My Lady Judge (31 page)

BOOK: My Lady Judge

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There was a lot of noise outside, thought Mara, tilting her silver cup to one side to admire the firelight sparkling in the depths of the wine. It must be getting late, why this sudden stir? She took another sip of the wine, delaying the moment for her answer. Then she put the cup down firmly on the table and turned to look at him. He was not looking at her, though. A minute before, his light green eyes had been fixed on her with the expression of a fond lover, now they were turned towards the door. The noise was getting greater. There was a neighing of horses, a clash of iron, raised voices, and then a thudding of nailed boots on the stone steps. The king was on his feet before the knock on the door came and he had flung it open.

‘My lord,’ said Fergal the bodyguard. ‘Bad news! The O’Kellys are attacking our bridge over the Shannon.’

There was a moment’s silence from the king, but no doubt in Mara’s mind. This bridge was a matter of great pride to Turlough. There had been a ford there for centuries, but two years ago he and his brothers had built a magnificent wooden bridge spanning the whole wide width of the Shannon. She knew what would
happen next. A decision would not be demanded of her, that night at least.

‘By God, they’ll pay for that,’ swore the king. ‘Bring me my mail-coat. Send orders for the fighting men to arm and mount. This bridge must be saved.’

Fergal was gone in a moment, his iron-tipped boots clattering down the staircase, and Turlough turned to Mara. ‘I must go,’ he said, pleading for her understanding. ‘This bridge spans both halves of my kingdom. It was built by the O’Briens and it must be held by the O’Briens.’

Mara rose to her feet with a smile. ‘Of course you must go,’ she said with sincerity. She kissed him quickly on the cheek. ‘Go safe and return soon,’ she said in his own words.

He beamed and his arms went around her with a crushing hug, but she knew that most of his thoughts had now left her and he was already planning his action against the O’Kellys.

‘You will still be here when I return?’ he asked.

‘Perhaps,’ she said, but already he was gone, pounding down the stairs and bellowing orders.

Mara went to the window and opened the shutters. She stood with her hand on the stone mullion that divided the window into halves and looked out. The courtyard was full of men and horses and flaming torches and excited voices. She smiled. He would enjoy this, King Turlough Donn, descendant of the great Brian Boru. The clash of the clans; this was what men enjoyed. There was no necessity for it, she thought impatiently. This attack was obviously a revenge for the attack that Turlough and his clan had made on the O’Kellys last year. Already the horses were leaving the courtyard with the king at the front; his banner of three lions on a saffron background was hastily unfurled, and the trumpet sounded a battle note. She watched until they had disappeared and the last torch had paled against the light of the full moon.

I will go home now, she thought. He may not be back for a
couple of days. The moon is bright and I will cross the Shannon by the ford further north to avoid all trouble. She packed her case notes back into her satchel and then took out a clean leaf of vellum, her pen and her inkhorn.

‘I have some matters to attend in your kingdom of the Burren,’ she wrote. ‘We will meet again soon. In the meantime, remember Mara, Brehon of the Burren, with love.’

She put the leaf of vellum on the table and slipped on her warm cloak. What’s the point of all these battles? she thought as she went down the steps to collect Cumhal from the guardroom. All they needed to do, the O’Kellys and the O’Briens, was to let their Brehons get together and negotiate a peace. She knew Giolla-Patrick Maguire, Brehon to the O’Kellys. He was a quiet, sensible man. She and he could have got together and negotiated recompense and an agreement. With Brehon law everything could be solved by negotiation and reparation. Why have war when peace is so easily obtained? she asked herself with mock sorrow, but there was a lightness in her step as she wound her way down the steep spiral of the stone staircase. Now she had no difficult choices to make, no offer to accept or to decline. Safely mounted on her horse with Cumhal beside her, she heaved a sigh of relief. She would be home before daybreak.

MY LADY JUDGE. Copyright © 2007 by Cora Harrison. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.

www.minotaurbooks.com

First published in Great Britain by Macmillan, an imprint of Pan Macmillan Ltd

eISBN 9781466824034

First eBook Edition : June 2012

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Harrison, Cora.

My lady judge: a mystery of medieval Ireland / Cora Harrison.—1st U.S. ed.

p. cm.

ISBN-13: 978-0-312-36836-4 ISBN-10: 0-312-36836-4

1. Women judges—Ireland—Burren—Fiction. 2. Burren (Ireland)—Fiction. 3. Ireland—History—16th century—Fiction. I. Title.

PR6058.A6883 M9 2007
823’.914—c22

2007023529