A Secret and Unlawful Killing

by Cora Harrison

  Mara shielded her face from the western sun and turned to look closely at him.

  ‘At the tower house? What happened?’

  ‘Well, when I arrived at the gatehouse with the pouch, the MacNamara himself came out. I thought he would just take it and thank me. But he took me into the hall. And he started to weigh out the silver.’

  ‘To weigh it?’ asked Mara incredulously, her voice rising. ‘From the pouch!’

  Cumhal edged the cob a little further over onto the grass verge to make more room for Mara to ride on his left side. Then he lowered his voice even more. ‘And then the ban tighernae came in and she started doing it, too.’

  So Slaney herself came to check the contents of the pouch, no doubt to see how much she had to spend on the latest improvements to her husband’s property. For once, Mara was speechless.

  ‘I think that’s Niall coming down the road with his blue cow and calf,’ said Cumhal with an alert ear for the usual sounds of the country. ‘We’ll just pull the horses in at this gate until he passes. She’s a bit nervous-like, that cow.’

  What on earth did Garrett hope to find out by weighing the silver? wondered Mara as she automatically smiled at the plump little calf and greeted Niall. He didn’t look too well, she thought, but her mind was too full of the extraordinary behaviour of the MacNamara and his lady wife to wonder about Niall.

  ‘They were taking out all the leases from the big chest in the hall and looking at them and making lists of what had been paid in tribute last year and of what was given, who would have paid silver,’ continued Cumhal, clicking his tongue at the cob who had just found an inviting piece of grass on the far side of the gate.

  ‘So they were looking at the leases, then,’ said Mara thoughtfully, reaching out to pat the cob who had obediently forsaken the interesting grass and was now plodding determinedly towards home and stable and evening meal.

  ‘That’s not all, Brehon,’ said Cumhal. His tones were hushed and embarrassed. ‘They say that not all the silver is there. There should have been more. They want to see you, Brehon. They want you …’ here he hesitated, but seeing that Mara’s enquiring gaze did not waver, he continued bravely. ‘The ban tighernae said that she wanted an explanation from you, and the taoiseach agreed with her. They want you to come and see them tomorrow morning.’ His voice was distressed and embarrassed and he avoided her gaze. She understood him well. He had served the father, and then the daughter, and every fibre of fierce Gaelic loyalty was given to her. Any insult to her would be of grave importance to him. He and Brigid would die for her, and she had to remind herself continually not to underestimate the strength of that allegiance. She smiled grimly as the picture of Slaney’s stately figure, summoning her to Carron, came to her. No one else in the whole kingdom of the Burren would treat the Brehon, the king’s representative, with such discourtesy. Mara pulled up her mare and stayed standing in the middle of the road. Cumhal stopped also and sat pulling the cob’s ears and looking at the distant slopes of Slieve Elva. Bran looked enquiringly from one to the other.

  ‘Well, well, well,’ said Mara lightly. ‘Do you know, I think I will do just that. I’ll go and see them and put them both right about a few things. Cumhal, would you take Bran back to Cahermacnaghten? I think I will pay the MacNamara and his wife a visit today. I don’t want to waste the lads’ time tomorrow; they need their schooling. I’ll ride up to Carron this evening. I’ll be back before dark. Go with Cumhal, Bran; good boy.’

  ‘I’ll take Bran back and then I’ll come and ride with you,’ said Cumhal firmly. ‘You don’t want to be going up there on your own. It wouldn’t be fitting.’

  ‘Oh, nonsense,’ said Mara firmly. ‘You’ve had a long day, and I don’t suppose they gave you anything to eat while they were busy weighing silver and consulting ledgers. You take Bran back and have your supper and keep an eye on the lads for me. No, you go now, Cumhal. I’ll be fine.’

  After they had gone Mara waited, standing quite still on the road, until she was sure that Bran was going happily with Cumhal. Her mind was busy. She didn’t care in the least about Slaney’s rudeness. She would soon put her straight on the sort of behaviour that should be shown to the high office of Brehon. No, that was not what made her thoughtful. Suddenly Garrett MacNamara was revealed as a man who was so desperate for silver that he would even offer a discourtesy to the Brehon – someone whose honour price was lower only to that of King Turlough Donn himself. No one else in the Kingdom of the Burren would have done that.

