‘I can get out through here, can’t I?’ As she spoke the words, she had swiftly walked across to the wooden ramp that covered the original steps and led out of the storage room.
‘Up here?’ she queried putting her foot on the ramp.
He had followed her and was just behind her. She could hear his breathing and it took all of her courage not to glance behind as she went nonchalantly up a wooden ramp and into the barn.
‘Well, I never knew that you had this underground storage room at Lissylisheen.’ She steered her way through the barrels of salted lamb in the barn, praying that someone else would be around and quickened her step until she was at the door of the barn. The fresh breeze smelled wonderful after the smell of old decay in the damp slimy caves and the gleaming white of the limestone walls was pleasantly cheerful after the darkness.
‘Is there anyone that you could send down to Kilcorney to collect my mare?’ She asked the question with a slight laugh, which, to her pleased amazement, sounded quite genuine.
‘There’s no one here but ourselves, Brehon,’ he replied.
She could tell from his tone that he was uncertain as to how to handle the situation.
‘Walk down the road with me then,’ she said in a voice which, she was pleased to hear, came out as authoritative and brisk.
He didn’t know how to handle the situation; she was relying on that. I am the Brehon of the Burren, she recited silently to herself. She dared not think of anything else, not of the baby, not of Turlough, not of Brigid and Cumhal, nor of her scholars. To her enormous relief there was a great bellowing in the distance, growing louder every second. Then shouts of men were intermingled with the cattle noises and around the corner came a local farmer, Niall MacNamara, wildly waving a stick and shouting.
‘Better step back inside the gate, Brehon,’ said the man. ‘That bull of Niall’s is a nasty one and now he’s got his herd of cows with him, he’s in no biddable mood.’
Mara did as she was told in a nonchalant way. She was immensely cheered by the sight of Niall. His farm was at Noughaval, but he also owned a mill and some land on the other side of the kingdom. By some fortunate chance he had chosen this afternoon to move cattle from Oughtmama to Noughaval and there he was, passing Lissylisheen, flourishing his stick at the bull and calling out a breathless greeting to her.
Behind the cattle came Niall’s brother; though classified as a druth, a man lacking in full wits, he was an enormously strong and amiable fellow. Mara greeted them both cheerfully and once they had passed she immediately stepped out into the road after the two brothers and the herd of cattle, neatly avoiding the plentiful blobs and spatters of cow manure all over its surface.
‘We can go now,’ she said, raising her voice above the cattle chorus. ‘Just walk with me as far as Cahermacnaghten and Cumhal will send one of the men to fetch the mare.’
She wasn’t sure whether he would obey her; he hesitated for a long moment, but then, perhaps reassured by her casual manner, he joined her. Nothing needed to be said for the moment; she was glad of that. She kept her eyes fixed on the comforting bulk of Niall’s brother and walked as closely to him as she could. The noise of the cattle was too loud to make conversation comfortable so they continued to march down the road without a word being exchanged until they came to the crossroads where the two men departed towards Rusheen, still driving the cattle along the road.
‘Lovely to see the flowers coming back again.’ Mara turned determinedly in the direction of Cahermacnaghten. ‘I love these bugle flowers, don’t you?’
She watched him from the corner of her eye while lightly touching a slender finger to the furry, half-opened buds of purple-blue blossoms and realized that he was being torn by two emotions. One was the hope that she had not come to the correct conclusion about the murder of the two men from Aran, and the other was the fear that she was just inveigling him into her net. On the one hand lay continued safety and the trust of the community and on the other hand was nothing but disgrace, ruin and destitution. He would take the chance, she guessed and was confirmed in her guess as he continued to walk by her side, his face bland and his eyes stony.
‘Seán,’ said Mara as they reached the gates of Cahermacnaghten law school, where her servant was doing a little desultory sweeping of the courtyard, ‘could you please go and fetch my mare from the basket maker at Kilcorney. Cumhal,’ she called, noting with satisfaction that he, also, was working in the yard, sharpening all of his tools, ‘is it all right if I send Seán over to Kilcorney, to the basket maker’s place, to fetch my mare?’
