Verdict of the Court (7 page)

‘I’ll have a word with Rosta – get him to send one of his lads down to the priest’s house in the village – you won’t need any of them, will you? None of them have been in the room for an hour or so.’ Turlough seemed glad to get out of the room and away from the solemn faces and didn’t wait for an answer before rushing away. Mara crossed over to Donogh O’Hickey, who had just given his evidence to Domhnall, and Finbar and said in his ear:

‘When the priest has finished giving the last rites then I’d like to talk with you about the cause of death.’

He nodded. There was a thoughtful look in his eye as he glanced across at the dead body slumped across the table but he did not go near it, nor, she thought, had he shown much interest when the body had been discovered. For a moment she wished that she were back in the Burren and conducting this investigation there where her word was the law and where her first thought was always to send for Nuala and watch the girl conduct a detailed and thorough investigation into the cause of death. Still there was no use in wishing for what was not possible at the moment, she thought, as she sent Cormac with a polite request to Maccon MacMahon.

Maccon MacMahon had little to say. He had wandered down the room at one stage, he thought – just to look at the finely carved wall bench near the door leading to the stairs. He thought he had looked across at Brehon MacClancy on the opposite side of the hall, but couldn’t give Mara any information on what the man was doing, or whether he was sitting upright, or sprawled across the table at the time. He had no idea how long it was since he had gone to look at the bench, but thought it might have been quite soon after they had returned from the hall below. Mara dismissed him to his soup after a few minutes and thought that oddly, this murder might be quite difficult to solve. There had been twenty people in the room where the crime was committed, probably nineteen witnesses – and some seven of them were sharp-eyed and sharp-eared children. However, the light was very dim – half of the candles had expired and had not been re-lit, many of the guests had been drinking heavily, the continuous music had meant that dancing broke out from time to time. It was a pity that the hatch to the buttery and to the kitchen had been closed; otherwise Rosta or one of his assistants might have noticed something of importance.

Shona had even less to say than her father. She had been listening to the pipes, had danced a little, drank a little wine, kept an eye on the twins, who were flying up and down the hall …

‘And did you dance with someone?’ interrupted Mara. The tunes that the pipes had played were suitable for solitary dancing as well as couples but she was surprised when Shona said, very firmly, ‘By myself.’

‘And did you talk to Enda?’ queried Mara. Directness would work better with this girl, she thought.

Shona thought about that for a moment and seemed about to deny it, then saw Mara’s expression and turned a shake of the head into a slight nod.

‘For a while,’ she said.

For a long time, thought Mara. She had noticed them again and again, sitting side by side on the window seat at the top of the room, well away from the laden table and quite as private, if they kept their voices down, as though they were in a room of their own.

‘And what did you talk about?’ asked Mara.

‘That is private,’ said Shona with dignity.

‘Nothing is private when it’s a murder investigation,’ said Mara firmly. ‘However, whatever you tell me now will remain private unless it has anything to do with the crime that has been committed.’

Shona hesitated and then after a minute’s thought, she gave an artificial smile. ‘It was nothing, really. I’m just so sick of the twins listening to everything that I say that I went to a place where they couldn’t stand behind me or creep up on me without my noticing. I really can’t remember what we were talking about. I think it might have been about King Turlough and what a wonderful King he is,’ she said sweetly.

The bit about the twins is probably true, thought Mara, but she doubted whether either of the young people had wasted their time talking about Turlough when they had the far more interesting subject of themselves to discuss. Still while they were in that position they could not have murdered Brehon MacClancy. But how long had they sat there for – and could one of them moved while the other pretended to talk to someone half-hidden by the half-closed window shutter?

‘And did you notice anyone approach Brehon MacClancy?’ asked Mara.

Shona was on her feet almost before she shook her head, ‘No, Brehon,’ she said firmly.

‘Sit down again,’ said Mara. She waited until the girl reluctantly lowered herself onto the stool again before saying, ‘So you were fostered by Brehon MacClancy, is that right? How did you get on with him?’

‘Very well,’ said Shona and then rather spoiled the decisiveness of her answer by saying, ‘I didn’t see too much of him, to be honest. His sister looked after us.’

