‘I see,’ said Mara. So the ageing Brehon, perhaps jealous of his position, of his relationship with the King, got Enda out of the way on the pretext that he could look after anyone in the Urlan area, about eight miles away from Bunratty. A beautifully wooded area, Mara remembered and guessed that the pair might have had some idyllic times together before Shona’s fosterage ended.
‘And has there been a marriage fixed up for you?’ Usually fosterage for a girl ended when a marriage contract was drawn up – in fact it was normally the business of the foster-father to arrange this.
Shona faced her courageously. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘there was talk of a marriage with a nephew of Brehon MacClancy, but I don’t think that will happen now.’ She glanced across at the dead body in the window recess opposite and then gave Mara a challenging look.
‘I see,’ said Mara. This time she did not prevent Shona leaving her, but gazed after her thoughtfully for a moment. Shona’s younger sister was very skilled with the use of a knife – what about Shona herself? Did Brehon MacClancy’s absence from the castle where the MacMahon children were being fostered mean that Shona also ran wild? ‘Send your brother and sister over to me, will you?’ she called after the girl.
Cael and Cian wore determinedly tough expressions when they lounged over. Everything in their bearing seemed to be calculated to warn Mara that they were not impressed by her status and authority. She pointed towards the bench on the other side of the table and allowed a long silence to elapse before she addressed them. A tough pair, she thought. Most children of that age would be starting to look uncomfortable by that stage but Cael and Cian just stared at her appraisingly. She stared back but to her surprise they were the ones who spoke first.
‘How old are you?’ asked Cael.
‘How long have you been a Brehon?’ demanded Cian.
‘Why do you wear your hair like that?’ asked Cael.
‘Do you enjoy your work?’ was Cian’s next contribution.
‘Why do you talk like that and keep ordering everyone about?’ Cael seemed to think that was a good question. A triumphant look shone in her eyes. They had probably forestalled the sort of questions that adults usually asked them.
Mara sat back in amazement. She tried to look stern but then felt her lips pucker. She could not help herself and decided to make the best of matters. She put down her pen and laughed. The twins’ saintly expressions became somewhat uneasy and they looked at her suspiciously.
‘Do you know,’ said Mara confidentially, ‘I think I might have made a mistake about you.’ She allowed a silence to fall before adding with an innocent expression, ‘I thought that you looked clever and I imagined that you would be a great help to me.’
They looked at each other and then Cael looked across at Cormac, who was writing down something said by Turlough’s daughter-in-law, Ellice, and jerked her thumb, saying, ‘Like him?’
‘No, not that sort of work, more like secret spies. The King of England has secret spies so why not a Brehon in Ireland? I thought you might be good at that as you can slip in and out of places quickly without being noticed.’
They exchanged another glance. ‘Would we get paid some silver?’ demanded Cael.
‘You would have to speak to the King about that,’ replied Mara firmly.
There was another silence and then an almost imperceptible nod passed between the twins.
‘All right,’ said Cael. She appeared to be the leader of the two, but Mara addressed herself to Cian. ‘I have to test you first,’ she said solemnly. ‘It’s no good taking you on unless you prove that you will be useful to me.’
‘Try us.’ Cian squared his shoulders and sat up very straight.
‘And then you’ll have to draw up a contract,’ warned Cael.
Mara looked at her with respect. ‘I can see that you’ve studied the law,’ she said admiringly, ‘but first of all the test. Now, you were the last of the dancers to come back up the stairs, I remember; was Brehon MacClancy alive at that stage?’
‘Alive; he farted,’ said Cian without hesitation. He watched Mara for signs of shock.
‘Dead people can fart, birdbrain,’ said Cael. ‘Dead cows do, anyway. What you should have said was that after he farted, he looked at the flagon and said, “Excuse me,” to it. He was dead drunk.’ She looked triumphantly at Mara.
‘Good.’ Mara kept her face serious and businesslike. ‘And now for a more difficult question,’ she added. ‘Could you give me a list of all the people who went up and spoke to him during the hour after midnight – before Cormac realized that he was dead, I mean.’
