Read A Secret and Unlawful Killing Online
Authors: Cora Harrison
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective
A Secret and Unlawful Killing (11 page)
‘What on earth would possess that boy to do a thing like that?’ he muttered. ‘He has everything in front of him. Teige wanted to make him his
tánaiste
; I was happy, there’s no one else, really, that is fit. The
fine
would have gone along with it, and so would the
sept
and the clan.’
tánaiste
; I was happy, there’s no one else, really, that is fit. The
fine
would have gone along with it, and so would the
sept
and the clan.’
‘I think that he is in love with Ragnall’s daughter,’ said Mara. Just as well to let him talk out the whole business now, she thought. He’ll enjoy his dinner better then. ‘But the father was against any talk of marriage.’
‘The father was against the marriage? The girl’s father! Never! That would have been a wonderful match for the girl. You don’t mean Teige, do you? Teige is completely besotted by that boy. He would have refused him nothing.’
‘But Ragnall did,’ said Mara dryly. ‘Apparently, he said no. The O’Lochlainn steward, Liam, said that Ragnall was too mean to supply sufficient cows with his daughter, but it may have been something else.’
‘Brehon!’ came Shane’s high, excited voice. There was a thud of flying sandals on the flagstoned path and then a loud hammering on the door. ‘Brehon, Brigid says that the meat is ready now. We are going to give the champion’s portion to King Turlough. We all agreed.’
Mara got to her feet with a smile. ‘You are highly honoured,’ she said, hastening to open the door before it was battered down. ‘Every Michaelmas the scholars vote for who is to get the champion’s portion.’
‘The shoulder, my favourite part of roast pork,’ said
Turlough beaming. Shane and Hugh were waiting at the door and he playfully tried to knock their heads together.
Turlough beaming. Shane and Hugh were waiting at the door and he playfully tried to knock their heads together.
‘Quick, run,’ he said. ‘Don’t let Fergal or Conall take it before I get there.’
‘It was Fachtnan’s idea,’ shouted back Shane, as they scampered down the stony road ahead of them.
‘I am very worried about this, Mara,’ said Turlough in a low, confidential tone as they followed the two young boys down the road. ‘Teige is a great supporter of mine, one of the best within the
fine
, apart from my boys, of course. I wouldn’t like any trouble to come to him. In fact, if anything were to happen to Conor, my eldest — and you never know, he gets these fevers, my physician is worried that it is the wasting sickness — if anything were to happen to him, then Teige would be the choice of the clan for
tánaiste.
Murrough doesn’t seem to take their fancy, as I told you, and I’m not sure that I blame them. However, if there was some disgrace to his son, if he were shown to have murdered an old man like Aengus, or even the two of them, miller and steward, Aengus and Ragnall …’
fine
, apart from my boys, of course. I wouldn’t like any trouble to come to him. In fact, if anything were to happen to Conor, my eldest — and you never know, he gets these fevers, my physician is worried that it is the wasting sickness — if anything were to happen to him, then Teige would be the choice of the clan for
tánaiste.
Murrough doesn’t seem to take their fancy, as I told you, and I’m not sure that I blame them. However, if there was some disgrace to his son, if he were shown to have murdered an old man like Aengus, or even the two of them, miller and steward, Aengus and Ragnall …’
Turlough stopped and kicked a wayside stone with such force that it flew over the wall and startled a few sheep, which bleated indignantly and moved away into the centre of the field.
Turlough gave a short laugh and then continued. ‘They might just look to appoint another of my cousins, Mahon O’Brien, the brother of the abbot, and I can’t stand that sanctimonious idiot.’
‘But why not Murrough?’ asked Mara. ‘I can’t believe that wearing English clothes and a few jaunts to London
makes that great difference to a man. He would continue to uphold our way of life, wouldn’t he? I’ve never heard him say anything against Brehon law, have you? He wouldn’t want to replace that with English law, would he?’
makes that great difference to a man. He would continue to uphold our way of life, wouldn’t he? I’ve never heard him say anything against Brehon law, have you? He wouldn’t want to replace that with English law, would he?’
