‘And there, in the middle of London, there is His Majesty, King Henry, the eighth of that name, and there he is in his great palace at Whitehall, prancing around like a mummer, dressed in silks and velvets and every inch of him hung with gold.’ Ulick, though such a small, slim, middle-aged man, lifted his head, expanded his chest and became before their eyes the tall young King of England, roaring out jokes and commands in English and reverting quickly to the Gaelic tongue to paint the scene at Whitehall Palace for his audience, allowing them to picture the arbour of gold on wheels, screened from the audience, and then the dramatic moment when the curtain was drawn back to show the king and his friends with names from old romances, moulded from gold, hanging around their necks.
‘And then in comes young O’Donnell, Hugh Dubh, and him bowing and scraping. “May it please your lordship, certainly Your Majesty, indeed and I will, my lord king.” That’s the way he was going on, whining like a beggar . . .’ The mockery was cruel, if funny, and probably untrue, thought Mara; the chances were that young Hugh O’Donnell would have spoken in Gaelic, not in bad English, and have allowed his Brehon to translate for him. It amused the company, though. Donán O’Kennedy, Turlough’s son-in-law, was convulsed with laughter, his broad shoulders shaking with mirth.
‘Tell us about what happened to the gold, afterwards, Ulick,’ he called, looking for approval from his father-in-law, Turlough, who was roaring with laughter. But Ulick was wise enough to know that he had reached the climax of his story with the submission and humiliation of O’Donnell so he ignored Donán and looked around for more wine.
‘And he gave up his title of King of Donegal for an English title?’ marvelled Turlough.
‘Sure and why wouldn’t I?’ whined Ulick, still in character as Hugh O’Donnell. ‘“Didn’t I get masses of gold and silver and promises of more? And now I am an English knight.”’ He tossed his head in a young man’s gesture and so good an actor was he that Mara could almost imagine O’Donnell’s long mane of black hair instead of the thinning blonde-grey hair of this middle-aged man.
‘We’ll show him, won’t we?’ roared Turlough, his arm around Ulick’s shoulders. ‘We’ll teach O’Donnell what it is to be Irish. Let him not come anywhere near here with his English soldiers and his English guns. We’ll serve him the way that we served the Great Earl last year. Send him back up north with his tail between his legs – a man who could give up being king and leader of his clan in order to get empty titles from the King of England!’
‘Fill up your glasses, everyone! Let’s drink to King Turlough Donn of Thomond, Corcomroe and Burren,’ shouted Ulick, and the servants at the castle scurried around with their flagons.
And the laughter, chatter, music, dancing had gone on until the early hours of the morning.
A good excuse for a party, anyway, thought Mara, looking affectionately across at her husband who was laughing loudly at a joke told by Ulick Burke, godfather to the little prince. This beautiful castle, newly renovated by Turlough for his second wife, was the ideal setting for a gathering such as this. It was good for her scholars, too, to mix with the great men of the three kingdoms. Soon the eldest three would have finished their studies and would be looking for a position as aigne – lawyer – in some noble household. So far only Eamon had been making opportunities to talk with these powerful men and women. Fachtnan, Moylan and Aidan had shyly kept their distance and Mara resolved that she must remedy this. Fachtnan, in particular, should be looking for a position as he would, hopefully, pass his final examination in June. Mara looked about for him, but could not see him, and was distracted by Donán, Turlough’s son-in-law, who wanted to discuss with her his problems with sore throats.
‘You should talk to Nuala about this,’ she told him, trying not to be irritated with a young man in the prime of life, who seemed continually concerned with his health. ‘Look, she’s over there. Even though she has not yet qualified, she’s the best physician that I have ever known; she’ll tell you all about sore throats and what to do about them.’ She had half-thought of suggesting that he talk to Ragnelt, his wife, about it, but the young woman had such a bored, withdrawn look, that she changed her mind.
‘Brehon, you must dance with me.’ Ulick claimed her and, though she disliked him, she was relieved to get away from Donán. For once, Ulick did not sharpen his tongue on her, but restricted himself to praising Turlough and commenting on his bravery and his popularity.
