A Secret and Unlawful Killing

by Cora Harrison

  ‘Has anyone heard Aengus publicly acknowledge Niall as his son?’ Garrett’s voice was loud and determined.

  There was an awkward silence. No one found the courage to speak and to incur the wrath of the taoiseach. The clansmen looked from their taoiseach and his ban tighernae to the king and then back at the face of their Brehon. Slaney took a quick step forward, but was waved back by an imperious gesture from Turlough.

  ‘Niall,’ said Mara, taking a step forward so that she was now in front of Garrett. ‘Did Aengus the miller acknowledge you as his son?’

  ‘Yes, Brehon,’ said Niall eagerly. ‘Even when I was young he told me that he would look after me if …’ His voice tailed away.

  If … what? wondered Mara; but, she supposed, there would always be an ‘if’ with a dour suspicious character like Aengus. If the boy behaved himself, if he were docile and helpful around the mill, if he did not anger his father … This condition did not mean that he was not the son; in fact, it made it more likely. Why should Aengus worry about looking after the son of a mere servant woman if there were no special relationship?

  ‘And then years ago, when you were eighteen years old, Aengus purchased the land at Noughaval for you?’

  ‘Yes, Brehon,’ said Niall. His face brightened. ‘He purchased it from the profits of the mill and gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday. He told me that I had been a good son to him, but that there was not enough work for two men at the mill,’ he ended defiantly.

  ‘I drew up the lease myself,’ said Mara. ‘That certainly was my understanding. Although nothing was written down, . I do remember Aengus saying that he wanted to make provision for you.’

  ‘But you say nothing was written down about a relationship,’ said Slaney sharply. Whenever she spoke in Gaelic her voice seemed different, harsher and more that of a countrywoman than her previously refined Galway tones.

  ‘True,’ said Mara, ‘but Aengus paid a good sum of silver for this farm. He bought it from the O’Lochlainn. I remember the occasion well.’ She went ahead, speaking slowly and carefully. Though inwardly wishing that this dispute had not arisen on the occasion of the inauguration, she made her voice slow and authoritative and kept a stern eye on Slaney.

  ‘The O’Lochlainn said to Aengus that it was a good farm and a productive twenty acres and, to the best of my recollection, Aengus said: “Well, I would like to see the lad settled. It was not his fault that his mother was never married.” I think if this case is to be tried at Poulnabrone,’ she added, ‘then I would call upon the O‘Lochlainn as a witness. I’m sure that he will remember the occasion.’

  ‘So if this case were to be heard at Poulnabrone what would be your verdict, Brehon?’ asked the king, eyeing her closely.

  Mara waited for a moment while she considered her words. The air seemed very still and very quiet and then she realized that the swallows, whose high-pitched veet vit sounds had been the background to the whole summer, had now finally departed across the sea. Soon winter would come. Already the beauty of the summer flowers was fading and the sharp chill of winter was beginning to grip this land of harsh grey stone.

  ‘My lord,’ she said formally, addressing herself to the king, ‘if this case did come for judgement at Poulnabrone I would call on witnesses who had known Aengus the miller and Niall MacNamara. Niall, himself, would then have time to call his witnesses and to make good his claim to be the son of Aengus. I cannot say what my judgement would be once I heard all of the evidence.’ That was not what she had said to him in private, but it was all that she was prepared to say in public.

  ‘But perhaps it does not need to go as far as that,’ persisted the king. ‘Perhaps you could tell the taoiseach now what your opinion at the moment is. I’m sure he wants to do the right thing by this member of his clan. Perhaps this matter could be settled now for the sake of unity in the clan.’

  ‘All I can say now,’ said Mara slowly and gravely, ‘is that I have never heard Aengus deny his parenthood of Niall, and of Balor. The fact that he paid for a farm to be given to Niall is, to my mind, evidence of a closer tie than that of mere servant and master. My opinion, now, at this moment, without having heard the evidence, is that Niall was the son of Aengus and as such, unless there is an objection, he has the right to, as the law puts it, “uncover his father’s hearth and take possession of his father’s lands and goods”.’

