‘God be with you,’ she said courteously, wondering all the while what had brought Cuan away from all the luxuries of his father’s house back to the miserable place where he had almost starved.
Cuan made no reply, or at least none except an inarticulate grunt and Mara was about to call him to her when she saw the traces of tears on the smeared cheeks of the young man. She hesitated and then dismounted and walked into the farmyard, carefully hitching up her
léine
and her gown so that they would not be smeared by the liquid dung.
‘Could I sit down for a few minutes?’ she asked and then as the young man did not reply, she added meekly, ‘I’d like a little rest.’
Cuan said nothing for a moment and then he turned and went into the cabin and came back with a three-legged stool.
‘You can rest on that,’ he said. ‘It’s better out here than in the house. It’s very dirty and dark in there.’
‘Won’t you sit down yourself?’ asked Mara lowering herself cautiously onto the unstable seat.
‘I’ve only got one stool,’ said the young man. ‘I made that myself,’ he added contemplating with pride the ungainly piece of furniture.
‘Not an easy thing to do, unless you have been brought up to it,’ commented Mara gently.
‘I wasn’t brought up to do anything,’ said Cuan miserably, ‘that’s the trouble – I can’t do anything.’
‘How old are you, Cuan?’ asked Mara.
‘Seventeen, I’ll be eighteen next month,’ he said looking puzzled.
‘I see.’ Mara thought for a moment. ‘And you were sent to live on this farm a year ago. Was that before your birthday or after it?’
‘I can’t remember,’ said Cuan miserably.
‘Can you remember
Samhain
last year?’ asked Mara
shrewdly. ‘Surely you can remember the bonfires. Were you up here then, or down at the castle?’
Cuan shook his head. ‘I can only remember that it was cold and wet and I didn’t know what to do with the cows. I’m no good at doing anything like that.’
‘You’re a rich man now; you don’t really need to do anything. You can just enjoy yourself.’ Mara made her voice sound encouraging though inwardly she was annoyed that he couldn’t remember the date of his banishment. A child of five would remember his birthday, she thought with a mild irritation.
And then Cuan burst into a torrent of weeping. He cried like a child, with great noisy gulps and sniffs, smearing his face with his grubby hands. Mara watched him in silence. She wanted to comfort him, but she also wanted to know what was troubling the lad so much so she sat quietly waiting and eventually the storm of weeping ceased. Still Mara said nothing but handed over a square of linen for the boy to wipe his face. The simple gesture of friendliness seemed to upset the boy even more and he broke down again, but this time he regained control more quickly and attempted an explanation.
‘I didn’t want him to die,’ he said, his voice still thick and choked up with the violence of the sobbing. ‘I just wanted to come home again and to please him. I didn’t want my father to die. I don’t know which of them killed him, but I didn’t want it to happen, not like that, not stung all over his face and neck. It was horrible. I can’t forget it.’
So someone does mourn Sorley after all, thought Mara, and by all the wonders, it is his neglected and abused son.
‘Which of them did do it, do you think?’ she asked, in an easy, conversational tone.’
‘I don’t know, do I,’ said the boy petulantly. ‘They were both always talking about it. Una said that she would get all the money, when father died, but she hasn’t so that has gone wrong. My mother was just the same, muttering that she would like to kill him. I don’t know what to think, but I don’t want to be blamed for anything, because I never told them to do it. I don’t want all that silver, only a little bit. I don’t want to be in charge of the mines. My mother keeps talking and talking to me and telling me what to do and trying to change me and I just came up here for a bit of peace and quiet.’
‘That’s the right thing to do,’ said Mara gently. ‘I always do that myself. When I want to get away from people and do some thinking, I just take my dog and go for a walk until my thoughts clear.’
Cuan looked at her with gratitude. I suppose people don’t often agree with him, or tell him he has done the right thing, thought Mara. She went on sitting there quietly, though conscious that time was passing and that the sun was getting lower in the sky all the time. She would give the lad all the time he needed, she decided. Already the few broken words had given her a very different picture of Deirdre to the one which Toin had painted for her. When everything was added up, the most likely murderer is the one who had the most to gain. But in this case, the one with the most to gain was, in mind at least, a broken-spirited child. She reached over and patted Cuan on the shoulder.