‘I don’t think I’ve heard him express an opinion,’ said Turlough impatiently, ‘but that’s not the point …’
‘That is the point, though,’ said Mara quickly. ‘If Murrough will rule his kingdom by our ancient laws, then he will be a good king.’
‘It’s not just that. Even though he’s my own son, and he’s a great fellow, I must say that Murrough is too much in the pocket of the Great Earl, too keen on English ways. Perhaps the
derbhfine
is correct. Teige, and possibly his son after him, would be more likely to keep the kingdoms in their Gaelic ways. But not Mahon! I couldn’t stand that.’
derbhfine
is correct. Teige, and possibly his son after him, would be more likely to keep the kingdoms in their Gaelic ways. But not Mahon! I couldn’t stand that.’
He glanced at her keenly, but she did not respond. Justice was her affair; let the king order his political power base as he wished. It was her task to find the murderer of those two men and to apportion the fine. She might have been appointed by the king; but she was appointed to administer the kingdom according to her own judgement and according to the laws that had been laid down over hundreds of years, rather than be influenced by clan politics. The law had to be above all of that.
Turlough looked at her again and there was a measure of amusement as well as impatience in his glance. He understood her well and he knew that she would be inflexible in all matters to do with the law. If Donal O’Brien were guilty of murder, he would have to confess his deed to the people of the kingdom at Poulnabrone and pay the fine.
‘I know what,’ said Turlough so loudly that the heads of
the two bodyguards swivelled around and they both moved to join them at the gate. He waved them back impatiently and then continued in a penetrating whisper.
the two bodyguards swivelled around and they both moved to join them at the gate. He waved them back impatiently and then continued in a penetrating whisper.
‘This is the most likely way it happened. Aengus murdered Ragnall and then got sorry and committed suicide. That’s it. The case is solved. You need do no more.’
‘Perhaps you’re right,’ murmured Mara with a slight smile lifting the corners of her lips. ‘Now come and have your champion’s portion.’
The sun had set by the time the supper was ready and the ancient enclosure within the ten-foot-wide walls of Cahermacnaghten was full of leaping shadows. The fire burned brightly and the whitewashed walls of the schoolhouse, the guesthouse, the scholars’ house and the kitchen house gleamed orange in the light from the flames of the bonfire. Cumhal had stoked it with great ragged branches of sweet-smelling pine and the scent almost overpowered the savour of the succulent roast pork stuffed with branches of rosemary from Mara’s garden.
When King Turlough appeared there was a loud cheer from all of the scholars and from his own two bodyguards and amid cries of ‘the champion’s portion’ he was ushered to the front while his platter was ceremoniously filled with a huge hunk of shoulder meat and liberal helpings of roast parsnips.
Mara watched and was surprised to find that her eyes filled with tears. Turlough was so at home here amongst her boys. If only he had been a humble farmer, and not the king of three kingdoms, they could perhaps have settled down happily together. But the facts could not be changed. He was King Turlough Donn, descendant of the High King, Brian
Boru, ruler of Thomond, Corcomroe and Burren. As his wife, she would have to be by his side at his table, would have to journey around with him; the duties of a queen would occupy hours of every day. How could she give care to her scholars, teach them, manage the affairs of the Burren if she had to spend most of her time in Thomond? Unfortunately, each had too much to lose: he, his kingship, and she, the position of Brehon of the Burren. And, perhaps, my hard-won independence, as well, she thought wryly, thinking of her first marriage to the unworthy Dualta.
Boru, ruler of Thomond, Corcomroe and Burren. As his wife, she would have to be by his side at his table, would have to journey around with him; the duties of a queen would occupy hours of every day. How could she give care to her scholars, teach them, manage the affairs of the Burren if she had to spend most of her time in Thomond? Unfortunately, each had too much to lose: he, his kingship, and she, the position of Brehon of the Burren. And, perhaps, my hard-won independence, as well, she thought wryly, thinking of her first marriage to the unworthy Dualta.