She barely heard Cumhal’s reply, but noted that words had registered with the man by her side. Donie was cleaning the harness outside the stables and another of the servants was milking in the cow cabin. With alacrity, Seán fetched the cob out of the stable and threw a long leg over his back.
Mara surveyed the scene; yes there was plenty of aid within call if she needed any. She bent down and caressed her enormous wolfhound and then turned back to the silent man at her side.
‘Come in, Liam,’ she said, clicking her fingers to Bran to order him to accompany her. ‘Come into the schoolhouse. We will be quite private in here.’
Seventeen
Bretha im Gata
(Judgements about Theft)
Every Brehon has to distinguish between gat (theft by stealth) and brat (theft with violence).
If bees are stolen from a house or yard, it is a more serious offence than if they are stolen from a field. An animal stolen from a field near to the house is a more serious offence than if the theft takes place in a field at a far distance from the house. This is because violence is more likely to occur if the owner is nearby.
The penalty for theft is the payment of the value of the object and the honour price of its owner.
A big, genial man, large and affable, Liam had been steward to the O’Lochlainn family since before Mara was born. Finn had relied completely on him, and when Ardal succeeded Finn, he in turn had trusted everything to Liam. Mara gazed at him thoughtfully, as she ushered him into the schoolhouse. She was remembering the words spoken by her neighbour, Diarmuid O’Connor, at the time of the Michaelmas tribute at the end of September. Mara was blessed by a wonderful memory and Diarmuid’s words were as clear in her mind as if she had just heard them that morning.
‘Only the birds in the air know how much he has salted away for himself,’ Diarmuid had said. ‘He’s been steward to the O’Lochlainn clan for the last forty years. Never took too much off anyone, mind you. It was just a matter of a little present here and little present there, a sheaf of oats, a flagon of ale, a bit of silver, but over the years it has all been mounting up. Of course it helps that Ardal O’Lochlainn and his father Finn before him were not the types to be counting . . .’
‘So, how many years has this been going on, this stealing from the O’Lochlainn?’ she asked crisply, seating herself behind her table and nodding to him to sit on one of the stools. Diarmuid, of course, had not known the full truth of the matter. Liam, she reckoned now, had been stealing large quantities from the O’Lochlainn.
Liam looked at her. His large face was bland and impassive but the small grey eyes were narrowed and concentrated. This would be a fight for his life.
‘I don’t know what you mean, Brehon?’ Liam’s tone was that of an honest man, worried by an unjust accusation.
‘Don’t pretend to me.’ Her voice was sharp. ‘Remember I have seen that underground chamber below the barn. Does anyone other than you know of its existence? Not your taoiseach certainly. Remember the O’Lochlainn and I grew up as friends; as a child I played games of hide-and-go-seek in that barn with Ardal and his sisters. No one knew of that chamber then and I would definitely have heard if there had been a new discovery. So why is it full of goods?’
‘I don’t bother the O’Lochlainn with small details; that room is useful for extra storage.’ Liam muttered the words and Mara sensed from his tone that he knew his position was weak.
‘That will be for the O’Lochlainn to decide.’ Mara’s voice was grave. ‘But it is for me, as King Turlough Donn’s representative here on the Burren, to decide the two cases of secret and unlawful killing. The murders of the two men from Aran – Iarla and Becan.’
He went very white then. She had never seen him look like this. She remembered that she had been surprised when she heard his age a few months ago, but now he looked every year of it. She hardened her heart, remembering the poor widow, with the large family, left bereft on the barren land of Aran and the beautiful Étain who had put her eternal rest in jeopardy for the sake of a very loved son only to have him murdered days after his arrival in the Burren.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about, Brehon,’ he said, his voice shaking. He clenched the fist of his right hand and tightened his mouth.
