Mara turned to nod an acknowledgement to Ulick Burke, who had exhausted his exclamations of horror to Turlough and was now addressing her. ‘What an adventure, my dear Brehon. Who would have thought it?’
‘Who, indeed,’ said Mara looking around to see whether the innkeeper had brought out her horse yet.
‘There was I, innocent as a babe unborn, commiserating with this fellow about the hole in his boat, offering to be the one who stayed behind since my lord’s son-in-law and cousin were so very anxious to accompany him on the first boat.’ Ulick gave Mara a keen look and she gazed back blandly. Let him keep guessing, she thought. She was not certain whether he was guilty or not, but she would find out soon. His eyes were now on the bound figures of Donán and O’Brien of Arra and he did not look surprised. Neither, however, did he look particularly worried.
‘What—’ he began but she interrupted him quickly saying that she had to get back to the castle at once.
Turlough’s men, she noticed with amusement, had borrowed Setanta’s cart and placed the bound bodies of Donán and O’Brien of Arra in it beside the net full of shining fish for the castle. Neither said anything, but their faces were full of disgust. To be thrown into a fish-smelling donkey cart was the depths of ignominy for two close relatives of the king.
‘Won’t do them a bit of harm,’ she said decisively to Turlough when he whispered a protest. ‘After all, they say the son of God rode on a donkey!’ She was pleased with herself for this piece of biblical knowledge. It silenced Turlough, who looked taken aback, and it amused Setanta who was climbing up to the driver’s seat.
Anyway, they’re probably not as wet and cold as I am, she thought as she stiffly mounted her horse. Quickly she clapped her heels to the animal’s sides and Brig, her beloved mare, responded by flying along the road as fleet as any deer.
A hot bath, hair wash and clean dry clothes, she thought as she galloped past the hedgerows, which were white with the snowy purity of the blackthorn blossom. Deliberately, she kept her mind from what had passed today and what would have to happen this afternoon. She needed to be fresh and she needed to have her wits about her. She would not rush the interrogation of the two guilty men. She had given orders to the king’s bodyguards that the men were to be kept under close surveillance in the cellar of the Ballinalacken. The dungeon, she had called it within in their earshot. Her first priority was to be clean, warm and dry. Then would come the action.
There would be two trials, she planned. The formal and legal one would be held at Poulnabrone, the place of justice where all the clans of the Burren could come and stand around the ancient tomb of their ancestors to hear and see justice being administered.
But the first hearing would take place today at Ballinalacken Castle in the presence of king and Brehon.
Twenty
Airechta
(The Courts of Law)
There are five courts in Irish law:
I
t was almost evening before Mara decided to send for the prisoners. She dressed carefully in a black gown, woven from the finest wool, over a creamy-white, lace-edged
léine
, and around her neck she knotted a red silk scarf. Her dark-brown hair was shining after its wash and she coiled it at the back of her neck and then spent a couple of minutes studying her reflection in the looking-glass of the bedroom. She looked good, she thought, judicial and a little stern.
Then she woke Turlough.
‘Leave the talking to me,’ she warned. ‘I know you. You will be telling them that you understand completely; that we’ll forget the whole business and
why don’t we all have a cup of wine together
.’
Turlough grinned awkwardly. ‘Well, he’s a bit of a poor fellow, Donán,’ he began but she cut off him off abruptly.
‘Not at all as poor a fellow as the young man, Eamon, a man with a promising future, who is lying dead in a grave at Noughaval church,’ she said curtly. ‘You’re not forgetting that this affair led to a murder, are you?’
Turlough looked subdued and a little confused. ‘I don’t understand how—’ he began, but once again she cut him off.
‘Wear this gown and that doublet,’ she said, fishing out the objects from the wooden press by the window. ‘I want you in royal purple and saffron. You are a king of three kingdoms and your safety has to be of paramount importance to your subjects of whom I am one. Now you get dressed and come down to the Great Hall. I have some orders to give, but I will await you there.’