The twins eyed each other with discomforted looks and Mara’s heart sank. If this sharp-eyed pair, who knew everyone in the room so well, had not noticed anyone, then the mystery of MacClancy’s death might prove very difficult to solve. Her own scholars had yet to be questioned, but she knew them well enough to guess that if they had seen anyone approach the window recess they would have whispered the information to her. This was not the first murder investigation that they had taken part in.
‘I just saw one,’ said Cian eventually and Cael glared at her brother.
‘One is enough to be going on with,’ remarked Mara, trying to keep her voice even.
Cian looked nervously at his sister and then whispered in her ear. A slow smile spread over Cael’s face.
‘Lover boy!’ she exclaimed and then, with a straightforwardness that Mara admired, she said, ‘I didn’t see anyone. You tell her.’
‘I saw Enda,’ said Cian. ‘You know Enda – the Brehon’s assistant. He went up and whispered in his ear. Well, I think that’s what he was doing, anyway.’
Mara’s heart beat uncomfortably fast. For a moment she wished that she had never come to Bunratty and was back in the Burren, but that moment passed. The truth had always to be uncovered. If Enda had done this deed then he would have to confess to it and abide by the punishment that the law would inflict. If true, she thought sadly, it would mean the end of his career as a lawyer. No man, or woman, who broke the law in such a serious matter could be allowed to sit in judgement over others. She looked keenly at Cian.
‘Are you telling the truth?’ she asked.
‘I don’t tell lies,’ he said, affronted.
‘Only cowards tell lies,’ put in Cael. ‘We’re afraid of nothing, afraid of no one so we don’t tell lies.’
‘But there can be other reasons to tell lies,’ said Mara seriously. ‘I’ve known people tell a lie in order to injure someone they disliked. Perhaps you don’t like Enda because you think that Shona, your elder sister, is fond of him.’
‘Or perhaps you don’t want to believe Cian because Enda used to be one of your scholars,’ snapped Cael.
‘That, indeed, could be possible,’ admitted Mara. ‘But I hope that I would test the evidence against my greatest enemy as vigorously as against my greatest friend. How long was it before the discovery of the dead body, before Cormac shouted, that you saw Enda go up to Brehon MacClancy, Cian?’
‘Two tunes back.’ The answer came very readily and Mara acknowledged, with a pang, that his words had a ring of truth about them.
‘Why didn’t you see this?’ She turned with an accusing air towards Cael and was interested to see how the girl looked first taken aback and then thoughtful.
‘What were they playing then?’ she asked her brother.
‘The jig; the “Hey”,’ he said, without pausing.
‘That’s why,’ said Cael. ‘I was standing under the wall cloth on that side of the room for that tune. Some dust fell out of it when I was hopping up and down. I wouldn’t have been able to see the window recess where the Brehon was swigging the mead.’
It began to sound more and more likely to be the truth, thought Mara. The jig had a fast tune, and unlike the reels where the men and women, boys and girls, partnered each other, holding one hand and swinging around, the jig was mainly danced by individuals, each clicking their heels in time to the music and dancing by t
hemselves. The music was fast and furious and people moved around, seeking a new space, or dropping out in order to refresh themselves with a drink.
‘You’ve been very useful to me,’ she told the twins. ‘Don’t say anything to anyone about our arrangement; and I will remember to discuss it with the King,’ she put in quickly as she saw Cael open her mouth. ‘But,’ she went on, ‘do think back over that time – less than an hour – and perhaps you could make me a list of the tunes. That would be a great help in jogging memories. I’m not very musical so it’s not something that I can do for myself – and you know everyone there.’ She got to her feet. The priest seemed to have finished anointing Brehon MacClancy’s body with the holy oils; her three groups had finished their interviews and were sitting with the sheets of vellum scrolled up, waiting for her arrival. Art, she noticed, as she came across the room, was yawning heavily and Slevin had dark shadows under his eyes. She greeted the priest, said a few conventional words in answer to his exclamations of horror, managed tactfully to send him back to his house and bed, and then she stepped into the centre of the room. All murmurs of conversation ceased almost instantly and all turned towards her.
