Eye of the Law

by Cora Harrison

  Mara was refreshed by her early night and was already in the schoolhouse when the scholars entered. She had thought of going over the duties and privileges of an over-lord, in order to reinforce what they had learned in Aran, but the discovery of last night had made her change her mind.

  ‘I think today, we’ll talk about Techtugad,’ she said. ‘Hugh, fetch down the right book for me, will you?’

  He went straight to the shelf and she saw him give a slight start. The book had been left where it had been put when she was away and for a moment Hugh could not see it. She watched him carefully. Hugh had been in charge of keeping the press neat and tidy last week and he would instantly see if anything was amiss. He picked up the book, frowned hesitantly and his colour rose. He was a very sensitive boy, always anxious to do the right thing and to please, so she hastened to put him at ease.

  ‘It’s a bit of mystery,’ she said lightly. ‘Someone came into the schoolhouse when we were in Aran and took the key from my drawer and opened the press. Which book do you think this person looked at?’

  ‘Din Techtugad,’ said Hugh hesitantly, and she rewarded him with a beaming smile.

  ‘Well, done,’ she said. ‘A good piece of deduction. I also think that.’

  ‘It’s out of place, isn’t it?’ Aidan tried for his bit of glory and Mara didn’t disappoint him.

  ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Now why would anyone come into my schoolhouse, open my press and take out Din Techtugad?’

  ‘Was he a lawyer?’ asked Enda alertly.

  Mara shook her head. ‘No, he was a physician.’

  ‘But there is a lawyer coming across the yard just now.’ Aidan, as usual, was keeping an eye on the comings and goings out the window.

  ‘That’s Cavan, the fellow who used to be at MacClancy’s law school,’ said Moylan, twisting his body around and balancing precariously on two legs of his stool. ‘He used to be a great man with a hurley.’

  ‘He qualified as an aigne last year,’ supplemented Enda.

  ‘And went off to Thomond,’ added Fachtnan. ‘He’s about my age.’

  ‘Open the door, Shane,’ said Mara.

  Large heavy footsteps sounded outside. It was obvious that this young aigne was coming to see her. Perhaps Turlough had sent him with a message, she thought.

  Mara remembered the young man once he was inside the door. Quite a bright lad; she remembered Fergus MacClancy saying that he was sorry Cavan had not got a position in some household or as an assistant to some Brehon, but he had preferred to take a chance wandering the countryside and giving his services to any who needed them. She welcomed him and went through the usual greetings and enquiries.

  ‘So where are you living now, Cavan?’ she asked in the end.

  ‘Mostly in Arra and in Galway, Brehon.’ His voice was reserved and she wondered what had brought him here. He did not seem interested in his former opponents at the hurling matches that took place every few months between the MacClancy Law School in Corcomroe and the O’Davoren Law School in the Burren. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on her and ignored the scholars.

  ‘So you’re on your way over to see Brehon MacClancy,’ she continued, wishing that he had timed his arrival better. He should know that the boys would be hard at work at this hour of the morning, she thought impatiently. Presumably he came to impress them with his experiences and to talk over former days.

  ‘No, I came to see you, Brehon, on a private . . . well, a legal matter.’ He had said the words bluntly and she sensed unease within him.

  ‘A private matter?’ she queried. ‘Is it private to you, personally?’

  Cavan shook his head. ‘No,’ he said.

  ‘Here’s Nuala,’ said Aidan suddenly.

  On this occasion there had been little need for him to be gazing out of the window. The clatter of pony feet on the flagstoned yard had made every head turn.

  A minute later the door was flung open and Nuala burst into the room.

  ‘So there you are.’ Her voice was quivering with fury. She marched straight up to the young aigne and stared aggressively into his face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me to my face and not sneak behind my back?’

  Cavan blinked and then recovered. ‘Because your father is your legal guardian,’ he said in a voice that he strove to make authoritative.

  Suddenly Mara understood everything, the surreptitious visit of Caireen and her son, Ronan; no doubt a plausible reason would have been found to consult Din Techtugad even if they had encountered a less gullible member of her household, the arrival of Cavan, a young aigne practising in Galway, in the same area as the dwelling place of Caireen and her sons. And then there was the relationship between Nuala’s benefactor, Toin, the man who had bequeathed his house and farm to the girl, and Caireen’s late husband; it all added up.

