Chain of Evidence (15 page)

‘Office of
taoiseach
,’ said Aidan said instantly.

‘Inherited by Jarlath,’ said Aidan. ‘But . . .’

‘Let’s finish this category,’ said Hugh with unusual firmness.

‘Personal wealth,’ said Moylan with an interrogatory glance at Mara.

‘Fairly considerable,’ said Mara. ‘There’s his rental for a start: his tributes bring in about fourteen pieces of silver or its equivalent in cows, leather, wool or food stuff, from each of his sixty tenants.’ She had always been open and honest with her scholars and relied on their oath which they took at the beginning of Michaelmas term every year to keep secret any knowledge they had of the affairs of the people of the kingdom. Ignoring Moylan’s exclamation about the worth of eight hundred cows if Garrett chose to be paid like that, she picked out a small key from her pouch, unlocked the large wooden press in the corner of the room, took down a box labelled ‘MACNAMARA’ and carried it back over to her table. The will had been made four years ago and she doubted that any of her scholars would remember it. Four years was a lifetime at that age.

‘Garrett’s will leaves to his wife Slaney the entire contents of his castle. This was fair enough,’ she explained when Moylan made a stifled exclamation of surprise. ‘The old lord, Garrett’s father, had allowed affairs to go to rack and ruin in the castle. There was very little furniture and what was there was mostly ruined by beetles and by damp – no hangings, no curtains, nothing that is there now. Garrett and Slaney made that castle what it is and I did feel that it was quite fair that he should bequeath its contents to her.’

‘And what about the merchant sailing business?’ enquired Moylan. ‘Jarlath told me that Garrett owned half of the ships. Will those be Slaney’s also?’

‘There’s no mention of them in the will,’ said Mara with a slight frown and then she nodded in a slightly exasperated manner. ‘How could I have forgotten?’ Quickly she found another scroll and opened it. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘the old lord left an equal
portion of his ships between the two brothers with the proviso that if one brother died the whole was to revert to the surviving brother. That means that Jarlath inherits Garrett’s ships. I seem to remember that he had some notion that a woman would not be able to run the business, so a widow with a young son—’

‘You shouldn’t have allowed him to make a will like that; it’s not fair to the widow,’ said Fiona fiercely, while Moylan, used from his earliest days of being under the rule of a woman in a man’s world, looked at her with an ironic smile.

‘A lawyer is the mouthpiece of the client,’ said Mara, but she understood what Fiona meant. Slaney, she thought, would have been a better merchant than Garrett who was irresolute and disorganised. Still the woman had enough left to her as it was. Thoughtfully Mara’s eyes went to the words on the board. Greed, she thought. Yes, that would be a feature of Slaney’s character. A lot of the trouble between Garrett and his clansmen originated from his wife because Slaney was continually urging him to demand more in the way of tribute from the men who held farms under him.

‘So write up Slaney’s name under “greed”,’ ordered Moylan. ‘Everyone agrees, don’t they?’ He gave a perfunctory glance around at his fellow scholars before going on.

‘What about Jarlath? Do we put him up under that heading, too? After all he could have reasoned that if he murdered Garrett, then he would be
taoiseach
.’

‘He turned it down, birdbrain,’ said Fiona hotly.

Moylan shrugged. ‘That doesn’t say anything. I might
desperately
want yet another one of Brigid’s honey cakes, but then when I got it, I might find that I was too full after all. He changed his mind. So? In any case he has inherited all those ships and they bring in quite a sum, I’d say.’

‘I still think it’s wrong to write Jarlath’s name,’ said Fiona emphatically. ‘I think that a man who turned down the
position
of
taoiseach
is a man that silver doesn’t matter that much to. In order to murder someone out of greed you need to be the sort of person who covets and lusts after possessions.’

A good point, thought Mara, but she said nothing. She tried to stay out of these discussions as much as possible and allow her scholars to argue the case amongst themselves. This was an important facet of her teaching.

‘I agree with Fiona,’ said Shane.

‘Let’s have a show of hands; all those in favour of adding Jarlath’s name to the list under “greed” please raise your right hand.’ Moylan looked around in a challenging fashion. Aidan responded instantly and, after a moment, so did Hugh.