‘Go and collect the flagon of wine and the two wine cups from the table of my room,’ she said, having beckoned over Fachtnan. He sped off instantly without a backward glance at the fun and she looked after him gratefully. He was such a nice boy. That was certainly a diplomatic idea of his to have the king take the champion’s portion. From the time of Mara’s own youth the champion’s portion had been awarded to the scholar who had achieved the most during the past year, and it had often caused much heart-burning and jealousy.
‘Here’s your platter, Brehon.’ Enda smoothed his blond fringe from his eyes and presented her dish of roast pork with the air of a man of the court. She accepted it with a smile. It seemed only yesterday when he had been a charming, blue-eyed eight-year-old and then a gawky, troublesome adolescent and now he was beginning to seem like an adult. Time passed so quickly these days, she thought with a pang. Before she knew it she would be old. Should she accept the king’s offer, be his wife, and have companionship into her old age or carry on here as Brehon of the Burren and
ollamh
to the law school of Cahermacnaghten?
ollamh
to the law school of Cahermacnaghten?
The scholars were lining up for their food now that the bodyguards had received their portion. Mara took the wine from Fachtnan and joined Turlough, who was perched on Cumhal’s chopping block gnawing happily on an immense bone.
‘You don’t have to finish all of that. You could always slip it to Bran when no one is looking.’ Surreptitiously she dropped some of her own pork on the ground by the great wolfhound that lay patiently beside her.
‘What!’ He was outraged. ‘I’ve never left anything unfinished in the course of my life: not an enemy nor a bone. This is delicious. Oh good, they’ve brought my wine, though I suppose I should be drinking mead with this, shouldn’t I?’
‘You can drink mead, if you wish, but you’ll drink on your own,’ she said, handing him his cup and savouring her own wine contentedly. It was an excellent wine from Bordeaux. Sorcha’s husband, Óisín, imported barrels of wine and sold it to the rich merchant families of Galway. Two or three times a year he brought a barrel over for her. Mead was homemade from fermented honey and too sweet for her taste.
‘The MacNamara may, in fact probably will, be consulting you about the mill, tomorrow,’ she said quietly. The boys were making an immense amount of noise, all shouting and laughing and poking new branches into the bonfire. They could talk with as much privacy here as in her sitting room.
‘What about the mill?’ he asked, his mouth full of roast pork.
‘Well, the mill was the property of Aengus. His grandfather purchased it after years of successful farming. It’s not the property of the
taoiseach.
taoiseach.
‘Nothing to do with Garrett, then.’
‘No,’ she said hesitantly.
‘But?’ he queried.
‘Aengus wasn’t married and there was no near relative,’ she said evenly.
Turlough swallowed a mouthful and then whistled.
‘Well, you know the law better than I do, but I would say that if Aengus had no family, then the mill reverts to Garrett as clan property. Lucky!’ He whistled again, sounding like one of the teenage lads.
‘I didn’t say he had no family,’ said Mara quietly. ‘He was reputed to have two sons.’
‘Acknowledged?’
‘Well, yes and no,’ said Mara hesitantly.
The king smiled. ‘That doesn’t sound like you. You’re always so sure.’
‘It’s not a matter that anyone, except the man himself, and his God, could be sure about. The law is, of course, as always, quite plain and simple on this matter. If the son is acknowledged by the father then his rights of inheritance are as solid as if the parents had married.’
‘And did Aengus not acknowledge these two sons?’
