Eye of the Law (12 page)

Malachy spread his broad, well-cared-for hands in a gesture that Mara found slightly irritatingly.

‘What isn’t,’ he said with a sigh.

‘If she were my daughter,’ stated Mara with emphasis, ‘I would be extremely proud of her.’

Malachy blinked. He looked quite taken aback. Mara surveyed him with satisfaction. She said no more. It was for him to make the next move.

‘You see she and Caireen don’t get on as well as I would have hoped. There seems to be some problem between them,’ he said in the voice of one who explains everything.

Mara still said nothing. It seemed eminently reasonable to her that there was a problem between the stupid Caireen and the eminently intelligent Nuala. But that was Malachy’s affair. After all, he was the one who chose Caireen.

‘Caireen is being very good about it all.’ His voice was slightly uncertain as he eyed Mara. ‘She understands that Nuala is going through a difficult time in her life. But of course there is a limit and I think we have reached it.’

‘Oh?’ Mara injected a note of query into the monosyllable.

‘I must say that I am losing patience with her, also. Nuala could make some effort. She’s so, so . . . well, it’s a terrible thing for me to say about my own daughter, but there are times when she just seems to be sneering at Caireen.’

‘Really!’ Mara hoped that Malachy would think that she was shocked, and not recognize the note of amusement in her voice.

Obviously he didn’t as he nodded gravely and repeated, ‘Yes, just because Caireen told her that if you find a plant that looks like a disease, then that plant will be the cure for the disease . . .’ He stopped as if unable to find the words to express his horror at his daughter’s conduct.

‘But Nuala didn’t believe that, did she?’ Surely even Malachy, who was not too bright, didn’t believe nonsense like that himself. If he did, it was just as well that she had not bothered to consult him about her baby.

Malachy nodded solemnly. ‘There’s no harm in having opinions,’ he said pompously, ‘but she should keep those opinions to herself when someone older than she expresses them, but she didn’t. Not only that, but she kept sneering at Caireen all day, calling her attention to plants and shouting things like: “Look, Caireen, there’s a pimpernel. Do you think it would be good for stopping bleeding since it’s coloured red?” and that’s another thing too.’ Malachy was obviously determined to get everything off his chest. ‘She calls her Caireen even though Caireen has invited her to call her
mother
.’

At that last statement, Mara ceased to feel amused and began to feel annoyed. ‘I don’t think that you realize how much Nuala’s mother meant to her, Malachy,’ she said evenly. ‘I would not say that there was any possibility that Caireen could take Mór’s place in Nuala’s heart.’

To her surprise, Malachy nodded solemnly. ‘You’re right, Mara, I’ve come to the same conclusion, and I think there is only one thing to be done.’

‘Oh, yes?’ Mara eyed him with interest. Could Malachy be getting tired of that stupid Caireen and was going to use the excuse of Nuala in order to finish the relationship?

‘I’ve been talking to the O’Lochlainn about the problem and he came up with a solution.’

Mara smiled, though she was slightly disappointed. She had hoped that Malachy had been about to say that Caireen and he had decided to part. ‘Ardal usually has a solution; he has a neat and tidy mind,’ she said amiably.

Did Ardal also have a solution to the arrival of the young man from Aran? she wondered briefly and then turned her attention back to Malachy and his problems.

‘Yes, Ardal’s been very helpful. He suggested that it was not a good idea for Caireen and Nuala to live in the same house. He offered to take on the guardianship of Nuala. She would live with him until such time as a suitable marriage could be arranged for her.’

‘Have you talked to Nuala about this?’ It was, thought Mara, a possible solution but not a good one. Malachy was not just Nuala’s father, her only parent; he was also her master, her instructor in the profession of medicine. If Nuala were to live with Ardal at Lissylisheen, then she would no longer be involved in to the day-to-day medical problems of the people of the Burren. She would be forced out of her heritage and Caireen’s boys would take her place as apprentices to Malachy.

‘Not yet.’ Malachy’s answer was brief and it was obvious that he had more to say. ‘You see, it will solve lots of problems. I’m not a well-off man. I’ve been a bit worried about arranging a marriage for Nuala as I would not have cows, and not much silver to endow her with.’