‘And the legal business? Who looked after the affairs of Urlan Castle and the lands around when Brehon MacClancy was at Bunratty?’ queried Mara.

A smile softened Shona’s beautifully cut lips, but she compressed them instantly. ‘His assistant was usually there to deal with anything that came up.’

‘I see,’ said Mara. So the ageing Brehon, perhaps jealous of his position, of his relationship with the King, got Enda out of the way on the pretext that he could look after anyone in the Urlan area, about eight miles away from Bunratty. A beautifully wooded area, Mara remembered and guessed that the pair might have had some idyllic times together before Shona’s fosterage ended.

‘And has there been a marriage fixed up for you?’ Usually fosterage for a girl ended when a marriage contract was drawn up – in fact it was normally the business of the foster-father to arrange this.

Shona faced her courageously. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘there was talk of a marriage with a nephew of Brehon MacClancy, but I don’t think that will happen now.’ She glanced across at the dead body in the window recess opposite and then gave Mara a challenging look.

‘I see,’ said Mara. This time she did not prevent Shona leaving her, but gazed after her thoughtfully for a moment. Shona’s younger sister was very skilled with the use of a knife – what about Shona herself? Did Brehon MacClancy’s absence from the castle where the MacMahon children were being fostered mean that Shona also ran wild? ‘Send your brother and sister over to me, will you?’ she called after the girl.

Cael and Cian wore determinedly tough expressions when they lounged over. Everything in their bearing seemed to be calculated to warn Mara that they were not impressed by her status and authority. She pointed towards the bench on the other side of the table and allowed a long silence to elapse before she addressed them. A tough pair, she thought. Most children of that age would be starting to look uncomfortable by that stage but Cael and Cian just stared at her appraisingly. She stared back but to her surprise they were the ones who spoke first.

‘How old are you?’ asked Cael.

‘How long have you been a Brehon?’ demanded Cian.

‘Why do you wear your hair like that?’ asked Cael.

‘Do you enjoy your work?’ was Cian’s next contribution.

‘Why do you talk like that and keep ordering everyone about?’ Cael seemed to think that was a good question. A triumphant look shone in her eyes. They had probably forestalled the sort of questions that adults usually asked them.

Mara sat back in amazement. She tried to look stern but then felt her lips pucker. She could not help herself and decided to make the best of matters. She put down her pen and laughed. The twins’ saintly expressions became somewhat uneasy and they looked at her suspiciously.

‘Do you know,’ said Mara confidentially, ‘I think I might have made a mistake about you.’ She allowed a silence to fall before adding with an innocent expression, ‘I thought that you looked clever and I imagined that you would be a great help to me.’

They looked at each other and then Cael looked across at Cormac, who was writing down something said by Turlough’s daughter-in-law, Ellice, and jerked her thumb, saying, ‘Like him?’

‘No, not that sort of work, more like secret spies. The King of England has secret spies so why not a Brehon in Ireland? I thought you might be good at that as you can slip in and out of places quickly without being noticed.’

They exchanged another glance. ‘Would we get paid some silver?’ demanded Cael.

‘You would have to speak to the King about that,’ replied Mara firmly.

There was another silence and then an almost imperceptible nod passed between the twins.

‘All right,’ said Cael. She appeared to be the leader of the two, but Mara addressed herself to Cian. ‘I have to test you first,’ she said solemnly. ‘It’s no good taking you on unless you prove that you will be useful to me.’

‘Try us.’ Cian squared his shoulders and sat up very straight.

‘And then you’ll have to draw up a contract,’ warned Cael.

Mara looked at her with respect. ‘I can see that you’ve studied the law,’ she said admiringly, ‘but first of all the test. Now, you were the last of the dancers to come back up the stairs, I remember; was Brehon MacClancy alive at that stage?’

‘Alive; he farted,’ said Cian without hesitation. He watched Mara for signs of shock.

‘Dead people can fart, birdbrain,’ said Cael. ‘Dead cows do, anyway. What you should have said was that after he farted, he looked at the flagon and said, “
Excuse me
,” to it. He was dead drunk.’ She looked triumphantly at Mara.

‘Good.’ Mara kept her face serious and businesslike. ‘And now for a more difficult question,’ she added. ‘Could you give me a list of all the people who went up and spoke to him during the hour after midnight – before Cormac realized that he was dead, I mean.’

