My Lady Judge (27 page)
‘He told us we could go ahead once we were through the pass,’ said Shane, busily pumping water from the well in the yard of the law school. ‘Once we were at Gragan’s Castle, he said that we could go on. He had to get down and walk up the hill, the cart was so heavy with fish and seaweed.’
‘I’ll rub down your pony, Aoife,’ said Rory, noticing that Roderic was already rubbing down Emer’s.
‘Perhaps you two girls would help Brigid,’ said Mara. She stood for a while watching them all and then called Rory over.
‘You don’t want to play chess with me, do you?’ said Rory.
‘You know I’m no good at the best of times, and now I’m so exhausted that you’d beat me in ten moves.’ He spoke lightly but his eyes were wary and he followed her meekly down the road and over to the stone bench in her garden.
‘There’s a lot of talk about you and Aoife,’ she said bluntly, once he was seated beside her.
He moved restlessly. ‘Too many people with too little to do,’ he said with a half-mocking smile on his lips.
She ignored that. ‘Muiris and Áine will want a good match for their daughter,’ she said.
‘What about Roderic? Why don’t you lecture him, also?’
‘I think Roderic is serious; I think you are amusing yourself,’ she said severely. ‘He has his roots here. You don’t. Another six months or a year and you will move on. All the clans have their own bard and none of them is old. There is no place for you here. You will get tired of this hand-to-mouth life and you will be looking for a permanent position, a seat at the board and a bed by the fire. Roderic and Emer may eventually wed — I hope so — but I am concerned for Aoife. You will ruin her reputation if you go on like this.’
He plucked an early flower from the woodbine behind the bench and shredded it savagely.
‘It’s that priest, that Father Conglach,’ he said between his teeth. ‘I suppose he is the one that has been telling you tales. We’ve seen him hiding by that cairn watching us. He’s just a pathetic old man; you wouldn’t want to believe everything that he tells you. I wouldn’t have thought you were a woman to listen to gossip.’
‘I listen to everything that brings me knowledge,’ said Mara, eyeing him coldly. ‘Don’t you lecture me, young man. If you want to marry Aoife, do the right thing. Go and see Muiris and offer a bride price. If you don’t want to marry her, if you can’t marry her, then don’t spoil her chances with anyone else.’ She got
up from the bench and strode off. She wasn’t angry, just amused; but it wouldn’t do him any harm to imagine that she was.
up from the bench and strode off. She wasn’t angry, just amused; but it wouldn’t do him any harm to imagine that she was.
It was only a little while later that she realized the full significance of what he had said.
The supper lasted for hours. Brigid made several trips to the kitchen for more cakes, more light ale, more buttermilk. Then, when the cups and platters and baskets were all cleared away and the trestles and boards carried back into the barn, Roderic produced his horn and began to play it quietly. Rory strummed his lute; and then Fachtnan sang the song of the lover going to the fair; Hugh and Shane combined their high sweet treble voices in a springtime carol; and Emer, blushing under Roderic’s adoring gaze, sang
‘Eibhlín a Rúin
’
,
‘Eileen, my love’. The O’Lochlainn boys roared out a rhythmic drummer’s song to the accompaniment of their own hard hands slapping the stone bench and Brigid hitched up her
léine
and danced a sprightly jig on the clints.
‘Eibhlín a Rúin
’
,
‘Eileen, my love’. The O’Lochlainn boys roared out a rhythmic drummer’s song to the accompaniment of their own hard hands slapping the stone bench and Brigid hitched up her
léine
and danced a sprightly jig on the clints.
‘When the moon is over that ash tree, then it will be bed, everyone,’ said Mara. ‘We’ve all got work to do in the morning.’ She herself felt quite sleepy after her day in the open air. For a moment she sat and allowed herself to enjoy their pleasure, but then she roused herself and walked through the scented garden, plucking a rose as she went. She stood for a moment, looking back, thinking that her garden had never looked so beautiful as it did that night. The candles burned steadily in the still air and lit up the brightly coloured
léinte
of the boys and girls. They looked like clusters of orchids in the fields, she thought, as she walked down the road to the law school with her small horn-paned lantern in her hand.
léinte
of the boys and girls. They looked like clusters of orchids in the fields, she thought, as she walked down the road to the law school with her small horn-paned lantern in her hand.
The schoolhouse smelled stuffy when she pushed the door open, but she ignored that and went straight to the wall where the map of Mullaghmore was sketched. She gazed at it steadily for
some time and added a few new names. It was all beginning to make sense and it was all beginning to point to one person. She didn’t like her conclusions, but never in her life had she shirked her duty or withdrawn from the truth once it was manifest. She went to the bookshelf. Her memory was excellent but she had been trained always to check a theory against facts. The book she was looking for was at the back of the shelf and she had to brush the dust off to read the words:
Bretha Déin Chécht.