That was true, thought Mara. Malachy, unlike she herself, did not own a farm. Mostly the people of the Burren would pay for his services with some goods such as a chicken for the pot, milk, a piece of beef, only occasionally would silver change hands.

‘So Ardal has promised to take it upon himself to arrange Nuala’s marriage and to endow her from his own funds?’ asked Mara. In some ways it was a suitable arrangement as Ardal was wealthy and unmarried and Nuala was the daughter of his much-loved, much-mourned sister.

‘That’s right – but on one condition. She must give up this idea of being a physician.’

‘I don’t think she will ever want to do that.’ Mara’s voice hardened.

‘I had hoped that you might talk with her, might persuade her.’

‘You’ve chosen the wrong person for that errand.’ Mara’s voice was blunt. ‘Why do you think that I could persuade her of that – even if I wanted to?’

‘Well, you have a lot of influence with her – she admires you.’

‘She also knows that I have followed my profession, that I allowed nothing to stand in my way.’

There was silence for a moment. Mara could see Malachy turning things over in his head. Eventually he sighed.

‘You don’t think it will work, do you?’

‘No, I don’t.’ Mara decided to say no more. Surely the man had enough intelligence to see that for himself. She scanned his face carefully. His dark eyes were fixed on the table before him, but his mouth wore a stubborn, tight-lipped expression. His fist opened and closed a few times, and then without warning, he crashed it down on the board.

‘I can’t help it,’ he said explosively. ‘I’m not going to give up everything now. I have a right to a little happiness in my life. Nuala has her own life ahead of her. I just can’t afford to endower her now. It will have to be Ardal who takes care of that and his price is that Nuala goes to live with him, gives up the idea of being a physician and that he will be responsible for her marriage.’

Was he really that short of silver? thought Mara. He had said nothing about that last year when he was trying to arrange a betrothal between Nuala and Naoise O’Lochlainn. She eyed him closely and saw him flush under her gaze.

‘It’s just that Caireen feels that we will have to build on to this house,’ he said hurriedly. ‘It’s certainly not big enough for the two of us, and all the boys. And, of course, Caireen will bring her servants with her.’

He had not mentioned his daughter, noticed Mara. It seemed as if Caireen’s servants were of more importance to him than his own daughter.

‘What about Nuala’s inheritance?’ she asked suddenly. She had forgotten about that. ‘Surely she is well endowed enough of her own right. You do not need to make provision for her.’

Malachy’s swarthy complexion reddened. He looked into her enquiring eyes with a show of bravado.

‘Nuala is subject to me,’ he blustered. ‘That property at Rathborney is mine to use for her benefit. Ardal has agreed to take her into his care and in return I plan to sell that property and use the silver to extend my own property here at Caherconnell. I have to make provision, not just for Caireen and myself and for any child which we may have, but also for Caireen’s sons whom she has entrusted to my care.’

‘What!’ Mara stared at him open-mouthed. ‘You are going to rob Nuala of her property in order to endow Caireen and her sons!’

‘Ardal is happy to look after her and to endow her so she won’t need it.’ Malachy had turned from belligerent to sullen.

‘May I ask when this was discussed between you both?’ Her tone was icy and Malachy squirmed uncomfortably, picking up the heavy pestle that he used to crush seeds and weighing it in his hands.

‘Three or four weeks ago,’ he said eventually.

‘I see. Before the man from Aran turned up. Before Iarla came with his claim to be Ardal’s son, and thus his heir.’

‘Well, of course,’ said Malachy hastily, ‘if that had turned out to be true, then I would have had to think again.’

‘No one knows whether the claim was true or not,’ said Mara evenly. ‘I may have been able to find out eventually, but Iarla was murdered before I could make my enquiries. Someone could not wait. There was someone who could not run the risk that this young man would take his place as heir to Ardal O’Lochlainn, that’s the way that I read this murder.’

