My Lady Judge (17 page)
Inwardly Mara’s heart, always warm towards the young, sympathized with them, but this was no time to sing. Let them enjoy themselves out of sight of their elders. A man was dead, and someone on the Burren was guilty of
duinetháide,
one of the worst crimes. In England prison and the hangman’s noose could enforce justice; here its success relied on the consensus and the cooperation of the community. The occasion had to remain solemn.
duinetháide,
one of the worst crimes. In England prison and the hangman’s noose could enforce justice; here its success relied on the consensus and the cooperation of the community. The occasion had to remain solemn.
DIN TECHTUGAD (THE LAW OF TAKING POSSESSION)
Sencha judged his first case wrongly. He judged that a female should take possession of an inheritance in the same fashion as a male would do so. Blisters came upon his cheeks. The wise female judge, Brig, showed him that he was wrong. He reversed his judgement and the blisters disappeared from his cheeks.
M
ONDAY WAS A DIFFICULT day at the law school. The boys seemed restless and unable to concentrate. It had rained very heavily all night; several times Mara had woken to hear it thundering on the stone roof of her house and when she had finished her breakfast it was still lashing the stone clints in the fields with a ferocity that would have seemed impossible during the fine, balmy days that preceded it. She stood at the door for a moment, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head and listening to the hiss of the rain on the burnished stone. The slanting grey lines of the downpour were so dense that she could
barely see the ten-foot circular wall of stone, which surrounded the law school buildings. It would be difficult conducting her investigations on a day like this, she decided as she set off to run down the road. Today would have to be a normal day of study at the law school.
ONDAY WAS A DIFFICULT day at the law school. The boys seemed restless and unable to concentrate. It had rained very heavily all night; several times Mara had woken to hear it thundering on the stone roof of her house and when she had finished her breakfast it was still lashing the stone clints in the fields with a ferocity that would have seemed impossible during the fine, balmy days that preceded it. She stood at the door for a moment, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head and listening to the hiss of the rain on the burnished stone. The slanting grey lines of the downpour were so dense that she could
barely see the ten-foot circular wall of stone, which surrounded the law school buildings. It would be difficult conducting her investigations on a day like this, she decided as she set off to run down the road. Today would have to be a normal day of study at the law school.
The morning had started off well. The map of the seven terraces on Mullaghmore was still on the wall and Shane had suddenly remarked, ‘I remember someone else, Brehon. He was near to Wolf’s Lair a while before the bonfire was lit. I’d say he was one of the first to go down the mountain and he disappeared quite quickly.’
‘Well, go on,’ said Enda aggressively. ‘Spit it out. Who was it?’
Mara frowned. Enda was a nuisance. He was just at the awkward age of adolescence when his behaviour and his control of himself seemed to be almost that of a two-year-old, but his vision of himself was that of a man of surpassing ability and charm, and he was resentful of any authority. Unfortunately he had a great influence over Moylan; and Aidan, also; the three of them tried her patience on occasion. This morning she decided to say nothing, but gave him a long, cold look and turned to Shane.
‘Put a cross in the place where you saw him, Shane. Do you know who it was?’
She waited for a name; the lads knew most people within the four clans on the Burren, but Shane was shaking his head. ‘No, I don’t think I ever saw him before. He was very tall, even taller than Fachtnan.’
‘Oh,’ said Mara thoughtfully. ‘I think I might have seen him, also. I saw someone on a horse when I was walking across with King Turlough. Yes, he would have been tall. And he had very black hair. Did you notice that, Shane?’
Shane turned to look at her, the stick of charcoal in his hand, and then shook his head again. ‘No, I don’t remember that,’ he said. ‘I only noticed him because he was so big. I think he was
standing somewhere near Diarmuid. I saw him in the flare of Diarmuid’s torch, but I didn’t notice anything much about him.’
standing somewhere near Diarmuid. I saw him in the flare of Diarmuid’s torch, but I didn’t notice anything much about him.’
Mara nodded. ‘No one else noticed him, did they?’ she asked with a quick look at Hugh. He would have been the nearest, but he was shaking his head just as the others were.
‘I could run down to Diarmuid and ask him does he remember,’ offered Enda with an obliging air.
‘We could go with him,’ suggested Moylan.
‘We’d like to help,’ said Aidan, trying to put on a saintly expression which didn’t quite work on his very pimpled face and heavy adolescent features.
Mara looked out of the window. Cumhal, his hood pulled well over his head, was trudging past with a bucket in either hand. He would be going to milk the black cow in the far meadow.
‘Cumhal,’ she called. ‘Would it be a nuisance for you to call in at Diarmuid’s house on your way? Shane saw a stranger on Mullaghmore on
Bealtaine
Eve. He was very tall: I think that I saw him myself, riding along the road near the lake. If it’s the same man, he had very black hair. Diarmuid may have noticed him and may know who he is. Would you be able to do that, Cumhal?’
Bealtaine
Eve. He was very tall: I think that I saw him myself, riding along the road near the lake. If it’s the same man, he had very black hair. Diarmuid may have noticed him and may know who he is. Would you be able to do that, Cumhal?’