She studied it intently, then sighed and blew out the small candle inside her lantern. She would need its light later on and the moon above the big ash tree across the road was bright enough for her to find her way back.
some time and added a few new names. It was all beginning to make sense and it was all beginning to point to one person. She didn’t like her conclusions, but never in her life had she shirked her duty or withdrawn from the truth once it was manifest. She went to the bookshelf. Her memory was excellent but she had been trained always to check a theory against facts. The book she was looking for was at the back of the shelf and she had to brush the dust off to read the words:
Bretha Déin Chécht.
She studied it intently, then sighed and blew out the small candle inside her lantern. She would need its light later on and the moon above the big ash tree across the road was bright enough for her to find her way back.
‘Home, everyone, and bed,’ she called firmly when she returned. She could ensure that her own scholars went to bed, but she doubted that the others would. They seemed to have paired off very neatly and there were entwined figures on every seat and in every corner of the garden. Fachtnan went around lighting some covered lanterns and then blowing out the candles and Brigid started to usher the younger boys across to the scholars’ house. They would sleep well tonight, thought Mara. The shadow of Colman’s death had been lifted from them all. She stood and waited while the other young people mounted their ponies and went off, some going south down the road to Lissylisheen, some going north to Baur and others going across the stone clints towards Kilcorney.
‘Take Nuala home, Fachtnan, will you?’ she asked. ‘Bran will go with you. He’ll enjoy the run now. It’s probably been too hot for him all day. Will that be all right, Nuala?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Nuala, her green eyes shining with delight.
She’s still very young, thought Mara, amused. She’s too young to hide the fact that she worships Fachtnan. Well, he’s a nice boy
and, yes, it would be a good match in a few years’ time when he is qualified and she is old enough to know her own mind. There’s no reason why she should not be a physician as well as a wife and mother: the one would help with the other. The Burren badly needs a physician who can save the lives of all those young girls who now die in childbirth and those babies who are lost before they can be named and baptized.
and, yes, it would be a good match in a few years’ time when he is qualified and she is old enough to know her own mind. There’s no reason why she should not be a physician as well as a wife and mother: the one would help with the other. The Burren badly needs a physician who can save the lives of all those young girls who now die in childbirth and those babies who are lost before they can be named and baptized.
Mara watched until they had disappeared across the clints with Bran loping effortlessly behind them. She was surprised that Malachy had not come over. He was normally so worried about Nuala that she had expected him to arrive as soon as dusk came. She was glad that he hadn’t come, though. She needed some more thinking time. She crossed the garden and went to sit on the chamomile bench, breathing in deeply, inhaling the sweet apple smell of the foliage. The candles in the windows of the scholars’ house were like golden spots of moving light, making the starlight seem blue by contrast. Then, one by one, the lights went out and everything became very still and very quiet. A few clouds had drifted across from the Atlantic and Mara felt a light breeze at the back of her head. The wind had turned to the west. It would probably rain again tomorrow, but this day would stay in the minds of the young people and when they were old they would look back and think that all summers were like that: golden days of sun and sea, and evenings filled with the scent of roses and the music of softly singing voices.
The moon had disappeared now, hidden behind the clouds. The garden was very dark: the deep blue and the pale blue gentian flowers had darkened and dimmed with the fading of the light, and the whole complexity and blending of colours in her lovely garden were reduced to a white glimmer of cloud-pale orchids in front of the holly hedge in the far corner.
Night simplifies everything, thought Mara; just two colours: white and black. Life is not like that, though. There is some evil
and some good in every person; just the proportion varies. In actions, also, love can be the wellspring of evil.
and some good in every person; just the proportion varies. In actions, also, love can be the wellspring of evil.
With a sigh, she rose to her feet and lit the candle inside her little lantern. Her mind had cut through all the conflicting and confusing aspects to the death of Colman on Mullaghmore Mountain and now she had an inner certainty that she knew the truth. She had to hear it confessed, though. The truth had to be established, the fine had to be paid, and the community had to know who had done wrong. She would wait until Fachtnan returned, she decided, but she could not wait another day. She would confront the murderer this very night.
CÓRUS BÉSCNAI (REGULATION OF PROPER BEHAVIOUR)
There is a contract between the church and the people of the kingdom. The people must give offerings to the church.
For the contract to be valid, the priests must be devout, honest, properly qualified and must administer the sacraments of baptism, communion and requiem for the dead.
