Laws in Conflict (3 page)

She was Mara, Brehon of the Burren, judge and lawgiver, and she would dress as she always dressed, she thought as she pulled a fresh
léine
over her head – woven from the flax that grew on the mountainside of the Burren, the creamy shade of the linen tunic suited her dark colouring. Over it she wore a gown of soft moss-green with loose sleeves and a laced bodice. The neckline was low and allowed the lace-embroidered
léine
to be seen above it. Next she combed out her long dark hair, plaited it and coiled it at the back of her head while gazing at the dim reflection in the silvered glass that was placed helpfully beside the window. For a thirty-eight-year-old grandmother she looked good, she thought with satisfaction, before going to tap on Fiona’s door.

Fiona was also dressed in the Gaelic fashion, wearing the traditional
léine
topped with a blue gown, which matched her blue eyes. She was a tiny girl, but with a perfect figure, perfect features, hair like spun gold, gleaning white teeth. She had been at Cahermacnaghten law school for almost a year now, and the boys had settled down into regarding her as a companion, though when she first came she had caused a lot of excitement. Only Fachtnan, guessed Mara, still hoped to be something more than a friend to her, but Fiona treated him with friendly indifference.

Lawyer Bodkin’s sister, Jane, gave Mara’s uncovered head a slightly scandalized look, but said nothing. Her brother now addressed his guest by the English word of ‘Judge’ rather than the Gaelic ‘Brehon’ and this, Mara thought with an inward smile, probably made her hostess feel that she was entertaining some strange, hybrid creature. She seemed relieved that they all spoke English and smiled kindly on the boys, though their tight, woollen trews, knee-length
léinte
and short sheepskin jackets probably made them look very strange to her eyes.

‘What polite, well-mannered young men,’ she remarked to Mara. ‘When Henry had law pupils here they used to vex the life out of me. Always playing tricks and shouting, and so rude, too. One day one of them even put a frog into my bed. I said to Henry that I couldn’t stand it any longer – surely we don’t need the little money that they bring, I said to him – and there was all the washing to do with them too. How do you manage about their washing?’

‘I shall tell them how you approve of them,’ said Mara with a friendly smile, declining to go into housewifely details. Her scholars had been bribed with the prospect of a few hours’ liberty to explore the town and port if they behaved well during the meal and she wanted to keep an eye on Aidan. She would have to invent a similar bribe for future meals, she was thinking when Henry Bodkin, who had taken a whispered message from a servant, turned to her with a smile.

‘My neighbour, Valentine Blake, has heard of your arrival and has invited us all to supper at his place. It’s only around the corner from here and he has sent a message to say that there will be plenty of young people present to entertain your scholars. The Lynch family and the Browne family will be there, and Valentine Blake himself has three daughters by his first marriage – there may even be others.’ He beamed at the boys and added consolingly to Fiona, ‘And so there will be a few young ladies for you to talk with, my dear.’

‘I don’t really like other girls; I’m just used to boys – in my father’s law school and here.’ Fiona ignored the look of horror on Jane Bodkin’s face and cross-questioned her host on what these ‘youngsters’, as he called them, were studying.

‘In training to be merchants, I should imagine,’ he said with a smile. ‘Even the law is not a very popular subject here in Galway.’

‘Perhaps they don’t have as much power as the merchants,’ said Mara thoughtfully. She added some extra milk to her porridge and then controlled an expression of distaste with effort. The milk was slightly sour, something that would never have occurred in her own well-run establishment. Brigid, who had been Mara’s nurse and housekeeper to her father before that, would never have served up anything but milk fresh from the cow. Still, she thought charitably, it was probably more difficult in Galway. Her host and his sister had not seemed to notice anything and Mara sent a warning glance around at the younger members of her school, and pushed a jar of honey in the direction of Moylan who would be quick-witted enough to take the hint.

The meal passed peacefully and the scholars, with an eye on Mara, were effusive in their praise and thanks for the many dishes of food. Jane Bodkin openly praised the system of young children beginning their studies early as it seemed to make them so well mannered. ‘This young man tells me that he came to the law school at the age of five,’ she added, patting Hugh on the arm and causing his freckled face to turn scarlet with embarrassment.