‘Let me tell you the story the way that I see it,’ said Mara calmly. ‘You have been stealing from the O’Lochlainn for years.’ He made a hasty gesture and she shook her head at him. ‘No, don’t trouble to deny it. Anyone other than O’Lochlainn would have heard the rumours and would have kept a stricter eye on you. Your taoiseach is a man of such honour himself that he could never bring himself to doubt the honour of a man who worked for him.’
Mara thought Liam would flush with shame as she said those words, but he didn’t. If anything his colour became more normal and there was an expression of cool contempt in his eyes which angered her. Her voice became harder as she went on.
‘I’m not sure how long this has being going on for, though I will probably find out when I question the other workers.’ He looked taken aback at that, she noticed. He probably expected Ardal to forgive him and no more to be said. He certainly hadn’t expected that she would involve herself.
‘However, the first matter to be heard at Poulnabrone is going to be the secret and unlawful killing of the two men from Aran.’
‘I had nothing whatsoever to do with that.’ His voice was truculent. He half rose and then, as a shouted order from Cumhal to Donie came through the open window, he sat down again. Bran raised his head from his paws and looked at the man thoughtfully.
‘Let me tell you how it happened,’ said Mara.
She thought she could see a glint of regret in his eye. He was probably sorry that he didn’t take the chance, while it was available. No doubt, if he had been able to make up his mind as to whether she knew the truth or not, she would now be lying dead, with one eye gouged out – another pretended victim of the one-eyed god Balor. She walked across the room and opened the shutter of the small window a little wider and then came back to her chair.
‘The problem lay in the excess drink swallowed by Iarla on that St Patrick’s Night,’ she said calmly. ‘Because he had insulted Saoirse, the daughter of the O’Brien taoiseach, very few people on the Burren wanted to have anything to do with him. This meant that for the next few days he was at a loose end. Everyone at Lissylisheen works hard; the work is allocated to them the night before – by you, of course. All have their tasks. This means that you could pick your time for transferring some of the goods from the barn to the storeroom below and thence, when the time was ripe, by the turf barrow to Balor’s Cave. You could pick them up at the same time as the vegetables and sell them at markets in Kinvarra and in Galway. This was a duty which you reserved for yourself and yourself only.’
‘You tell a good story, Brehon.’ Liam’s voice strove to sound light and teasing, but his eyes were hard.
Mara gave him a cold glance. ‘As I say,’ she continued, ‘Iarla was at leisure and he was curious. Possibly he was anxious to understand and to estimate the extent of the O’Lochlainn’s wealth so he kept an eye on you. I guess he saw you go into the barn from an upper window perhaps, came down, followed you in and found that you were not there. However it happened, I suspect that he discovered your secret. He slipped into the barn on that Thursday morning after breakfast, when you were busy with the men in the courtyard. He slid back the press and went down the ramp. You saw him go into the barn, followed him, and when there was no sign of him in the barn you realized that he had found your secret.’
There was a long silence. Mara did not break it. She could see that Liam was searching through the possible options available to him. He had been the O’Lochlainn steward for forty years. He had hoped to retire, perhaps to become a briuga, a hospitaller, one who entertains guests at his own expense and thereby attain noble status. He had had the complete trust of his taoiseach, both Finn and Ardal O’Lochlainn. Now this lifetime of hard work, these hopes and ambitions, had been destroyed by this woman standing in front of him; he would be poor and he would be disgraced. Knife in hand, he leaped to his feet with an inarticulate, half-smothered cry of rage.
And Bran sprang at him, seizing him by the right arm.
And then there was a clatter of horses in the courtyard outside and the loud cheerful voice of King Turlough Donn calling out a greeting to Cumhal. This was followed by the quieter tones of Ardal O’Lochlainn.
‘Let go, Bran,’ said Mara serenely. ‘Put that away, Liam. The time for violence is over. Now you must be prepared to make payment for your crimes.’
Without a second glance at him she went to the door and looked out.
