My Lady Judge (26 page)

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Authors: Cora Harrison

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective

BOOK: My Lady Judge
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‘What upset him about the bonfire?’ asked Mara.
‘Well, the young fellow that brought him down said that Feirdin had been thinking that there was a man inside the pile of wood,’ explained Gráinne. ‘Feirdin was frightened that someone was going to be burned.’
‘Young fellow?’ queried Mara. Suddenly there flashed into her mind Fachtnan’s observation on that Sunday morning. What was it he had said? Something about Feirdin going down with someone …
‘Yes, a young fellow … I don’t know who he was,’ explained Gráinne, ‘but he told me that he and Feirdin had been talking about rocks and stones. He was very kind to Feirdin. He told Feirdin that he would come and see him sometime and that he would bring him a present of some stones from Corcomroe – sandstone, I think he said.’
‘Oscar O’Connor!’ exclaimed Mara. ‘Was he a tall young man with very black hair, Gráinne?’
‘That’s him, Brehon,’ said Gráinne. ‘He was a stranger, not from the Burren, but he was a very kind, nice young fellow, all the same.’
‘And do you think he’d been with Feirdin for a little while before they came down the mountain?’
‘I’d say they had been together for quite a while,’ said Gráinne. ‘You see, Feirdin had his satchel full of all sorts of stones and to quieten him after the young fellow had gone away – he was a bit upset when he left – I asked him to show them to me. He kept picking out stones and saying, “My friend found this one” and “My friend found that one”. You see,’ she finished simply, ‘he’s never had a friend before.’
Mara felt tears prick at her eyelids. What a terrible thing it must be to have a handicapped child and to suffer with every rejection of him. She thought of her little grandson in Galway and of Sorcha’s pride in his cleverness and popularity. One part of her mind hated the role that she was playing, trying to extract information from this unfortunate woman, but the other part insisted that these crimes be solved. She took a deep breath and continued steadily with her questions. ‘So Feirdin stayed with you for the rest of the night, after Oscar left, did he?’
Gráinne nodded. ‘Yes, he stayed until the light began to come and everyone was putting their torches out and then he wandered up the mountain again. He was quite happy once the torches were out and the bonfire had died down. I knew what he would be
doing. He would be watching all the people coming down and listening to them talking. He was in a great mood when he climbed down again. He was chatting away as we walked home afterwards. He said that his friend was going to get him work carrying heavy stones. He was delighted about that, poor fellow. He would love to do some work like the other lads of his age. He’s very strong. He just needs someone to understand him.’
‘That would be wonderful,’ agreed Mara. ‘That was very kind of Oscar.’
She would talk to Oisín about Oscar O’Connor, she thought. Perhaps her son-in-law would be able to help that young man to re-establish his business in Galway, or even direct customers to the quarry at Doolin.
‘And which way did Oscar go when he left you?’ she asked. ‘He got on his horse and he went towards the west,’ said Gráinne. ‘We watched him go for a while, Feirdin and myself, and then the bonfire was lit and we were watching that. The young fellow was probably out of sight by then, anyway.’
‘So they both started to come down before the bonfire was lit?’ questioned Mara. She had to be certain, but already she was fairly sure that two people could be crossed off her list.
Gráinne nodded. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘It hadn’t been long blazing by the time that they reached me.’ She looked a little uncomfortable and then she confided, ‘When Feirdin gets worried like that it’s often hard to get him moving. I’d say that Oscar O’Connor had a hard job to get him down. It would take some time. It was lucky for Feirdin that he was there that night.’
‘Lucky for Oscar, also,’ said Mara gravely. ‘What is it that the Bible says? A man’s good deed shall be returned unto him tenfold.’
LÁNAMNA (THE LAW OF MARRIAGE)
There are seven forms of marriage:
1.
Marriage of First Degree: the union of joint property
2.
Marriage of Second Degree: the union of a woman on man’s property
3.
Marriage of Third Degree: the union of a man on woman’s property
4.
Marriage of Fourth Degree: the union of a man visiting a woman with her kin’s consent
5.
Marriage of Fifth Degree: the union where a woman goes away openly with a man, but without her kin’s consent
6.
. Marriage of Sixth Degree: the union where the woman allows herself to be abducted without her kin’s consent
7.
. Marriage of Seventh Degree: the union where a woman is secretly visited without her kin’s consent
 