‘Not in so many words,’ said Mara thoughtfully. ‘The youngest, Balor, is extremely like the father in appearance, but he is classified as a
druth
and as such would have no rights to an inheritance even if he were the son of a legitimate marriage. The elder, Niall, is quite unlike the father in appearance and I have heard it said that he is unlike the mother also. The mother is dead, and I didn’t really know her, not to remember, so I couldn’t say for sure.’
druth
and as such would have no rights to an inheritance even if he were the son of a legitimate marriage. The elder, Niall, is quite unlike the father in appearance and I have heard it said that he is unlike the mother also. The mother is dead, and I didn’t really know her, not to remember, so I couldn’t say for sure.’
‘And Aengus denied paternity?’
‘Not to me,’ said Mara, ‘but again, I have heard that he expressed doubts. The mother was a servant working at the mill.’ She chewed a piece of roast pork thoughtfully. It was beautifully cooked with crisp crackling on the outside and the pale meat succulent, but her taste was more for beef. She swallowed some more wine and nodded in appreciation. Generally, she preferred the wines of Burgundy, but this really was excellent.
‘So the fellow himself, this Niall, he claimed to be the son, although Aengus denied it, is that it?’
‘It’s not as straightforward as that,’ said Mara, putting down her cup and taking a piece of linen from her pouch to wipe her hands. ‘It — ’ she stopped as a tall figure came running over from the bonfire.
‘Would you like some more, my lord?’ asked Enda respectfully. ‘And, what about you, Brehon?’
‘No, thank you, Enda.’
‘Yes, please, and tell Brigid it’s delicious,’ said Turlough at the same moment.
Mara waited until Enda had gone back to the bonfire carrying the two empty platters before continuing. ‘It was always assumed on the Burren that both Niall and Balor were the sons of Aengus. It was an open secret that he was sleeping with his servant. Aengus bought a piece of land for Niall near Noughaval and gave it to him as a present. I am certain of that. I myself drew up the lease. It was enough land to give Niall the status of an
ocaire,
small farmer, though previously he had been described as a servant boy. I think that if I were to judge the case at Poulnabrone I would give the verdict that Aengus had never publicly contradicted the widespread assumption that Niall was his son and that his
purchase of the land went far beyond anything that a master would do for a young servant. No, I think that Niall was the son of Aengus, and I think that Aengus did believe him to be his son.’
ocaire,
small farmer, though previously he had been described as a servant boy. I think that if I were to judge the case at Poulnabrone I would give the verdict that Aengus had never publicly contradicted the widespread assumption that Niall was his son and that his
purchase of the land went far beyond anything that a master would do for a young servant. No, I think that Niall was the son of Aengus, and I think that Aengus did believe him to be his son.’
‘So now Niall inherits the mill?’
‘Yes,’ said Mara. ‘At the moment, that is the way that I am thinking. Whether Garrett likes it or not, Niall inherits the mill.’
TUAITHI (ON THE DIVISIONS OF THE KIN IN THE KINGDOM)
The fine
(
kin group
)
is divided thus:
(
kin group
)
is divided thus:
The
gelfine (
bright kin
),
the descendants on the
male line of the same grandfather
The
derbhfine (
true kin
),
the descendants on the
male line of the same great-grandfather
The
iarfine (
after kin
),
the descendants on the
male line of the same great-great-grandfather
gelfine (
bright kin
),
the descendants on the
male line of the same grandfather
The
derbhfine (
true kin
),
the descendants on the
male line of the same great-grandfather
The
iarfine (
after kin
),
the descendants on the
male line of the same great-great-grandfather
T
HE CASTLE AT CARRON, home of the MacNamara, was transformed when Mara and Turlough, followed by the bodyguards and the six scholars, arrived at midday on Saturday. The ugly, poorly built, exterior walls were hung with great linen banners proudly displaying the MacNamara crest of the prancing lion. Fluttering pennants, in the English
style, were placed on either side of the magnificent iron gates, and horn-players and drumbeaters lined the path up to the old oaken door. The clan had gathered in great numbers, standing around braziers of burning charcoal in the inner courtyard, or waiting under the boughs of the ancient ash tree near to the cairn where the inauguration ceremony would take place. A hum of excitement had begun as soon as the king was sighted and fervent blessings and greetings were called out as they made their way through the massed throng.
