Read A Secret and Unlawful Killing Online
Authors: Cora Harrison
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective
A Secret and Unlawful Killing (15 page)
‘And who took back the damaged sack?’
He looked surprised, but answered readily. ‘Old Ragnall himself did that, Brehon. He was riding behind the cart and he saw the trail of flour spilling out from the damaged sack. The lane is narrow there, so he told me not to bother trying to turn the cart. We hoisted the sack onto the saddle of Ragnall’s horse and he walked back with it to the mill.’
‘I see,’ said Mara. So Ragnall had gone back to the mill alone. Had he seen something there? Was the murderer of Aengus hiding when they arrived with the heavily laden cart
creaking up the lane and the sound of men’s voices? And did the murderer then emerge, only to be seen by Ragnall?
creaking up the lane and the sound of men’s voices? And did the murderer then emerge, only to be seen by Ragnall?
‘And did Ragnall say anything when he came back?’ she asked, voicing her thoughts.
Niall thought for a moment. ‘I don’t remember, Brehon,’ he said doubtfully. ‘He might have done.’
‘Well, Niall,’ she said briskly. ‘I will be judging your case at Poulnabrone on Saturday. In the meantime, I suggest that you gather as many witnesses as you can who will be able to testify if Aengus ever spoke of you as his son, or ever implied that you were his son. Now I must leave you, Niall. I see the O’Lochlainn steward over there and I want to have a quick word with him.’
She left him looking rather glum and disheartened. With his mother dead and nothing written down, it was going to be a difficult case, she thought. Generally a
taoiseach
would be expected to know something like this and his witness would be very important. But in this case the
taoiseach
was new to the area and was hostile to Niall’s claim. In fact, thought Mara, this
taoiseach
was desperate for money and would do anything to obtain it. His testimony would not be reliable. His marriage might depend on him getting some extra silver.
taoiseach
would be expected to know something like this and his witness would be very important. But in this case the
taoiseach
was new to the area and was hostile to Niall’s claim. In fact, thought Mara, this
taoiseach
was desperate for money and would do anything to obtain it. His testimony would not be reliable. His marriage might depend on him getting some extra silver.
‘Brehon, you’re looking well,’ said Liam as she joined him.
‘What a lovely breezy autumn morning, Liam,’ said Mara. Usually she didn’t bother discussing the weather, but she did not want the O’Lochlainn steward to see anything of significance in her query. He was a great man for collecting
gossip from all corners of the kingdom and then airing it in the alehouse. She would talk about the weather and try to find an opening into which she could insert her question.
gossip from all corners of the kingdom and then airing it in the alehouse. She would talk about the weather and try to find an opening into which she could insert her question.
‘Mackerel sky, not long wet, not long dry,’ he said, eyeing the clouds above. ‘You see the look of the sky over there, over the Aran Islands. I wouldn’t be surprised if we have a shower before nightfall.’
‘Well, we’ve had all sorts of weather this week,’ said Mara seizing the opportunity. ‘What with the fog on Michaelmas Day, or did that start on Michaelmas Eve? Niall was telling me that it was misty that evening at Noughaval, was that right? I wasn’t at the Michaelmas Eve
céilí
myself; I was busy preparing the scholars’ work for the Michaelmas term.’
céilí
myself; I was busy preparing the scholars’ work for the Michaelmas term.’
‘No, no, it was a lovely evening,’ said Liam. ‘But Niall wasn’t there. I remember noticing that. What with him living so near, I would have expected him to be there. No, we had a good time that evening. After Aengus and Ragnall had the row, you remember I was telling you about that … and it was then I looked to see if Niall was there – I thought he might stand up for his father since Donal O’Brien was standing up for old Ragnall – well after all that
comhrac
was over and Aengus and Donal had gone, a group of us took our ale outside and it was almost like summer again.’
comhrac
was over and Aengus and Donal had gone, a group of us took our ale outside and it was almost like summer again.’
‘It must have been another day he was talking about then,’ said Mara briskly. She had her information now so she might as well depart. ‘Are you waiting for the O’Lochlainn, Liam? King Turlough is coming home with me for dinner so I’d better collect him now, or else Brigid will be complaining.’ Turlough was starting to look bored, she thought. He
liked his conversation with a little more savour than the earnest Ardal could provide.
liked his conversation with a little more savour than the earnest Ardal could provide.
‘So tell me all the gossip from Carron Castle,’ she said as they both started to ride along the road from Noughaval to Cahermacnaghten. ‘What was the stately Slaney up to with your son Murrough? Don’t tell me that they were rolling in the hay, or kissing and cuddling in the barn.’
