Scales of Retribution (17 page)

Boetius entered the schoolhouse with heavy step and the air of one who is doing a favour. Mara regarded him warily. Cumhal had showed him in with a cold courtesy which almost made her smile – Brigid had obviously lost no time in telling her husband the story of Fachtnan and the failed examination. However, she tightened her mouth and bade him sit down. She decided not to offer any refreshment. In any case, Cumhal, as usual reading her mind, had not waited to take an order. After all, this man was here for his own ends, not hers. He had been well paid for his work and she had no reason to treat him as a guest.

‘You wanted to see me?’ She came to the point quickly.

He was a little taken aback at that. She could see him turning matters over in his mind as he fingered his red beard and looked at her with his sharp eyes. Then he seemed to make up his mind and he smiled at her in a genial fashion, though his small green eyes were cold.

‘I’m sorry to see you looking so unwell,’ he said with false concern. ‘It’s not surprising really. All this is far too much for you. After all, it’s only ten days since you gave birth. You can’t be expected to investigate a murder and teach your boys with all that you have to do. Fergus’s wife, Siobhan, was saying this to me yesterday; she scolded me thoroughly for abandoning you.’ He gave her his small-boy-roguish look and leaned back on his chair, crossing one leg over the other, while eyeing her narrowly.

Mara leaned forward and adopted a confidential air. ‘Do you know, I feel wonderful,’ she breathed, conscious that she sounded a little like Caireen at her most effusive. ‘I feel so full of energy and confident that this troublesome affair of the murder will soon be solved and the guilty person brought to trial at Poulnabrone. All seems to be so plain to me, now.’

That took him aback. ‘Whaa . . .Who?’ he stammered.

‘I’m afraid that I can’t share my thoughts with anyone outside the law school,’ she replied smiling sweetly. ‘Well, let’s talk about you; what are your plans? The last time we spoke I got the impression that you were going to settle at Corcomroe and assist Fergus.’

Boetius lifted his sandy eyebrows and endeavoured to look contemptuous as well as pitying.

‘Not much there for a man of my ability,’ he said loftily.

‘Fergus, like myself, prefers to manage his own affairs, I suppose.’ It was as near being rude as she could possibly reconcile with her conscience and her views on the high standards of personal conduct required from a Brehon, but to her surprise, Boetius did not take offence.

‘It must be difficult to have a young man come in and tell you how to manage your affairs,’ he conceded amiably.

‘Not at all,’ Mara beamed kindly at him. ‘It wouldn’t bother me. I would be quite confident that my way was best, and I’m sure that Fergus is the same. We have the benefit of long experience, of course.’

This silenced him for a moment. She could see from the calculating look in his eye that, like a chess player who has seen his first onslaught fail, he was now rearranging his plans. She began to feel slightly sorry for him. After all, despite his heavy, middle-aged appearance, he was still a young man. Perhaps she had been too hard on him. Still, she was interested to hear what his next move might be. If it were conciliatory, she would be amiable, perhaps give him a note to some Brehon of her acquaintance – many might be glad of a young man to help out during the hot summer months when thoughts turned to holidays by the sea or in the mountains.

‘I wonder, Brehon,’ he said with heavy formality, ‘whether you have ever thought of the future.’

‘Frequently,’ said Mara briefly, watching his small eyes narrow. At least, she thought, he has given up calling me Mara or
Mamó
.

‘I notice that your curriculum is singularly old-fashioned, though.’ Now he sounded more confident.

‘Indeed,’ said Mara frostily with a lift of one black eyebrow.

‘For instance there are no studies focusing on English law.’

‘This is a Brehon law school.’ Mara adopted the kindly tone that she used when explaining something simple to a new scholar.

It annoyed him, of course. His answer came quickly and hotly.

‘And yet Brehon law has been declared to be outside the law by Henry VIII, and the Pope, the Holy Father himself, has condemned the lack of punishment for thieves and murderers.’

Mara shrugged. ‘The Holy Father must do as he feels right,’ she said politely. ‘Brehon law was the rule under which our forefathers lived and it has served the country well.’