HE CASTLE AT CARRON, home of the MacNamara, was transformed when Mara and Turlough, followed by the bodyguards and the six scholars, arrived at midday on Saturday. The ugly, poorly built, exterior walls were hung with great linen banners proudly displaying the MacNamara crest of the prancing lion. Fluttering pennants, in the English
style, were placed on either side of the magnificent iron gates, and horn-players and drumbeaters lined the path up to the old oaken door. The clan had gathered in great numbers, standing around braziers of burning charcoal in the inner courtyard, or waiting under the boughs of the ancient ash tree near to the cairn where the inauguration ceremony would take place. A hum of excitement had begun as soon as the king was sighted and fervent blessings and greetings were called out as they made their way through the massed throng.
‘Wait here,’ said Mara to her scholars as she and King Turlough handed over their horses to a servant, then walked up the path and in through the wide-open door.
For once the draughty ground-floor entry passage was warm and welcoming with braziers of sweet-smelling pine burning in every corner. In honour of the occasion, great efforts had been made to brighten the worn stone spiral staircase: thick candles of scented beeswax were flickering in each small embrasure and newly woven MacNamara banners hung from the curved ceiling above their heads.
At the door of the great hall, Slaney, the new wife of Garrett MacNamara, stood to receive her guests. She was a tall, heavily built woman, about thirty years of age, guessed Mara, gazing at her with interest. Slaney had a high colour, sapphire blue eyes, a wide sensual mouth and a pair of well-displayed, enormous breasts. She had come from a very wealthy merchant family in Galway and was dressed in the latest English fashion, her skirt broad under the hooped width of the farthingale and her hooded headdress stiff with jewel-encrusted embroidery. A haughty, arrogant woman, thought Mara, and wondered why Garrett had gone outside his own clan and any of the other clans in the kingdom in
order to marry this large and domineering person. Slaney, she noticed with a flash of amusement, gave the simplicity of the Brehon’s attire and uncovered hair a contemptuous glance and then turned her attention to the king.
order to marry this large and domineering person. Slaney, she noticed with a flash of amusement, gave the simplicity of the Brehon’s attire and uncovered hair a contemptuous glance and then turned her attention to the king.
‘My lord,’ she said in English, ‘you do us great honour.’
Turlough stared at her disapprovingly and made no reply. Mara suppressed a smile. Was this Slaney stupid? Surely she should know by now how bitterly opposed the king was to anything English. Slaney, however, gushed on in her breathless, high-pitched voice.
‘Prince Murrough is here already,’ she said sweetly as she beckoned to her star guest, who came forward reluctantly, his eyes full of amusement. Mara concealed a smile. Father and son faced each other for a few moments, rather like a pair of rival stags about to lock antlers.
‘Prionsa,
she calls you, and you not even a
tánaiste,’
said Turlough tauntingly, eyeing this son, so alike, and yet so unalike.
she calls you, and you not even a
tánaiste,’
said Turlough tauntingly, eyeing this son, so alike, and yet so unalike.
Mara sighed. It was typical of Turlough, of course, but it was not very politic for father and son to be continually airing their differences in public. It was especially silly since she knew with great certainty that this son was the apple of his father’s eye. Poor Conor, though an earnest, hardworking man and a very good son, was never as beloved as Murrough, who had inherited his father’s looks and charm. She gave Murrough a warning glance now and then turned her attention to her hostess.
‘You have made some wonderful changes here,’ she said kindly to Slaney, and armed herself for a boring ten minutes of hearing about Flemish tapestries and the high cost of linen in Ireland.
However, Slaney’s eyes left hers immediately and widened in horror and disbelief. Mara turned and looked over her shoulder to see Niall MacNamara coming up the steps.
‘What is that man doing here?’ hissed Slaney to one of the servants, speaking fluent Gaelic to Mara’s amusement. ‘That man has no right to be here.’
