Chain of Evidence (29 page)

Read Chain of Evidence Online

Authors: Cora Harrison

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective

Mara smiled. It was good to know that the members of her law school had such faith in her, but she thought wryly that Cumhal may have known better. He, like Brigid, would have remembered the ancient tales of Creevagh, the place of the branches.

‘And when you got back to Rathborney . . . Fachtnan went back with you, of course . . .’ Mara said gently, eyeing the flush that came to Nuala’s cheeks. The colour suited her olive skin and brown eyes and Mara smiled appreciatively. Fiona, of course, was extremely pretty, but Nuala, in some moods, was beautiful. She could imagine the rest of Nuala’s story. She and Fachtnan would have worked together – as they had done in the past. Nuala would have been totally involved in saving a life, easing pain and Fachtnan would have been observing her, his boyish love for her reawakening and . . .

‘You’re beginning to guess, aren’t you?’ Nuala said now, her red lips parting over strong white teeth.

‘Tell me,’ said Mara and Nuala threw her arms around her.

‘Fachtnan asked me to marry him,’ she said in Mara’s ear and then straightened herself in a slightly embarrassed way as there was a perfunctory knock on the door and Brigid came in with a wooden platter and mug of milk.

‘Oh, Brigid, toasted goat’s cheese, how lovely,’ said Mara. She didn’t think she could possibly eat it, but she wanted to give Nuala a moment to recover.

Brigid, however, was not deceived. She put down the mug and the platter on a small table by the bed, but never took her eyes from Nuala.

‘Don’t tell me . . . he . . .’ She began and then took the girl by the hands, pulling her close and then suddenly hugging her. Nuala returned the embrace whole-heartedly.

‘I’m betrothed, Brigid,’ she said happily. ‘Fachtnan has asked me to marry him.’

‘And about time too,’ said Brigid severely, stroking the glossy black hair with a gentle hand. ‘Prettiest girl in the kingdom. If I haven’t said that to Cumhal again and again . . . And how’s the Brehon, this morning.’ She looked intently at Mara and said firmly, ‘I’m keeping you in bed all day today. You’ve got black circles under your eyes and you’re as white a bowl of whey. Fachtnan can tear himself away from Nuala and take over the teaching today. Moylan and Aidan are still in bed and I’ll let them have their sleep. Hugh and Shane are having their breakfast with Fiona who’s in a sulk about missing all the excitement. Aidan was in a state last night when he couldn’t find the O’Lochlainn, Brehon.’

‘It all worked out for the best,’ said Mara firmly. ‘I must see Aidan and tell him that. When it came to it, Cumhal and his men managed much better and kept everything under my control.’

‘You do look pale; you stay in bed as Brigid says,’ said Nuala looking at her with her physician’s expression. ‘I’ll tell Fachtnan to give your message to Aidan. I heard him –’ again she flushed prettily – ‘I heard him telling the two boys last night how well they had acted. Fachtnan –’ her voice lingered fondly over the name – ‘always remembers to say the right thing. I must think of that with Peadar and my pupils to come; praise them for what they do right. Now I’d better get back. That hand will be all right for a few hours, Mara. Just don’t use it. Brigid, you keep her in bed.’

Mara did not argue as they both went out. Let Fachtnan manage the five scholars for the day. She would endeavour to eat as much of her breakfast as she could swallow – the blackbirds and finches outside her window would relish the rest of it, she thought as she struggled into a warm gown. At least the rain had stopped, she saw, as she went to the window with the pieces of bread. She opened the casement and placed the goat’s cheese and bread on the sill. Brigid and Nuala were walking down the road together. Brigid was talking animatedly and the words ‘midsummer wedding in the Brehon’s garden when all the roses and lilies are out,’ floated up to Mara. She smiled to herself and then sighed.

Before this happy event could take place, the case of the secret and unlawful killing of Garrett MacNamara had to be drawn to a conclusion, his killer accused and a fine imposed.

‘Cumhal,’ she called from the window. ‘Saddle my horse, would you, and bring it around to my front gate. And Cumhal, could you accompany me and bring Eoin and a couple of the other men with you. We must go up to Carron. I have business at the castle.’

