Deed of Murder (20 page)

It did not take Cathal long to assemble his workers in the baling shed. They stood around the walls with the children in front, clustered around the table with its candle and its blackened wick still standing in the centre of it and beside it the pen case and ink pot.

And that was all that was on the table. The deed had disappeared. Mara looked around in bewilderment. For a moment she fumbled in her satchel, thinking that she may have put it away there without thinking, but it was not there.

‘Here’s the deed, Brehon, I have signed it.’ To her surprise O’Brien of Arra handed her the scroll, before taking himself off. With relief she tucked it into her satchel and then turned to the waiting men and women and nodded as he explained that he would now ride back to Ballinalacken.

‘Last week a man was murdered just outside of this flax garden,’ she began. ‘I questioned you all on that occasion and none knew anything. Now, once again, just outside this place, another man has been brought to near death, or to death itself. Only God himself knows what the outcome will be. I ask you all now that you will let me have any piece of information, however small, which will lead to the uncovering of this murderer. If you hold anything back, there may be another death, and this time –’ she allowed her eyes to dwell for a moment on the small faces near to her before resuming in a grave voice – ‘this time, it may be someone very near and very dear to you, someone perhaps whom the murderer fears may have seen the killing last week or the attempted killing today. I want to know whether any person was missing from their place of work during the last three hours. Most of the reasons will be innocent, of course, but we must know who had the opportunity to kill or try to kill Muiris O’Hynes.’

She waited for a moment for her words to sink in and then asked Cathal how many workers he had. There were twenty-one of them and Mara divided them into three groups, seven for each of her three older scholars, to be interviewed, one by one, in the privacy of a shed. Every mother was to be responsible that her children were also interviewed, one by one as well. Shane and Hugh would marshal the queues.

Her scholars were used to this procedure and they rapidly agreed upon sheds and then shepherded their little flocks away leaving Mara alone with the flax manager his wife and his son.

‘If I could talk to you, Gobnait, first,’ she said briskly and then concealed a smile as Cathal and his son almost fell over each other in their efforts to bolt from the shed.

‘I think that we’ll have this door shut, don’t you?’ remarked Mara taking her tinder box from her pouch, relighting the candle and shutting the door carefully so that the small flame did not waver too much.

Gobnait lowered her bulk on to a bench and did not reply. Her face in the candlelight looked old and heavily lined, the skin rough and dry.

Probably not much more than ten years older than me, but a hard life, thought Mara. The O’Hallorans had toiled at the business, had acquired the skills and established the markets. It must have been very difficult to see it all about to disappear. Gobnait, of course, had been working at weaving since a young girl. That, no doubt, was how she acquired the massive shoulders and large hands. A dangerous woman to cross, thought Mara, as she smiled amiably and then plunged into the interrogation.

‘So where did you meet Muiris this morning?’ she began, allowing the words to come out with an air of assurance.

Gobnait was taken aback. ‘How do you know that?’ She thought for a moment and then blurted out. ‘I thought he was unconscious.’

‘That’s the thing with head injuries; people float in and out of consciousness,’ said Mara, vaguely watching the colour flame in the woman’s weather-beaten cheeks.

‘Well, I did see him,’ said Gobnait defiantly after a moment’s thought. ‘I felt that I would never forgive myself if I didn’t make one last effort. He’s been skulking around and Cathal kept saying to ignore him, but in the end I thought I would talk to him, that I would tell him that it was not as easy, that Cathal and I had to learn the business as we went along, that it was our only hope of making a living and of providing a living for others. He didn’t need this. Not him. Not with his good farm down there in the rich valley with the limestone underneath and his grazing land on the mountain. I’ve seen the cattle they have here in the Burren; fat, and with their udders full of milk. You should see what cows are like in our place. Scabby and bone-thin with their ribs showing.’

‘And what did Muiris say to you?’

Gobnait faced her defiantly. ‘He said that I was probably right. He said that he had been thinking all of these things himself. He said that he would probably back off and not bid. Perhaps next year, that was what he said. Or perhaps he would be content with his farm and with his leather business.’

‘So you weren’t surprised when he didn’t arrive for the auction?’