T
he stone CIRCLE WAS lit up when Mara arrived. A candle, stuck by its own grease, had been placed on the top of each of the thirteen stones: white light and black shadows etched sharply on the bleached grass. They had been singing softly; she had heard them the whole way as she crossed the flat tableland of the High Burren and she had smiled to herself. They did not realize how far sounds carried on a still night.
he stone CIRCLE WAS lit up when Mara arrived. A candle, stuck by its own grease, had been placed on the top of each of the thirteen stones: white light and black shadows etched sharply on the bleached grass. They had been singing softly; she had heard them the whole way as she crossed the flat tableland of the High Burren and she had smiled to herself. They did not realize how far sounds carried on a still night.
It was amazing that neither Daniel nor Muiris had come storming down to order their daughters home. The singing had stopped now and she could guess that they were kissing and cuddling. At least, she hoped that it would be confined to that!
She hesitated for a moment and then moved quietly behind a small lone hawthorn tree. She hated to play the part of the unseen spy, but she had to prove something.
She hesitated for a moment and then moved quietly behind a small lone hawthorn tree. She hated to play the part of the unseen spy, but she had to prove something.
She waited silently, her eyes fixed on the stone cairn opposite. Could she see some movement from it? She wasn’t sure, but she thought she had seen a flash, perhaps light, reflected from an eye or a brooch.
‘We’d better go.’ That was certainly Rory’s voice. ‘We’d better get you girls home. Aoife’s father will probably have heard the O’Lochlainn boys clattering past and he will be looking out for her. Anyway, Her High and Mightiness has been lecturing me. I told her not to listen to gossip but she said, “Don’t you lecture me, young man,” and I had to say, “Yes, Brehon; no, Brehon”.’
Mara grinned to herself in the darkness. That had been a fair imitation of her authoritative tones. Perhaps Rory would be better at satire than at his usual sentimental poems, she thought.
There was some more low murmuring and then Emer emerged with Roderic’s arm around her waist. Even by the uncertain light of the candle, Mara could see that her cheeks were flushed very red, her lips the colour of cherries. They did love each other, these two. Perhaps everything would work out now that Turlough has promised to take Roderic on as a musician, she thought. He’ll like to have a pretty girl like Emer around his court, and Daniel will surely allow the match if Turlough asks him. She continued to consider this, forgetting her real purpose for coming. After the disaster with Colman, Daniel will be worried in case Emer would be considered bad luck. And even if he doesn’t think of that for himself, I could perhaps put that idea into his head.
Smiling at the thought of the few well-chosen words that she would implant into Daniel’s slow brain, Mara braced herself ready to move forward, training her eyes to get used to the darkness as, one by one, they blew out the candles and placed them under the stone altar in the centre of the circle.
Mara waited until their footsteps died away and then she moved. Clutching her lantern in one hand and her tinderbox in the other, she made her way carefully towards the cairn. Although the moon still lurked behind the clouds, there was enough watery light to see the white quartz pebbles that covered the cairn, and she was in front of it before she lit the candle inside the lantern and then closed the horn-plated door. She lifted it aloft and directed its light through the broken front of the cairn. She had never looked at the cairn from so near before, and she realized that the narrow crack in the broken eastern side was indeed an entrance. So that was where Nessa had been dragged.
Mara peered in. There was a wedge-shaped chamber within; an ancient burial place, she surmised. There was another opening on the far side of the small chamber and through it she could see an open space, a sort of court with other chambers opening out from it. She squeezed through the gap, crossed into the court and stood there, holding the lantern aloft, turning it from side to side, looking into one chamber after another.
There seemed to be no living person there and for a moment Mara felt a sharp pang of irritation and disappointment. She had looked forward to confronting him, to pinning this crime on him, but it looked as if he had evaded her. She was about to turn away, when she suddenly became aware of a smell. It was not the pervading musty odour of damp earth and dry dusty bones; it was a different smell, sweeter, more cloying and more familiar. Mara realized what it was.
He smelled funny:
that was what little Nessa had said. The cairn reeked of the heavy, cloying scent of the incense that was liberally sprayed around the church every Sunday. She stepped further across the court until she reached the front of the small chamber at the end. She held her lantern aloft.
He smelled funny:
that was what little Nessa had said. The cairn reeked of the heavy, cloying scent of the incense that was liberally sprayed around the church every Sunday. She stepped further across the court until she reached the front of the small chamber at the end. She held her lantern aloft.
‘You can come out from behind that stone, Father Conglach,’ she said coldly. ‘I would like a word with you.’
