Laws in Conflict

by Cora Harrison

  ‘Someone in Spain, I suppose,’ said Shane sadly. ‘It can’t be any of the sailors, so that one has to be crossed off our list. We can’t investigate the people over in Spain, I suppose, can we, Brehon?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t have to be crossed off our list,’ said Fiona. ‘What about Catarina – the gorgeous Catarina; she was his cousin and he had no brothers and sisters; I remember hearing him saying that.’ She gave a teasing look at Moylan. ‘I bet you that she was the one who stuck a knife in him. She looks that type.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ said Moylan turning red. ‘A girl like that!’

  ‘She’s almost as tall as you are – she’s a monster,’ said Fiona. ‘Did you see the size of her hands? She has hands like a man.’

  Mara kept a diplomatic silence while Moylan and Fiona argued, but it was an interesting point. Not only was Catarina tall and well made but she rode like an athlete and was probably very fit. After all, it didn’t take much strength to knife a drunken man, especially if he were asleep. But why do it?

  And then she thought of something else. Something that had been said by Margaret on that night at Blake’s Castle.

  ‘You’re forgetting that Catarina has an older brother,’ she said. ‘David Browne was heir to the Gomez fortune until he was ten years old. Carlos was born then.’

  ‘If he was heir then, he’s heir now,’ said Aidan wisely.

  ‘So David Browne is about thirty years old. What does he do, do you know, Brehon?’ asked Fachtnan.

  ‘I haven’t heard,’ said Mara. ‘I think,’ she said rising to her feet, ‘that we need to gather some more information about two households. The first is the Browne household and the second is the Athy household.’

  ‘So our suspects are,’ said Fiona, lowering her voice to a murmur, ‘the Spanish captain, Catarina Browne, David Browne, Richard Athy – his children are too young; the eldest is only about Shane’s age.’

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of killing a man,’ said Shane indignantly, but Moylan interrupted him.

  ‘We’re forgetting all about young Anthony Skerrett.’ He looked around at his fellow scholars and said defensively, ‘I don’t care what you all say, I think this is a crime passionel.’

  ‘Don’t think much of your French accent,’ said Fiona scornfully. ‘Anyway, Catarina is not all that wonderfully beautiful that everyone has to go around committing murder in order to be number one with her.’

  ‘I think it’s worth investigating,’ said Mara, doing her best not to laugh. Fiona had had her own way for the last year at the law school; it would do her no harm to see that there were other pretty girls around. ‘Now this is what I’d like you to do,’ she continued. ‘Shane and Hugh, you go and talk to the women in the fish market and see if they have any more information about the Spanish captain. The sailors might have spoken to them. Don’t cause any trouble or rouse any suspicions, though. Lend them a hand at putting their stalls back up again, be friendly and don’t ask questions until you have established good relationships with them.’

  ‘And us?’ queried Moylan.

  ‘You and Aidan should find out as much as possible about the Athy household; again be tactful and careful. Chat in shops or ask for help, for directions, anything like that. And Fachtnan, I think you should talk to young Anthony Skerrett, if you can get hold of him. Compare notes about the law schools that you both attend, find out what he was doing and who he was with on the Shrove celebrations, and, I know you will do this well, Fachtnan, get some sort of impression of what he is like. It takes a certain personality to commit a murder, and also, I suppose to commit what Moylan rightly calls a crime passionnel.’

  ‘And what about me?’ asked Fiona.

  ‘You,’ said Mara, ‘are going to come with me and to call upon Catarina Browne. I expect to hear by this evening that you are her best friend. Talk about riding. Ask her to take you on The Green; they live very near to the Bodkins; you can easily fetch your horse and join her if you can persuade her that some outdoor exercise would be good for her in her sad state. And, Fiona,’ she added, ‘do allow her to criticize your horse. Bear anything she says as meekly as possible, and then ask her where would be the best place in Galway to buy a new horse.’