Mara remained alone with the woman; that was her choice. She had sent the reluctant Cumhal and his workers to accompany Tomás on his journey to see his king. There he would have to confess his involvement in the strange deeds at Creevagh and to await his judgement. It would be for Turlough to decide whether this man could now be deemed to be fit for such a high office as
taoiseach
of the MacNamara clan.

After they had left there was a long silence. Eventually Mara spoke, just making the simple accusation and then sitting back, curious to know what would be the response.

It came immediately. A resourceful woman! A hearty laugh and then the words followed fluently.

‘I’m surprised at you, Brehon. How could you go so far wrong? Surely you can see now that it was a plot – nothing to do with me. In fact, if you want to know the truth, you made a great mistake when you allowed Stephen Gardiner to slip through your fingers.’

‘Tell me about it,’ invited Mara. She took another sip from Nuala’s flask and sat back. Let the woman talk; the truth would prevail, sentence would be passed and justice would be done.

‘He knew that the cattle raid would take place; you guessed that, I suppose.’

Mara nodded and took another sip. ‘The murder is my concern at the moment,’ she said. ‘O’Donnell has been punished and I don’t think he will be coming this way soon again.’ She eyed the woman with interest. ‘But why should Stephen Gardiner kill Garrett MacNamara? And how did he do it? Tell me that,’ she asked.

There was a moment’s silence. ‘He had a weapon, a tool. He used the cowman, Brennan.’

‘That is unworthy of you,’ said Mara gently. ‘And not very clever. How could Stephen Gardiner communicate with Brennan? The man speaks no English and only imperfect Gaelic. It was true, however, that the murderer had an accomplice—’

‘Not Jarlath.’ The words spurted out.

‘Not Jarlath,’ agreed Mara. There had been a time when she had puzzled over Jarlath’s role. There was the affair of the sweets laced with cowbane – it had never really been established whether he had a hand in that. Mara had tried to see how there could have been a buried connection, a partnership of interests between him and Stephen Gardiner – after all, Jarlath had been the main beneficiary from Garrett’s death, but Fiona’s argument had prevailed. A man who threw away half of his inheritance was not a man who would murder for greed.

‘No, of course, not – you had fixed on Slaney, hadn’t you? But now that she may die, you are moving the guilt to my shoulders. You want to have your victim in court, don’t you? You needn’t tell me that you don’t enjoy standing up there at Poulnabrone and dictating to all those men.’ The voice was harsh now – a woman fighting for her future and her happiness – and for her son.

‘I considered Slaney, naturally. Garrett’s will has left her a rich woman and of course someone like Slaney would find it hard to suffer the insult of another woman being taken into the household and a son, not of her making, being set up as the heir.’ The denial of the existence of the chain had focussed the thoughts of the law school on Slaney, but in the end Mara saw it had probably just been a matter of stubbornness on Slaney’s part and frightened lies from the servants. The tale of the violent quarrel between Garrett and Slaney had come from one source only.

It had been a difficult case, acknowledged Mara. There had been a time when she had certainly considered whether there were international links to this murder, but, of course, in the end, it had come down to something far more simple: the overwhelming love of a mother for her son. Cait, of course, had been Stephen Gardiner’s willing tool in the matter of drugging the mead. The vision of her beautiful son with the title of Lord Mount Carron, and an estate to go with it, was a bribe that could not be resisted by her.

And mother love, also, in a very different woman, had resulted in a more serious crime: the secret and unlawful killing of Garrett MacNamara.

‘When I spoke of an accomplice,’ she said softly, ‘I did not mean a human one. You kept your own counsel and trusted no one. I’m sure that you have been in the habit of doing this. No, your accomplice was a dumb animal, a bull.’

Rhona froze. Her grey eyes widened and she sat very still.

‘You were used to cattle; you told me that. You were the only child of a cattle dealer.’ Mara looked up at the powerful woman. Large hands, heavy muscular arms, wide shoulders, she had probably done a man’s work from a young age. ‘I thought that there was a connection between the cattle racing out of the barn to join the herd, but originally I had not thought of the bull,’ she said. Her mind went to Setanta’s story about how her little villain, Cormac, had placed the cat on the sheep’s neck, set the whole field running and excited the sheep awaiting sheering to burst out from the cabin at the top of the field.

‘I’m used to bulls,’ said Rhona indifferently. ‘You have to show them who is in charge and they usually accept that. They are stupid animals.’