‘No trouble at all, Brehon,’ said Cumhal obligingly. ‘I’ll be passing Diarmuid’s house on the way down to the Moher field.’
Enda blew out his lips with an expression of disgust; Moylan and Aidan copied him instantly and Shane giggled. Mara sighed. ‘Let’s do our Latin now,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Fachtnan, King Turlough gave me a document from a London court and you and I will see if we can translate it, Shane and Hugh, will you study your verbs, and you three,’ she addressed Aidan, Moylan and Enda, ‘I’ve written down some judgements here in Latin and I want you turn them back into Gaelic.’
‘Boring,’ muttered Enda rebelliously. Once again Mara ignored it. Later on she would wonder whether if she had tackled
his behaviour then she might have been saved a lot of trouble afterwards, but at the time she felt a certain sympathy. He was an active boy, clever, quick-thinking, and easily bored. They had missed much of their usual fun on Saturday and Sunday, which they usually spent riding, hunting, swimming or playing hurling from dawn to dusk, and now he was in no mood for work. She would have to arrange something once the weather cleared. She took a quick glance out of the window. The sky still had a heavy leaden look, but over towards the west there was a faint lightening, a somewhat paler shade of grey, somewhere in the region of the Aran Islands.
his behaviour then she might have been saved a lot of trouble afterwards, but at the time she felt a certain sympathy. He was an active boy, clever, quick-thinking, and easily bored. They had missed much of their usual fun on Saturday and Sunday, which they usually spent riding, hunting, swimming or playing hurling from dawn to dusk, and now he was in no mood for work. She would have to arrange something once the weather cleared. She took a quick glance out of the window. The sky still had a heavy leaden look, but over towards the west there was a faint lightening, a somewhat paler shade of grey, somewhere in the region of the Aran Islands.
Cumhal was back within a half-hour. The boys heard the sound of his footsteps clumping over the wet flagstones outside the schoolhouse. They all sat up and their eyes brightened. Shane had jumped up to open the door almost at the same moment as the knock sounded and Bran, dozing by the fire, sat up eagerly with his tail wagging.
‘Come in, Cumhal,’ said Mara.
‘I won’t, Brehon,’ said Cumhal, still standing in the doorway. ‘I’m all wet. I’ll only bring the damp in with me. I just wanted to tell you that Diarmuid saw the man Shane was talking about, all right. His name is O’Connor. He’s from Corcomroe. He is one of the O’Connors from Doolin … from the stone quarry in Doolin. He’s the son of that man who was killed about a month ago.’
‘Murdered?’ enquired Moylan hopefully.
‘No, it was an accident,’ explained Cumhal. ‘He was cutting out flagstones from the cliff side – they had a big order on and he was working late at it. I suppose he was tired, like. Anyway, he chipped away a bit too fast and a stone further up the slope came away and crushed him to death. The son has the business now.
His name is Oscar, Brehon. A fine big young fellow, Diarmuid says.’
His name is Oscar, Brehon. A fine big young fellow, Diarmuid says.’
‘Thank you, Cumhal,’ said Mara. Corcomroe, she thought, that’s not in my jurisdiction. I’ll have to see Fergus. Fergus MacClancy was the Brehon at Corcomroe, a kind, fatherly man who had uncomplainingly taken on the duties of the Burren as well as of Corcomroe after the death of Mara’s father in 1489 and had encouraged her to apply for the post as soon as she became twenty-one, five years later.
‘I’ll have to go over to Corcomroe after school today,’ she said aloud. ‘Fachtnan, you can come with me. You’ll be a help to me in this investigation. Now settle down to work, all of you, and if you work well I’ll ask Brehon MacClancy to arrange a hurling match between the Cahermacnaghten and the MacClancy law schools.’
‘Can we do some investigating too?’ asked Moylan.
‘It’s not fair if Fachtnan gets a chance and we don’t,’ said Enda.
‘Fachtnan is three years older than you are,’ said Mara coldly. ‘Now, Enda, that’s enough. And,’ she added looking over his shoulder, ‘if you can’t produce a better script than that you can stay behind after school and rewrite it.’
Then she turned her back on him and sat down beside Fachtnan. His Latin was still a little weak, but he was such a hard-working, pleasant boy with a very mature understanding of people that she was willing to put a lot of effort into helping him to pass his final examinations next year. He would make a good Brehon, she thought.
‘It’s interesting, isn’t it?’ he said thoughtfully after he had struggled through the first translation. ‘It’s interesting how very different their laws are to ours. This case here of the woman who was sentenced to be burned to death, tied to a stake …’ He stopped and took a deep breath. ‘That’s absolutely terrible,’ he said. ‘She was to be burned because her husband sued the court
for that sentence to be passed … and all she had done was take a lover secretly. It counts as treason – petty treason – in England if a woman deceives her husband! Why didn’t he just divorce her if he was that worried about it?’
for that sentence to be passed … and all she had done was take a lover secretly. It counts as treason – petty treason – in England if a woman deceives her husband! Why didn’t he just divorce her if he was that worried about it?’