‘It’s no wonder,’ he said with what seemed like genuine sincerity, ‘that he is such a thorn in the side of those who would make Ireland a vassal of England. You know what the Great Earl said of him, don’t you?’
‘“The worst man in the whole of Ireland.” I think that Turlough took that as a compliment,’ said Mara with a smile.
‘Goodness only knows what he thinks of him now after the battle last year,’ commented Ulick. ‘Turlough should be careful. A man like The Great Earl has everything to lose.’
A man that has everything to lose. The words immediately brought back to Mara the scene at the flax garden after the successful bid from Muiris O’Hynes. Cathal, his wife and his family had stood there in such terrible anguish. Owney, the son, had sworn an oath and had slammed his fist on to the wooden table with such force that a crack had appeared. Gobnait had set her lips and looked grimly at Muiris who was now going to rob her family of their livelihood. And Cathal, as white as the bales of linen in the background, had snatched up a knife. It had taken all of the strength that Eamon and Fachtnan possessed, between them, to hang on to his arms and prevent him from hurling it at Muiris. Cathal had everything to lose. The business that he had built up so painstakingly and well over the years was now to be taken from him.
Muiris, in the meantime, had walked away. He was a sensible man and knew when words only made a bad situation worse. Mara wondered whether he now regretted his purchase. That it had been a last minute decision was shown by his late arrival.
I think I’ll talk to him before sending Eamon over across the Shannon to O’Brien of Arra; Eamon and I will go over to Poulnabrucky first thing in the morning and see whether he wants to change his mind. I can easily draw up a new deed of contract for the lease if he does so, decided Mara. Meanwhile, she smiled automatically at Ulick’s witticisms and her feet nimbly followed the lilting tune of the reel played by the fiddlers, seated high above the crowd in a small balcony that overlooked the great hall at the castle.
I’ll talk to Eamon tonight and arrange everything, thought Mara. She knew that the picture of Cathal’s stricken face would come between her and sleep if she did not do something before she retired to her rest.
But when she looked for Eamon she could not see him.
Two
Triad 75
There are three qualities to be admired in a woman: reticence, virtue, industry.
Triad 88
The three glories of a gathering are: a beautiful woman, a good horse, a swift hound.
Triad 180
The three steadiness of good womanhood are: a steady tongue, a steady virtue, a steady housewifery.
Two of her scholars missing! And Eamon the lawyer, also! Mara sat up in bed and gazed in bewilderment at Brigid her housekeeper. A quick glance at the window confirmed that it was still early morning. She would have expected that they would all have been still asleep after the late night of dancing – it must have been the early hours of that morning when they eventually went to their beds – the boys to their leather tents set up in the field at the side of the castle and Fiona to a small wall chamber within the castle itself.
‘Moylan told me about the two lads,’ said Brigid, ‘and then I went to find Fiona and discovered that she was missing too.’ Her mouth was as tight as the braids of her severely plaited red hair and her eyes were full of fury. Brigid and her husband, Cumhal, felt themselves responsible for the scholars and when at the law school the scholars’ houses were directly under their supervision while Mara herself lived in the Brehon’s house,
a few hundred yards down the road from Cahermacnaghten law school. Here, in a castle crammed with guests and soldiers, supervision was not so easy.
‘I’ll eat my breakfast and then I’ll see Moylan and find out what he knows.’ Mara hoped that she sounded calm, but inside she was uneasy. There was something strange about this. The scholars were going to stay the weekend at the castle, join in all the festivities and then on Monday return to their studies at Cahermacnaghten law school – less than a mile away, just over the border between the neighbouring kingdoms of Corcomroe and Burren.
It was nearing the end of the Hilary term. The scholars would return to their homes in a week’s time. Moylan and Aidan would ride together towards the south-west of Thomond, Fachtnan and young Shane would go north once Shane’s father, the Brehon who served the O’Neill, Earl of Tyrone, had arrived. Fachtnan would ride with them as his home at Oriel was on the way.