Then she pushed the servant aside and confronted Niall herself.
‘This is for the
derbhfine
only,’ she said coldly and then as he stopped and stood still in the middle of the stairs, a quick flush of embarrassment mantling his face, she flapped her hand at him as if shooing a chicken away, turned her back and seized ‘Prince’ Murrough by the sleeve of his elaborate silk shirt, drawing him over towards the fire. Mara gazed after her with interest. To suddenly engage in a quarrel with a clan member and then to abandon her most important guests: what very poor manners towards the king and his Brehon! And why was Slaney so anxious to impress ‘Prince’ Murrough and to show the world that she was on his side in this apparent quarrel between son and father? After all, as Turlough had pointed out, it was Conor, not Murrough, who was the
tánaiste,
heir, to the kingdom, and Turlough himself was hale and hearty and looked set to live for many more years. If Murrough did ever inherit the throne, Slaney would probably be an old woman by then and well beyond looking for favours from the ruling family of the three kingdoms of Thomond, Corcomroe and Burren. Was there something else? speculated Mara, gazing after the couple with interest. Was perhaps Slaney romantically interested in Murrough? He was certainly a dashing figure. She had always felt
his charm herself. She looked carefully at the two figures. There seemed to be a certain attraction between them, she thought. They were certainly very aware of each other, standing closely, almost touching but not quite, eyes locked for a moment and then self-consciously pulling away and surveying the room as Slaney’s husband, Garrett, came out from an inner room.
derbhfine
only,’ she said coldly and then as he stopped and stood still in the middle of the stairs, a quick flush of embarrassment mantling his face, she flapped her hand at him as if shooing a chicken away, turned her back and seized ‘Prince’ Murrough by the sleeve of his elaborate silk shirt, drawing him over towards the fire. Mara gazed after her with interest. To suddenly engage in a quarrel with a clan member and then to abandon her most important guests: what very poor manners towards the king and his Brehon! And why was Slaney so anxious to impress ‘Prince’ Murrough and to show the world that she was on his side in this apparent quarrel between son and father? After all, as Turlough had pointed out, it was Conor, not Murrough, who was the
tánaiste,
heir, to the kingdom, and Turlough himself was hale and hearty and looked set to live for many more years. If Murrough did ever inherit the throne, Slaney would probably be an old woman by then and well beyond looking for favours from the ruling family of the three kingdoms of Thomond, Corcomroe and Burren. Was there something else? speculated Mara, gazing after the couple with interest. Was perhaps Slaney romantically interested in Murrough? He was certainly a dashing figure. She had always felt
his charm herself. She looked carefully at the two figures. There seemed to be a certain attraction between them, she thought. They were certainly very aware of each other, standing closely, almost touching but not quite, eyes locked for a moment and then self-consciously pulling away and surveying the room as Slaney’s husband, Garrett, came out from an inner room.
Well, well, well, thought Mara. Now this is interesting. Slaney has only been married to Garrett for less than three months and already she has found herself another man. Turlough will be amused at that.
‘Look at him,’ spluttered Turlough now, staring angrily at his son. ‘Look at him, dressed up like an English man. Look at his doublet and his short mantle and that indecent tight hose. Soon he’ll be shaving off his moustaches and growing a little pointed beard.’
‘Have a cup of mead,’ said Mara beckoning to a servant just as Garrett came rushing up, his high-foreheaded face flushed with embarrassment. He had obviously seen how his wife had left the king without the basic courtesy of offering him something to drink. He took the cup from the servant and proffered it on bended knee.
Turlough received it with a grunt, but then patted Garrett on the shoulder as the first swallow of the honeyed drink slid down his throat. He was not a man to stand on his dignity or to bear a grudge. Garrett stood up looking relieved and then made a signal to an elderly man by the fireside.
‘My lord, may I present Cormac, elected by the clan to be the
tánaiste,’
he said.
tánaiste,’
he said.