‘I know on very good authority that the new king, Henry VIII, has given very extensive powers to the Earl of Kildare. One of the matters that he particularly wants him to address is the lawlessness that is encouraged by not having the death penalty for crimes of robbery, violence and above all murder. Brehon law is to be outlawed in all parts of Ireland.’ He regarded her closely for a moment and then said softly, ‘I wonder what you feel about that, Brehon? Do you regret your lack of knowledge of English law, or will you, perhaps, be content in your role of wife and mother?’

‘I think that I have a fair knowledge of English law,’ said Mara, trying not to show how much the young man was irritating her. ‘I know about their terrible prisons, how they torture people to make them confess to crimes, how they hang beggars who steal a loaf of bread, how they put young children in prison and even hang them.’

‘Well, well, well,’ said Boetius tolerantly. ‘You ladies are tender-hearted as I’ve said before. But,’ he waggled a large finger in front of her nose, making her long to slap it out of the way, and said triumphantly, ‘you can’t hold back the tide, you know, Brehon. Like it or not, English troops and English laws will soon be here in Ireland.’

‘Perhaps you are unaware,’ said Mara sweetly, ‘that the Earl of Kildare, and his English followers, have just been heavily defeated at the hands of King Turlough O’Brien and have gone back to the east of Ireland with their tails between their legs.’

Boetius waved his hand in the air. ‘A temporary setback,’ he said contemptuously. ‘Make no mistake, Brehon, England will conquer Ireland and I see it happening quite soon.’ He laughed lightly but watched her closely as he added, ‘I am hopeful that if I can establish myself during the next few years, the Earl of Kildare will put the conduct of law and order in these western parts under my control. But, first of all, this affair of the murder of the husband of an unfortunate woman, and mother, will have to be solved and the culprit punished according to canon law.’

‘But for now I am Brehon of the Burren and the kingdom is ruled by Brehon law, not canon law,’ pointed out Mara.

‘So much the worse for it!’ His tone was definitely meant to be rude and she lost patience.

‘I won’t keep you,’ said Mara coldly, rising to her feet and walking towards the door. ‘I don’t think that the matter of the murder of Malachy the physician has anything whatsoever to do with you. However, it has to do with me and therefore I have work to attend to. And I’m sure that you have some serious thinking about your future to do.’

She watched him go with a smile on her lips. If he were a dog, she thought, his tail would be between his legs! Perhaps he would go back to Caireen. Would that be another case of a union of a man on a woman’s property? she wondered.

Mara felt suddenly stronger than she had for months. All her energy, which had been sapped by carrying a child and the long and difficult birth, had started to come back to her. In high good humour she hummed happily to herself as she walked back towards the Brehon’s house.

If that young man, Boetius, thought he would frighten her away from doing her duty to the people of the Burren and upholding the law in which they both were trained – well, he would just have to think again.

Eleven

A contract to sell land is defective if the poisonous plants
máelán mulchi, dithan
or
ithloinges
are found on the land within a three-year period after the sale.

M
ara and Sorcha enjoyed a quiet afternoon in the garden, each cuddling her baby and watching Domhnall climbing the apple trees, while little Aislinn happily picked the bright pink flowers of ragged robin from the edge of the small woodland that sheltered Mara’s garden from the north-westerly winds. Oisín was not there. He had gone for a walk, Sorcha told her mother, though Mara suspected that his walk would only take him as far as the Kilcorney woodland. He was certainly not a man to let grass grow under his feet, as the old saying had it. With his bright intelligence and his passion for whatever interested him at the moment, her son-in-law was acquiring a huge knowledge of anything to do with trees. He hung around Cumhal who distilled a lifetime of knowledge about trees and the uses of various woods, he walked over to Binne Roe to talk to Blár and to look at his tools and chat about barrel making. Everyone was interrogated if he felt they might have some information for him.