Eamon would be the first to leave. This morning he was due to take the deed for the flax garden to be signed by O’Brien of Arra. He would then return to Cahermacnaghten with the signed deed, which would be handed over to Muiris O’Hynes, and after another few days would depart for the MacEgan law school in Galway. The other boys would leave for their holidays soon afterwards, but Fiona would spend Easter with Mara – the journey to Scotland, with the possibility of rough seas, would not be worth the risk for so short a holiday.
‘Aidan woke me up and said that Fachtnan had gone, and so was his horse.’ Moylan had an amused look on his face.
‘And Eamon was missing too,’ mused Mara.
‘That’s right. As soon as I got the sleep out of my eyes, I saw he wasn’t there on the other side of the tent. And when we checked the stables we saw that Fiona’s pony was gone as well as their horses.’
‘Perhaps they’ve just gone for an early morning ride,’ said Mara. But it was no longer that early. And Brigid had confirmed that the trio had not visited the kitchen. They would be hungry now. And why Fachtnan? Surely he would be an unwelcome third if Eamon and Fiona had decided on an early morning ride. While she was pondering over this, Brigid came back. She shook her head as she came in.
‘Did she take anything with her?’ Mara began to get worried. Surely Fiona, with all the bright future ahead of her as a lawyer, even a Brehon, would not have done something silly like eloping with Eamon? And where did Fachtnan fit into the picture? He was hopelessly in love with Fiona, of course, but she seemed to be just sisterly towards him.
‘Not a thing – went in what she stood up in!’ said Brigid emphatically.
‘Eamon left his clothes, too – but he did take one of his satchels,’ said Moylan.
One of his satchels, and no clothes – but why take a satchel? Mara was preoccupied, trying to think back to the evening but could not recollect seeing any of the three after midnight.
‘I’m sure that I would have woken up if Eamon came in and Aidan says the same about Fachtnan. I’d say that they went off at midnight,’ said Moylan breaking into her thoughts.
‘What a stupid thing to do,’ scolded Brigid. ‘Dangerous, too!’
‘They’d have been quite safe riding by night – as bright as day it was. I was saying that to Aidan when we went back to the tents.’ Moylan still sounded amused. It was normally Aidan and he who were being scolded for doing stupid things. It was a change for him to have his seniors in trouble. ‘Aidan called out to me that Fachtnan had not come back from the castle and when I looked into my tent I could see that Eamon wasn’t there either. I was a bit surprised, because I hadn’t seen either of them for quite a time – nor Fiona, either.’
Nor did I, thought Mara. She had been concerned about Fiona only because she was a girl, and a beautiful girl, and she was responsible to her father for her welfare. But when she searched back into her mind she realized that she had seen neither of the boys after midnight, either.
But were the three young people from Cahermacnaghten law school, Eamon, Fachtnan and Fiona, present? Mara scanned her memory, hoping that one, at least, of the faces would appear.
Or had they all stolen away by then?
Brigid waited until the boys had gone back out to join some of the men-at-arms at a spot of sword fighting practice before voicing her opinion. She had been Mara’s nurse after the death of the small child’s mother and she had brought her up, adored her, scolded her, thought she was the cleverest, prettiest girl in the whole of Ireland while relentlessly enforcing good behaviour and hard work. Since Mara had qualified and taken on the whole business of the law school and, later, of the position of Brehon, or lawgiver, law-enforcer, over the whole kingdom of the Burren, Brigid had always been at her side, always working faster than a woman of half her age could do. Mara sometimes wondered what she would have done, how she could have possibly managed all of her affairs without Brigid and her husband Cumhal.
‘There’s never been a day’s peace in Cahermacnaghten since that Eamon arrived,’ Brigid was saying. ‘It’s a pity that you ever said “yes” to him, Brehon. None of our lads like him.’
‘Well, they have to get used to new scholars,’ pointed out Mara. ‘After all, Enda left last summer and I haven’t replaced him yet.’