‘We’ve come to take you back to Lissylisheen for supper,’ called out Turlough boisterously. ‘Ardal has had a great triumph. His horses beat horses from all over the country. There were even some there from the lands of the Great Earl himself.’
Instantly Liam was on his feet. ‘You’ll not shame me in front of the king, Brehon,’ he said with some of his usual easy assurance. ‘I’ll talk to himself tonight about the whole business.’
‘You’ll stay there and I’ll do the talking,’ snapped Mara, infuriated by his apparent belief that he could talk himself out of this situation. ‘On guard, Bran.’
Bran looked up at her and then went to stand by Liam. The boys had taught Bran this command so that he could guard the baskets of apples from the crows at apple harvest time. It seemed as though he understood that it was this human who was the offender because his brown eyes, normally so soft, were hard as he fixed them on Liam.
Nevertheless, Mara kept the door open and an eye on Liam as she called to the two men to come in. She would not risk a knife in her beloved dog.
‘We had a great day – you should have come.’ Turlough was flushed with excitement and even Ardal leapt from his horse in an exuberant fashion.
‘Come in both of you,’ repeated Mara. She waited until they were both inside, then beckoned the king’s two bodyguards to come to the doorway. ‘Stand here, Fergus and Conall,’ she said quietly, ‘we won’t be long.’ As she turned back, she saw Liam’s eyes go quickly to the two bodyguards and then fall before hers. She shut the door before saying quietly, ‘Please give your knife to your taoiseach, Liam.’
Turlough looked puzzled and so did Ardal, but after a glance at her face, the smile died from the face of the O’Lochlainn chieftain. He held out his hand quietly and Liam took his knife from his belt and handed it over to his master.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Turlough, but Ardal said nothing. He continued to study the face in front of him.
I wonder whether Ardal had some suspicions, guessed Mara with a sudden flash of insight. After all the two men had worked side by side for the last twenty years. No man can commit murder twice in two weeks and not betray something to those who lived and worked with him. Ardal, like his sister Mór, had a fine intelligence.
‘I wonder, Ardal,’ she said quietly, ‘whether you suspected that Liam was the man who killed both Iarla and Becan from Aran.’
Ardal looked uneasily at Liam and then went to sit on one of the scholars’ tables. Turlough lowered his bulk on to the window seat. His face was alert as he looked from Ardal to Liam. No one spoke.
‘Did you?’ Mara repeated her question.
Ardal stirred uneasily, his finger tracing an etched line of a Latin word carved on the
table by some scholar of the past.
‘No,’ he said eventually, but his voice lacked conviction. He seemed to hear this himself because he turned and looked at her apologetically. ‘At least it may have crossed my mind, but I put it from me.’
‘Well, Liam was the man who committed these two secret and unlawful killings,’ said Mara crisply. She was disconcerted by the look of deep sorrow and sympathy on Ardal’s face. Liam, she noticed, was beginning to look more hopeful. He sat up a little straighter and looked from Mara to Ardal. A slight tinge of colour came back into his pallid cheeks.
‘What!’ Turlough was open-mouthed. ‘Why on earth did you do that, man?’
Liam turned a face of deep sadness towards his master and taoiseach. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He sighed deeply.
‘He did it for me.’ Ardal’s voice was choked with sorrow.
Bran turned his narrow head and looked at him in a puzzled way. He was a dog who was always very sensitive to emotion. Then Mara saw his eyes leave Ardal and go to Liam and they hardened. Mara smiled to herself. Bran, she thought, was a better judge of character than was Ardal.
‘What do you mean?’ Turlough sounded puzzled and a little incredulous. He looked over towards Mara, but she avoided his gaze and fixed her eyes on Liam.
Liam was not a man to allow the moment to pass without seizing it. ‘I did it for my lord,’ he said without a blush.
Turlough frowned sceptically but Ardal looked moved. A faint colour rose to cover his prominent cheekbones. ‘Liam, that is not anything that I would have asked of any man,’ he said hurriedly.
Eye of the Law Page 26