‘No, I wasn’t surprised,’ agreed Gobnait. Her eyes in the candlelight were uneasy, but she sat very upright and stared boldly at Mara.

‘And that was the end of the conversation, was it?’ queried Mara.

Gobnait nodded. ‘That was that.’

‘And you came back up to the spinning wheel shed. You must have felt in a very good humour. After all, you had got what you wanted. You and Cathal would be the sole bidders for the lease of the flax garden.’

Gobnait hesitated. She was beginning to suspect that things were not going according to plan. She glared suspiciously at Mara, but said nothing.

‘It’s just that I overheard you talking to the women and you appeared to be in a bad humour. I wonder why that was,’ said Mara gently.

‘They had been idling,’ returned Gobnait. ‘Now, if that is all, Brehon, I’m sure you wish to see my husband and son and to start on your return journey before twilight. These mountain paths can be treacherous in bad light.’

‘Indeed,’ said Mara smiling. ‘How thoughtful of you. One last question. Did you see anyone on the mountainside after you had spoken with Muiris – someone who was not with my scholars and me, or with the king and his hunting party?’

Gobnait thought for a moment and then nodded her head. ‘Yes, Brehon,’ she said. ‘I saw a man. A man in a
bánín
cloak. He had his back turned. I didn’t recognize him. But he was standing very still for a few minutes, standing facing the cliff side.’

Sixteen

Berrud Airechta

(Summary of Court Procedures)

‘
S
tanding facing the cliff side – standing for a few minutes, doing nothing, that seems very odd,’ said Moylan. ‘Do you think that Gobnait was telling a lie, Brehon?’

‘No, I don’t,’ said Mara reluctantly. ‘She seemed to be puzzled about it. After all, if she was going to make up a story, surely she could make a better one. Say that she saw a man hiding, lurking behind a rock or something. That story was an odd one and in my experience, odd stories are often true.’

‘But why would someone stand facing the cliff?’ Fiona furrowed her brow impatiently. She was a girl who always liked to understand puzzles instantly.

‘I know why,’ said Aidan nonchalantly. Mara glanced back at him in surprise. Aidan was not usually the sharpest of her scholars.

‘Well, go on say it,’ said Moylan impatiently.

‘I don’t like to in front of Fiona.’ Aidan had a superior note in his voice and he stared straight ahead between his pony’s ears, but the corners of his mouth twitched.

‘He means that the man was urinating, Brehon,’ said Fiona with a sigh. ‘Boys are so stupid.’

‘I think that was rather clever of Aidan,’ said Mara admiringly. ‘That’s the perfect explanation.’ The two younger boys ahead were sniggering and then all, even Fiona, laughed openly, the tension of the last hour releasing itself into snorts and giggles. Every law school should have an Aidan, thought Mara. He wasn’t notable for his brains or his working ability but his sense of fun often defused the pressure and strains that were an inevitable part of their life as hard-working law scholars and assistants at crime scenes.

‘But Gobnait refused to admit any responsibility for the attack on Muiris; did you believe her, Brehon?’ asked Fiona thoughtfully when they had all finished laughing.

Mara thought for a moment. ‘I’m not sure,’ she said reluctantly. ‘What do you all think?’ She reined in her horse and they all gathered around her. She wished that she could go back to the law school, stand in front of the board and debate the matter with her quick-witted scholars. However, this could not be. A glance to the west showed her that the sun was setting over Aran, the sky streaked with bars of blue, crimson and the palest of yellows. It was important for the hostess to be present at the evening meal at Ballinalacken and, also, she wanted to see her little son before bedtime. This deserted space at the foot of the mountain would have to do for now.

The scholars took a minute to think matters through.

‘She’s a big woman,’ said Fiona eventually. ‘She would be capable.’

‘Hands like a pair of hams,’ offered Aidan.

‘Bad tempered,’ said Hugh.

‘Capable of what?’ Moylan turned his pony’s head towards Fiona.

‘Of lobbing a stone down the mountain at a man’s head.’

‘Or picking it up and smashing it against his skull.’

‘Not the last, I’d say,’ said Shane. ‘That would be hard for anyone to do. Muiris mightn’t have been big, but he was immensely strong. I’ve seen him heave around huge flagstones as though they were feather-beds.’

