Read A Secret and Unlawful Killing Online
Authors: Cora Harrison
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective
A Secret and Unlawful Killing (18 page)
‘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.
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?
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?
MÍASHLECHTA (SECTIONS ON RANK)
A taoiseach
should have many servants.
should have many servants.
F
oremost among these is the steward.
H
e is the man who collects the tribute, arranges the work of the other servants, and who looks after the food and drink and sleeping places in his lord’s household.
oremost among these is the steward.
H
e is the man who collects the tribute, arranges the work of the other servants, and who looks after the food and drink and sleeping places in his lord’s household.
A
steward’s honour price is half the honour price of the
taoiseach
.
steward’s honour price is half the honour price of the
taoiseach
.
W
HAT 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.
HAT 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.
The pace was exhilarating; she always loved the west
wind; loved to feel the salt on her lips, and the strong rush of wind blowing through her coiled and braided hair seemed to clear her mind. She would take each case separately and solve each one and then she would see what the connection was, she resolved.
wind; loved to feel the salt on her lips, and the strong rush of wind blowing through her coiled and braided hair seemed to clear her mind. She would take each case separately and solve each one and then she would see what the connection was, she resolved.
‘Motive and opportunity,’ she said aloud to a startled pine marten emerging from a slot in the stone wall, carrying a large rat in its mouth. She wished it well as it darted back into the shelter of the wall. She hated rats and the pine marten was very beautiful with its cat-like face and its enormous bushy tail. Winter was coming on and the wild creatures of the Burren would soon face their annual struggle for survival.
The storm was getting worse. The sky to the west had turned to the blue-black colour of the sloes on the blackthorn bushes on either side of the small lane. Now she half regretted not seeking hospitality at Caherconnell. A brilliant spiked line of lightning flared up ahead of her and for the first time the mare slowed her pace. Two minutes later thunder rolled its solemn drumbeat. The rain began to fall in great sheets of water, blowing directly into their faces and hissing on the slate-black clints in the fields. The mare put back her ears.
‘Easy now, girl, easy,’ murmured Mara. To her left was the tall, grey, crenellated outline of Lissylisheen tower house. Without hesitation she turned the mare’s head towards the gleam of light coming from the courtyard. Instantly a man emerged from the stables, a slit sack covering his head from the worst of the rain. Another man raced towards the heavy front door and hammered on it. It was opened in a second; the first man took her horse and Mara ran towards the hospitable door. A minute later she was inside.
‘Brehon, you’re very welcome! Come in. Come in. Are you wet?’ Ardal came clattering down the stairs.
‘Hardly a drop,’ said Mara, slipping off her brat and shaking a few raindrops from the tightly curled outer surface. ‘This faithful companion of mine has kept the rain off me for nearly twenty years now.’
‘You wouldn’t believe it, but I sell quite a few of these to England,’ said Ardal, taking it from her. ‘Irish mantles, they call them there. They fetch a good price. I find it’s a great use of the wool and, of course, I have about a couple of thousand sheep these days grazing up on the Gortclare Mountains, up above Oughtmama.’ He carried her brat into the guardroom and hung it carefully near the fire. ‘Come upstairs. You’ll have some supper? Liam is here. We were talking of you a few minutes ago, and wondering how you were getting on.’
Liam was standing at the window gazing out at the storm when Mara entered the hall. It was a smaller room than the one in Carron, but much cosier, she thought, with a large fireplace now filled with burning logs of scented pine. The table was black with age, but gleaming with polish, each point of candlelight reflected in its glistening surface. The walls were plastered and newly limewashed and a couple of large wolfhounds dozed by the fire.
‘You are well, Brehon?’ asked Liam, his voice as resonant of good living and fine drinking as was his large comfortably covered frame. ‘We saw you turn in as we were looking out. You just got here in time. Look at that storm now!’
‘I hear I’m just in time for supper,’ said Mara joining him and looking out at the pewter sky streaked with silver. Once again the jagged lightning zig-zagged down. They waited in
silence and then eventually came the explosion of the distant clap of thunder.
silence and then eventually came the explosion of the distant clap of thunder.
‘It’s moving away,’ said Liam. ‘That’ll be over in a couple of hours.’
‘Have a cup of wine, Brehon,’ said Ardal hospitably. ‘You’ll enjoy this. It’s a good wine. I bought it from your own son-in-law, Sorcha’s husband, in Galway. You sit by the fire here and Liam will entertain you while I go and make sure that they have a good supper to put before you.’
Mara took the proffered cup and settled down on a cushioned chair by the roaring fire. Liam came and lowered his massive form into the seat opposite. They were on good terms, the O’ochlainn and his steward. Liam had the air of being very much at home here within the walls of Lissylisheen tower house. He turned his beaming smile on her and threw a few more logs onto the fire.
‘You’re out in bad weather,’ he said.
‘I’ve been up to Carron to see the MacNamara,’ she said, sipping the wine. Yes, it was a good wine, rich with the fruity taste of the Rhône valley wines.
‘Didn’t get supper there, I warrant,’ said Liam with a knowing chuckle.
Mara smiled, drank some more wine, but did not comment. She had been Brehon long enough to realize that her lightest word was wafted immediately through the whole kingdom of the Burren and that the greatest significance was placed on her utterances. Only with Turlough would she allow herself to joke about Garrett MacNamara and his wife.
‘We have a good roast saddle of lamb for you, Brehon,’ said Ardal coming back in, followed by a manservant who laid the trenchers on the table and placed a sharply
pointed eating knife beside each place. Another servant bearing a flagon of wine followed him and together they went to and fro, spreading the table with bowls of rosy red apples and baskets of crusty small loaves of bread.
pointed eating knife beside each place. Another servant bearing a flagon of wine followed him and together they went to and fro, spreading the table with bowls of rosy red apples and baskets of crusty small loaves of bread.