 
T
he sun WAS BEGINNING to move out of the south and towards the western sea by the time that Mara returned from Baur South, but the day was still very hot and she strolled along enjoying the walk. The stony lane was white with limestone dust and on either side of it the lime-loving orchids grew, massed so thickly that even the grass itself was smothered by their profusion. Every colour of orchid was here: the dark red, the pure white, the pink and the spotted purple all gathered under the hedge of May blossom. Thousands of butter-yellow cowslips studded the field beyond and a lark was singing just above her head.
Mara narrowed her eyes against the sun to try to see the little bird and then she shielded her eyes with her hand. There was someone coming on a horse and he seemed as if he were making directly for her. She stood, smiling with pleasure at the sight of him. He certainly made a fine figure of a man on his handsome bay horse.
‘I was just coming to see you, Brehon,’ said Ardal O’Lochlainn, ‘and then I thought I saw your head above the hedge’.
‘And I was just thinking about you, too, Ardal,’ lied Mara with her usual easy fluency. ‘I was thinking that I must come and thank you for all that you did for me on Saturday.’ Hopefully he had not heard about the episode with the O’Kellys.
‘It is a pleasure to serve you in any way, Brehon,’ he said. ‘I had business in Galway that day, so it was no trouble to me.’
And I hope your business was a pleasure to you afterwards, thought Mara wickedly. He had a glossy, well-satisfied look, his copper-coloured hair glowed in the sunlight and his blue eyes were contented and relaxed. Possibly this marriage of the fourth degree, as Brehon law named it, with the fisherman’s daughter suited him well. It could be that this arrangement was a good one for many people. Marriage brought its own stresses and its own demands.
‘I was going to look for your help again,’ she continued, bringing herself out of her reverie. ‘I just want to get the events
on
Bealtaine
Eve clear in my mind. I understand that you lit the bonfire at midnight.’
‘Yes,’ he said. Was it her imagination or did the blue eyes become a little wary, the upright, graceful form a little tense? He dismounted from his horse with an easy swing of his long leg and stood with the bridle in his hand. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s expected of me. I didn’t stay once the bonfire was lit, that’s what I meant when you asked me before. I thought afterwards that I might have misunderstood your question. I apologize, Brehon. I didn’t mean to mislead you.’
‘No, I don’t suppose that you did,’ said Mara soothingly, and then, very quickly, she added, ‘Which way down the mountain did you take?’
She expected him to look surprised at that question but he didn’t. If anything he looked a little more wary.
‘I came down on the eastern side, Brehon.’
‘So nowhere near to Wolf’s Lair, then?’
‘No, I’m afraid not, Brehon,’ he said with his usual courtesy, but the warmth had gone out of his voice.
‘And did you see anyone to remember as you were coming down?’ asked Mara.
He frowned. ‘I’m afraid I don’t remember, Brehon. I had a lot on my mind. One of my mares, one of my most valuable ones, was due to drop a foal. I wanted to get back and see to her.’
It might be true. His horses were very important to him. He bred and sold horses and much of his wealth came from this trade. He even exported many to England and to Spain. The worry about his mare would have filled his mind that night. In any case, he may not have noticed whom he passed on the way down even if he were not preoccupied. He was the sort of man who took very little interest in those around him, lacking the humanity of King Turlough Donn. Or was there another reason? Did he come down by Wolf’s Lair, meet Colman and be forced to listen to
what the young man had to say? She frowned slightly, thinking of that case listed in Colman’s neat, small handwriting. I wonder whether Ardal had anything to do with this murder, her busy mind speculated, or was that matter too trivial?
‘What a beautiful horse, she has some Arab blood in her, I’m sure,’ she said aloud, patting the mare and making a pretext of feeling her legs and examining the small, neat ears, while all the time her active mind was working.
The big surprise about this killing was that no one had admitted to the crime. But if Ardal O’Lochlainn decided to silence this evil on his territory then he would not want to admit that he, the most powerful
taoiseach
of the region, second only to the king himself, had committed murder. It would undoubtedly lower him in the eyes of his followers to commit a secret murder.
Ardal did not look worried by her silence, she thought. He hadn’t answered her last remark, had just smiled. In fact, his eyes were on his flock of newly sheared sheep in the field on the other side of the lane and there was a look of complacent satisfaction on his handsome face. She would not press him now, she decided. She could always talk to him again. She cast around for a neutral subject with which to end the conversation.
‘The king was telling me that there is a new young king in England,’ she said, moving quickly into gossip mode. ‘He is only eighteen years old and he is the son of the old king, Henry VII. Henry VIII, this one will be known as. Funny the way they number their kings in England, isn’t it? I knew a man once who did that with his cows. He called his first cow Buttercup and all her daughters and granddaughters were Buttercup I, Buttercup II and so on. The next one was Daisy and he did the same thing. He was a man of little imagination,’ she added gaily.
He laughed politely and she was glad to see that the tension had gone from his eyes.
‘I was coming to see you,’ he repeated. ‘I just wanted to tell you that Colman had a good wake on Saturday and a good burial on Sunday morning. Everyone was there. The bishop himself conducted the burial Mass at St Nicholas’s Church.’
Can you have a good wake and a good burial when you are only nineteen? thought Mara. Aloud she said, ‘That’s good,’ and then she waited. There would be more, she knew. Ardal O’Lochlainn would not have been coming to see her unless there was more.
‘They’re upset, of course, the parents.’
‘Of course,’ agreed Mara.
‘They want justice.’
Mara nodded. The Lynch family came from a long line of merchants. The fine would be important, no matter how genuine the grief. ‘I’ve already begun my investigation,’ she said smoothly. ‘When I find the guilty person, then the fine will be paid.’
‘The word is,’ said Ardal cautiously, ‘that it will not be the full fine.’
She smiled. ‘You’ve picked up the news quickly.’
‘It’s true?’
‘It’s true. If the murder was the result of blackmail, then the fine will be just the normal
éraic.
The victim bears some responsibility.’
‘I don’t think the Lynch family will be too happy about that,’ warned Ardal.
Mara shrugged. It was of no consequence to her. The Lynch family could think what they liked. She had confidence in her own judgement and her knowledge of the law. The crime was committed on the kingdom of the Burren; Brehon law would prevail.
She noted with amusement that the Lynch family had not asked for the death penalty. That was the interesting thing about a lot of people that lived under English law. They tended to pick
and choose between the two laws according to whichever would serve their interests best. Nothing could bring back their son, so the Lynch family had decided that a fine would be better than another death. There had been a murder case recently in Kildare, right in the heart of the territory that England still held on to, where the family had turned their back on the English judge and had brought in a Brehon from Ossary to sort out the compensation.
Ardal, she noticed, now that he had made his observation about the Lynch family, was quite relaxed in her company and unworried by her silence. He took his knife from his pouch, sharpened it vigorously on a stone and then inserted the tip of it into the loop of the bridle, dislodging some minute piece of mud. It was a plain, serviceable knife, she observed, not at all like the elaborate jewelled affair that Cian had presented to his son Hugh. This one just had a long, sharp blade and a well-moulded wooden handle. It did the job for which it was designed and made no show of wealth or status. It was like Ardal himself, she thought: handsome, well built and without pretension.
How characteristic of him it was to leave his servants and followers to enjoy the bonfire and go quietly back to Lissylisheen to care for his horses. He would not be like the MacNamara, who needed to be constantly surrounded by flatterers and subordinates. The O’Lochlainns had been kings on the Burren in the old days and Ardal retained that serene, unselfconscious air of confidence in himself.
‘We’ll see how it turns out,’ said Mara. She smiled at Ardal, but her manner conveyed that she did not want to discuss the Lynch claim any further. He smiled back, returned his knife to his pouch and mounted his horse again.
‘Well, I won’t delay you any more, Brehon,’ he said courteously. ‘If there is anything at all I can do for you, please call on me. You have a busy time ahead of you.’
‘Yes, I do,’ said Mara. ‘I have to talk to everyone I can find. Sooner or later someone will remember something of importance from that night.’
She looked at him closely as she said this, but his handsome face was serene and unconcerned. As he trotted away on his fine bay horse, she heard him humming a tune. She knew herself to be a shrewd observer of people and there was nothing in his manner that conveyed any uneasiness, except for that one moment of ill ease when she asked him about the lighting of the bonfire. Well, she would keep him in mind, but he didn’t seem a likely culprit to her.
She would go home across the fields to Cahermacnaghten, Mara decided as she pushed her way through a hedge hung with the tiny pale pink buds of the coming field roses. The lane would be an easier route, but it led past many cottages and Mara did not want to talk to anyone for a little while. She needed time to think. The sight of Ardal’s knife had made her think about Muiris, and about another man, also.
 