He emerged from behind one of the upright pillar stones,
standing at the entrance to the chamber. At even a distance of two yards the reek from the incense sickened her. It was odd, she thought, how she had never noticed this before from his priestly gown. Perhaps she had always kept her distance from him.
standing at the entrance to the chamber. At even a distance of two yards the reek from the incense sickened her. It was odd, she thought, how she had never noticed this before from his priestly gown. Perhaps she had always kept her distance from him.
‘You can see for yourself now what goes on here at night, Brehon,’ he said loftily.
Mara had not expected him to face her so boldly. She had expected terror or contrition. One part of her mind realized that she was doing something stupid, but the other part rejoiced in solving the crime. All her life she had been courageous and determined, and so far she had been lucky. She tried to put into her bearing all the authority which had been hers as Brehon of the Burren since she was twenty-one years old.
‘Yes,’ said Mara firmly, ‘terrible things have gone on here at night.’
He seemed disconcerted at her manner and for once words did not come to his ready tongue.
‘Terrible things,’ repeated Mara. She examined him carefully. She was in no doubt that he was guilty and yet his face wore the usual mask of sanctimonious distaste. Suddenly nervous, she took a couple of steps back from him. Why had she done such a stupid thing as to try to tackle this man on her own? Why had she not told someone where she was going? She knew the answer to those questions. It was arrogance, perhaps a too great estimation of her own powers. Still, she thought, I am Brehon of the Burren. I am responsible for the law in this kingdom. I will achieve what I set out to do. The thought steadied her.
‘A child was violently raped here in this very chamber,’ she said coldly. ‘And you, you a priest, were responsible.’
‘What are you saying, you wicked woman?’ He thrust his face into the light of the lantern, but thankfully did not come any nearer. With an effort she prevented herself from flinching.
‘Don’t try to deny it; I know exactly what happened and I
know how,’ she said sharply. ‘You watched these two young couples night after night; don’t deny that, either – I have plenty of witnesses who have seen you skulking in the shadows. You watched them, and you watched them, and you roused yourself to such a pitch that you had to have a woman.’
know how,’ she said sharply. ‘You watched these two young couples night after night; don’t deny that, either – I have plenty of witnesses who have seen you skulking in the shadows. You watched them, and you watched them, and you roused yourself to such a pitch that you had to have a woman.’
He howled then, and lunged towards her, pulling a knife from his pouch. Swiftly Mara moved aside, keeping one of the upright stones between him and her. She was tempted to turn and flee, but she had to get her evidence. She had to be able to swear before God and before man that this priest was guilty of that heinous crime. She had to goad him until he confessed to the rape of the child, Nessa.
‘You lying bitch, you unclean woman, you filthy …’ His face was distorted with rage, his eyes bulging from his forehead. Then, suddenly, just before he reached her, he collapsed into a sobbing heap on the ground. Behind the light of the lantern Mara felt herself tremble but remained very still, watched him narrowly.
‘You should have gone out and got yourself a prostitute like any decent man,’ she said coolly. ‘Why violate that innocent child?’
‘She was not innocent,’ he screamed. ‘She was a whore like the others. I saw her there. She was watching them. If she were innocent, she would have been at home in her bed.’ Now the saliva was running down his chin and he panted like a man who had been running for a mile. The heavy, scented stench of the incense was in Mara’s nostrils, but she watched him as she would watch a trout nibbling on the bait.
‘So you just did it to teach her a lesson?’ she said softly. The fish had taken the bait; now to reel him in!
‘She deserved it,’ he said with grim satisfaction. He wiped the saliva from his chin and tried to look pious. He seemed to be regaining his composure. He stood up and arranged his black gown with hands that trembled.
‘So you took her. She thought that she knew who it was. She smelled the incense from your clothing. Poor child. She thought you were God.’
He said nothing. She tried again.
‘Why did you do it?’ she asked, her tone flat.
This worked. He suddenly screeched, a shrill, demented sound that raised the hairs on the back of Mara’s neck.
‘Because she has got the devil in her!’ The words seemed to be wrenched from him. ‘She has got the devil in her and I tried to get it out. I lay with her to get the devil out of her. All women have the devil in them. All women …’
Abruptly he stopped. He mopped the side of his mouth with a linen handkerchief from his pouch. ‘And you have the devil in you,’ he said slowly, his eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘You are trying to destroy me … me, the God’s anointed. You will go to the bishop and you will tell your story and you will defame me. So I must cut the evil out of you.’
Quickly he reached forward, and before Mara had a chance to move, he had snatched her left hand and slashed his knife across the vulnerable veins in the wrist.
