Eye of the Law (6 page)

‘We didn’t see a thing,’ said Dalagh guardedly. ‘It must have happened after we were gone.’

Mara shook her head. ‘No, the man was killed fairly early in the morning.’

‘We still didn’t hear or see a thing.’ Dalagh’s voice was firm. He glanced uneasily over to where Shane and Hugh were engaging his son in talk. The glance was enough; the boy instantly turned his back on the two law-school scholars and resumed the work of slashing the rods and piling them into bundles, each bound with a flexible withy.

‘But didn’t you see Iarla from Aran come along the lane?’ asked Mara, feeling puzzled. ‘You’d know him to see, wouldn’t you?’ she added. ‘I remember seeing you at Lemeanah on Monday night. You, your children and your wife were there, weren’t you?’ She recollected noting the family – no doubt they had made the colourful baskets for the display of the wedding guests. Teige O’Brien, like his cousin Turlough, was not a man to forget the humblest, so, though they were of the O’Lochlainn clan, the basket maker and his family were included in the wedding invitations.

‘No, I’d know him all right, Brehon. I do remember someone pointing him out to me on Monday, but I’m sure he didn’t pass this way while we were here yesterday.’ Dalagh’s voice was oddly reserved. ‘It was a good night on Monday, wasn’t it?’ He spoke the words as one who wanted to change the conversation.

Mara agreed and spent a few minutes chatting about the fun at Lemeanah, but she felt quite puzzled. Surely Dalagh would have seen Iarla arrive at Balor’s Cave.

‘And what about your children? Did any of them play around the caves yesterday morning?’

‘No, they didn’t, Brehon. I don’t allow any of them to go near there. The O’Lochlainn is a brave man, and that steward of his, but I would never go near Balor’s Cave myself and I make sure that none of my children go either. I frightened them when they are little and that was enough to keep them away.’

Doesn’t always work, thought Mara, but aloud she asked, ‘And your wife, she saw or heard nothing either, did she?’

‘You can ask her yourself, Brehon.’ Dalagh’s eyes had gone back to his work and Mara took the hint.

‘I’ll leave you in peace then, Dalagh,’ she said in an easy-going way. ‘I’ll just pop into the cottage for a few minutes to have a word with your wife and then I’ll be on my way.’

Dalagh’s wife and her three eldest daughters were all sitting on the floor of the little cottage weaving the pliable, freshly cut willow stems into tall-sided baskets, one of the younger girls was feeding the fire with the chopped off pieces and another rocked a willow cradle where a small baby slept peacefully.

They all smiled a welcome as Mara came in, the mother speaking in hushed tones with a quick glance at the baby. Mara tiptoed across and admired the round-cheeked infant in a whisper and then took the proffered seat by the fire.

‘She’s well asleep,’ said the little girl, abandoning the cradle after another few rocks. ‘She won’t wake up now.’

‘Will you have something to eat, something to drink, Brehon?’ The woman seemed friendlier and more open than her husband.

‘No, I won’t. I’ll just sit and watch you for a few minutes before walking back. Do you know, I don’t think I’ve ever watched a basket being woven before? It’s one of those things that we just take for granted.’ Mara smiled happily as the woman resumed her work with no show of embarrassment or resentment of the visit. She would do better talking to her than to the husband, she thought as she settled down to watch.

The first part of the basket had already been made. It was a circular bottom woven from an interlaced cross-work of rods evenly spaced like wheel spokes.

‘You see we weave the other withies in and out of these rods until the base is formed.’ Dalagh’s wife did not slow the rapid movements of her hands as she gave this explanation.

‘And then you build up the sides, the same way.’ To her amusement, Mara noticed that the child feeding the fire gave her a look in which incredulity was mixed with a little scorn. No doubt, to a child brought up to this work, her comment had seemed quite stupid. She watched quietly as the extra rods were attached and bent upwards to form the sides. Fine rods were then woven between the uprights working from top to bottom.

‘From time to time we close up the weave to the basket with a driving iron.’ Again it was the women who spoke. The children all seemed rather wary of the Brehon, thought Mara. That was strange: normally she got on well with children.