‘Takes a bit of courage, though, to do what you did,’ said Mara admiringly. ‘I presume that Garrett was dead when you dragged him into the bull’s cabin. You found the chain in there, of course. There would always be a few spare chains in places like that. You guessed that there was going to be a cattle raid; perhaps got the information from one of the men on the boat. They would not have guarded their tongues with a woman from Scotland.’

‘Do you know how I did it; how I attached Garrett to the bull?’ Rhona looked at her with a half smile.

‘I’ve had many hours trying to work that out,’ admitted Mara, ‘but eventually I thought that you must have used something like a piece of wood, or a piece of twine, something that would snap eventually as the bull crashed down onto the road. That cabin is not too far above the road, but the hillside is very steep there.’ She thought back and remembered the broken gorse bush. That was probably where the maddened creature shed its load.

‘It was easy, really. The farmers use a small bar of iron to thread through the chain to a hasp on the wall; I looped the chain around Garrett’s ankle and then attached it to the ring through the bull’s nose, but I just used a piece of wood, instead of iron. Then I released the first chain and when I went out I closed the door, but only slid the latch in less than an inch. They’re stupid creatures, bulls, and he probably thought he was still chained and locked inside the cabin – until he heard the noise of the herd and then, I knew, that he would make for the door, dragging the body with him.’

‘So Garrett was trampled underfoot while you were miles away on Mullaghmore Mountain. You pretended that you wanted to go back to Carron when I invited you to come home with me, but I suppose you were just bluffing. I thought afterwards that it was not within your character to bother about making friends with Slaney. In any case, I had already got the impression that you would not stay and become a second wife to Garrett once your son had been acknowledged and his rights established. And when I saw that you were already pregnant, well I knew that you never had any intention of doing that. Now,’ Mara’s voice sharpened, ‘tell me how, and why you killed Garrett.’

‘You tell me,’ said Rhona. She gave a glance around and deliberately got up, carried her chair and placed it close to the door. Mara eyed the powerful shoulders and the stony face, but she continued. The truth had to be known and then she would dictate what came next. Her throat was sore and her hand burned and throbbed but she allowed no weakness to appear. She knew what Rhona meant by having power over a bull if you believe in your own superiority. Her own life had shown Mara how to use this power.

‘When the maid servant spoke of seeing Garrett go up the stairs towards the main bedrooms in the middle of the day,’ she said in calm, unemotional tones, ‘we assumed that he was going to Slaney’s bedroom. You yourself reported hearing a fight between them, but of course that was not true. Garrett came to your bedroom. That is correct, isn’t it?’

Mara waited for a moment, but no answer came, so she continued, ‘I have to guess now, but I suspect that Garrett forced himself on you and when you refused his attempts at love-making he threatened to repudiate Peadar.’

‘He said that he would accuse Jarlath of being the father and then that would account for the likeness between himself and my son. After all, a boy can resemble an uncle almost as easily as a father,’ said Rhona dully. A heavy flush spread over her weather-beaten cheeks and Mara nodded understandingly. Peadar’s grin and remark about his mother came back to her. Rhona, she had thought, when she saw that sideways view of her on the edge of the hillside, was pregnant – probably with the child of a man back in Scotland. And, of course, the brehon in Scotland would have explained to her that her son’s inheritance would be safe once Garrett had acknowledged him in public.

‘You were not prepared to accept Garrett’s offer of a marriage in the second degree because you were already in another relationship,’ she said tolerantly.

‘But I wanted the boy to have his rights. He is Garrett’s son,’ said Rhona quickly. ‘My man, back in Scotland, he is just a poor fisherman. He could not give the boy the future that Peadar wanted.’ Her colour rose again. ‘I hit him over the head with a chair. I suppose that I could pretend that I didn’t want to kill him, but I did. I knew I would not be able to talk him around. He was a stupid and stubborn man and I was glad when I saw that there was no life left in him. I waited until everyone had gone into the hall for the midday meal. I was going to bury him, but then I thought of the cattle raid that would come in a few hours’ time. Garrett knew all about it and he told me that he was going to organise his own cattle to be shut up in the barn – he asked me to help him. He had to promise Stephen that he would not tell anyone, but he did not count me as anyone.’

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