The previous
tánaiste
had not died but had become so crippled with old age and infirmity that he had resigned his
position and asked the clan to elect a new heir to the
taoiseach.
This Cormac, a cousin of the previous
tánaiste
and of Garrett, did not look as if he would last too long either, thought Mara. He must be sixty, at least, though he looked more.
tánaiste
had not died but had become so crippled with old age and infirmity that he had resigned his
position and asked the clan to elect a new heir to the
taoiseach.
This Cormac, a cousin of the previous
tánaiste
and of Garrett, did not look as if he would last too long either, thought Mara. He must be sixty, at least, though he looked more.
‘You’d think that Garrett would have got the clan to select his own younger brother?’ whispered the king, after he had greeted Cormac. Mara did not reply, though she knew the answer to the question. Garrett would be hoping that this old man might last until a son of his recent marriage became old enough to be elected as
tánaiste.
A son to succeed the father; this English custom was beginning to come into Ireland. Garrett’s younger brother, very keen on long sea voyages for trade and adventure, was a man only in his early twenties. If he became
tánaiste,
then Garrett’s eldest son, as yet unborn, might have little chance to be the next
taoiseach
of the MacNamara clan. That thought reminded her of Turlough’s eldest son.
tánaiste.
A son to succeed the father; this English custom was beginning to come into Ireland. Garrett’s younger brother, very keen on long sea voyages for trade and adventure, was a man only in his early twenties. If he became
tánaiste,
then Garrett’s eldest son, as yet unborn, might have little chance to be the next
taoiseach
of the MacNamara clan. That thought reminded her of Turlough’s eldest son.
‘Where is Conor?’ she asked. ‘I would have thought he would be here today. Is he away?’
Turlough’s face clouded. ‘He’s not well and that’s the truth of it. He hasn’t been well all of the summer. He’s getting a lot of fevers and he is getting thinner and thinner. First they thought that the house on the island at Inchiquin Lake didn’t suit him, but he’s been no better since he moved out of that. I’m worried about him. I’ve had physicians from all over the country to come and look at him and they give him this and that, but none of it makes any difference.’
With that, he moved abruptly away and began to talk to Teige O’Brien, his cousin. Mara gazed after him. He did look worried. The wasting disease that attacked many young men
and women seemed to have no cure and if that was what ailed Conor, then his father was right to be anxious.
and women seemed to have no cure and if that was what ailed Conor, then his father was right to be anxious.
By now, despite the noticeable lack of food and drink, people in general were beginning to enjoy themselves. Most of them, anyway, Mara thought, turning her eyes thoughtfully towards Niall MacNamara. He must have decided to ignore his hostile reception because he had now reached the top of the stairs and was huddled into an obscure corner of the hall; in England he would be reckoned a bastard, but here in Ireland? She took tiny sips of her mead, trying to look as if she were enjoying it, while her dark green eyes studied Niall intently, taking in his unaccustomed finery. He had an obviously new mantle and it was pinned with a shining silver brooch. Slaney, of course, was right. This hospitality in the castle would be for the
taoiseach’s
immediate family, only important outsiders like the wheelwright, the blacksmith and the miller would normally expect to be invited. Did Niall think that since his father was dead, he had inherited his father’s privileges? He did not look as if he were enjoying his victory. No one spoke to him and his face was tense and nervous. Mara nibbled some hazel nuts meditatively and wondered about him.
taoiseach’s
immediate family, only important outsiders like the wheelwright, the blacksmith and the miller would normally expect to be invited. Did Niall think that since his father was dead, he had inherited his father’s privileges? He did not look as if he were enjoying his victory. No one spoke to him and his face was tense and nervous. Mara nibbled some hazel nuts meditatively and wondered about him.
‘Clear the room.’ Garrett was bustling around getting servants to move the crowd to the sides of the hall. It seemed as if the meagre allowance of mead and food for the privileged guests had now come to an end. ‘Make way for the king,’ he said fussily. ‘Move back everyone. My lord, and you, Brehon, would you follow me.’