‘Well, of course, they were careful in front of me,’ said Turlough with an appreciative chuckle. ‘They wouldn’t want to take any chance that I would carry tales to Murrough’s wife.’
‘You wouldn’t do that – about your own son!’
‘Serve him right. Still, I don’t suppose that I would. I don’t like her much, Eleanor, I mean. She’s too like her father, Gearoid Mór, the Earl of Kildare, as he calls himself these days. The whole family is in the pocket of the English. He is always popping over to London to see Henry VIII. That son of mine would like an earldom, also. He’ll make sure that no talk of Slaney ever gets to Eleanor’s ears. He will want to keep on the good side of the Earl of Kildare.’
‘Slaney would love to be married to an earl,’ said Mara maliciously. ‘I was wondering if she were thinking of divorcing Garrett and marrying Murrough. Well, if Murrough is not for her, I wonder whether she has any hope of getting Garrett to become an earl. Perhaps we’ll see herself and Garrett trotting across to Kildare one of these days.’
‘Garrett! That fellow is just a
s
erchéile,
a vassal, of mine. I’d stick a sword in him if he betrayed me like that,’ shouted
Turlough so loudly that a donkey, which had been enjoying a heap of small red crab apples under the hedge, came running up and stuck his head over the wall with an alarmed hee-haw. Turlough gave a sudden shout of laughter, the donkey tossed his head with an even louder bray and the two bodyguards who were following at a discreet distance came galloping up, full of alarm.
s
erchéile,a vassal, of mine. I’d stick a sword in him if he betrayed me like that,’ shouted
Turlough so loudly that a donkey, which had been enjoying a heap of small red crab apples under the hedge, came running up and stuck his head over the wall with an alarmed hee-haw. Turlough gave a sudden shout of laughter, the donkey tossed his head with an even louder bray and the two bodyguards who were following at a discreet distance came galloping up, full of alarm.
‘All right, all right,’ said Turlough, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Nothing’s wrong. It’s the Brehon’s fault,’ he added. ‘She was making a joke about a donkey and then up comes another donkey to enjoy the fun. Ride ahead, lads. Tell Brigid we are on our way and I am starving.’
‘So how’s your murder case going?’ he said as the bodyguards, with a few uneasy glances around, rode on down the road towards the law school.
‘Complicated,’ said Mara. ‘You see, if Malachy could even tell me which one was killed first, I would have something to go on. It seems unbelievable that there should be no connection between two deaths within a few hours of each other and each man belonging to the same clan.’
‘What could the connection be though?’
Mara drew her mare to a halt and Turlough did the same, looking at her enquiringly. ‘Let me think,’ she said. ‘Let me draw a picture, that’s the way my mind works best.’ She stopped for a moment, her mind shifting through the confusing facts, placing them in order, discarding some and putting others to one side, for the moment. Turlough watched her affectionately, his green eyes alert and interested.
‘Let’s take this for a possible story,’ said Mara slowly. ‘It’s Monday morning, a foggy, cold morning. Aengus is in his mill; the murderer is there also. He wants to murder
Aengus. He creeps up on him with his knife, or perhaps it is a heavy stick. He knocks him on the head, or slits his throat - the second I think.
Aengus. He creeps up on him with his knife, or perhaps it is a heavy stick. He knocks him on the head, or slits his throat - the second I think.
‘Why?’ asked Turlough.
‘Because that would be a reason to put the gate over the man’s throat – it would hide the wound.’
‘Why bother?’
‘Wait a minute,’ she said. ‘Don’t interrupt me. I’m just feeling my way in the dark. The murderer kills Aengus, carries his body outside, and places it under the sluice gate in a clumsy attempt to make it look like suicide. The sluice gate falls down on the man’s neck, probably breaking it.’
‘And then?’
‘And then,’ she said triumphantly, ‘Niall comes in, sees the bags of flour for the Michaelmas tribute all lined up by the wall, takes them out one by one and places them in the cart, turns the cart and goes back down the lane.’
‘Why was Ragnall murdered then?’
‘Well, Ragnall was a mean man and as he followed the cart he saw a tiny trickle of flour coming from a hole in one of the sacks. They could not turn the cart in that lane – it’s only about six foot wide the whole way down the hill, so Ragnall loaded the sack onto his own horse, went back and saw the murderer, perhaps heard a sound, went out and saw him putting the body under the sluice gate.’