  She waited for a moment, looking directly at Garrett. It seemed to her as if the entire clan, gathered around, held their breath. She was conscious that this might be a crucial moment in Garrett’s relationship with his followers. Some show of generosity now would make up for the mistakes of the past few months. His eyes avoided hers and looked towards his wife. She looked back at him stonily, her bright blue eyes seeming to grow even more prominent with rage. Garrett glanced up at the dilapidated castle. Mara could see him mentally assess the amount of repairs that it needed and then he returned his gaze to hers.

  ‘I object,’ said Garrett harshly.

  Mara nodded briefly. The king beside her made a sudden violent move and sighed impatiently. She could imagine his thoughts. Turlough was a man of great generosity himself and this evidence of a mean and grudging spirit in the taoiseach of a clan would be abhorrent to him. However, Garrett was within his rights, and the law would, as always, be even-handed in its judgements. This would be a hard-fought case. Because of his wife’s extravagance, money was suddenly all-important to Garrett. But the mill itself would be important for Niall. It would make him prosperous and it would also make him respected within the community. Mara made up her mind. There was no more to be said at this time and in this place.

  ‘In that case,’ she said gravely, ‘the matter cannot be settled here today. It will tried at Poulnabrone next Saturday at noon. Witnesses should be brought by both sides to the dispute.’

  She cast one look at Niall’s stricken, blanched countenance. Suddenly the picture of him driving the cart on that foggy Michaelmas Day came to her. Malachy had put the time of death as Sunday, but conceded that it could have been Monday. She understood his difficulty. Hot sunny days and cold frosty nights and the fact that the body lay in the fast-flowing mountain stream made the time of death hard to estimate. Perhaps Aengus was still alive on Monday. Who had collected those sacks of flour from the mill at Oughtmama? Was it Ragnall, or was it Niall who went in to fetch the sacks? And if it were Niall, did he meet his father Aengus? Were there hot words between them? Did Niall lose his temper and perhaps see this way of getting rid of his father and inheriting his lands and his mill?

  ‘I won’t stay for dinner,’ she murmured to the king. ‘I feel I should leave now. I should not take further hospitality. I must not appear to be on Garrett’s side when I hear this case on Saturday.’ She ignored his indignant face — he would not enjoy the company of Slaney and Garrett, and of his son, without her presence, but she could not help that. He, like she, was bound by his position in life. She crossed the platform to where Garrett stood while his wife still whispered in his ear.

  ‘I will bid you farewell now, Garrett,’ she said. ‘I have much to do and can not spare any more time. Cormac, I wish you all the blessings and a long life to enjoy your new position. Slán leat, Slaney.’ And then, without waiting for a reply, she signalled to Fachtnan and he quickly rounded up the other scholars and took the bridle of her mare, holding it steady for her to mount.

  ‘You wouldn’t have got much to eat anyway,’ she said to her indignant young scholars once they were riding down the road. ‘I bet the dinner would have been nothing compared to what you get at Cahermacnaghten. When we reach Caherconnell you can gallop ahead and ask Brigid to cook you some of her sausages. Then you’ll have the rest of the day to yourselves to play hurling, or whatever you want to do. Fachtnan, will you ride with me? I want to call in at the forge on the way home.’

  ‘Fintan won’t be at the forge, Brehon,’ said Enda. ‘He was at the inauguration. I saw him there in the courtyard. He’ll stay for t
he dinner.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mara. ‘That’s why I am going this afternoon.’

  TEN

  DO BREATHAIB GAIRE (JUDGEMENTS OF MAINTENANCE)

  The fine (kin group) is obliged to care for those who are handicapped in their minds or their bodies.

  The guardian of a druth (mentally retarded person) is responsible for his offences in the alehouse. Missiles thrown by a druth do not require compensation. Anyone who incites a druth to commit a crime must pay the fine himself.

  ‘FACHTNAN, WILL YOU RIDE ahead of me,’ said Mara as the two of them turned down the quiet deserted lane that led from Caherconnell to Noughaval. ‘I don’t want Balor frightened; he seems nervous of me and you will be able to reassure him. Just chat to him until I arrive.’