‘They don’t have divorce in England,’ said Mara. ‘I suppose because the eldest son always inherits the land and property that it is important for a man to be certain of who is his son. This man is an earl and he would have great lands and possessions.’
‘Whereas here in Ireland,’ said Fachtnan, ‘any son that is recognized by his father gets a share whether it is a son of a formal marriage, or not. I don’t think that I would like England very much,’ he added. ‘See this case of the homeless boy who was sentenced to death because he stole a hen. Here he would be called “a fox of a cooking pot” and it would be no offence for him to steal food to keep himself alive. In fact, it would be an offence not to give a boy like that hospitality if he asked for it. And look at this,’ he said, pointing a grubby fingernail at another paragraph in the document. ‘You can be sentenced to death for any theft of goods worth more than a … What’s that word?’
‘That would be a shilling in English,’ said Mara. ‘Have you heard of a groat?’ she asked, guessing that he would not have heard of a shilling. ‘A shilling would be worth three groats.’
Fachtnan was shaking his head. ‘No, I’ve never heard of a groat, but I’ve seen a penny once,’ he said. He would have little knowledge of coinage, thought Mara. Although the law texts spoke glibly about ounces of silver, most fines were paid with cows, calves or heifers – more trivial ones were paid with chickens, eggs, or even pots of honey. Gaelic Ireland was very different to Tudor England. This was a society based on small communities who all knew each other and who bartered goods to supply their needs.
‘And look at that case,’ continued Fachtnan. ‘A woman was branded on the cheek, just like an animal …’
‘Enda,’ said Mara wearily, seeing from the corner of her eye a
blob of soot-black ink being flicked from the end of a quill, ‘this is your last warning. If I have to speak to you again you will stay in after school. And that goes for you, Moylan, as well,’ she added, seeing Moylan slide his penknife back into his pouch. There was a new cut on the desk in front of him, but she decided to ignore it. It was a time-honoured custom for the scholars to cut names and complaints into the desks. Everyone did it sooner or later. She decided to devote another few minutes to Latin and then to discuss the case. After all, the scholars were there not just to learn the laws and to study Latin, but also to learn from her handling of cases. She left Fachtnan to struggle on by himself and went to sit in front of the schoolroom. She would have to ensure that there was no more bad behaviour, or else she had to keep her word about the threatened detention. She didn’t want to do that. The sky was clearing and a few hours running around after school would do them all good.
blob of soot-black ink being flicked from the end of a quill, ‘this is your last warning. If I have to speak to you again you will stay in after school. And that goes for you, Moylan, as well,’ she added, seeing Moylan slide his penknife back into his pouch. There was a new cut on the desk in front of him, but she decided to ignore it. It was a time-honoured custom for the scholars to cut names and complaints into the desks. Everyone did it sooner or later. She decided to devote another few minutes to Latin and then to discuss the case. After all, the scholars were there not just to learn the laws and to study Latin, but also to learn from her handling of cases. She left Fachtnan to struggle on by himself and went to sit in front of the schoolroom. She would have to ensure that there was no more bad behaviour, or else she had to keep her word about the threatened detention. She didn’t want to do that. The sky was clearing and a few hours running around after school would do them all good.
‘Put away your work now and let’s discuss the case,’ she said after a silence had ensued for at least ten minutes and sufficient work had been done by all of the scholars. She waited until they had all resumed their seats and then continued. ‘We have two questions to solve here: first, who had the opportunity to murder, and, secondly, who had a motive to murder Colman?’
‘Everyone wanted to murder him,’ muttered Enda and then looked ashamed. She understood his embarrassment. It still did not seem real that Colman, who had lived here at the law school for fourteen years, was the victim that they were discussing.
‘What are the usual motives for murder?’ she asked.
‘Revenge, a wish for gain, anger, fear,’ said Shane promptly. ‘That’s in one of the wisdom texts,’ he added.
‘The murderer could be Fachtnan,’ suggested Aidan hopefully.
‘After all, he might become a master at the law school here now that Colman is gone. That would be a wish for gain.’
‘Yes, but I had no opportunity,’ said Fachtnan tolerantly. ‘I was with you four all the time.’
‘What about Roderic?’ suggested Enda, his eyes bright and alert. ‘He wants to marry Emer; everyone knows that. If Colman is dead, then Daniel might allow them to get married.’
‘Yes, that’s who it was,’ said Aidan enthusiastically. ‘She would definitely want to marry Roderic. Everyone knows that she has …’ He stopped, obviously trying to put Emer’s feelings for Roderic into words that Mara would accept, but that would not sound too sentimental.
‘Did he have opportunity?’ asked Mara, looking at the board for the horn symbol.
‘Yes,’ said Enda, coming out and pointing. ‘He was there with Emer. They could both have done it. And I heard him say that King Turlough had offered him a position at court, so, if Colman were out of the way, he would be able to pay the bride price soon.
‘Any other suspects?’ asked Mara. He was right, of course, Roderic had motive and opportunity; yet, somehow, she didn’t think he was the type. And, of course, he had been with Emer all the evening. Would she have condoned a murder?
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