  ‘Sit down, Nuala,’ she said crisply. ‘Yes, sit down there beside Hugh. Just let me do the talking. Yes, Cavan, say what you’ve come to say.’

  Cavan bowed respectfully. He had acquired a certain polish and self-assurance since she had last seen him on a muddy hurling field. Now he took a scroll from his leather satchel and unrolled it with a flourish.

  ‘On behalf of my céile, Ronan O’Luinin, I give notice, to you, Mara O’Davoren, Brehon of the Kingdom of the Burren, that my said céile, Ronan O’Luininn . . .’ He hesitated and then continued impatiently, ‘But, you know all the procedure, Brehon. There is no point in me going through it.’ He broke off, conscious of eight pairs of eyes fixed on him intently. A slight flush rose to his cheeks still marred by some late adolescent skin problems.

  ‘No, no.’ Mara’s voice was mild and judicial. ‘Let’s stick to the proper procedure. I never like to skip any of the correct legal process. Fachtnan, would you like to check? Hugh, give him Din Techtugad and Fachtnan, you can check, just in case my memory is defective. This is an important matter, and it is essential that all the steps be gone through correctly. You say that your client has already taken the first step. Tell us about it.’

  ‘The claimant, Ronan O’Luinin, has entered the property at Rathborney, formerly owned by Toin the briuga, declaring this property to be his by right of law, and relationship and he . . .’

  ‘He has crossed the boundary mound of the property, is that correct?’ interrupted Fachtnan.

  Mara was surprised. This sharp cross-questioning sounded more like Enda than Fachtnan, she thought, but no doubt he was moved from his usual easy-going, amiable manner by the sight of Nuala’s eyes filled with tears.

  ‘He has gone through the entrance gate – the property does not possess a mound,’ retorted Cavan. ‘He has brought two horses with him – as laid down in the judgement texts,’ he added with heavy emphasis.

  Fachtnan nodded gravely and waved his hand.

  Mara gave a quick glance and a slight inclination of her head to Shane who seemed to be at bursting point from the strain of restraining himself, his hand waving like a flag in stormy weather.

  ‘What about sureties?’ His question startled Cavan who had returned to his scroll.

  ‘His sureties are his knife and his physician’s bag.’

  ‘He’s not yet a physician,’ muttered Nuala angrily.

  ‘So therefore his bag is of no value.’ Enda took up the cudgels with enthusiasm. Nuala was like a sister to the law-school scholars.

  ‘And a knife isn’t valuable unless it is made from silver,’ said Hugh, the son of a silversmith.

  ‘What about witnesses?’ queried Fachtnan.

  ‘I was the witness,’ said Cavan grandly.

  ‘You’re only one, Din Techtugad says witnesses.’ Fachtnan laid heavy emphasis on the plural form of the word.

  ‘And the physician Malachy, as present owner of the property, has gone down there now.’

  ‘Guardian of the present owner of the property,’ corrected Mara.

  Nuala gave a loud snort, but said nothing.

  ‘So what is your message to me then?’ queried Mara.

  �
��I want to give due notice that we are asking for arbitration,’ said Cavan solemnly.

  ‘I think,’ said Mara with a sigh, ‘we all need to go down there to Rathborney. Please go and saddle your ponies, everyone. Fachtnan, would you ask Cumhal whether Seán or Donie could see about my mare for me?’

  When the door closed behind them all, she looked at Cavan appraisingly.

  ‘Have you satisfied yourself that your client has a just claim?’ She kept her voice neutral. After all, he hadn’t been a scholar of hers and it was not any of her business. However, he was a young man at the onset of his career and perhaps a quiet word of advice would be valuable to him. It was important that her profession only numbered those of high integrity amongst its ranks.

  He flushed angrily. ‘I take the word of my client, Brehon,’ he said stiffly. ‘I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of handling my own affairs.’