‘I think he is a possibility,’ he said with an apologetic glance at Shane. ‘I was thinking that he might have done the deed, thinking that no one would ever reckon it to be anything other than a terrible accident, and then when he realised that the Brehon was taking the matter seriously and had not allowed the body to be buried until a physician had the opportunity to examine it, well –’ Hugh spread his hands in a deprecatory fashion – ‘he just might have panicked and declared that he did not want the office of
taoiseach
– he might give quite a good explanation about it, about liking the sea and things like that and might appear in company as though a weight had been taken off his shoulders, but that might not be the whole truth; he may just have panicked. After all if he killed his own brother it wouldn’t be just a case of a fine to be paid. It would be classed as
fingal
and that is a terrible end for any one in their sane senses.’

‘That’s true,’ said Shane. ‘Funnily enough I was explaining about
fingal
to Stephen Gardiner. I was telling him about how a man who has murdered someone of his blood – a father or brother – then he is banished from the kingdom and set adrift on the ocean in a boat with no oars. He was laughing at that and saying he didn’t think it much of a punishment and that in England anyone who committed a crime like that would be hanged, then while he was still alive would be cut down and his entrails and private parts stuffed into his mouth and that he would die in agony,’ finished Shane airily as Moylan eyed Fiona teasingly to see whether she was embarrassed.

‘In fact,’ went on Shane, ‘Stephen Gardiner was saying to Jarlath that soon English law would be in Ireland and then penalties like that would be happening, here. Funny, really, because he’s not stupid, Stephen Gardiner, but he really does seem to think that it would be a great advance for Ireland if English law were to prevail.’ He smiled in the superior fashion of one who was calmly sure of his own intelligence and judgement.

‘What did Jarlath say?’ enquired Hugh with interest.

‘He said that to die a slow death from thirst adrift on the sea would be worse than any other punishment, including hanging, drawing and quartering,’ said Shane, thoughtfully. ‘That’s why I’ve changed my vote. He sounded very genuine when he said it. There was a sort of sound of horror in his voice at the notion if being accused of
fingal
.’

‘So you’re out-voted, Fiona, put Jarlath’s name under “greed”, young Hugh,’ said Moylan briskly and Hugh wrote the letters neatly.

‘Anger?’ he queried.

‘The funny thing is that we could put Slaney there, as well,’ said Fiona. ‘I was telling you, wasn’t I, how Rhona overheard them quarrelling and how something like a stool had been thrown at Garrett. Perhaps Slaney hit him so hard over the head that she killed him and then she dragged his body out and then threw it down the hill right onto the road in front of the stampeding cattle. What do you think, Brehon?’

‘I think that you’ve made the point well, Fiona, and there is no reason why one name should not appear under two categories. Most people have mixed motives for their actions.’ Mara thought briefly about Rhona, but opportunity was lacking so she did not waste much time in her thoughts and waited for her scholars to give their suspects.

‘What about Rhona and Peadar – they’ve both got motives which would put them in the “greed” category – or, at least, Peadar has,’ said Shane as if he read her thoughts and the others stared at him.

‘They were on top of the mountain and came home with us, birdbrain,’ exclaimed Moylan spacing out his words and speaking as though to one who was half-witted.

Mara frowned at him. She disliked this habit of scornful abuse and words like ‘birdbrain’, but Shane did not appear bothered. He had a quiet confidence in his own brains and ability and took little notice of Moylan’s airs of superiority.

‘We haven’t moved onto “opportunity” yet,’ said Hugh, backing up his friend and looking enquiringly at Mara.

‘Does everyone agree that Rhona and Peadar should be entered under “greed” for the moment?’ she asked and all heads nodded. ‘I’ve thought of a couple for “anger or revenge”,’ she continued. ‘There was Maol, the steward – he told me that Garrett was threatening to remove him from his position and there was also Brennan the cowman who had already, according to Jarlath, been dismissed. Do you all agree that Hugh should write up those names?’ she asked politely, biting back a smile as heads were eagerly and vigorously nodded.

‘Brennan the cowman is a particularly good one,’ said Aidan enthusiastically. ‘He’d know all about cows and he’d know how quickly they would run and everything about them. I heard someone say, when we were on the mountain for the Bealtaine celebrations, that the MacNamara had made a terrible mistake to dismiss him – “he’ll rue it all his born days”, that’s what Lorcan was saying.’