  The day was turning chilly and Mara cast a worried eye over her shoulder as she galloped her mare along the road towards Carron. The western sky was ominous with wild slashes of silver behind the soft black down of the clouds. There might be a storm in a few hours. She had no desire to accept any hospitality from the MacNamara and his unpleasant wife. However, there was a road going all the way along the valley from Noughaval to Carron and her mare was fit and in a mood to enjoy a flat-out gallop. She would just say what she had come to say and then depart immediately. There would be a couple of hours before sundown. If it rained, it rained. Mara was philosophic about that. Anyone who lived in the west of Ireland was used to the rain and her brat, or mantle, with its combed woollen surface, made a rainproof and windproof covering.

  She wasn’t the only visitor coming to Carron Castle on this late afternoon. As she approached the tall, gloomy tower house, she heard the sound of another horse galloping fast towards her. Mara slowed her mare, as the road was narrow at this spot. She would wait until the horse passed before turning up through the magnificent iron gates, presented as a Michaelmas tribute by Fintan.

  However, the other horse slowed also, and as the rider approached Mara saw who it was and schooled her face to present a grim appearance.

  ‘Slaney,’ she said with a nod of acknowledgement, but omitting the usual greetings and blessings. She deliberately crossed the road in front of Slaney and her horse and proceeded up the avenue in front of the ban tighernae. She was pleased to notice from a quick glance over her shoulder that Slaney had looked quite taken aback and seemed content to follow the Brehon meekly up the avenue. Neither spoke until they reached the courtyard in front of the great oak door.

  ‘Find someone to take my horse,’ said Mara in tones of cool command. Slaney was looking very flushed and ill at ease and, to Mara’s surprise, even slightly guilty. A man rushed out from the stable and then looked from one to the other uncomfortably. Mara walked her horse to the mounting block and held out the reins to him. He came instantly and meekly took the reins while she dismounted.

  ‘Murty,’ shouted the stableman and a boy rushed out and started to lead Slaney’s horse to the mounting block while Mara hung on to the stableman’s hand for longer than usual, ensuring that Slaney clambered awkwardly down without assistance. Mara turned away from her and addressed the stableman.

  ‘Fetch the MacNamara,’ she commanded. ‘Tell him that the Brehon wishes to speak to him.’

  He rushed off to the barn, looking alarmed. Garrett was doubtless counting over the tribute in there, as he appeared in a minute followed by bald-headed Maol. No doubt Maol was being taught the steward’s duties.

  ‘Ah, Garrett,’ said Mara. ‘I wish to speak to you. Shall we go inside?’

  A quick glance passed between husband and wife, but neither spoke. Both followed her meekly in through the door and up the steep winding staircase to the hall above. There was no fire in the hall and the room was damp and chilly. A large chest, full of scrolls of parchment and sheets of vellum, stood in the centre of the room, its lid thrown back and its contents untidy and jumbled.

  ‘I’ve received an extraordinary message from my farm manager, Cumhal,’ said Mara, looking from one face to the other. ‘He said that you had summoned me. Can this be correct?’ She was pleased to notice that the right degree of astonishment and incredulity sounded in her voice.

  ‘No, no,’ stuttered Garrett, but Slaney was made of sterner stuff.

  �
�That is correct,’ she said defiantly. The flush had faded from her face and her prominent blue eyes were hard as pebbles.

  ‘Oh,’ said Mara icily. It annoyed her that the statuesque Slaney was so much taller than she. She looked around the room. There was a carved chair, luxuriously padded with red velvet cushions, placed beside the empty brazier. Mara crossed the room and sat on it. Now Slaney and Garrett were left standing awkwardly together in front of her like a pair of scholars waiting to receive a scolding.

  ‘Tell me what the problem is,’ she said.

  Garrett looked at his wife and she did not fail him.

  ‘The problem is that we don’t think there is enough silver in the pouch,’ she said aggressively. She seemed to have recovered completely from her earlier embarrassment. Mara raised an eyebrow and continued to stare at her.

  ‘We would just like an explanation of how the pouch came into your hands.’ Was there, perhaps, a slight emphasis on the words your hands? wondered Mara.