  If that were Enda, she thought with a smile of amusement, there would be fifty questions and surmises, but Fachtnan just nodded his head of rough brown curls and galloped off. She slowed down her mare and walked her along the rough surface of the lane. The sun had come out and was pleasantly warm on her face. A light wind from the Atlantic stirred the bleached seed heads of the grasses and rippled through the nodding pale blue harebells. The hedgerows were laden with dark red haws and the blackberries glistened fat and luscious amongst the orange and yellow glow of the bramble leaves. There were still some red and green fruits between the ripe black ones. These might never mature now, thought Mara. All the signs seemed to point to an early, hard, cold winter.

  She could hear the rise and fall of Fachtnan’s voice interspersed with the slower, deeper tones of Balor as she neared the bend in the lane just before the forge. They seemed to be having an amiable conversation. Quietly she dismounted, leading the mare slowly towards the forge.

  ‘Beannacht Dé leat,’ she said pleasantly to Balor. He had a hunted look in his eye and he cast a quick glance over his shoulder as if he were about to escape. Swiftly she bent down and picked up the mare’s forefoot, holding it out towards him.

  ‘Has she got a stone in her foot?’ she appealed to him.

  He couldn’t resist that. He was obviously a man who loved horses. He came to her side, chirruped to the mare, taking his time to gentle her, but she knew him instantly and nuzzled his neck. He produced a small red apple from his pocket and offered it to her and she crunched it delicately. He took the foot from Mara, handling it carefully in his enormous blackened hands, probing with the sureness of a surgeon around the shoe, and then shook his head with a puzzled expression.

  ‘No, no,’ he said.

  ‘She’s all right?’

  ‘She’s mighty,’ he said, looking at the mare lovingly.

  ‘Just trod on a stone for a moment, perhaps,’ said Mara. She was not sure whether he understood, but he nodded immediately.

  ‘Not sore now,’ he added, after a minute’s more probing. Perhaps he was not as slow as Aengus the miller had made out when he brought him to Poulnabrone a few years ago. She wondered whether Aengus had been unkind to him. The work here with Fintan among the horses would have perhaps slowly built his confidence. She stood next to him and joined him in petting and caressing the mare.

  ‘Balor,’ she said after a minute, looking at him gently and speaking slowly. ‘Did you take the candlesticks from Ragnall?’

  He carefully put the mare’s foot back on the ground and then looked at her with panic-stricken eyes. She felt slightly ashamed, but this matter had to be cleared up.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, making her voice as reassuring as she could. ‘They were belonging to Fintan so you took them from Ragnall and you brought them back. That was it, wasn’t it?’

  Slowly he nodded. Fachtnan patted him encouragingly on the back.

  ‘The Brehon isn’t cross,’ he said carefully, as if he were talking to an eight-year-old. ‘Tell her what happened.’

  Mara held her breath. The candlesticks were of little concern to her, but it was possible that Balor might hold some other vital pieces of information.

  ‘I took ’em from cart,’ he muttered, looking at her shyly.

  Mara nodded in a matter-of-fact way. ‘When Ragnall had gone into the churchyard.’

  ‘They were master’s candles,’ he said beseechingly.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she answered soothingly. ‘And they were lovely. Did you help to make them?’

  He nodded proudly. ‘Hammered the iron,’ he said.

  ‘And was Ragnall a long time in the churchyard?’ she asked. ‘Was he talking to anyone?’

  She wasn’t sure whether he understood her, but then he turned his back to her and whispered hoarsely in Fachtnan’s ear.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Fachtnan, ‘that’s what he went in to do, but the Brehon just wants to know, did he talk to anyone when he finished.’

  ‘Just Donie,’ said Balor.

  ‘Donal O’Brien, from Lemeanah?’

  ‘Yes, young Donie … not anyone from our clan.’

  Mara drew in a deep breath. This was worrying. It certainly needed investigating.

  ‘Tell your master that the candlesticks are his, Balor,’ she . said. She thought of uttering a few legal rules about not helping yourself from another man’s cart, but decided not to bother. ‘You’re a good worker, Balor,’ she said. ‘Your master is lucky to have you.’

  He smiled happily then. He chuckled to himself. ‘Master went back to give him a good wallop,’ he said, his enormous toothless mouth grinning.

