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Authors: Cora Harrison

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective

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BOOK: A Secret and Unlawful Killing
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He stood up and looked around. There was a ripple of movement in the crowd as heads turned to see whether Maeve MacNamara was present and then turned back again when she was not discovered. Mara noticed that Teige O’Brien took a long searching look around the crowd. What did he think about his son’s fancy to marry the daughter of the MacNamara steward, she wondered.
‘There is no other near relation of the dead man,’ continued Garrett, ‘so I ask that the land be returned to the clan to be used where necessary.’ His eyes found his wife, who had moved slightly forward, and then he looked back again at the king. Slaney took another step forward so that now she was definitely part of the group.
‘The Brehon will tell us the law about this,’ said Turlough Donn with a slight frown. ‘There must be provision made for the girl. How old is she?’
‘She is sixteen years old and she will shortly be married,’ said Slaney, speaking in Gaelic so that all could understand. ‘Maol MacNamara is anxious to marry her and he could be
granted a portion of the land. The
taoiseach
is in favour of this match and has already given his permission.’ She cast a quick stern glance at her husband and he bowed his head obediently.
‘The law is that, where there is no male heir, a female heir should be given enough land to graze seven cows and the dwelling place that is her home,’ said Mara dryly. She fixed Slaney with a long cold look. What business of hers was this? Slaney had been born and brought up in Galway and had lived under English law. She could not be expected to know Brehon law, but she could hold her tongue until she knew the customs of her husband’s land.
She waited for Slaney’s prominent blue eyes to drop before hers before she continued. ‘Maeve herself, as she lacks a father, will come under the protection of the king. I would be happy to deputize for you, my lord,’ she said to Turlough, wishing that she had fixed this up beforehand.
‘That’s settled then,’ he agreed heartily as Mara breathed a sigh of relief. She should have known that he would not let her down. ‘Maeve MacNamara gets land fit to graze seven cows and the dwelling house. And the Brehon, in my name, will order her marriage as she thinks fit.’
‘But, my lord,’ said Slaney in her sweetest manner, ‘surely the chief of the clan can be relied upon to look after this fatherless young girl.’ Once more she spoke to the king in English and once more Turlough Donn turned a blank face towards her and then looked at Garrett for an explanation. Garrett flushed and cast an uneasy glance at his wife.
‘What the
taoiseach’s
wife is saying, my lord …’ began Mara, and translated Slaney’s remark slowly and carefully. There was a little ripple of appreciation from the crowd. They
were enjoying this; the
ban tighernae,
Slaney, was not popular amongst them. She gave the remark a moment to sink in and then added: ‘But, of course, the law is quite clear. The king now has the responsibility for Maeve MacNamara; her land and her dwelling house go with her into any marriage which is arranged for her. The rest of Ragnall MacNamara’s land goes back into clan land, and will, no doubt, be allocated by the
taoiseach
to a deserving young man.’ Or else used to furnish Slaney with all the fine goods which would allow her to boast to her merchant relations in Galway of the splendid marriage she had made. Mara looked quickly at the king and saw her own thoughts in his sceptical eyes. He nodded quickly and she finished: ‘This is the law of the king.’
Garrett looked uneasy. Slaney began to whisper in his ear. The king stared at him with an expression of disbelief in his eyes. Though Turlough was the last person to stand on ceremony this still must strike him as very strange behaviour. After a moment he grew impatient.
‘Is that all?’ he asked. ‘Perhaps we can return inside. The day is becoming cold.’
‘My lord,’ said Garrett after a pause while he licked his lips and glanced nervously at his wife. ‘There is another matter. Aengus, the miller, died; whether by his own hand or by another’s no one can tell. He was not married and had no immediate family so I ask that you confirm that the mill, and the land around it, goes back to the clan and its
taoiseach.’
‘My lord,’ said Niall, hastily pushing himself to the front of the crowd. ‘I am the son of Aengus the miller and as such I claim my father’s property.’
‘Aengus was not married,’ repeated Garrett pompously, staring at this insignificant member of his clan.
‘My lord, I was born of the union between Aengus and his servant, Cliodhna,’ persisted Niall.
‘The church frowns on such matters,’ said Slaney. Her Gaelic was fluent and perfect when she chose to speak it.
‘There is no evidence that you are the son of Aengus,’ said Garrett dismissively. ‘Eoin!’ he called, his voice rough and peremptory. As Eoin came forward reluctantly, Garrett seized him by the arm and held him face to face with Niall.
‘What was that you said when we found Aengus’s body?’ he demanded. ‘You spoke then about how Aengus was depressed because he had no son to follow him in the mill.’
Eoin’s face was dark red and he was obviously disconcerted by this public challenge.
‘Were you quoting the words of Aengus the miller, or just general gossip?’ intervened Mara.
‘Just gossip, Brehon,’ said Eoin. He looked relieved and then averted his gaze from the indignation in Garrett’s face.
‘Has anyone heard Aengus publicly acknowledge Niall as his son?’ Garrett’s voice was loud and determined.
There was an awkward silence. No one found the courage to speak and to incur the wrath of the
taoiseach.
The clansmen looked from their
taoiseach
and his
ban tighernae
to the king and then back at the face of their Brehon. Slaney took a quick step forward, but was waved back by an imperious gesture from Turlough.
‘Niall,’ said Mara, taking a step forward so that she was now in front of Garrett. ‘Did Aengus the miller acknowledge you as his son?’
‘Yes, Brehon,’ said Niall eagerly. ‘Even when I was young he told me that he would look after me if …’ His voice tailed away.
If … what? wondered Mara; but, she supposed, there would always be an ‘if’ with a dour suspicious character like Aengus. If the boy behaved himself, if he were docile and helpful around the mill, if he did not anger his father … This condition did not mean that he was not the son; in fact, it made it more likely. Why should Aengus worry about looking after the son of a mere servant woman if there were no special relationship?
‘And then years ago, when you were eighteen years old, Aengus purchased the land at Noughaval for you?’
‘Yes, Brehon,’ said Niall. His face brightened. ‘He purchased it from the profits of the mill and gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday. He told me that I had been a good son to him, but that there was not enough work for two men at the mill,’ he ended defiantly.
‘I drew up the lease myself,’ said Mara. ‘That certainly was my understanding. Although nothing was written down, . I do remember Aengus saying that he wanted to make provision for you.’
‘But you say nothing was written down about a relationship,’ said Slaney sharply. Whenever she spoke in Gaelic her voice seemed different, harsher and more that of a countrywoman than her previously refined Galway tones.
‘True,’ said Mara, ‘but Aengus paid a good sum of silver for this farm. He bought it from the O’Lochlainn. I remember the occasion well.’ She went ahead, speaking slowly and carefully. Though inwardly wishing that this dispute had not arisen on the occasion of the inauguration, she made her voice slow and authoritative and kept a stern eye on Slaney.
‘The O’Lochlainn said to Aengus that it was a good farm and a productive twenty acres and, to the best of my
recollection, Aengus said: “Well, I would like to see the lad settled. It was not his fault that his mother was never married.” I think if this case is to be tried at Poulnabrone,’ she added, ‘then I would call upon the O‘Lochlainn as a witness. I’m sure that he will remember the occasion.’
‘So if this case were to be heard at Poulnabrone what would be your verdict, Brehon?’ asked the king, eyeing her closely.
Mara waited for a moment while she considered her words. The air seemed very still and very quiet and then she realized that the swallows, whose high-pitched veet vit sounds had been the background to the whole summer, had now finally departed across the sea. Soon winter would come. Already the beauty of the summer flowers was fading and the sharp chill of winter was beginning to grip this land of harsh grey stone.
‘My lord,’ she said formally, addressing herself to the king, ‘if this case did come for judgement at Poulnabrone I would call on witnesses who had known Aengus the miller and Niall MacNamara. Niall, himself, would then have time to call his witnesses and to make good his claim to be the son of Aengus. I cannot say what my judgement would be once I heard all of the evidence.’ That was not what she had said to him in private, but it was all that she was prepared to say in public.
‘But perhaps it does not need to go as far as that,’ persisted the king. ‘Perhaps you could tell the
taoiseach
now what your opinion at the moment is. I’m sure he wants to do the right thing by this member of his clan. Perhaps this matter could be settled now for the sake of unity in the clan.’
‘All I can say now,’ said Mara slowly and gravely, ‘is that
I have never heard Aengus deny his parenthood of Niall, and of Balor. The fact that he paid for a farm to be given to Niall is, to my mind, evidence of a closer tie than that of mere servant and master. My opinion, now, at this moment, without having heard the evidence, is that Niall was the son of Aengus and as such, unless there is an objection, he has the right to, as the law puts it,
“uncover his father’s hearth and take possession of his father’s lands and goods”.’
She waited for a moment, looking directly at Garrett. It seemed to her as if the entire clan, gathered around, held their breath. She was conscious that this might be a crucial moment in Garrett’s relationship with his followers. Some show of generosity now would make up for the mistakes of the past few months. His eyes avoided hers and looked towards his wife. She looked back at him stonily, her bright blue eyes seeming to grow even more prominent with rage. Garrett glanced up at the dilapidated castle. Mara could see him mentally assess the amount of repairs that it needed and then he returned his gaze to hers.
‘I object,’ said Garrett harshly.
Mara nodded briefly. The king beside her made a sudden violent move and sighed impatiently. She could imagine his thoughts. Turlough was a man of great generosity himself and this evidence of a mean and grudging spirit in the
taoiseach
of a clan would be abhorrent to him. However, Garrett was within his rights, and the law would, as always, be even-handed in its judgements. This would be a hard-fought case. Because of his wife’s extravagance, money was suddenly all-important to Garrett. But the mill itself would be important for Niall. It would make him prosperous and it would also make him respected within the community. Mara
made up her mind. There was no more to be said at this time and in this place.
‘In that case,’ she said gravely, ‘the matter cannot be settled here today. It will tried at Poulnabrone next Saturday at noon. Witnesses should be brought by both sides to the dispute.’
She cast one look at Niall’s stricken, blanched countenance. Suddenly the picture of him driving the cart on that foggy Michaelmas Day came to her. Malachy had put the time of death as Sunday, but conceded that it could have been Monday. She understood his difficulty. Hot sunny days and cold frosty nights and the fact that the body lay in the fast-flowing mountain stream made the time of death hard to estimate. Perhaps Aengus was still alive on Monday. Who had collected those sacks of flour from the mill at Oughtmama? Was it Ragnall, or was it Niall who went in to fetch the sacks? And if it were Niall, did he meet his father Aengus? Were there hot words between them? Did Niall lose his temper and perhaps see this way of getting rid of his father and inheriting his lands and his mill?
‘I won’t stay for dinner,’ she murmured to the king. ‘I feel I should leave now. I should not take further hospitality. I must not appear to be on Garrett’s side when I hear this case on Saturday.’ She ignored his indignant face — he would not enjoy the company of Slaney and Garrett, and of his son, without her presence, but she could not help that. He, like she, was bound by his position in life. She crossed the platform to where Garrett stood while his wife still whispered in his ear.
‘I will bid you farewell now, Garrett,’ she said. ‘I have much to do and can not spare any more time. Cormac, I
wish you all the blessings and a long life to enjoy your new position.
Slán leat,
Slaney.’ And then, without waiting for a reply, she signalled to Fachtnan and he quickly rounded up the other scholars and took the bridle of her mare, holding it steady for her to mount.
‘You wouldn’t have got much to eat anyway,’ she said to her indignant young scholars once they were riding down the road. ‘I bet the dinner would have been nothing compared to what you get at Cahermacnaghten. When we reach Caherconnell you can gallop ahead and ask Brigid to cook you some of her sausages. Then you’ll have the rest of the day to yourselves to play hurling, or whatever you want to do. Fachtnan, will you ride with me? I want to call in at the forge on the way home.’
BOOK: A Secret and Unlawful Killing
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