‘It’s wonderful. I wish I could do something like that. I think I would enjoy producing something beautiful and being able to think my own thoughts as I do so.’ Mara found it easy to praise.

‘Normally we work as a team, I do the bases, my eldest daughter, Orlaith, attaches the uprights and puts in the first few rows of weaving and then the two younger ones carry on until the basket is complete. We’re just all working together this morning for a change and that’s good because it will show you how the basket is done from start to finish. It’s quite simple, really. Anyone could do it.’

Mara picked up a basket woven from purple and yellow rods and turned it around admiringly in her hand, before saying carelessly: ‘I just wanted to ask you whether you saw anything of that young man from Aran yesterday morning. Or did you see anyone else?’

A wary look came over their faces. Mother and daughters looked at each other and then resumed work.

‘No, we didn’t, Brehon. We didn’t see a soul.’

‘I see.’ Mara made her voice sound easy. ‘And what do you all do to pass the time while you are so busy in here?’

‘Orlaith tells us stories sometimes while we work.’ One of the youngest girls indicated her eldest sister.

‘Does she? What kind of stories?’

‘About a prince coming from across the sea, things like that.’

The child was matter-of-fact, but a tide of red colour swept across the delicate white skin of her eldest sister’s face. Tears began to well up in the blue eyes. Orlaith got to her feet rapidly; her tawny plait of hair swung over her shoulder as she sought to hide the tears that had suddenly sprung into her eyes. She rushed out of the small room, knocking over a small stool as she did so. Her mother, with a quick glance of apology at Mara, followed her rapidly. Glancing through the unshuttered window, Mara saw, first daughter, and then mother pass. They were not going in the direction of the sally gardens, she noticed, but did not know whether there was any significance in that. The interesting thing was that this window gave a perfect view of the laneway. There would have been no possibility of one or two people passing down there in the morning without being seen by at least one of this hard-working family.

‘Orlaith’s upset about the fellow that the wicked Balor killed,’ confided one of the young girls.

‘She’s scared he’ll get her too.’ The youngest gave a dramatic shiver.

‘Are you scared?’ Mara addressed Caitlin, who looked about fourteen. The girl didn’t answer, but gave her a hesitant, sideways glance.

‘I heered him howl last night.’ The youngest of the girls was chatty; all seemed less shy now that their mother was out of the room.

‘Really?’ Mara threw a slight note of scepticism mixed with awe into her voice. It was a potent inducement for further information and the young voices tumbled over each other to supply it.

‘We hear him sometimes . . .’

‘When the moon is full . . .’

‘And if he looks at you with his one eye, it burns through you and then you drop dead . . .’

‘Orlaith is frightened that he might get her now, just like he got the lad from Aran.’

‘That’s not what Orlaith is crying about.’ Caitlin’s voice was sharp and knowing. ‘It’s because of—’

‘Shh, she’s coming back.’ In a moment they all had heads down and eyes intent on work.

‘Sorry, Brehon, you know what girls of that age are like. Giggles one minute and tears the next.’ The mother resumed her seat with a quick glance around.

Mara got to her feet.

‘I must go now and leave you to get on with your work. I’d love six of those purple willow baskets when you have them made. I’d like to use them to plant my summer lilies. Bring them over to Cahermacnaghten and I’ll have some silver ready for you.’

She cast a quick smile around as the woman murmured her thanks and then went out. There was no sign of Orlaith so she walked back into the sally garden and collected her two youngest scholars.

‘They think that it was the god Balor who killed Iarla from Aran,’ said Shane when they were walking back up the laneway towards Kilcorney. There was a note of amused scorn in his voice.

‘We tried to ask a few questions, but it didn’t really work,’ said Hugh.

‘Never mind,’ said Mara with a sigh. Her back was aching and she did not seem to be getting very far with this enquiry. It seemed very strange that neither Iarla, nor his murderer, had been seen on Thursday morning. Perhaps both Malachy and Nuala were wrong and he was killed the night before.

They saw Ardal and Liam, holding their horses, standing outside the church when they reached the top of the laneway. Mara hesitated for a moment. She wanted to get home, but hers was the responsibility. She had to make sure that all the arrangements were in place for the burial of the corpse.

As soon as he saw her, Ardal walked rapidly towards her.