‘I said “capable of what” because I was thinking that we are forgetting about Eamon’s murder. The chances are that whoever committed today’s crime is also responsible for the first crime.’

‘I don’t agree,’ said Fiona. ‘I think that we should keep an open mind about that. The two crimes may not be connected in any way. What do you think, Brehon?’

‘An open mind is always good,’ said Mara cautiously, ‘but I don’t think that you have answered Moylan’s question.’

‘Could Gobnait have the strength to take Eamon by the throat and punch him in the thyroid cartilage?’ Fiona mused for a moment and then said decisively, ‘I don’t see Eamon allowing a woman to do that.’

‘Oh, but you see a woman is just the person to do that,’ said Shane eagerly. ‘A woman could say to Eamon, “you’ve got a wasp on your neck; let me brush it off,” and then punch him before he knew what was happening.’

‘You’ve forgotten one thing, my young friend,’ said Moylan in the judicial manner which, as eldest at the law school, he now seemed to have acquired.

‘What?’ Shane glared at him aggressively. Mara did not interfere. The scholars needed to sharpen their skills and hone their belligerence if they were to argue their cases in a court of law. There was time enough for Shane to learn to hide that aggression under a smooth exterior before he went out into the world, but she was a realist enough to know that without a certain toughness none of her scholars would survive the work. Moylan, she thought, had begun to acquire that polish and she was glad to see it. He replied to Shane now with lofty condescension.

‘My dear young comrade, in order to know that a punch in the thyroid cartilage would kill a man, a certain knowledge, either medical or legal, has to be assumed. Does anyone think that this large, tough lady with hands like hams, possesses this knowledge?’

‘Good point, Moylan,’ said Mara. ‘What are the thoughts on this?’ She looked around but all heads were shaking.

‘What about Cathal and his son, Owney, Brehon? Did you get anything out of them?’ asked Fiona.

‘With thumbscrews,’ muttered Aidan.

‘Cathal was bewildered,’ said Mara slowly. ‘That was the impression I got. Bewildered . . .’ She hesitated for a moment and then added, ‘I may be wrong in this, but I slightly got the idea that he was afraid.’

‘Afraid!’ exclaimed Fiona alertly. ‘That’s interesting. Afraid of what?’

‘Well he kept talking about terrible luck and about signs in the sky and about a black cat . . .’

‘Perhaps he was trying to fool you,’ said Hugh innocently and then blushed with embarrassment when Moylan glared at him.

‘He may have been,’ admitted Mara hastily before his elders could round on Hugh for disrespect to the Brehon. ‘The funny thing is that I sensed that he didn’t believe all of this “black cat” nonsense, but I did feel very strongly that he was frightened, although you would expect him to be happy.’

‘And Owney, he had the knowledge—’ began Shane but was interrupted by Moylan.

‘That’s if he remembered what Nuala said to him years ago. But Owney is not too bright. A few too many knocks on the head, that’s Owney. You know what those games of hurling between the kingdoms are like – savage!’

‘So at the moment you are thinking about Gobnait, Brehon,’ said Fiona quietly, with a quick look around to make sure that no one was passing.

‘That’s right,’ said Mara. She hesitated and then said firmly, ‘Now I must go and Fiona, I’d like you to come with me. We’ll stop at Poulnabrucky and ask about Muiris and then go back to Ballinalacken. I can trust you to go across to Cahermacnaghten on your own, boys, can’t I? I’ll see you in the morning.’

‘Don’t worry too much, Brehon,’ said Aidan with easy assurance. ‘We’ll have it all worked out for you before tomorrow morning.’

‘What would I do without you all? I would be lost entirely!’ Mara spoke jokingly, but there was a feeling in her mind that she had spoken the truth. She had never really regretted her decision not to give up the law school and her work as a Brehon when she became the king’s wife. There were days when it all felt too much for her, but she would not change her position with anyone in the country.

There were no new developments in Muiris’s case, but Nuala was calm and hopeful, explaining that it would take a while for the man to recover his senses. The family were hanging on her every word so Mara did not push for further explanations. There was nothing that she could do for Muiris now except find out who did that to him and demand retribution. She and Fiona went over and over the facts again on their way back to Ballinalacken but still the puzzle remained.