  Thirteen

  Medieval Laws Based on Customs

  (From Blackstone’s Commentaries)

  The customs of London differ from all others in point of trial: for, if the existence of the custom be brought in question, it shall not be tried by a jury, but by certificate from the lord mayor and aldermen by the mouth of their recorder; unless it be such a custom as the corporation is itself interested in, as a right of taking toll, &c., for then the law permits them not to certify on their own behalf.

  Catarina was still in black when her maidservant ushered Fiona and Mara into her presence. She was no longer dressed in hand-downs from her mother, but wore a well-fitting gown of black velvet which suited her, though she did not look as splendid as she did in red. She had draped a veil of beautiful Spanish lace over her dark hair and it half-hid her face. However, even through the lace, it could be seen that her colour was as good as always, the faint glow in her cheeks enhancing the tanned skin and the bright brown eyes. There was little sign that the death of Carlos had affected her. She received her guests coolly and looked at Mara with disfavour. No doubt the intervention in the court of law had come to Catarina’s ears and she was offended by it. A hard-hearted girl, thought Mara, eyeing the handsome face covertly, while Catarina exchanged a few coldly, civil words with Fiona. How could she possibly contemplate with such an unmoved countenance the terrible fate of a boy whom she had known from childhood, a boy who had grown up with her and had adored her?

  Fiona was playing her part well, Mara observed with approval. She barely reached to Catarina’s shoulder and that helped as she appeared more like a younger sister than a girl of the same age. She was enthusing girlishly about the report of Catarina’s Arab horse and relating regretfully how short of exercise her own horse must be since they arrived at Galway.

  ‘I wish I could see your horse,’ she ended plaintively, and Mara was glad that the boys were not present because Aidan, at least, would have found it hard not to have sniggered.

  Well . . .’ said Catarina consideringly. She looked down at her black clothing with ill-concealed distaste. There was no one to admire the picture of sorrow that she made and she must, by now, have judged that she had far more attractive clothes to wear. Mara guessed that her sorrow for Carlos would be short-lived; she had been flattered by his attentions and encouraged by her parents’ enthusiasm. And, of course, his wealth would have been very enticing.

  At that moment David Browne entered the room. Yes, she thought, he probably was about thirty years old, but bearing his years well. No Spanish beauty, such as his sister had inherited, but a chunky, square-looking young man with a shrewd eye and a smiling face. At his entrance Catarina appeared irritated. He had pretended that he did not know visitors were present; had pretended not to recognize Mara for the moment; had tried to present the picture of a languid young man about town, but those shrewd eyes belied his words and Mara saw Catarina gather herself as for a battle.

  ‘I am going to exercise my horse; she will suffer if I leave it any longer,’ she said in a challenging way to him.

  His brown eyebrows rose.

  ‘Do you think that will cause talk,’ he said quietly. ‘You are in mourning, you know, and the people of our blood, the Spaniards, are even more formal about occasions like this. A woman should stay indoors, hidden from all eyes until a suitable period has elapsed.’

  Mara’s hackles rose. She would bet that he would not refrain from exercising his horse just because of the death of a cousin.

  ‘But Catarina is half-Irish, isn’t she?’ she asked in the tone of one who seeks information. And then when he said nothing, she continued, ‘What an interesting evening that was – your Shrove celebrations, weren’t they?’ she said the words to Catarina, but kept her eye on hi
m.

  ‘They ended badly,’ he said shortly, taking his eyes away from his sister and fixing them on Mara.

  ‘Indeed,’ she said sadly. ‘What a shame that you were not successful in turning back your cousin. I saw you go after him on that fateful evening, when for the second time he went through the Great Gate to the east.’

  He was taken aback at this. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment and then said, ‘Yes, indeed.’

  But he did not deny it, thought Mara, looking at him in a friendly fashion while suspicions flashed through her mind. So her guess had hit a target. His sister, she noticed, was also looking at him with curiosity in her eyes.

  ‘I think, David,’ she said in a deliberate fashion and with a challenge in her voice, ‘I will go out. I owe it to my horse and it will be good to have Fiona to bear me company. We’re very short of girls of my age in the city of Galway,’ she said to Fiona confidentially. ‘The young men think that they know everything and that they can be the rulers.’