  ‘I see,’ she said, and then she waited quietly until her mare was ready and all of the boys were seated on their ponies. She would say no more until she reached Rathborney, she decided, and then she would explain the position to all who were there, including her scholars. After all her duty was to them, not to this opinionated young man. Brigid, she noticed with amusement, made no attempt to persuade her not to ride down to Rathborney. The housekeeper looked with concern at Nuala’s tear-stained face and then cast a look of deep suspicion at the young lawyer.

  Malachy was already there at Rathborney. He looked deeply uncomfortable when he saw Mara and his daughter, but said nothing. Mara gave him a quick nod and greeted Ronan, the son of Caireen, gravely inspecting the two horses, the battered medical bag, probably belonging to the boy’s father, she thought, and the plain knife with its blade of steel and its handle of smooth alder wood and directed Fachtnan to make a note of the animals and the articles. There was no sign of Ronan’s mother, of course, she noticed: Caireen was a woman who worked from behind the scenes. She wheeled her horse around and faced Malachy and his future son-in-law, including Cavan and her scholars in her glance.

  ‘The procedure for tellach, legal entry, has been correctly carried out,’ she said. ‘This is classed as céttellach, first entry. The claimant must now withdraw and the person who is occupying the land, that is Nuala, through her father Malachy, may now consent to submit to arbitration after five days.’

  ‘And what if I refuse,’ said Nuala, chin in the air.

  ‘Then the claimant may make a second entry and then a final entry, twenty days after the first entry, which is today.’ Mara kept her voice neutral but felt annoyed with herself that she had not told Nuala what to do while they were back in Cahermacnaghten. She moved her horse and all eyes followed her. To her pleasure, she saw that Fachtnan took the opportunity to whisper in Nuala’s ear. It didn’t take long, just a minute, but Nuala was quick and clever.

  ‘I submit to arbitration,’ she said.

  ‘And so do I,’ said Malachy, earning a scowl from his daughter.

  ‘Let me fill you all in on the background of this case, then, before we proceed to arbitration,’ Mara said gravely. ‘Toin, the now deceased owner of this property, was the son of the royal harpist. He was apprenticed to a physician at an early age and he received no kin lands from his father or any member of his family. His wealth, which enabled him to buy the property at Rathborney, was acquired solely through his own professional works, through his dedication and his excellence as a physician. Now if he had direct kin, son, grandsons, first cousins, nephews; derbh-fine, in other words, he would still have had the right to dispose of two-thirds of the property, but he did not. In any case, as it is, Ronan’s father was not even a first cousin, so not of the derbh-fine, therefore Toin had a perfect right to make the will as he did and to leave the entire property at Rathborney to Nuala, daughter of Malachy the physician, in the kingdom of the Burren.’

  There was silence when she had finished. Mara purposely did not look at Cavan; he would be humiliated and she was sorry about that. However, this had to be stopped as soon as possible and it was better that he should be humiliated here than in the presence of the king and kingdom at Poulnabrone. She had given him a chance back in Cahermacnaghten and he had not accepted it. In future he would be more circumspect and remember to consult his law texts more thoroughly. She dismissed him from his mind and turned her eyes to Malachy. He had a dark skin, as she did herself, and that skin did not easily show pallor, but now he looked sallow and suddenly older than he normally appeared. He said nothing, did not look at his daughter. He moved towards Ronan and there was something in his bearing that reminded Mara of a dog who knew it had done wrong and that it was going to be scolded. No doubt Caireen would have much to say about this. It would have been a good solution for her large family if they could have seized the farm and house at Rathborney, but it was not going to happen while Mara was Brehon of the Burren.

  ‘So what do you want to do?’ Mara asked Ronan briskly. ‘Give up this claim or go for arbitration in five days’ time at Poulnabrone? Talk it over with your lawyer but remember it’s your decision. I’ll walk my horse down the lane while you are making up your mind.’

  ‘No need,’ said Ronan bitterly. ‘I withdraw my claim. There is no point in going to arbitration if that is the case. I was misled.’ He shared a glare impartially between Malachy and the unfortunate Cavan and then hooking the bridle of one horse over his arm, and mounting the other, he rode away without a backward glance.