‘I was eight, when I came to law school,’ said Shane, and added politely, though with a twinkle in his eye, ‘but I hope that I managed to learn good manners even at that advanced age.’

‘
O tempora, o mores!
’ exclaimed Moylan dramatically. Judging by the slight jump that he gave a minute later, Aidan had kicked him quickly on the shin to warn him against showing-off and Mara thought it was time to dismiss her scholars before their behaviour began to deteriorate to its normal level of silly jokes and teasing. While they fetched their outerwear, she rapidly embarked on an explanation to Jane Bodkin about the Irish cloak, which was famous for resisting the continual rainfall due to a secret ingredient that Mara revealed to be honey combed into the tightly curled sheep’s wool outer surface of the garment.

‘Looks lovely on you, my dear,’ said Jane generously to Fiona as she drew the wide hood over her golden curls, and even Lawyer Bodkin smiled with appreciation of the picture that she made.

‘Would you like me to send a manservant with them?’ he asked Mara in a low voice, his eyes on Fiona. ‘The streets of Galway will not be like your quiet lanes in the Burren.’

‘I don’t think so, but thank you for offering it,’ returned Mara quietly. ‘I’ve had a word with Fachtnan and told him to make sure that they all stay together. They are strong, able boys and they won’t allow anyone to get the better of them.’ Aloud she said to the scholars, ‘I’ve given Fachtnan some silver for you all and the rule is that all six stay together. And please be back here by . . .?’ She looked enquiringly at their host who responded immediately by suggesting that they listen for the four o’clock bell from St Nicholas’s Church and return when they heard that sound its call for evening prayers.

‘Is it possible for me to see this unfortunate man who is lying in your town gaol?’ Mara decided to put the question as soon as the scholars had departed. Lawyer Bodkin would, no doubt, be wondering what to do with her this morning and she had no desire to be left to gossip with Jane.

‘It would be better not to,’ he said a little uncomfortably. He tugged his beard, his shrewd eyes downcast and hooded by his bushy grey eyebrows. Mara waited until he continued. ‘I feel that it would be best if you met the mayor in a social setting today – at the Blake supper – this evening – and then perhaps put the question to him as to whether you could attend the trial.’

‘Perhaps I could interpret for him,’ suggested Mara mildly. ‘He speaks no English, is that correct? What actually did he steal?’

Lawyer Bodkin’s face looked more cheerful. ‘That’s a good idea. That might work very well,’ he said. ‘Of course, the view of the court is that English is the official language so anyone in the city should speak it – by law no one should be in the city without a knowledge of the English language and English customs. In fact, strictly speaking, the man had no right to stay within the city walls when he had lost the employment that brought him here.’

‘And his crime?’ persisted Mara.

‘He stole a meat pie – of over a shilling in value.’ The lawyer’s voice was heavy with significance and Mara nodded her understanding. The death penalty, under English law, could be exacted for any theft of an article worth more than a shilling.

‘Why did he come here?’ Mara was curious about this. A young man, adventurous, perhaps looking for work on one of the boats that went from Galway harbour to Spain – but Lawyer Bodkin just shook his head and spread his hands as if denying all knowledge of the culprit.

‘Let’s go for a walk and I shall show you my chambers,’ he said, to her relief. ‘Perhaps we’ll take a tour of the city first, or would you like to see the Green outside the city walls? I keep my horses stabled there and hardly an hour goes by when you cannot see a fine example of horses being put through their paces at the spot.’

‘The Green,’ responded Mara promptly. She had no particular interest in Lawyer Bodkin’s horses but did not want her scholars to think that she was dogging their footsteps as they explored the city. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon she would get them to show her around. She was prepared to bet that a morning’s exploration by six curious and uninhibited young people would result in a thorough knowledge of the whole place.