Garrett went awkwardly down the narrow twisting staircase, bowing his head to avoid the trailing banners, Mara and Turlough followed him and behind came Slaney with ‘Prince’
Murrough. When they reached the door there was a great cheer from the MacNamaras waiting patiently in the chill of this early October day. They surged forward to gather under the pale yellow leaves of the huge ash tree, leaving a wide pathway for their
taoiseach
and their king. Turlough gathered his mantle more closely around him and then he strode forward to take his place on the raised platform of heavy stone slabs beside the cairn, the inauguration place of the MacNamara clan on the Burren. Mara stood on one side of him and Garrett on the other. Slaney and Murrough mounted the platform also, but stood at the back, whispering to each other.
Murrough. When they reached the door there was a great cheer from the MacNamaras waiting patiently in the chill of this early October day. They surged forward to gather under the pale yellow leaves of the huge ash tree, leaving a wide pathway for their
taoiseach
and their king. Turlough gathered his mantle more closely around him and then he strode forward to take his place on the raised platform of heavy stone slabs beside the cairn, the inauguration place of the MacNamara clan on the Burren. Mara stood on one side of him and Garrett on the other. Slaney and Murrough mounted the platform also, but stood at the back, whispering to each other.
‘By the power devolved on me from my great ancestor, Brian Boru, and from his sons and his grandsons, I, Turlough Donn O’Brien, King of Thomond, Corcomroe and Burren, son of Teige, son of Turlough Beg, son of Brian, son of Mahon, son of Murrtough, son of Turlough, true descendant of the
derbhfine
of Brian, son of Cinnéide, now inaugurate Cormac MacNamara as the new
tánaiste
of the MacNamara clan here in the Kingdom of Burren.’
derbhfine
of Brian, son of Cinnéide, now inaugurate Cormac MacNamara as the new
tánaiste
of the MacNamara clan here in the Kingdom of Burren.’
The mellifluous Gaelic sentences flowed on and the clan stood reverentially silent until he finished. Then their
taoiseach
left the platform, took Cormac by the hand and brought him to the king and formally presented him as the duly elected
tánaiste
for the MacNamara clan in the kingdom of the Burren. The cheers were fairly muted, thought Mara, as Cormac the
tánaiste
knelt cautiously, his ageing joints audibly creaking, and placed his hands within the hands of his overlord King Turlough Donn O’Brien for the ceremony of
imbas.
And then Garrett knelt and paid homage also. This time the cheers were definitely very half-hearted. Garrett
seemed to have made himself unpopular in the last few months. Perhaps with a different and less ambitious wife, things might have been different for him. His father had been a popular man and this would have influenced the clan to elect the son as the successor and also to warm towards him. Garrett had his chance; now it looked as if he had lost the goodwill of the MacNamaras on the Burren.
taoiseach
left the platform, took Cormac by the hand and brought him to the king and formally presented him as the duly elected
tánaiste
for the MacNamara clan in the kingdom of the Burren. The cheers were fairly muted, thought Mara, as Cormac the
tánaiste
knelt cautiously, his ageing joints audibly creaking, and placed his hands within the hands of his overlord King Turlough Donn O’Brien for the ceremony of
imbas.
And then Garrett knelt and paid homage also. This time the cheers were definitely very half-hearted. Garrett
seemed to have made himself unpopular in the last few months. Perhaps with a different and less ambitious wife, things might have been different for him. His father had been a popular man and this would have influenced the clan to elect the son as the successor and also to warm towards him. Garrett had his chance; now it looked as if he had lost the goodwill of the MacNamaras on the Burren.
‘My lord,’ said Garrett, still on his knees before his overlord, ‘we of the clan of MacNamara have two more matters to settle. There have been two deaths during the last week. Ragnall MacNamara has died and left no son, just a daughter.’
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