  ‘After you brought the candlesticks home?’

  ‘Yes, he say: “good man yourself, Balor”, and he go down road.’

  Mara nodded slowly. This evidence was not evidence that she could use in a court of law, the man was classified as a druth, and classified as such by herself. However, it did seem to put Fintan MacNamara, the blacksmith, back into the picture again.

  When she looked back, she could see Balor happily carrying huge logs of wood to stoke the fire. He seemed to have forgotten his fright. He was probably quite child-like and was glad that the matter was now discovered and was off his mind. It had been a worthwhile visit for both of them. Though she took little pleasure in the knowledge that Donal O’Brien might well be the last person to have seen Ragnall MacNamara alive, the sooner the truth was found, the sooner the community could settle down again. King Turlough would be upset but that could not be helped.

  ‘Fachtnan, you go back to Cahermacnaghten and have your dinner,’ she said. Tell Brigid I may be late. I am going down to Lissylisheen to see Ardal’s steward and then I will probably ride on to Lemeanah Castle.’

  The O’Lochlainn tower house at Lissylisheen was set in the middle of an open field, three storeys high, plainly made from well-cut limestone blocks. It was a solid, unpretentious tower, kept in good repair. Mara could see where some work had been recently done to the stone roof slates and there was new pointing between the stones on the northern side. The flagstoned yard in front of the house was swept clean and the stone wall around the enclosure was well built and carefully maintained. What a pity that Ardal didn’t marry again, thought Mara. It seemed a shame that he had no sons to enjoy this fine property.

  ‘Do you want the taoiseach, Brehon?’ A man cleaning out one of the stables came running to hold her mare, while another hovered ready to summon Ardal.

  ‘No, I won’t trouble him,’ said Mara. ‘I just wanted to have a word with Liam, the steward. Is he anywhere near?’

  ‘Liam is in the barn, Brehon. Will I get him for you?’

  Mara thought for a minute. Her natural politeness made her unwilling to interrupt for too long one of the busiest days of the year, when the O’Lochlainn steward would be storing and recording all the Michaelmas tribute. However, if she went into the barn then she would have to speak to Liam in front of many ears. If she stayed where she was then she could ask a private question or two.

  ‘Ask him if he could spare me a minute,’ she said, putting her hand out to stroke the tiny fronds of a maidenhair fern in the crevice of the gate pier, but making no move t
o dismount.

  The man went running and in a few moments, large and affable as ever, Liam emerged from the barn, shielding his eyes against the low brilliance of the setting sun.

  ‘You’re well, Brehon?’ he enquired. ‘You’ll come in and have a cup of ale? Something to eat?’

  ‘No, I won’t, Liam,’ she said. ‘I just wanted to ask you about Ragnall on Michaelmas Day. You remember? You saw him at Noughaval Fair?’

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ said Liam, hastily rearranging his smiling features to an expression of solemnity.

  ‘Do you remember seeing him leave the fair and go into the churchyard?’

  ‘He may have done,’ said Liam, his face expressing the hope that he might not have to go into any embarrassing details about Ragnall’s visit to the churchyard.

  ‘Did you see young Donal O’Brien go after him?’ asked Mara bluntly.

  Liam paused. A quick expression of something that she could not quite read flitted across his face. Then he nodded.

  ‘He may have done,’ he said slowly, and then, more quickly, ‘of course he might have just been going home to Lemeanah Castle by the back route.’

  Mara nodded. Unlikely, she thought. She had been over that route herself and it had nothing in its favour. There were better and more straightforward ways of getting to Lemeanah.

  ‘They’re in a lot of trouble up there in Carron — the MacNamara, I mean,’ commented Liam. ‘I hear the miller is dead, also. Someone was talking about it last night. Maol is supposed to be the man to be the new steward; no one knows who will be the new miller.’ He eyed her with interest. Undoubtedly he would have heard about the dispute between Niall and his taoiseach, Garrett. She wasn’t going to talk of this, but it would be no harm to probe Liam a bit about Niall. She waited, saying nothing, just glancing around at the horses on the well-drained fertile fields. Liam, she knew, could not keep silent long. He was an affable man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice.