‘Garrett MacNamara offered the mill to the O’Lochlainn!’ exclaimed Mara in tones of well-feigned amazement.
‘Oh, yes, hadn’t you heard that?’ returned Diarmuid. ‘They say that Garrett MacNamara has overspent himself and that he is in the hands of money-lenders in Galway. The word is that he is desperate for money.’
Mara was silent. Amazing how matters which she had considered to be secrets, locked within her breast, were actually being discussed over the hedges and in the fields of the kingdom! Though, when she thought about it, it was not so surprising. Life was lived mainly out of doors and voices carried. Liam and Ardal, no doubt, had been discussing this matter for days. Perhaps the whole kingdom had by now worked out the solution to these two murders that troubled her so much.
Suddenly she felt sick of the whole affair. She leaned past Wolf, threw a sod of turf on the smouldering fire and smiled at Diarmuid. She wished that she could relax and just enjoy an evening’s gossip with an old friend. They could chat together with Wolf lying on the mat between them and turning his large noble head from one to the other as the conversation flowed and ebbed. Perhaps this could have been her life if she had married Diarmuid instead of her fellow student, the stonemason’s son, Dualta. Perhaps this could still be her life. Dearest Diarmuid, he would make an excellent husband, but … Mentally, she shook herself. She was Brehon of the Burren and she had a job to do. She could not afford to waste this opportunity of a talk with someone who,
simply and honestly, would tell her all that he knew. Diarmuid was a man that everyone would confide in. She was not a silly girl, musing about her lovers, she reminded herself sternly; she was thirty-six years old and a woman with great responsibilities.
‘Tell me all about it,’ she said, and her voice was calm, friendly and detached. ‘Why on earth should Liam want the O’Lochlainn to buy a mill?’
Diarmuid chuckled and stretched out his legs to the fire, leaning his back against the warmth of the chimney wall. ‘When did Liam ever want anything to happen unless it was to benefit himself? Only the birds in the air know how much he has salted away for himself. 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 a 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 type to be counting. The tribute was something that the clan gave and were thanked for and there was no looking into it and no questions asked. The O’Connor is the same, but this new young taoiseach of the MacNamaras is a very different matter. The word is that the clan don’t like him. Who knows what might happen next?’
‘And now Liam wants to be a miller?’ Mara decided not to discuss the MacNamara problem any further. And she was still puzzled by the news that Liam was the one who wanted the mill. Aengus was probably not too much younger than Liam, but he had been a stringy, active man who had been doing the work for most of his life. She couldn’t see Liam
heaving sacks around and running up and down the stairs of the mill. In any case, his honour price as a steward would be higher than that of a mill-owner.
Diarmuid shook his head with a smile. ‘No, not the mill,’ he said. ‘Liam would have no interest in the mill. He’ll buy it, perhaps, and put someone in and charge a rent, or else perhaps it is the O’Lochlainn himself who wants the mill. No, what Liam had in mind was the big stone building there, the old abbot’s house. He was going to have it repaired and he was going to set himself up as a
briugu.
’
‘A
briugu
!’
‘Well, Liam loves company. He’d even hope to entertain the king himself once he got everything set up. It would be a great place for a hospitaller, there at Oughtmama. It’s just off Clerics’ Pass and all the merchants travelling along that road from Galway to Burren or Corcomroe or Thomond would be inclined to stop and stay the night there or at least have a drink and a meal.’
‘I know that. Yes, it would be a good place. I just wondered if Liam could possibly be rich enough to be a
briugu
.’
‘Oh, he’s rich,’ said Diarmuid wisely. ‘And, of course, he has no family. Never did marry! There’s no point in him dying rich and then his money just going back into the clan. That’s the way that he would look at it. He would want to enjoy his last few years. He must be sixty now if he’s a day. If the O’Lochlainn buys the mill, then he would put in a miller and perhaps an inn for the ordinary people to come and drink their ale, and Liam would be there with his finger in every pie. He would love it. It would be a substitute for a wife and family for him.’
‘I wonder why he hasn’t anyone,’ mused Mara. ‘He would have been a handsome fellow in his youth before he ran to fat. I’m surprised that he didn’t marry.’
‘It happens,’ stated Diarmuid. He stretched out a hand towards her, and then hastily withdrew it and placed it on Wolf’s head. ‘I thought I would get married myself once, but …’ He raised his eyes and looked at her. ‘It didn’t work out for me then, but I sometimes wonder if it could work out for me now.’
It was as near to being direct as anything that Diarmuid would ever say to her; Mara understood that. She knew that he would not wish to appear presumptuous: that he, a farmer, would seem to be putting himself forward as a husband for the most powerful woman in the kingdom. He would also, she thought, not want to jeopardize the warm friendship that existed between them by embarrassing her in any way. All those thoughts went through her quick brain in a few instants and in that time she realized that she could not offer this man, who had loved her faithfully and for so long, a second-best marriage, a marriage for companionship and convenience. She rose to her feet, placing her hand for a second on top of his and then withdrawing it.
‘Ah, Diarmuid,’ she said compassionately, ‘I don’t know any woman in the world who would be good enough for someone like you.’
AN SEANCHAS MóR (THE GREAT ANCIENT TRADITION)
I
ƒ there are no sons to inherit from a father, then a daughter is known as a
banchomarbae (
female heir
)
and is entitled to a share in his goods. She inherits all of his personal goods, but only land of the amount suited for an
ocaire,
or small farmer, and this land reverts to the kin-group after her death. However, iƒ her husband is a landless alien, such as a Briton, then the land passes to her sons.
‘C
UMHAL, COULD YOU SPARE a man to take a letter to the king at Arra?’ said Mara after breakfast on Tuesday morning.
‘Yes, of course, Brehon,’ said Cumhal promptly, putting
down the axe with which he was attacking a cord of firewood. Cumhal always chopped wood first thing on autumn and winter mornings. Mara suspected that it was his way of warming himself for the day, and also keeping out of Brigid’s path as she bustled around the kitchen house, cooking breakfast for the scholars and for the farm workers. Brigid’s temper was always fairly lively first thing in the morning.
‘The king is not at Arra though, Brehon,’ continued Cumhal, mopping his brow. ‘I think he is at Lemeanah.’
‘Oh,’ said Mara. She was surprised. It had certainly been Turlough’s plan to go straight home when he had left her on Sunday afternoon. Perhaps he stopped at Lemeanah to discuss young Donal with Teige and then was persuaded to stay the night. ‘How do you know?’ she asked. It was amazing how Brigid and Cumhal between them always managed to know in minute detail everything that happened on the Burren.
‘I met the
mac an rí
[king’s son] outside the gates at Carron,’ explained Cumhal. ‘He asked how you were, and he told me that he was riding down to join his father at Lemeanah.’
‘Well, that’s good, then, if the king’s there; that will only take half an hour,’ said Mara. ‘You might send Sean,’ she suggested as Brigid’s voice rose to a shriek urging Sean to keep out from under her feet.
The scholars looked rather forlorn when they came into the schoolhouse after breakfast and saw a heap of work awaiting them.
‘I’m afraid that I will have to leave you this morning,’ said Mara. ‘Fachtnan, you will be in charge, and, Enda, I
know you will give him all your assistance.’ Enda, she was pleased to note, sat up straight and opened his books with a resolute air.
‘I will be back around noon, or if not then, well, very soon after. I’ll certainly be back before you finish eating your dinner and then I would like you to help me. I want you to ride around the Burren. I have a list of everyone that I saw at the fair, and Hugh will be able to add to that list. Fachtnan, I will give the list to you, and when all the scholars have finished their work then you and Hugh will be able to go through the names and each scholar can spend the afternoon interviewing these people and getting their memories of the Michaelmas Fair, and in particular,’ here she paused and looked around at the six young faces in front of her, ‘in particular,’ she repeated, ‘you must note their memories of Guaire, the linen merchant from Corcomroe. Liam, the O’Lochlainn steward, thinks that Ragnall had already disappeared from sight before Guaire left. If that is true, then Guaire may not have been responsible for his murder.’
‘But could Liam be sure?’ asked Shane shrewdly. ‘After all, the walls of the churchyard are pretty high.’
‘Liam was standing on a box,’ said Hugh. As the only member of the law school present at the Michaelmas Fair, he now considered himself as an authority on this murder case. Even the older boys had been cross-questioning him on the details. It had suddenly given him the confidence in himself that he had lacked previously.
‘And Ragnall was on a horse, you remember him on his big white horse, Hugh? Well, Liam says that he rode the horse into the churchyard.’
‘No horse when we went into the churchyard on Tuesday
morning,’ said Aidan alertly. ‘And we were the ones that found the body.’ He gave an aggressive stare at Hugh.