And then she left him and went in search of Ulick Burke, the Lord of Clanrickard. He was sitting on the seat by the window sipping some wine with a bored expression.
‘Come in, Brehon, come in, you find me all alone; me, a man who likes the society of his friends. Now tell me all about the exciting events of today. Start at the beginning and go right to the end.’
His tone was cordial but his eyes were wary as they studied her.
‘From the beginning?’ queried Mara, lifting her black eyebrows delicately. ‘I would have thought that you knew the beginning, my Lord of Clanrickard.’
Ulick’s face altered subtly and she knew that he had understood her. She pressed home her advantage. ‘I would have thought that a man like you who knows all the gossip would have heard a few rumours,’ she said innocently.
He studied her face. ‘Perhaps a few,’ he murmured, ‘but you know this country, Brehon. There are always rumours.’
‘Rumours about what?’ she enquired.
‘Well, you know, I always felt that Turlough was right not wholly to trust O’Brien of Arra, but you will have to ask him about that,’ he said sounding more confident.
He was slippery as a fish, she thought and was probably a match for her in wits. She would find out more from Donán and O’Brien of Arra, but in the meantime, since he was her husband’s oldest and best friend and the godfather of her son, she would not quarrel unnecessarily with him. It would do him no harm, though, to be aware that she had her eye on him. She smiled at him.
‘I can assure you that I have many sources of information and that I will do everything in my power to ensure the safety of our king,’ she said softly.
‘My dear Brehon, we all rely on your wisdom and your sharp wits,’ he returned.
‘And now, since you cannot help me with any new information, I wonder could I ask you to occupy yourself elsewhere for the moment? Supper will be in a couple of hours’ time, but before that my lord and I need the hall for a judicial affair.’ Mara spoke sharply and decisively, deliberately making no response to his compliment. She scanned his face closely, but could read no hint of discomfiture in his expression. Perhaps he was not directly involved; it would be like him to sit on the fence and see which way the wind blew, she thought, with a sudden vivid picture of the small, neat figure perched up high and holding a wet finger aloft to check the direction of the air currents before committing himself to any action.
‘I shall take some of this excellent wine up to my bedroom and repose before the meal.’ Ulick picked up a ewer of wine and walked towards the door, carrying his silver cup in his other hand.
‘While you slept a message came for you,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘One of your scholars came with it. It was from Nuala to say that Muiris – is that the name? The farmer who was so badly injured outside the flax garden – that he had come to his senses and that he did not remember what had happened to him. So disappointing for you, dear Brehon,’ he went on with a false air of sympathy.
‘Well, the truth may be hidden, but a wise judge has many ways of finding it,’ she said in oracular manner and then turned her back on him. Let him worry if he has anything on his conscience, she thought. She herself was not completely sure about the criminal who attempted to murder Muiris. It could be one of two people, she thought, and hoped that she could surprise the truth out of the guilty person. She waited until the sound of Ulick’s footsteps on the stone stairs had died away and then rang a bell to summon a servant.
‘Tell the guardsmen to bring up the prisoners,’ she said when a man appeared. Before Turlough arrived she would have time for a few sharp questions. And, more importantly, she would have time to set the scene.
She dragged over two tall, ornate chairs and placed them with their backs to the window, putting two small, humble stools in front of them. The guilty pair would have the light from the western sun directly shining into their faces.
‘Come in,’ she called at the knock on the door. ‘Place the prisoners in front of me,’ she ordered, ‘and both of you stand on guard behind them.’
Once they had shuffled in, heavily chained, and were seated, she delayed for a moment, studying both faces. ‘I understand everything,’ she said rapidly after she had allowed a long minute to elapse, ‘so don’t attempt to lie to me.’