Malachy stared at her; his face had suddenly lost its colour and showed sallow by the thin light from his candle. He said nothing though. She waited for a moment, eyeing him sternly. There was a tense silence between them and it was only broken when the door suddenly swung open and in bounced Caireen.

‘So there you are,’ she scolded. ‘What are the two of you up to sitting here in the dark?’ There was a thread of insinuation beneath the layer of teasing and Mara stared at her with dislike.

‘I’m glad you’ve come in, Caireen,’ she said. ‘Just close the door, will you, and come and sit down here?’ Mara indicated a stool and waited until Caireen, looking slightly taken aback, had followed her instructions.

‘I’d just like to get something straight.’ Mara spoke with due solemnity. ‘The house and farm at Rathborney does not belong to you, Malachy. I myself drew up the will that gave Nuala her property. The king himself was present on that occasion. This property is for her and for her alone. Malachy’s only role is in helping her to manage and safeguard the farm and the house. I feel personally responsible for making sure that the property is passed on, intact, to Nuala on her sixteenth birthday, or on her marriage day, whichever comes first. You must make whatever arrangements you choose for the expansion of your own house and for the conduct of your own business.’ She took her eyes away from Caireen and looked directly at Malachy. She could see from his furtive, guilty expression that, while he read the implacable resolution in her eyes, he was still trying to find some way around this dilemma, some means of using Nuala’s inheritance to fund his own new lifestyle.

Mara kept her eyes on him for a long minute and then included Caireen in her glance, as she finished, in a firm and resolute voice, with the words: ‘Nuala’s property must not be touched.’

Seven

To ensure fairness, the rule is
ranaid osar agus dogoa inser
(the youngest divides and the eldest chooses). As the youngest son gets the last choice he will be careful to ensure that the shares are equal ones.

‘
Y
ou go on ahead, all of you. I feel like walking slowly.’ Mara’s back was aching and her six scholars seemed to be even more full of life than usual. Enda and Fachtnan were daring each other to leap from boulder to boulder. The four other boys copied them for a while, but then tired of the game. When Mara next noticed them, Aidan had Shane on his back and Moylan had Hugh. The two younger boys, mounted on their human steeds, were hitting at each other with the dried stems of giant hogweed in mock semblance of jousting. So far this game was fairly good-natured, but it could soon end in bad temper and the trial of strength and agility between the two elder boys might result in a broken leg for one of them. All six had brightly flushed cheeks and Mara felt annoyed with herself that she had not kept a check on how much cowslip wine they had been fed by Malachy’s housekeeper. She had been too preoccupied with Malachy’s and Nuala’s affairs to keep her usual watchful eye on her scholars.

‘Just walk sensibly back to Cahermacnaghten and then you can have the rest of the day to yourselves,’ she continued. ‘And if you’re hungry by the time that you get there, Brigid will have something for you to eat.’ Hopefully the extra food would mop up the excess of wine, she thought as they set off. At least they were all on their feet and on solid ground now.

Mara did not follow them on the most direct route to Cahermacnaghten, which would be across the clints and grykes of the stone-paved land of the High Burren. She turned to the left and made her way down to Green Valley. She would go by the Kilcorney road, she decided. It would be easier walking on that smooth, solid surface than across the uneven surface of the stone pavements.

Just as she entered Green Valley, she heard a rhythmic clinking of a hammer against stone. She hesitated for a moment. To go to the quarry would take her slightly out of her way. However, it would be a good opportunity and she was never one to allow opportunities to pass her by.

As she came nearer, her leather boots echoing on the limestone road, she heard a pause in the hammering, which then resumed and then stopped again. This time there was no further sound. The hammerer had heard her coming. Perhaps if she passed by the work would recommence but she wasn’t going to do that, not after her trouble in taking the road to the east instead of the road to the west. She took another few steps and then moved on to the grass verge where she could walk without sound. Once she had done this, she heard the hammer blows start again.

The opening to the quarry was wide enough to admit carts collecting the cut and dressed stone, so as soon as she reached this he saw her.

‘Brehon!’ Donogh Óg came forward instantly with a broad smile on his face. ‘I thought you were the priest for a moment. You put the heart across me.’