‘And we looked all round the churchyard to see if the murderer was hiding behind the gravestones,’ said Moylan, with the nonchalant air of one who would happily capture a few murderers before breakfast.
‘We’d definitely have seen the horse.’
‘And he wasn’t a quiet horse, either,’ said Hugh judicially. ‘He was always tossing his head and neighing. He even tried to kick at Bran when I passed Ragnall at the Michaelmas Fair. I’m the only one of you that has been near that white horse,’ he said, looking back at Aidan, with innocent blue eyes widely opened.
‘Well, where did the horse go then, Brehon?’ said Aidan, turning disdainfully away from his junior.
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Mara. ‘I thought I would go down to Shesmore today and see if it had returned home.’
‘Wouldn’t Ragnall’s daughter have sent you a message, Brehon?’ queried Fachtnan. ‘I’m sure that she would have done that.’ He blushed slightly as he said the words. He would, perhaps, have seen Maeve with Donal O’Brien. She was a pretty girl. Fachtnan would not like to believe any harm of such a girl.
‘Perhaps she and Donal killed her father,’ said Enda enthusiastically. ‘Then they would have hidden the horse, wouldn’t they? Could that be a solution to Ragnall’s murder, Brehon?’
‘Perhaps we should come with you to Shesmore, Brehon,’ suggested Moylan hopefully. ‘We could sneak around the stables and see if the horse is there and then confront them with the evidence.’
‘It mightn’t be safe for you to go on your own, Brehon. Donal O’Brien might be armed and dangerous,’ said Enda gravely. Normally these days he treated Aidan and Moylan with disdain, but now the hope of solving this murder made him close ranks with them.
‘Anyway, no one would notice us poking around in the stables and they’d notice you. You couldn’t make up an excuse to look in the stables, but we could,’ said Aidan, in the tone of voice of one who knows that his argument is irresistible.
‘No, I don’t think so,’ began Mara and then she stopped. There was something to be said for Aidan’s idea. ‘I think,’ she continued slowly, ‘that I’ll take Hugh and Shane with me. They are too young to be conducting investigations like the rest of you, so they can work in the afternoon. You are quite right, Aidan, thank you for pointing it out. Two young boys could easily go unnoticed into the stables, where I would be observed. So go and get your cloaks, you two.’
She ignored the groans from Aidan and Moylan as she went out of the schoolhouse. The scholars had to work hard, especially in their last few years at law school. There was an immense quantity of law texts to be memorized; their Latin had to be as good as their Gaelic; their skills in rhetoric and debating had to be polished and even their handwriting had to be perfect before they could be admitted to the elite body of lawyers, and perhaps, later, become a Brehon. All this could only be accomplished by constant hard work.
Seán, she noticed, as she crossed the yard to where Cumhal was standing holding her beautifully groomed mare, was only just setting out. It was no wonder that he annoyed Brigid. She saw Cumhal glaring at him and smiled to herself.
‘You could keep an eye on the scholars, Cumhal,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’m taking the two little ones with me, but Aidan and Moylan may give Fachtnan a bit of a hard time and …’ she stopped, hearing Seán’s deep slow voice from the other side of the hedge.
‘Why don’t you have a word with the Brehon about this, Niall? She’s in there in the yard at the moment.’
There was a murmur of voices and then the sound of two horses trotting down the road. Mara took the bridle from Cumhal’s hand and walked her horse across to the gate of the law school enclosure and looked out. Niall and Sean were going down the road towards the crossroads. She could hear the sound of their voices, though not the words, and it seemed as though Niall kept company with Sean and turned right at the crossroads, going towards Carron, or Lemeanah, rather than continuing on towards his own farm at Noughaval. Could he want to see the king? she wondered. He had been looking very unhappy every time she had seen him recently. She felt somewhat hurt that he had not confided in her, but it was his right to speak to the king directly and she knew that Turlough would be gentle and kind towards him. In any case, she was certainly not going to chase after him, so she shrugged her shoulders and turned back to smile at her two eager young scholars bursting out of the door of the scholars’ house and leaping onto the backs of their ponies.
‘We wore our second-best cloaks, Brehon,’ said Shane as they joined her. ‘I thought it would be a good idea if we are going to be nosing around in the stables.’
‘We’ve made a plan,’ said Hugh, as they clattered down the road beside her. ‘We decided that we would ask if there were any puppies or kittens around. Even if Maeve doesn’t
know, then we could just go poking around the barns and stables, pretending that we are looking for them.’