  ‘Think of me at a law school with five young men,’ groaned Fiona, and Mara knowing how this one girl ruled the roost there found it hard to keep back a smile.

  ‘I’ll leave you then in good hands, Fiona,’ she said. ‘Perhaps David will escort me. I still find those streets quite bewildering.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, but his voice was cold.

  ‘You’re not too busy?’ she queried with a delicate lift of her eyebrows, and he shook his head, while Catarina gave an affected little laugh.

  Soon they were back out on the streets, leaving the two girls together. Certainly not too busy, she thought. After all, today was a working day and he was apparently just lounging around the house and was perfectly at liberty to walk out with her. Perhaps his upbringing as heir apparent to the Gomez fortune until he was ten years old had unfitted him for the normal, everyday mercantile life of the city.

  ‘What an appalling affair,’ she said affably as she strolled down Lombard Street with him. ‘Walter Lynch seemed to be such a pleasant, well-mannered young man. I find it hard to believe that he could actually have committed a murder.’

  ‘Strange things happen when a man is foiled,’ he answered.

  ‘Foiled?’ she queried. ‘You mean that Carlos was going to be successful in his bid for your sister’s hand?’

  He nodded. ‘The engagement was going to be announced on the following day. They planned a marriage at the end of Lent. Then they were going to go together to Spain for a few months.’

  If that was true, thought Mara, the captain did not have much motive for the murder. If Carlos was occupied with wedding ceremonies, then he was unlikely to be pursuing his vengeance against the man – whatever the truth behind the rumours of his deceit. She looked around her, surveying the tall four-storey-high warehouses.

  ‘Such a busy city,’ she said. ‘I had no idea that Galway imported and exported so many goods. What line of business are you in, yourself?’

  This query took him aback. She had not glanced at him, but she was skilled in sensing sudden movements, awkward pauses. She gave him a moment to recover and then looked at him with an inviting smile.

  ‘I’ve been remiss,’ said David, after the silence had lasted a minute. ‘I’ve forgotten to ask where you are going.’ He hadn’t answered her question but she did not repeat it.

  ‘To the gaol,’ she said in an offhand way, and then, as she watched his face darken, his lips tighten and his eyes grow angry, she said quietly, ‘I want to provide that poor old man from my kingdom with some fresh clothing and some hot food. That would be permissible, would it not?’

  That took him slightly aback, but then he shrugged to demonstrate his lack of interest.

  ‘My father imports woven woollen cloth,’ he said. ‘You might find something to your liking in his shop or warehouses.’

  No word about his role in the business, she noted. It was as she had thought. These sons of the successful traders in the city, like Walter and like David, were brought up as gentlemen and did not soil their hands with work. Walter was being pressed by his father to come into the business and was still quite young; David, though, was a grown man. Still, as far as she knew, he was now once again the heir to the large Gomez fortune, and so would remain in that happy state of having money to fulfil his dearest wishes.

  If things had been otherwise, Catarina, with her dowry from her mother and with her marriage to Carlos, would have been the rich and successful member of the family. There had been a very apparent tension between brother and sister. Mara’s thoughts went to Fiona and she hoped that her clever scholar was getting plenty of information from the girl who had, apparently, been betrothed to Carlos before his sudden death at the time of the Shrove celebrations.

  ‘Woollen cloth, well, that’s just what I need. Is it made up into clothes or just sold in lengths?’

  ‘Come and see for yourself,’ said David, sounding rather bored and as if he wished to be elsewhere. He led her rapidly away from Gaol Street and up Middle Street, pausing in front of a tall, warehouse-type building but with a shop front on the bottom storey.

  ‘A warm cloak, perhaps,’ she said to him, and he led the way inside.

  David was greeted respectfully, but with formality by the man in charge of the shop. Mara guessed that he had not been in the shop for quite some time. He did not appear to know where the cloaks were when she addressed the question directly to him and, after a moment’s hesitation, the man in charge led the way. Mara quickly purchased a cloak, a pair of hose, a shirt and warm doublet. Poor Sheedy would be more at home in Gaelic dress, but these were warm and thick and what he was wearing had been reduced to rags.