They both looked away; Donán buried his head in his hands and groaned. The sound seemed to give courage to O’Brien and he looked contemptuously at the young man and then turned to Mara. ‘I don’t know why you persist in including me, Brehon. I presume that you are investigating the death of the lawyer, Eamon. I could have had nothing to do with this. I was on the other side of the river Shannon, in a different kingdom, when this happened and I can bring forty witnesses to prove that I never left the castle at Arra on that Saturday.’
At that moment the door opened and Turlough came in. Mara jumped to her feet, welcomed him and escorted him to the chair by the window. Only when he was seated did she take her place beside him. As Brehon of one of his kingdoms, it was now her responsibility to lay the facts of the case before him.
‘My lord,’ she said formally. ‘This is a very painful matter. It touches the security of your person, the security of the realm, involves the murder of a young lawyer and the attempted murder of a farmer.’ She stopped and waited to marshal her thoughts. Now she no longer looked at the two men but inwardly to where she seemed to see, neatly arranged and tabulated on that slab of rock, all of the complications and the puzzles of this strange affair. She took her time, and did not speak until she was ready.
‘It’s a story of two legal documents, two deeds of law, each having been signed by a lawyer and witnessed in accordance with the law,’ she began, her eyes fixed on O’Brien’s arrogant face. ‘The one was straightforward. It was the deed of lease for the profitable flax garden; this deed was signed and witnessed by me personally and it is only important because it gave the lawyer, Eamon, the opportunity to conduct his secret mission.’
Mara turned slightly so that she appeared to be addressing the king, but she was very aware of the two men in front of her. Fachtnan’s liberty and perhaps his life hung on a knife edge. All depended now on her skill with words.
‘The other document was different. I have never seen this deed. I presume that it is now at the castle of the O’Kelly in Ui Maine. Unless of course it has already been sent to Kildare for the perusal of the Great Earl.’ Quickly, with a slight gesture of one hand, she checked Turlough’s start when he heard the detested name of the Earl of Kildare.
‘However,’ she resumed, ‘I think that this second deed was also drawn up at my law school at Cahermacnaghten. Eamon, as a visiting young lawyer, here ostensibly to learn about the workings of such schools, had access to my books, my writing materials, and . . .’ Mara fumbled in her pouch and took out the two small circles of pink, still tied in a bow. ‘These linen tapes were found above the flax garden on the Aillwee Mountain. I know this tape well and I believe it to be unique. When I was a very young child I persuaded my father to have it dyed pink rather than left white and by an accident a huge quantity was done and Cahermacnaghten law school still uses that pink tape to bind its legal documents.’ Perhaps by the time the tape came to an end, she thought, little Cormac would be starting work in his mother’s school and then he could choose the colour.
‘So, Eamon drew up the second deed. But what deed?’ Turlough sounded puzzled and Mara was glad of the interruption which brought her thoughts back to the immediate business. She had expected exclamations or denials but O’Brien of Arra seemed grimly determined to say nothing for the moment and he sat with mouth compressed and arms folded. Donán still had not lifted his head and he sat as one who had been turned to stone.
‘It was a deed of contract, my lord,’ explained Mara. ‘Certain of your allies were willing to be bribed to go over to the side of the Great Earl and conspire to seize you and imprison you; probably deliver you to the King of England, perhaps to your death. That was their side of the contract and no doubt the earl or his minion offered some titles or lands as reward. Am I not correct?’ She addressed herself to O’Brien and was glad to see him flinch.
‘No, no,’ he protested. ‘It was not like that at all.’ He stopped, made a slight grimace, seemed to realize that he had betrayed himself and then continued eagerly, addressing Turlough.
‘There was no thought of personal harm to you, my lord.’ O’Brien strove to make his voice sound earnest and sincere. ‘The plan was to take you by ship from Aran to Dublin Castle. Once you were there, the Earl of Kildare would try to persuade you that the future for Ireland lay in England; that King Henry VIII had plans to make Ireland a prosperous place where ancient, outmoded ways of life would be changed and . . .’