‘Everything is arranged, Brehon,’ he said reassuringly. ‘I’ve seen Father O’Byrne and he’ll hold the funeral as soon as the boy’s uncle arrives. We thought we wouldn’t have a wake. Is that all right?’

‘There isn’t any point, I’d say,’ agreed Mara. ‘No one really knew him.’

‘I’ve asked Father O’Byrne to say a mass for his soul the night before the funeral,’ continued Ardal.

He had a satisfied look on his face. He was a man who loved to organize and to have everything neat and tidy, in his life as well as his property.

‘We were just talking about how we could spare you trouble in this affair, Brehon.’ Liam cast a quick surreptitious glance at Mara’s waistline; no doubt the news of her pregnancy was all over the Burren by this stage. ‘As soon as we get back, we’ll gather everyone who would have been working around the house and on the fields between here and Kilcorney and if any of them have anything of interest to say or have seen anything, then we’ll send them over to you at Cahermacnaghten. Is there anything else that we can do for you, Brehon?’

‘Perhaps while you’re here, Ardal, and you, Liam, you could just give me an idea of what you were both doing this morning. Neither of you saw Iarla, that’s right, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right, Brehon. I was in the barn for a while first thing in the morning. I was just checking on the empty barrels there – making sure that they were all sound before the Bealtaine tribute and then I went over to Ballymurphy to join
himself
.’

‘I had gone over there as soon as I had my breakfast,’ explained Ardal. ‘I wanted to see how the young colts were getting on. Myself and a couple of the men were giving them the spring dose.’

Mara nodded. Both voices were frank and straightforward. It should be easy to check on both statements. Ballymurphy was on the west side of Lissylisheen and Balor’s Cave and Kilcorney on the east side. It would have been difficult for either to go across to Balor’s Cave without one of the workers noticing their absence. In addition, their presence would have been noted on the way to Kilcorney, especially as O’Lochlainn lands bordered both sides of the road. Ardal had a large amount of workers always busy around his land. It looked, at the moment, as if Ardal was clear of suspicion.

But what about his brother, Donogh O’Lochlainn? And what about Donogh Óg, the nephew and the probable eventual heir to the rich lands and possessions of the O’Lochlainn?

Four

If a man seduces a woman who is drunk, this crime is known as
sleth
(rape) and the fine will be the honour price of the victim’s father or husband.

‘
I
t wasn’t Saoirse’s fault.’ Mairéad faced Mara with her characteristic sturdy independence. ‘She had nothing to do with it. She had hardly even spoken to that Iarla from Aran – just gave him a dance out of politeness. She had forgotten all about him and then he just jumped on her when she came out of the privy. She’s not to blame for that.’

‘Of course not!’ Mara was emphatic and slightly horrified.

After supper had finished she had inveigled the girls upstairs on the grounds of seeking advice as to which gown to wear for an investing ceremony at Thomond. Neither had shown much interest in the array of colours on the bed; both had the air of waiting for something to be said and when Mara had delicately turned the conversation to Saoirse’s ordeal on Monday night, Mairéad had immediately rounded on her.

‘It’s just that Saoirse’s mother and father are so furious.’ Mairéad allowed a slight note of apology to enter her voice. ‘Her father kept on and on at her all of Tuesday and Wednesday, telling her to keep away from that fellow, Iarla. She didn’t have a moment’s peace. She wasn’t allowed out of the house, not even on to the farm. Isn’t that right, Saoirse? You weren’t even allowed out to groom your horse, were you?’

Saoirse nodded silently, her full-lipped mouth tightening and her heavy-lidded hazel eyes filling with tears. She looked down, shaking her dark-brown hair over her face. She was a plump girl with a large bosom, dark-haired like her father and curly headed like her mother. Normally she had a lovely pink-cheeked colouring, but now she looked pale and there were dark-blue shadows under her brown eyes.

‘I don’t know what got into Father,’ she said in a choked voice, biting her full underlip. ‘He was like a madman. He kept on and on. He thought that I had been fooling around with this Iarla. I kept telling him that I hardly spoke to him. It’s just like Mairéad said. I just danced with him a bit because he was a stranger and I was sorry for him.’