  The price was high, but Mara paid without question. Lawyer Bodkin had introduced her to the bank owner in Lombard Street, a member of the Blake family, and she had changed her silver there for a large quantity of shillings and sixpences and a small amount of sovereigns, all stamped with the head of Henry VII, the father of the present king. The clothes for Sheedy took a large part of one of her sovereigns, but they would keep the poor old man warm until she was able to do something to rescue him.

  David watched her purchases with astonishment.

  ‘I hope you haven’t wasted your money,’ he said bluntly. ‘The man will hang in five days’ time.’ But then his face grew thoughtful.

  ‘The word is out that Mayor Lynch may be thinking to release his son,’ he said. ‘If he bends the law for that, then he might bend it for the mad man. If you are thinking of appealing for mercy for him, then you should wait and see what is happening to Walter.’

  The thought had already flashed through Mara’s mind that if Mayor James Lynch released his son, then he would be in honour bound to release Sheedy, also. And what would the mayor do then? Could he continue to reign? Would he be forced to resign?

  It struck her that if Walter were guilty then he had done David a very good turn, without, it seemed, doing himself one. Even if his father did pardon him, Catarina was unlikely to marry a man who was suspected of killing her future husband.

  ‘How beautiful your sister is,’ she said aloud. ‘I understand from my host that all the young men in the town are in love with her.’

  He laughed harshly. ‘That sounds an unusual exaggeration from a cautious man like Henry Bodkin; of course, Walter fancied himself in love with her, but that was only a boy-girl affair.’

  ‘And Anthony Skerrett?’ asked Mara.

  ‘He spends most of the year in England, at Lincoln’s Inn. He is training to be a lawyer like his grandfather.’ David’s tone was dismissive. Perhaps he did not like the idea that his sister had lots of men in love with her. Or perhaps he was jealous of her looks and her popularity.

  ‘But at home at the moment, is that not right?’ questioned Mara. English law terms, she knew, kept strictly to the exact dates for their terms, as indeed did the Irish law schools. Michaelmas Term began on the twenty-ninth day of September and the Hilary Term would begin on the feast of St Hilary, the f
ourteenth day of January, and would end just before Easter. The last term was the Trinity Term and that commenced on the Monday after the feast of the Holy Trinity. So what was the young man doing back in Galway eight weeks before the end of the winter term?

  ‘That’s right,’ he said. And then as she raised her eyebrows slightly, he said unconvincingly, ‘I’ve heard that his grandfather, the bailiff, John Skerrett, is not well.’

  ‘Really,’ said Mara. She had not seen John Skerrett at the trial of Walter, but he had been present at the trial of poor Sheedy and had looked as well as men aged over seventy normally look. And she said so. No doubt, David did not want to suggest that Anthony Skerrett may have come all the way from London to Galway in order to be with Catarina for the Shrove festivities.

  He shrugged again. ‘You may be right,’ he said. ‘I can’t remember whether I have seen him or not.’

  ‘I wish I had known that he was a law student,’ said Mara innocently. ‘My scholars would be interested in talking with him. Where does he live?’

  ‘Near to Shoemaker’s Tower,’ he said briefly, and added with a tone of relief, ‘Here we are at Gaol Street. You just cross the street and then go in through the doorway. You can see the gaoler standing there. You’ll excuse me if I don’t go in with you. I cannot abide the smell of that place.’

  With a flourish of his hat and a bow he handed over the parcel and left her at the doorway to the gaol.

  Mara was about to cross when she noticed that people on the pavement opposite were drawing back, either flattening themselves against the walls, or else stepping out into the roadway. There was a faint tinkle of a small handbell and then into her sight came first James Lynch, Mayor of Galway, looking neither to the right nor to the left, but staring resolutely ahead, and then a small altar boy, ringing a bell with one hand and shaking a censer of incense with the other. Behind them came a priest in white vestments holding up a monstrance in one hand and a gold chalice in the other.