  ‘Oh, didn’t Cumhal tell you?’ she said with an air of surprise. ‘You should have asked him,’ she continued.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ stuttered Garrett, but once again Slaney interrupted him.

  ‘If you could just tell us the whole story, Brehon,’ she said, trying to make her shrill, high-pitched voice sound soft and sweet.

  ‘Guaire O’Brien, the linen merchant from Kilfenora, was killed in a fight,’ said Mara evenly. ‘He was in an alehouse in Corcomroe. When the Brehon of Corcomroe heard that there was a pouch full of silver in the dead man’s possession he went himself to the widow. She confirmed that the pouch was not belonging to Guaire. The Brehon was told that Guaire had been at the Michaelmas Fair in Burren so he brought the pouch to me. I confirmed that it was Ragnall’s pouch so I sent Cumhal over to you.’

  ‘You looked inside the pouch?’ Slaney’s question was delivered with the speed of a cat pouncing on a fleeing mouse.

  Mara allowed a long silence to fill the chilly room before she replied.

  ‘The Brehon of Corcomroe opened the pouch, showed me the silver. If he had not done so, I would have sent the pouch over to Shesmore so as to return it to Ragnall’s daughter. No doubt you have returned the man’s personal private property to Maeve by now. Perhaps that’s where you were coming from?’ she added to Slaney, knowing that the woman had been riding from the opposite direction. Garrett was mumbling something about Oughtmama and the mill when Slaney cut across him again.

  ‘Of course, neither of us would suspect either you or the Brehon of Corcomroe of tampering with the money,’ she said with the sweet air of one who is too innocent to believe any evil.

  ‘Of course not,’ said Mara coldly.

  ‘It’s just that we feel the full sum of the tribute was not contained in the pouch,’ continued Slaney.

  ‘I can’t help you with that,’ said Mara. She put her two hands on the carved arms of the chair and made as if to rise.

  ‘Oh, but you can,’ said Slaney quickly. ‘The MacNamara and I believe that Guaire O’Brien must have removed at least half of the silver and left it, probably at his house and in the care of his wife, before going to the alehouse. We want you to see the Brehon of Corcomroe and make arrangements for the missing silver to be returned. If it is not done within two weeks, then I understand that the Gaelic custom is for a blood feud to be declared.’

  ‘A blood feud!’ echoed Mara allowing her voice to rise until it was almost as high as Slaney’s own. She didn’t need to act astonishment, though. For a moment she was completely flabbergasted. She turned to Garrett, who was looking worried and embarrassed.

  ‘Garrett, you were born and brought up here. I know that you have spent several years away, but you must know the laws of the kingdom better than that. You certainly can’t declare a blood feud over a case of suspected theft. And I must tell you, Garrett …’ now she allowed all of her fury to sound in her voice ‘ … that I personally think that pouch is probably as full now as it was when Ragnall wore it less than an hour before his death.’

  ‘We’ve been looking at the amounts in the ledger books,’ said Slaney. ‘We’ve added them up. Not enough silver is here in the pouch.’

  ‘Yes, but,’ said Mara impatiently, ‘amounts are often stated in silver – I do this myself for fines, sometimes, but the fine can be paid in anything worth that amount of silver. You have a barn full of flour and honey and skins and everything else that the clan have managed to find for you. You will soon begin to learn of the customs here,’ she added, deliberately allowing a note of condescension to sound in her voice.

  ‘There didn’t seem to be enough silver, though,’ said Garrett, his voice soft and apologetic as if to try to make amends for his wife’s belligerence.

  ‘I can’t help you with that,’ said Mara flatly. ‘Did you order Ragnall to write down amounts given as soon as he received them?’

  ‘No,’ muttered Garrett. ‘I suppose he just went on doing things the way he did them when my father was alive.’

  ‘And there was never any trouble then,’ stated Mara. ‘As far as I know,’ she added struggling to retain a feeling of impartiality.

  ‘Well, what happens now, then?’ said Slaney impatiently. ‘Do you try the case at Poulnabrone? If this were Galway, the woman, the wife of this Guaire O’Brien, would be arrested and thrown into prison and brought before a court. Surely there is something that you can do, even in a place like this.’