‘Hugh says he’s sure he’ll recognize the horse,’ said Shane. ‘He says it’s a big white horse with a wall eye.’
‘Will we tell you straight out if we see him?’ asked Hugh.
‘Better not,’ said Mara.
‘We could have a signal,’ said Shane eagerly.
‘Wink at you,’ suggested Hugh.
‘That’s too obvious,’ argued Shane. ‘I know. We’ll say that we’ve found a baby swallow in the stable, or barn, or wherever the horse has been hidden.’
‘It’s too late for baby swallows,’ stated Hugh. ‘I saw all of the swallows flying out to sea from Drumcreehy on the Sunday before we came back to school. We won’t see swallows again until next summer.’
‘That’s the point,’ explained Shane. ‘As soon as we say that, the Brehon will tell us that we must be wrong and then we can tell her to come and see and she’ll come and she’ll be surprised to see the horse.’
‘That’s a good plan, Shane,’ said Hugh approvingly. ‘What do you think, Brehon?’
‘I think you have worked it out very well between you,’ said Mara. They were a sweet pair of children. She felt very maternal towards them. They never fought or challenged or criticized each other in the way that the older boys did. I would miss them all terribly if I gave up the school to become Turlough’s wife, she thought. It was all very well for Turlough to pour scorn on her idea of a marriage of fourth degree, but perhaps that was what would suit her best. A marriage of fourth degree, whereby a man visited a woman but did not have her in his house, would work well for both
of them. Turlough, of course, disapproved. This type of marriage normally took place between a man and a woman of much lower status. Ardal O’Lochlainn, so gossiping tongues related, had contracted a marriage of the fourth degree between a fisherman’s daughter in Galway and himself. Ardal visited her from time to time and no doubt they were very happy. There was no real reason why the same arrangement should not work for Turlough and herself. As for status, she cared little about that; the people of the Burren would accept the position once she explained her reasons to them.
When they arrived at Shesmore, Maeve was there to meet them. The steady clip clop of the horses’ feet, the jingling of the harness and the high-pitched chatter from the two boys may have brought her out of the house, surmised Mara. However, Maeve’s cheeks were red and her breathing was rapid as if she had been running. And the girl’s boots were covered in clay, Mara noticed. She glanced carelessly down the lane that led to Lemeanah. Yes, after the rain of the previous evening, its churned-up surface was glistening with mud and puddles.
‘What a lovely morning after the storm yesterday,’ exclaimed Mara as she swung herself from her horse. She looked around, admiring the way the autumn sun lit up the pale yellow of the hazel leaves and the gold of the newly thatched roof of the farmhouse. Hugh slid from his pony and took the reins from her hands and then he and Shane proceeded to tie the ponies and mare to the rail.
Maeve said nothing, so Mara talked on, giving the girl a
few minutes to recover her breath. ‘I had to take refuge at Lissylisheen yesterday evening. Even though I would have been home in ten minutes, the storm was too bad to risk staying out in it.’
‘Yes, I heard that you were there,’ murmured Maeve. She pulled at her blue
léine
from where it had been kilted by her belt and smoothed it down so that it covered her boots.
‘There are a few things I would like to talk over with you,’ said Mara, looking around at the empty yard. ‘Shall we go inside? Hugh and Shane, you can go and play in the meadow over there, if you wish.’
‘Let’s go and see if there are any puppies around, Hugh,’ said Shane. Mara had to conceal a smile; his voice sounded so natural.
Maeve hardly seemed to notice his words; she seemed to worry more about trying to conceal how muddy her boots were than about the activities of the two young boys. She led the way into the house and Mara followed her, marvelling at how tiny the girl was: ten-year-old Shane was almost as big as she.
‘The king has been discussing your situation with me, Maeve,’ she began as soon as she was seated. ‘I’ll explain a little about the law of inheritance to you first of all and then we’ll discuss your future. The position is that you will retain twenty acres of land for yourself and also the dwelling house. I would advise that you keep the twenty acres nearest the house. If you marry,’ Mara smiled as she saw the quick blush spread over Maeve’s face, and continued, ‘perhaps I should say, when you marry, you could put a tenant into this property if you wished or else, of course, you and your husband could live here. The thing you must remember is
that this land is yours for your lifetime only. After your death it goes back to the clan.’ She went on to explain the law of holding land, but she knew that Maeve was not listening.