‘Lovely,’ said Mara happily. Normally she preferred beef, but the O’ochlainn lamb, fed on mountain herbs, was always tasty and her ride through the storm had given her an appetite. She sniffed appreciatively as the large joint was carried in.
‘Sit here, Brehon,’ said Ardal, pulling out a chair and carefully placing a soft, velvet cushion on it. He poured some more wine into her cup and then took up a long sharp knife and began to cut well-shaped slices from the meat.
‘We were talking about old Ragnall,’ said Liam taking the left-hand side of his host and handing bread across to her. ‘I was just saying to the O’Lochlainn that it seems amazing that he is dead. I can see him there at the fair, sitting on that horse of his, waiting for the clan to pay the tribute. Any news yet of his killer?’
‘Not yet,’ began Mara and then she stopped. She stopped partly because the servants were bringing in small jugs of creamy garlic sauce and more iron dishes piled high with turnips, and roasted apples, but also because something had struck her about Liam’s words. She chewed a piece of tender sweet-tasting lamb and swallowed some wine before she identified the full significance of what he said.
Yes, of course, Ragnall’s horse, where was that horse? Now she could remember the scene clearly. Niall had his own horse to pull the cart. When they arrived at Noughaval Fair, Niall had unhitched his horse and taken it back with him to his own farm, no doubt so that the animal could be
fed and watered and rested after his strenuous morning. But Ragnall had stayed, mounted on a horse, a white horse with a wall eye, Mara remembered.
fed and watered and rested after his strenuous morning. But Ragnall had stayed, mounted on a horse, a white horse with a wall eye, Mara remembered.
‘What happened to the horse?’ she asked, looking keenly at Liam.
He was taken aback: she could see that.
‘I wouldn’t know, Brehon,’ he said staring at her blankly. ‘What did happen? Has no one found it?’
‘Not that I have heard,’ said Mara. She watched them both. This had surprised them.
‘Did he take it into the churchyard with him?’ asked Ardal, holding a piece of lamb on the end of his knife. Liam finished chewing his before he replied.
‘Do you know, I think that he did,’ he said in the end. ‘If I remember rightly, he just rode in there through the gates.’
‘Seems strange to take his horse in,’ remarked Ardal. He seemed about to say more, but then hesitated.
‘My young lads think that he probably went in there to urinate,’ said Mara blandly.
‘Well, yes,’ said Ardal, looking slightly embarrassed.
‘You’d’ve thought he would have got some youngster to hold his horse for him,’ remarked Liam, ladling a few more slices of lamb onto his trencher.
‘He had a nasty temper that horse,’ said Ardal. ‘I remember someone offered me a foal with that breeding and I refused it. It may have been that Ragnall was not able to leave it with a boy in case it bit him. I wonder that we haven’t heard about it though. My land stretches all around Noughaval. I would have been told if anyone found a horse straying.’
Mara swallowed some of her wine and shook her head to the offer of turnips. The affair of the horse would have to be solved but in the meantime she might as well glean as much information as possible.
‘Of course, he may have gone in there to meet someone, to talk to someone,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘You said you saw him talk with Donal O’Brien, Liam.’
‘Yes, but Ragnall was the one that went into the churchyard first and then young Donal O’Brien followed him in,’ said Liam.
A question hovered on Mara’s lips about the linen merchant but she decided not to ask it for the moment. After Slaney’s talk of a blood feud she had no desire to start any speculation that it might have been Guaire O’brien who killed the MacNamara steward. She turned to Ardal.
‘So you’re running two thousand sheep on the Gortclare Mountain, are you, Ardal?’ she asked, picking a fresh apple from the bowl and munching it appreciatively.
‘Yes,’ he replied, looking at her keenly, ‘on my land above Oughtmama.’
This was the second time that he had mentioned Oughtmama so she was not surprised when he added hesitantly, ‘I suppose the MacNamara said nothing more to you about selling the mill to me.’
‘No, he didn’t,’ said Mara dryly. ‘I don’t know yet that it is his to sell. Niall declares that Aengus was his father and that he was acknowledged as the miller’s son. As you know, I am going to try the case on Saturday at Poulnabrone.’
‘We were just talking about this before you came, Brehon,’ said Liam with an encouraging look at his
taoiseach.
taoiseach.
‘You see, Brehon,’ said Ardal tentatively, ‘I was wondering
whether, if it is shown that Niall was the son of Aengus and if he does inherit the mill, then …’ He stopped for a moment and then finished. ‘Well, Liam here suggested that I might be able to buy the mill from Niall. I’ve set my heart on having that mill now and I wouldn’t care what it cost me.’
whether, if it is shown that Niall was the son of Aengus and if he does inherit the mill, then …’ He stopped for a moment and then finished. ‘Well, Liam here suggested that I might be able to buy the mill from Niall. I’ve set my heart on having that mill now and I wouldn’t care what it cost me.’
‘I’m not sure about whether you could do that,’ said Mara cautiously. ‘The situation is complicated. I’ve been looking into the year books from a while back and it looks as if the mill was clan property at one stage and then the
taoiseach,
that would have been some sort of a cousin of Garrett’s grandfather, sold it to the father or grandfather of Aengus.’
taoiseach,
that would have been some sort of a cousin of Garrett’s grandfather, sold it to the father or grandfather of Aengus.’
‘So it definitely belonged to Aengus,’ remarked Liam triumphantly. He put down his knife and leaned across the table.
‘Yes,’ said Mara slowly. ‘It belonged to Aengus, and to his father before him, but the circumstances are slightly complicated. There was a
banna
on the property.’
banna
on the property.’
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