Lawyer Bodkin took her on a leisurely saunter, naming each street as they walked along it – Lombard Street, North Street, Great Gate Street – and pointing out the stately stone tower houses and their gardens belonging to the great merchant families – D’Arcy, Athy, Browne, Lynch – her mind buzzed with the names and every few yards she stopped to shake hands with expensively dressed gentlemen, in English hose and doublet, who eyed her with curiosity but greeted her with great politeness. There was, she thought, some sort of statute against the wearing of Gaelic clothes in Galway, but in the company of a respected lawyer no one took exception to her
léine
and
brat.
Then she thought of her scholars with a flash of compunction. However, Ardal O’Lochlainn, as well as others from the Burren, often visited Galway and she had never seen him change his clothing in order to do so. They were well dressed and confident, she thought, and would be sensible enough to give Lawyer Bodkin’s name if they ran into any trouble. It was never her policy to feather-bed them, but rather to rear sensible, quick-thinking responsible lawyers.

‘Perhaps we may be embarrassing you by wearing clothes that appear strange in the city of Galway,’ she said to her companion.

‘No, no, there is no exception taken to peaceful visitors no matter how they are dressed; it’s those that come looking for trouble who find themselves at the wrong side of the law. In any case, you are in my company and no one would question your good status,’ he assured her.

Mara smiled politely but inwardly she seethed at the condescension in his words. This very English settlement right in the heart of Gaelic Ireland maintained its position by force. The high stone walls, manned by well-armed soldiers, the cannon perched on the gatehouse above the Great Gate all sent out their message to the surrounding countryside. No doubt, though, she comforted herself, the scholars were safe. Lawyer Bodkin was the perfect host and had left word of their coming at the gate. Also, they had come into the city in the company of Ardal O’Lochlainn who was well known as a trader in fine horses. As they came to the gate now, the man on duty bowed and as they passed out of the city they were saluted respectfully by a troop of parading soldiers, guns in hand.

The Green, placed just outside the northern wall around the city, was a large rectangular piece of grass with a path of fine limestone gravel all the way around it. In the summer months it was probably emerald green but now it was mainly mud. A windmill stood on a small hill to the west side of the park and on the east side a great broad road stretched out for as far as the eye could see. There was another, smaller green there and Mara winced when she saw, set right in the middle of its expanse, a gallows with the dead body of a person, completely covered in black sticky tar, dangling from it. The body swung in the slight breeze but few of the many people that passed even turned to look at it.

‘Gallows’ Green,’ said Lawyer Bodkin following her gaze. ‘An unpleasant sight, I grant you,’ he said, responding to the expression on her face, ‘unpleasant, but a necessary evil, I’m afraid.’

Mara said nothing. She did not trust herself to argue dispassionately while that body swung there in front of her eyes. She murmured something about the number of riders and saw the relief in his eyes that she had changed the subject.

There were several riders on The Green
but Mara’s eyes immediately went to one horse and its rider. The horse was a rich chestnut with a small, refined, wedge-shaped head, a broad forehead, large eyes and large nostrils. It pranced playfully, displaying an arched neck, and high tail carriage. Something about it reminded Mara of her own horse, Brig, a gift from her now-husband King Turlough Donn.

But the rider of the chestnut matched the horse in beauty. It was a girl, upright as a young larch tree, with a mane of glossy, jet-black hair flowing down her back. Even in the depths of the winter her skin was delicately tanned and as the horse came prancing towards them, Mara could see that a pair of bright brown eyes, slanting at their outer tips, lit up the beautiful face.

‘Isn’t she gorgeous?’ groaned Henry Bodkin.

Mara looked at him, slightly startled, but realized that the lawyer’s eyes were fixed, not on the girl, but on the mare that she rode.

‘Gorgeous,’ she agreed. ‘Both of them,’ she added, but her host could only think of the horse.

‘Good morning, Mistress Browne,’ he called. ‘I see you have a new steed. Arab breeding, is she not?’

‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she?’ said the girl. ‘She’s my father’s present to me for my eighteenth birthday. Yes, she’s fully bred Arab. Came from the south of Spain. My cousin brought her over.’ She turned to Mara with an inquisitive look and then smiled, displaying a perfect set of brilliantly white teeth inside a pair of red lips.

‘You are the lady judge,’ she said. ‘I thought you would be old and ugly.’ And then she laughed charmingly. ‘Instead of which you are young and beautiful.’

‘This is Mistress Catarina Browne, my lady judge.’ Lawyer Bodkin presented the girl to Mara almost absent-mindedly, his eyes still devouring the horse, examining the large hoofs and running his hand along the withers and stroking the large throat.