 
The bell for vespers was ringing when Mara returned to Cahermacnaghten. Brigid had spread a meal in the garden of the Brehon’s house. There were baskets of oatcakes, baskets of honey cakes, platters of golden-brown sausages, big hunks of ham, balls of goat’s cheese, flagons of ale, jugs of buttermilk and dozens of hard-boiled brown eggs lying in a willow pottle, all spread out on a few trestle tables in the shade of the hazel trees.
‘They’re coming,’ said Brigid as Mara came through the gate. ‘I heard the noise of the hoofs up the mountain a while ago. I thought I’d set everything up here as the day is so hot.’
‘You did the right thing,’ said Mara approvingly. This outdoor supper would round off the day well for everyone. ‘It sounds as if you might need some more cups,’ she added. She walked down
the road, shading her eyes against the western sun to catch the first glimpse of them.
They glowed with sun and fun, and laughter, and they smelled of fresh brine. They galloped down the hill, infusing the tired ponies with their own youth and energy. The crowd had swollen to double its original size; young people from all over the Burren, boys and girls, had joined in.
‘Had a good day?’ called Mara. Her eyes went to Hugh immediately. He looked well, she thought happily. He was covered in freckles and his small nose was pink from the sun, but his eyes were clear and shining.
‘Oh, yes!’ said Nuala.
‘Yes, thank you, Brehon,’ chorused the scholars.
‘You’d better put some buttermilk on your nose, Hugh, after you have seen to your pony,’ said Mara. ‘Supper is ready – yes, you are all invited. Give your ponies a drink and a rub-down here in the yard and then come over to the Brehon’s house.’
‘I’ll do some more eggs and get some more oatcakes,’ said Brigid, joining her. ‘What did you lot do with my poor husband?’
‘Oh, the cart was too slow, he’s back somewhere over there,’ said Fachtnan with a careless wave in the direction of Slieve Elva. He seized a handful of grass from the roadside and started to rub down his pony.

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