‘I’ve seen a man die from a wound like that,’ he panted. ‘He did it to himself. It was a sin against the Holy Ghost, the sin of despair: the worst sin of all. I refused to give him extreme unction although he begged me and his wife begged me. I just sat and watched him. He did not take too long to die. You will die soon, just like he did.’
Mara dropped the lantern, fighting the feeling of sickness and faintness. The candle went out instantly and they were left in the heavy darkness. She remembered the case, and the anger that came to her from the memory of the poor young wife’s anguish at her husband’s terrible death and lonely burial at the four crossroads lent her strength. With her right hand she fumbled in her pouch and dragged out her linen handkerchief. She knew she had to stop
the bleeding as soon as possible. She wedged the soft linen against the wound on her left wrist. She felt it soak instantly, the thick material wet and sticky to her hand, but she kept pressing as hard as she could. If she sat down, she might be able to wind the hem of her
léine
around it also, but somehow she preferred to confront Father Conglach on her feet. Somehow she had to dominate him.
the bleeding as soon as possible. She wedged the soft linen against the wound on her left wrist. She felt it soak instantly, the thick material wet and sticky to her hand, but she kept pressing as hard as she could. If she sat down, she might be able to wind the hem of her
léine
around it also, but somehow she preferred to confront Father Conglach on her feet. Somehow she had to dominate him.
‘The bishop would be very angry with a priest who committed the deadly sin of murder,’ she said calmly. ‘The Lord God gave that commandment to Moses, didn’t he? Fifth:
Thou shalt not kill.
You remember that, don’t you?’
Thou shalt not kill.
You remember that, don’t you?’
She wished that she had not dropped the lantern. She would have liked to be able to see him, to look him in the eye. She would keep talking. Words were always her weapon, her means of control.
‘But, of course,’ she said, ‘you had already tried to murder three boys from my law school. Don’t deny it. You were seen passing by; Shane and Hugh saw you. You heard Enda, Moylan and Aidan down in the cave, didn’t you? So you went down the passageway, took away their ladder, shut them in there and then the caves flooded. It’s by the mercy of God that you don’t have that sin on your soul as well.’
She cast her mind back and shuddered at the tragedy that could have occurred. This man would have had no mercy. He would not have gone back and released them. Why had he done it? There was only one explanation. He was mad; she recognized that. Had he always been mad, or was it just that the sexual frustrations, then the violent rape, and the terrible fear of its discovery had finally tipped his mind into insanity?
She heard him move and smelled him more strongly. ‘Ah, but I am not going to kill you,’ he said. His voice sounded faintly amused. ‘I won’t kill you. I won’t be responsible for your death. You will die if the Lord wills it. It’s in His hands now. I will leave
the knife on the ground. You will be found dead, like that devil’s brat, your spawn from your law school. He committed a terrible sin. He accused me of dreadful things. And then he died. He died by the knife. And now you will die, also.’
the knife on the ground. You will be found dead, like that devil’s brat, your spawn from your law school. He committed a terrible sin. He accused me of dreadful things. And then he died. He died by the knife. And now you will die, also.’
Mara said nothing. She leaned against one of the upright stones that supported the roof of the cairn. Her handkerchief could hold no more blood; it had reached saturation point and now she felt the blood drip on to the stone floor. She clenched her teeth tightly.
I must not, and I will not die,
she told herself fiercely. She had too much to live for; too much to do; too much life still to enjoy. If only he would go away, she thought, then she might be able to get out and perhaps crawl the few hundred yards to Caherconnell and get Malachy to attend to her. Was there any way she could get him to leave her? She took a slow, deep breath through her nostrils and tried to imagine that it calmed her and gave her strength.
I must not, and I will not die,
she told herself fiercely. She had too much to live for; too much to do; too much life still to enjoy. If only he would go away, she thought, then she might be able to get out and perhaps crawl the few hundred yards to Caherconnell and get Malachy to attend to her. Was there any way she could get him to leave her? She took a slow, deep breath through her nostrils and tried to imagine that it calmed her and gave her strength.
Other books
Code 61 by Donald Harstad
Rise of the Billionaire by Ruth Cardello
Kindling Flames: Burning Nights (The Ancient Fire Series Book 6) by Julie Wetzel
Vampires Rule by K.C. Blake
Mercury Rests by Kroese, Robert
Waterdance by Logston, Anne
OOPS! I'M A SECRET AGENT (Romance) by Black, De-ann
Fever by Gow, Kailin
Custer at the Alamo by Gregory Urbach
Children of Steel by John Van Stry