‘So the murderer murders Ragnall.’
Mara nodded.
‘But not until the evening, not until sundown at the Michaelmas Fair. Why the wait?’ Turlough questioned.
‘Well, that makes sense,’ pointed out Mara. ‘After all, Niall was there, with the cart. He couldn’t tackle two men.’
‘And why did Ragnall say nothing if he did witness a murder? Was he planning blackmail?’
‘That I don’t know,’ said Mara. ‘My picture is fading now. You were interrupting too much.’
‘Not at all,’ said Turlough with a grin. ‘I’m just teaching you to think sensibly, and not to go off on wild flights of fancy.’
‘The other picture, of course,’ said Mara, ignoring this, ‘is that Aengus was actually killed on Sunday night, after the Michaelmas Eve festival. Now that …’
‘Brehon.’ Shane was running up the road, his black hair blowing in the fresh wind from the west. He stopped abruptly and gave a quick bow to the king.
‘Tá failte romhat, a thighernae,’
he said quickly and then turned to Mara. ‘Brehon, Brigid sent me to tell you that the Brehon of Corcomroe and his wife are waiting to see you. Oh, and Hugh and me are helping to baste the roast goose while Brigid is making the apple sauce. Brigid says to tell you that the goose will be ready in a wee while,’ he finished, lapsing into his north of Ireland dialect, as he made another quick bow, turned and fled back down the road.
‘Tá failte romhat, a thighernae,’
he said quickly and then turned to Mara. ‘Brehon, Brigid sent me to tell you that the Brehon of Corcomroe and his wife are waiting to see you. Oh, and Hugh and me are helping to baste the roast goose while Brigid is making the apple sauce. Brigid says to tell you that the goose will be ready in a wee while,’ he finished, lapsing into his north of Ireland dialect, as he made another quick bow, turned and fled back down the road.
‘Roast goose!’ said Turlough reverentially. He was a man who worshipped his food and Brigid always laid her best in front of him.
‘Fergus and Siobhan MacClancy,’ said Mara in tones of despair. Fergus was a nice, kind man, who had been very good to Mara, taking on the duties of Brehon of the Burren when her father died and then influencing the king, Turlough’s uncle, to appoint Mara herself as a Brehon. Mara was fond of him, but he was never good company and Siobhan was an immensely boring woman.
She could see them now. They were standing at the gate of the Brehon’s house, looking eagerly up the road.
‘We smelled the goose all the way up the road,’ shrilled Siobhan. And then she saw the king. She bowed reverentially.
‘Dia’s Muire agat, a thighernae,’
she said respectfully and Fergus’s quiet voice echoed his wife’s.
‘Dia’s Muire agat, a thighernae,’
she said respectfully and Fergus’s quiet voice echoed his wife’s.
‘I just wanted to see you, Mara, for a minute about this affair of the merchant Guaire O’Brien, but I won’t interrupt your Sunday,’ he said.
‘No, no,’ said Mara forcing herself to be hospitable. ‘You must stay and have some dinner with us. There will be plenty of goose for us all. Brigid always cooks too much of everything.’ The scholars would be disappointed, she thought. There would be few leftovers after this meal. Fergus, despite his frail looks, was a good trencherman and Siobhan’s stout frame openly proclaimed her love of food.
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ said Siobhan with a cursory show of reluctance. ‘Shall we go inside, my lord, while Fergus and Mara talk business? Brigid has a lovely fire in the sitting room.’
Turlough gloomily followed Siobhan indoors. Mara found it hard to suppress a smile. His expression was so like that of a small boy denied a treat. She turned to Fergus.
‘Guaire O’Brien?’ she questioned.
‘Yes, the linen merchant, from Kilfenora, I understand he was at your Michaelmas Fair.’
‘That’s right,’ said Mara. ‘He was in a bit of trouble for giving short measure.’
Fergus nodded grimly. ‘So I understand. That was not all, though. He got very drunk that night at an alehouse in Liscannor and he was stabbed by a Frenchman who got back onto his boat before he could be caught.’
‘I see,’ said Mara, wondering why Fergus was telling her all of this. This was a Corcomroe affair and outside her jurisdiction.
‘The thing is,’ said Fergus, ‘when we returned Guaire’s pack to his widow; I went with it myself because this pouch, that was at the bottom of the pack, puzzled me. It was full of silver and it didn’t seem likely that it was belonging to Guaire. Anyway, when I opened it and showed it to the widow, she said she had never seen it before.’
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