vulnerable child to have fallen into his clutches. It was a shame that his studies had been interrupted, but she applauded his spirit and his courage. Perhaps there was something that she could
do she thought, but then dismissed the matter. What she needed to concentrate on now was the issue of these two deaths. She gave a quick nod and then turned back to him.

  ‘So Iarla came up to Kilcorney to see your sister, Orlaith, was that?’ Mara made her voice sound casual.

  Outside there was a sudden, heavy shower, sweeping in from the Atlantic. She got up and closed the shutters, threw another log of pinewood on to the fire, but all the time, she kept an unobtrusive eye on the boy’s face.

  ‘No,’ he said when she had resumed her seat, ‘that was not the way of it at all. Not that morning. The first I saw of him that Thursday morning –’ he paused looking suddenly rather appalled – ‘well, he was already dead when I saw him that time and it was not long after sunrise then – about an hour perhaps, but no more.’

  Not that morning, noted Mara, but there were other questions to ask first.

  ‘You were the one who found the body. Is that right?’

  ‘Me and two of my brothers.’ His reply was brief; his face tense and worried.

  ‘Did you touch him?’

  This time he just nodded.

  ‘Was he stiff?’ Mara asked.

  Again he nodded.

  ‘And his eye had been gouged out?’

  He flinched at that as he nodded and then took a large bite from a honey cake to hide his reaction. Mara also took one of the tempting small cakes from the wooden platter and crunched it in unison.

  ‘Nice,’ he said, and she returned his grin.

  ‘Brigid is a great cook,’ she remarked nonchalantly. And then she carelessly added, ‘Did you go for your father straight away?’

  ‘That’s right. He had gone in to the cottage to talk to my mother about the size of some of the red willow rods. When he came out we told him. We waited because we thought he wouldn’t want the girls to know.’

  He was relaxed and at ease with her now. Danann could not be much more than Moylan’s age, she thought, but his life had been a hard one and it had given him a spurious maturity.