  More brains than his mother, thought Mara and then said aloud, ‘Well, we’d better be getting back. What about you, Nuala? Would you like me to keep her for tonight, Malachy?’

  ‘You can keep her for as long as you like,’ said Malachy bitterly, ‘and then she can go and stay with her uncle at Lissylisheen. She’s no longer welcome in my house.’

  And with that he mounted his horse and followed his future stepson at a slow pace up the hill.

  Nuala, to Mara’s surprise, did not seem to be upset by her father’s outburst. Perhaps it wasn’t the first time that she had heard sentiments like that. Mara watched as she rode ahead. She appeared quite normal, joking and laughing with the boys. Mara turned to Cavan.

  ‘Well, I’m not sure that you are going to get paid for your trouble on that case,’ she said with a friendly grin. ‘If you don’t mind me giving you a little advice, it’s good to check all the facts before you take something on. Did you know the family well?’

  ‘I just met them a couple of times when I was at Galway.’ Cavan didn’t seem too bothered. His voice was careless and quite cheerful. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he said with a burst of frankness, ‘I only took that case on this morning. I called in at Caherconnell this morning; I half-hoped I would be invited to a meal and Caireen asked me to help.’

  ‘I see.’ Mara was amused. ‘Well, what about coming and having dinner with us before you go on your way? I wouldn’t waste time demanding a fee. Now why don’t you go ahead and ride with Fachtnan and the others? I’m taking everything at walking pace these days.’

  Well, that was just a piece of opportunism to get hold of the young lawyer this morning, thought Mara. No doubt Caireen and her son would have waited for a while before staging the dramatic bid for the Rathborney property if Cavan hadn’t turned up. He seemed cheerful and resigned now, riding ahead with Fachtnan. Nuala had fallen back and was joking with Aidan. Their voices floated back to Mara.

  ‘Well, I suppose you wanted me to lose my property just so that you had the pleasure of getting out of school,’ she said.

  ‘You’d have got it back in the end. They had no case,’ said Aidan cheerfully, ‘but it would have been fun seeing him doubling up his horses and his witnesses every time and seeing what sureties he managed to find.’

  It wasn’t fun to everyone though, thought Mara, thinking of Malachy’s face. To him it was deadly serious. He was a man of very strong passions; she had known that about him for a long time. It worried her to think what measures this infatuation for that stupid woman, Ca
ireen, might have driven him to. Something would have to be done about Nuala; she had to be safeguarded. Let her enjoy the fun and the teasing for the rest of the short ride back to Cahermacnaghten, but then a serious talk would have to be had.

  ‘You go in and have your dinner now, all of you,’ said Mara when they reached the gates of Cahermacnaghten. She wondered whether she had the strength left within her to make the effort to ride over to Lissylisheen, but decided reluctantly that all she wanted to do now was to lie on her bed for half an hour before afternoon school. Still, the problem about Nuala would have to be solved immediately. She would have to rely on Ardal’s good nature and understanding of her condition. Slowly she walked her mare into the courtyard of the law school and sat on her mare for a moment. Bran came up, his tail wagging and his eyes inquisitive; he was wondering why she did not dismount. She looked at him affectionately, envying his vigour and good health. I must get this case solved, she thought, I must get it all settled before Easter, and Easter is at the beginning of April. All of the boys were going back to their homes for a week’s break before the start of the Trinity Term. She would have a rest then; hopefully there would be no urgent legal or political matters to deal with; she and Turlough would be together at Ballinalacken Castle. She imagined herself stretched out on the cushions in the big, three-mullioned window seat overlooking the sea and gave a deep sigh.

  ‘Are you well, Brehon?’ Cumhal sounded startled.

  He was standing beside her, patiently waiting for her to dismount. He must have heard her sigh. Quickly she straightened her back and took his outstretched hand and climbed awkwardly from the mare on to the mounting block.

  ‘I’m fine, Cumhal,’ she lied, sitting on the block for a moment. ‘As well as can be expected,’ she amended. ‘I was just wishing that I had Bran’s energy. I really need to go over to Lissylisheen and at the same time I want to have a rest.’