‘As you all know by now,’ she said, ‘Brehon MacClancy has been unlawfully killed here tonight. Under the law of this kingdom, unless the person who did the deed confesses it within twenty-four hours, I will count it as duinetháide (a secret and unlawful murder) and the fine of forty-two séts, or twenty-one milch cows, or twenty-one ounces of silver will be doubled to eighty-four séts, or forty-two milch cows, or forty-two ounces of silver. I will start my investigations tomorrow morning and until this crime is solved, no one present in this room during the last hour shall leave the grounds of Bunratty Castle. But for now, I would like everyone to retire to their own room and to avoid discussing the matter in public.’
The die had been cast; she had taken the investigation of this crime into her own hands and it would be for her, not for Enda, the assistant Brehon of the kingdom, to conduct the case. She avoided his eyes, telling Domhnall to collect the scrolls of evidence and then to escort the scholars to their sleeping place. The legendary King Cormac had advised his son, Cairbre, not to have an indulgent man as his judge; she, Mara, could not show any indulgence towards Enda until she had cleared him of all complicity in the murder of a man whom he hated and who had wronged him.
Six
Cain Aigillne
(The Law of Base Clientship)
‘For what qualifications is a king elected over countries and clans of people?’ asked Cairbre.
‘He is chosen,’ said the King, ‘from the goodness of his shape, and the nobility of his family, from his experience and wisdom, from his prudence and magnanimity, from his eloquence and bravery in battle, and from the number of his friends.’
‘You didn’t mean that about no one leaving the castle grounds; did you?’ Turlough had, with unusual tact, delayed his protest until all, except for Donogh O’Hickey, the physician, had filed out of the door of the great hall and gone to seek their sleeping places. Conor and his wife occupied the south solar and its adjoining bedroom; the others had rooms in one of the four towers that were attached to the central block. It was a luxurious castle and there would be no hardship for anyone to stay there a couple of days longer than they had planned.
‘Hopefully, it won’t take too long,’ she assured him.
‘But what about the hunt tomorrow? Everyone is looking forward to that.’
Mara sighed slightly. She had noticed lots of muttering as they filed out. Fionn and Raour had their heads together and Maccon was earnestly pouring whispers into the host’s ear. The poet and the harpist, both men in their prime, had been urgently whispering also.
‘Well …’ she began.
‘The women can stay and keep you company,’ said Turlough obligingly. ‘I’m sure that they will be a great help to you in the investigation. You wouldn’t keep the young lads at home, would you? They’d be very keen. And Enda, he’d like to come. But most of the women wouldn’t like those marshes – they’d get their gowns wet. You could talk over the case with them. Ellice, now, she’s sharp as a …’ He stumbled, not liking to use the normal comparison sharp as a knife about his daughter-in-law. ‘And then there’s Fionn’s wife,’ he went on, ‘and Maccon’s eldest daughter, and Donogh – you’re not too keen on chasing through the marshes, are you, Donogh? You can stay with Mara.’
‘I think, my lord, that the murder must take preference over the hunt,’ said Mara. ‘But, of course, it may well be that a confession will have been made, or else the identity of the guilty person proved before your breakfast is over tomorrow morning,’ she added and was amused to see his face brighten. He had a great belief in her cleverness and efficiency.
‘You go up to bed,’ she said comfortingly. ‘I’ll follow you in ten minutes. I just wish to have a word with Donogh first.’
When the physician had finished, she decided, she would summon the captain of the guard and have the body carried into the nearby church and locked inside it. A messenger would have to be sent to his sister and to the servants and workers at Urlan Castle – the burial would take place there, though it would, of course, be obligatory for King and court to attend the funeral.