The twins eyed each other with discomforted looks and Mara’s heart sank. If this sharp-eyed pair, who knew everyone in the room so well, had not noticed anyone, then the mystery of MacClancy’s death might prove very difficult to solve. Her own scholars had yet to be questioned, but she knew them well enough to guess that if they had seen anyone approach the window recess they would have whispered the information to her. This was not the first murder investigation that they had taken part in.

‘I just saw one,’ said Cian eventually and Cael glared at her brother.

‘One is enough to be going on with,’ remarked Mara, trying to keep her voice even.

Cian looked nervously at his sister and then whispered in her ear. A slow smile spread over Cael’s face.

‘Lover boy!’ she exclaimed and then, with a straightforwardness that Mara admired, she said, ‘I didn’t see anyone. You tell her.’

‘I saw Enda,’ said Cian. ‘You know Enda – the Brehon’s assistant. He went up and whispered in his ear. Well, I think that’s what he was doing, anyway.’

Mara’s heart beat uncomfortably fast. For a moment she wished that she had never come to Bunratty and was back in the Burren, but that moment passed. The truth had always to be uncovered. If Enda had done this deed then he would have to confess to it and abide by the punishment that the law would inflict. If true, she thought sadly, it would mean the end of his career as a lawyer. No man, or woman, who broke the law in such a serious matter could be allowed to sit in judgement over others. She looked keenly at Cian.

‘Are you telling the truth?’ she asked.

‘I don’t tell lies,’ he said, affronted.

‘Only cowards tell lies,’ put in Cael. ‘We’re afraid of nothing, afraid of no one so we don’t tell lies.’

‘But there can be other reasons to tell lies,’ said Mara seriously. ‘I’ve known people tell a lie in order to injure someone they disliked. Perhaps you don’t like Enda because you think that Shona, your elder sister, is fond of him.’

‘Or perhaps you don’t want to believe Cian because Enda used to be one of your scholars,’ snapped Cael.

‘That, indeed, could be possible,’ admitted Mara. ‘But I hope that I would test the evidence against my greatest enemy as vigorously as against my greatest friend. How long was it before the discovery of the dead body, before Cormac shouted, that you saw Enda go up to Brehon MacClancy, Cian?’

‘Two tunes back.’ The answer came very readily and Mara acknowledged, with a pang, that his words had a ring of truth about them.

‘Why didn’t you see this?’ She turned with an accusing air towards Cael and was interested to see how the girl looked first taken aback and then thoughtful.

‘What were they playing then?’ she asked her brother.

‘The jig; the “Hey”,’ he said, without pausing.

‘That’s why,’ said Cael. ‘I was standing under the wall cloth on that side of the room for that tune. Some dust fell out of it when I was hopping up and down. I wouldn’t have been able to see the window recess where the Brehon was swigging the mead.’

It began to sound more and more likely to be the truth, thought Mara. The jig had a fast tune, and unlike the reels where the men and women, boys and girls, partnered each other, holding one hand and swinging around, the jig was mainly danced by individuals, each clicking their heels in time to the music and dancing by themselves. The music was fast and furious and people moved around, seeking a new space, or dropping out in order to refresh themselves with a drink.

‘You’ve been very useful to me,’ she told the twins. ‘Don’t say anything to anyone about our arrangement; and I will remember to discuss it with the King,’ she put in quickly as she saw Cael open her mouth. ‘But,’ she went on, ‘do think back over that time – less than an hour – and perhaps you could make me a list of the tunes. That would be a great help in jogging memories. I’m not very musical so it’s not something that I can do for myself – and you know everyone there.’ She got to her feet. The priest seemed to have finished anointing Brehon MacClancy’s body with the holy oils; her three groups had finished their interviews and were sitting with the sheets of vellum scrolled up, waiting for her arrival. Art, she noticed, as she came across the room, was yawning heavily and Slevin had dark shadows under his eyes. She greeted the priest, said a few conventional words in answer to his exclamations of horror, managed tactfully to send him back to his house and bed, and then she stepped into the centre of the room. All murmurs of conversation ceased almost instantly and all turned towards her.