‘You see, Mother,’ he had said before he left, ‘there will be no need to waste anything. Even the bark of an oak tree is useful – it can be used for tanning leather and Nuala tells me that it is great for treating constipation,’ he stopped and referred to the small scroll that he carried in his pouch. ‘No, I’m wrong! That was some other bark. Oak bark is good for treating diarrhoea and sickness. This means that I will be able to sell the bark easily. And then Blár tells me that he will purchase good-sized branches which are too small for barrel making, but will be quite right for the staves in his wheels. The smaller branches, of course, can be sold off for firewood. The great thing is to have it all organized before we start the felling. I’m making a book full of notes and adding to it all the time.’

Aidan and Shane were the first to arrive back. They had a neat list, written by Shane, of all the farms that they could find to have used wolfsbane. Mara stared at it in dismay. Malachy must have prepared buckets of the stuff. Almost every one of the farms on the High Burren had purchased a jar. Of course, these farms were all in the valleys below the surrounding mountains on the east and west of the kingdom and of the Aillwee mountain in the centre.

‘It was quite easy, really, because so many people told us three or four names where they knew that Malachy had supplied the stuff’ said Shane. ‘Teige O’Brien took two jars. His shepherd put it out on Aillwee mountain before lambing and they didn’t lose a single one, so he recommended it to lots of people. Apparently it worked very well and the wolves have taken hardly any young animals this season. The shepherds were all pleased and so were the cattlemen.’

So one would have suggested it to another, thought Mara sadly, her mind going to Murrough and his beloved dog, Rafferty.

Moylan and Hugh again had a neatly tabulated list of people and places. And again they were disappointed with how little to relate they had collected. There were a few vague memories – something about someone crossing the grykes with a cloak hood hiding the face, which was about the only unusual sighting – and Nuala, of course, coming along the road from Cahermacnaghten – a farmer up all night with a calving cow had noticed her.

‘Otherwise it was just Oisín,’ said Moylan. ‘Someone had seen him, not near Caherconnell, but just on the road to Glenslade – but that had been much earlier – a good hour or so beforehand.’

‘That would be right,’ said Mara. ‘He did visit the O’Lochlainns that morning.’

Her daughter had told her that the morning of Cormac’s birth – and Malachy’s death – had been passed by Oisín at Glenslade chatting with Donogh O’Lochlainn.

‘And someone saw Blár, the wheelwright, delivering a turf barrow to the O’Lochlainns – and at about the same time.’ Hugh consulted the sheet carefully to make sure that there was nothing else and then handed it to Mara.

‘No sign of Murrough?’

‘No, nobody mentioned him.’ Moylan shook his head vigorously.

‘You’ve done very well, all of you – now go and have your dinner. Brigid has it all ready for you.’

‘Here’s Enda,’ said Hugh as they went towards the pump in the yard. Brigid was always very keen on clean hands and faces before she allowed them to sit down to a meal. Mara walked over towards the stables. None of the men were around and she could probably hear Enda’s account while he untacked the pony and rubbed the animal down.

‘Not sure that I got too much out of Blár, Brehon,’ said Enda, vigorously rubbing the pony with a handful of hay. ‘I think he may have guessed that I was probing. He was very polite and very helpful about answering questions, but I would say that underneath he was watching his words very carefully.’

Mara nodded her head with satisfaction. ‘That’s a very useful observation, Enda,’ she said. ‘This is the sort of thing that I wanted from you. It’s occasionally valuable to ask a direct question, but generally I prefer to glean impressions and possibilities before I resort to anything like that. Did he say anything about any recent jobs that he had completed?’

‘Yes, he did.’ Enda regarded her with a slight smile. ‘And interestingly enough he went on at great length about the turf barrow that he had just made for Donogh O’Lochlainn of Glenslade and how he had delivered it himself – on that Saturday morning.’

‘And, of course, to go from Binne Roe he had to pass along the Kilcorney road, close to Caherconnell,’ said Mara with a smile.

‘Yes, indeed. I think I was supposed to report to you that he had a reason to be in the vicinity. He repeated the bit about the turf barrow and Glenslade twice – didn’t mention Malachy’s death, but it did seem as though he wanted it reported back.’