She glanced through the scrolls while Turlough was making his farewells to Donogh, and while he was examining in a fascinated manner, once again before he left, the knife in the man’s back. There was little of use to her in her assistants’ written accounts, she realized with dismay. Conor had been sitting on a cushioned bench on the dais for most of the time; Ellice had danced a little, wandered around the room, and eaten, drunk, chatted. Raour, their son, had danced for most of the time, and had talked with Turlough about hunting – he wasn’t sure whether he had gone down to the end of the room, but thought that he hadn’t. Couldn’t remember whether he had noticed the Brehon or not. Fionn O’Brien and his wife were equally vague.
There was, of course, one person’s evidence missing from those scrolls, thought Mara as she gave Turlough a hug and promised to come up to the bedroom as soon as possible. Tomás MacClancy’s young assistant, who might well hope to inherit the position of Brehon of Thomond, had not been interviewed. Tomorrow she would have to talk to Enda before doing anything else, she planned, as she went across to the window recess where the physician was standing, yawning over the corpse.
Strange that Donogh O’Hickey didn’t show the slightest sorrow, not even shock, thought Mara. After all law, medicine, music and poetry were, as someone said, the four pillars that held a king in his place. These two men, the Brehon and the physician, must have had quite a bit to do with each other – they were of the same age and had served King Turlough Donn and his two uncles before him, for almost thirty years.
‘What do you think was the cause of death, Donogh?’ she asked.
He looked at her with surprise. ‘The knife in the back, of course,’ he said. ‘It’s obvious, isn’t it?’
Mara looked down at the protruding knife doubtfully. Before she could say anything, though, the door opened and a great gust of wind swept in, drawing a billowing cloud of smoke from the burning logs.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, Brehon. I didn’t know that you were still here,’ said Rosta. ‘The King came into the kitchen to say that he was on his way to bed so I thought that we could clear off the table.’
Mara did not answer for a moment. She was staring down at the table where the body of the old man still sprawled in that undignified pose. Whether it had been the wind that swept in, causing the fire to smoke and the candles to flare and flicker, or whether it would have happened at that moment in any case; that she did not know. But the knife had fallen from Brehon MacClancy’s shoulder blade and tumbled into the fold of his cloak. Turlough had been right – it had hardly penetrated the flesh.
‘Yes, Rosta, you go ahead, you won’t disturb us,’ she said then and shook her head quickly as the physician stretched his hand towards the knife. Her mind was whir
ring with thoughts as they waited in silence for the table to be cleared. One of the boys had opened the hatch leading to the kitchen and they placed the loaded trays, one by one, on the wooden counter behind this and soon they all disappeared back into the small kitchen.
Mara waited after the door had closed behind them. She looked curiously at O’Hickey. Turlough, her husband, no physician, but a practical man who had seen death throughout the numerous wars and skirmishes throughout his lifetime, had remarked that the knife seemed to be inserted very shallowly. Why had Donogh not noticed this? She picked up a candle from a nearby shelf and holding it in her hand she lowered it until the flame illuminated the back of the corpse. There was little to be seen. The man’s clothes, the cloak, the tunic, the léine all served to obscure the entrance pathway of the knife. But could any knife that delivered death have fallen out so easily? Or could he have swallowed or eaten something poisoned? She picked up the goblet of mead, sniffed, but could come to no conclusion. Still, poison was unlikely. After all what was the point of the knife if poison was the real weapon?
‘He must be stripped and examined,’ she said decisively. ‘The basement will be the best place for that.’
‘My apprentice has gone to his home in the north for Christmas; it will take days to get him back.’ Donogh O’Hickey stared at Mara in dismay. ‘We can’t keep the body for as long as that. Could we get Nuala over from the Burren?’ he queried.
Mara thought about this. Nuala worked terribly hard and had been looking very pale. Her assistant, Peader, had gone to visit his mother in Scotland so Nuala would be reluctant to leave her territory when a serious accident might occur. It could not be justified to take her away when her absence might mean that a man could bleed to death or a woman die in childbirth. Surely there were other physicians in the large kingdom of Thomond. Why was Donogh so reluctant to investigate this death properly?
She went to the kitchen hatch, knocked on it and when Rosta appeared, told him to send the captain of the guard to her.
Verdict of the Court: A mystery set in sixteenth-century Ireland (A Burren Mystery) Page 6