‘Scholars are no problem,’ said Brigid. ‘Even Fiona is not a problem – a bit of a flirt, and she does make the boys silly, but she fits in. She’s not a problem in the way that Eamon is a problem.’
‘Well, he’ll be gone soon,’ began Mara, but Brigid interrupted her.
‘I think that he was just making use of you, Brehon, mark my words. He’s too sure of himself. You should have heard him about that auction up in the flax garden. “I’d have got a better price for it,” he says – just as though he knew it all. “I’d have set a new auction going and got the two of them bidding against each other. That’s what I would have done and O’Brien of Arra would have rewarded me with a nice piece of silver.” And then he turns and tries to give Fiona a squeeze and I could see that Fachtnan was full of black anger. I watched him, Brehon. He had his two fists clenched up as though for two pins he would have hit Eamon in the mouth.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on them all,’ promised Mara. She wished that Brigid had not told her all of this. It deepened her worries.
‘So you think that Fachtnan went off because he could not bear the situation between Fiona and Eamon?’ The question was out before Mara almost knew that she had formed it. But she regretted asking it when she saw the worried look on Brigid’s face. It enhanced her own fears.
‘I don’t know what to think, Brehon. I’ll tell you that without a word of a lie,’ said Brigid eventually. ‘All I know is that Eamon makes trouble wherever he goes. One of these days, mark my words, Fachtnan will not put up with it any longer. And then Master Eamon had better look out for himself.’
Three
Exodus 21:24
Thou shalt give life for life, tooth for tooth
Bretha Crólige
(Laws on Bloodletting)
The penalty for a killing is two-fold. There is a fixed fine of forty-two séts, or twenty-one ounces of silver or twenty-one cows. In addition the killer must pay a fine based on the honour-price of the victim – lóg n-enach, (literally, the price of his face).
‘Eamon! Dead! He can’t be.’ Mara, conscious of the stupidity of her words, stared at Cumhal, her farm manager – a man who never opened his mouth before he was sure of his facts.
And yet it did seem impossible that all that liveliness, all that burning ambition, that handsome face, that clever brain, that it all should be dead.
‘That’s right,’ he nodded. ‘Muiris Hynes came to fetch me. He was the one that found the body. There it was lying in the flax garden – not a soul near it. And the place full of O’Halloran workers – none of them seeing a thing!’
‘Anything with him?’ asked Mara.
‘Just an empty satchel lying beside the body.’
‘Empty!’ she echoed. Why had Eamon taken an empty satchel with him?
�
�It was open,’ said Cumhal watching her face. ‘Looked like someone might have taken something out of it . . .’
‘What about his horse?’ she asked.
‘Fachtnan is seeing to it, has taken it back to the stable at Cahermacnaghten. The poor beast had broken the skin on his knees.’
‘Fachtnan,’ echoed Mara. ‘But, but where did he come from? Is he back?’
Cumhal looked at her in a surprised way. ‘He’s been at the law school all day, Brehon. He’s been sitting in the schoolhouse studying. I’m not sure when he came back from Ballinalacken, from the castle.’
‘I see.’ But I don’t see, thought Mara. I had imagined that he was with Eamon. ‘And Fiona?’ she asked. Perhaps a sudden urge to study had come over both of her senior scholars.
‘Haven’t seen her,’ said Cumhal. ‘Fachtnan was the only one there.’ A man of few words, he didn’t question her, just stood waiting for orders.
‘Where is the body now?’ asked Mara.
‘Where it was found, Brehon,’ replied Cumhal. ‘Up in the flax garden. Muiris said he’d stay with it until I came back. I’ve got a couple of men waiting with a cart and a litter, but I wanted to tell you first.’
Mara reflected. The less said the better at the moment. Her guests were all on a hunting party up in the Aillwee Mountain. The weather was fine so they would probably spend a few vigorous hours pursuing wolves in the centre of the high Burren before returning for their evening meal to Ballinalacken Castle. She looked around and saw Nessa, Brigid’s helper in the kitchen back at the law school and brought here to supplement the efforts of the castle staff for this festive weekend. She beckoned to her.
Deed of Murder Page 2