  Galway! thought Mara. They don’t even have a law of their own there, but have to ape English laws. Imagine throwing a poor unfortunate woman into prison and probably torturing her, just because of some silver!

  ‘There is no case to be heard,’ she said aloud, her voice flat and authoritative.

  Slaney stared at her, open-mouthed.

  ‘You mean you refuse to hear the case.’

  ‘I am giving you my professional opinion that there is no case to be heard. No one knows how much silver was in the pouch. It looked fairly much as it looked when I saw Ragnall at Noughaval. If you have no further evidence, then there is no case.

  ‘Well, what can we do then, if we are refused justice by you?’

  ‘You can come and fast from food for several days outside my gate if you think that you have not been fairly treated,’ said Mara dryly, with a quick glance at Slaney’s voluptuous figure. ‘The law gives you that right and the custom was often used in the past. If you fast for three days and three nights outside my gatepost, then King Turlough himself will hear your case against me.’

  Mara allowed a minute’s silence while she enjoyed the expression of horror on Slaney’s face. Then she rose to her feet quickly and flashed a bland smile at both. She could not afford to have dissension in her kingdom, she reminded herself. ‘I’m sure that when you think about it, you will see that you must drop this matter,’ she said soothingly. ‘Now, alas, I must leave you. The affairs of the kingdom keep me too busy for long visits.’

  ‘You will have a cup of wine before you go,’ stammered Garrett. She noticed that his face had gone very pale. The mention of the name of King Turlough Donn had probably frightened him.

  ‘No, I won’t,’ she said. ‘Brigid will have my supper waiting for me.’

  They hadn’t asked her to supper, she noticed, but Garrett now made quite a ceremony of calling for her horse and he himself handed her into the saddle. The light was fading as she walked her mare slowly across the courtyard and she noticed that the barn was now illuminated with an orange gleam from many lanterns. Figures moved within, stacking bales, salting meat and emptying sacks into bins. It looked as if a large tribute from a fairly minor clan had been exacted. Why were Garrett and Slaney now so anxious about a few ounces of silver?

  THIRTEEN

  MÍASHLECHTA (SECTIONS ON RANK)

  A taoiseach should have many servants.

  Foremost among these is the steward. He is the man who collects the tribute, arranges the work of the other servants, and who looks after the food and drink and sleeping pl
aces in his lord’s household.

  A steward’s honour price is half the honour price of the taoiseach.

  WHAT A SHAME THAT Turlough was not there; he would have enjoyed that, thought Mara, allowing a laugh to ring out as she galloped along the narrow valley that carved its way through the Aillwee Mountain. The wind was gusting strongly from the west, blowing back the hood of her brat, but the picture of Slaney fasting before her gate in order to obtain justice was enough to keep her in good humour.

  ‘I’d better send Cumhal with a letter to Turlough,’ she muttered. As overlord, the king should be aware of the danger towards the peace of the region posed by Slaney’s plans of a ‘blood feud’. Now she was half sorry that she had put the hearing of Niall’s case forward to the following Saturday. The sooner the whole situation of the mill was resolved the better.

  The trees were bending and straining in the wind by the time that she reached Caherconnell. For a minute she hesitated. There was no doubt that the weather was worsening. Overhead came the harsh squawking of gannets and kittiwakes taking refuge inland from the Atlantic storm. The wind was so strong that it almost seemed to be snatching the breath from her lips. Perhaps the sensible thing to do would be to stay the night with Malachy. He and Nuala would be delighted to see her. Brigid wouldn’t worry; she would assume that her mistress had spent the night with Garrett and Slaney at Carron Castle.

  However, it had not begun to rain yet and there were only two more miles to go. The mare was pressing on strongly. Her Arab blood gave her stamina and courage. She tossed her head and looked back at her mistress and then galloped on. In any case, thought Mara, I have too much to do to waste any more time. I must get home tonight and I must devote the whole of tomorrow to these two murders. Mentally she began to sift through the possibilities. Suddenly it seemed to her as if she could solve it as she would solve a tricky piece of law. The affair was intricate, but the visit to Slaney and Garrett had cleared her mind and allowed her to concentrate on the essentials.