‘Any names for the “fear” column?’ asked Shane.

‘Don’t think anyone would really fear him, would they? He was a bit of a fool, really, wasn’t he?’ said Aidan looking from face to face and then adding hastily, ‘not that I wish to speak evil of the dead, or anything . . .’

‘I think,’ said Mara rising to her feet, ‘that we have done as much as we can usefully do at the moment. Fachtnan, would you ask Brigid if you can all have an early lunch and then we’ll be ready to go up to Carron in the afternoon.’

She concealed a smile until they had disappeared through the doorway. Garrett MacNamara had been a pompous man with an inflated idea of his own importance, but he had not deceived her scholars. They knew him for what he was: a man of straw. But why had he been killed, murdered, if Ardal was right? She wiped the names from the board with the damp sponge that lay in front of it and then went to talk to Cumhal. If anyone could tell her about a cowman, it would be her farm manager.

‘He’s a slow sort of man, Brehon. Got something wrong with his speech – his tongue doesn’t seem to be hung in the right place and he’s got a strange lip – split in the middle – more like the lip of a hare, than the lip of a human,’ said Cumhal. ‘You can’t beat him with cows, though,’ he added. ‘The beasts seem to trust him. He’s saved the MacNamara
taoiseach
a power of silver. Not a calf lost during all his time and then what does my lord do? Only turned him off because he interrupted the
ban tighernae
,
the MacNamara’s wife, when she was telling him what to do with the cows. Telling him! Her! I ask you!’ said Cumhal with a snort of laughter.

‘Would he bear a grudge, this man, Brennan, what do you think, Cumhal?’ asked Mara, her tone light and her eye fixed on the apple tree overhead. It was interesting, she thought, that Cumhal had given one explanation for Brennan’s dismissal and Jarlath another. She reached up her hand and felt for the tiny hard embryonic apple inside the faded blossom. The harvest this year would not be good with this severe weather in April and May, but the orchard at Cahermacnaghten law school was very sheltered by the twenty-foot wall all around it so she could hope that there would be the usual abundance of apples for their festival of
Samhain
at the end of October. Her scholars always celebrated that feast day with vim and Brigid turned out a wonderful supper with a groaning table laden with the fruits of the season. Four great feast days in the Celtic year and now one of them was marred by a possible murder, she thought as she waited for her farm manager to reply.

Cumhal paused. His face bore the look of one who had been checked mid-stream. The strange death of Garrett MacNamara under the feet of the cows would, he knew, have to be accounted for by his mistress.

‘I couldn’t tell you, Brehon,’ he said carefully. ‘I suppose any man would regret leaving a job that he did well. In fact, you could have a word with Brennan now if you wish. I’ve given him a few days’ work since we are busy with calving. I meant to mention it to you, but you were busy – a man with small children . . .’

‘I’m glad you did,’ said Mara decisively. ‘And you know I always trust you to do what is best. Hire whom you will and whenever you need help.’ Cumhal, in fact, took the whole management of the lands left to her in her father’s will, onto his own shoulders. She had no wish to be consulted about any part of his work which he did so efficiently.

‘I’ll fetch him to you.’ Cumhal was a man of few words and Mara waited by the apple tree. She had handed her scholars over to Brigid for a nourishing snack and told Moylan that in the absence of Fachtnan that he was in charge and could permit the scholars to have a half-hour break with a game of hurling if they wished.

In a moment Cumhal was back with a tall broad-shouldered man. His face, with its heavy jowls, was quite pleasant with its apple-coloured cheeks and shrewd blue eyes, but was marred by the strange mouth with its split upper lip. Mara went to meet him.

‘Thank you for helping us, Brennan,’ she said. ‘Cumhal tells me that you are an excellent cattleman so I hope that you can stay for as long as he needs you.’

‘Oh, aye,’ he said. A man of few words, she thought and wondered how much he could understand.

‘How long have you worked as a cattleman for the MacNamara?’ she asked, deciding to confine her conversation to cattle as much as possible.

‘Ole lor,’ he said, forcing the words out.

‘And you worked for his father before him,’ Mara nodded her head. Garrett’s father was always known as the ‘old lord’. Brennan looked about thirty, she thought, though it was difficult to be sure. ‘About twenty years?’ she hazarded.