‘So what did you like best when you were at home with your father, when you were young?’ she asked softly.
Cuan looked surprised and then thought for a while. ‘Listening to music,’ he said eventually.
‘So, you are musical,’ said Mara thoughtfully. She glanced at the boy’s deformed right hand. No point in asking him whether he played a musical instrument.
‘Can you sing?’ she asked with a sudden inspiration.
The boy’s face lit up. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘would you like to hear me?’
As unselfconsciously as a bird he lifted his voice and sang, a melodic little ditty, popular at the time with the bards. His voice was not very strong, but it was true and very sweet. Mara listened appreciatively and prayed for the right words to come to her when the song had finished. When the last note had died away, she spoke with all the authority with which she delivered her judgements at Poulnabrone.
‘It would be a shame for a man with your musical talent to waste your time with mines and the silversmith business. Put your mother in charge of the mine. She is a clever woman; a competent woman and she will manage the business well. Put Daire in charge of the silversmith business. Let him recruit other young smiths. He will do that well for you. Pay him what he is worth; he will not let you down. When you have fixed all that up then go to the bard school at Finvarra and engage some musicians. Spend your days making music, perhaps writing songs. Be happy and enjoy your life. Don’t let others run your life for you.’
Cuan stood up. He looked bewildered, but already he held himself straighter. He could be quite a good-looking lad if he dressed himself and groomed himself the way other boys of her age did. His features were not as harsh or as
heavy as his sister’s. In fact, he did not resemble either his mother or his father in looks, or in character, thought Mara. She patted him on the shoulder again, made her way towards the gate. Sheedy would have to wait, she thought. Turlough might well have arrived; he and Toin would be wondering what had kept her. When she reached the pathway she turned back and called out, ‘Cuan,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Cuan.
‘Get yourself a comb. Musicians always look well dressed and well groomed.’
‘I will,’ said Cuan fervently. ‘I think I’ll ask Toin. I was thinking of talking to him about the bard school at Finvarra. I know he goes there sometimes. Toin is very fond of music. He will advise me. He is always very kind to me.’
Mara paused. Would it be fair to burden Toin with this lad? On the other hand the boy was quiet and unassuming and it might prove a distraction.
‘Why don’t you come down with me, now,’ she said. ‘I’m going to see Toin just now.’
‘May I?’ he asked the question in such a childlike way that she was touched. ‘You can ride, I’ll trot,’ he said. ‘I am a very good runner,’ he boasted.
He was light and lissom, thought Mara, as she watched him run along the path beside her mare. He seemed to be enjoying the exercise so she did not rein in the mare until they came to the flat path outside the church of Rathborney. She stopped there and allowed him to catch his breath.
‘Oh, by the way, Cuan,’ she said casually. ‘I was going to ask you about Father David’s burial service. You came in a bit late, didn’t you? I wondered if someone delayed you.’
‘I was just talking to the son of Cathal the sea captain,’ he said earnestly, looking at her with the touching faith only shown by the very young, or the very naive. ‘I was asking him if he had managed to find the silverware. He had been diving for it; I heard that. He said he hadn’t managed to find it yet, and then he started telling me about sea voyages that he had taken to places like Spain. We stayed there talking until he realized that the bell had stopped tolling.’
They were all at the window when Mara handed her horse to a waiting servant at the gate. Toin came to the door himself.
‘Cuan,’ he said with surprise.
Mara opened the little wicket gate to the inner garden and pushed the lad inside. ‘Cuan would like some advice from you, Toin,’ she said, as she walked up the garden path, making sure that the embarrassed boy was ahead of her. ‘He would like to be a singer, not go into the silversmith or the mining business. He sings well. He just needs to employ a good musician for a bard, some lute player perhaps and he could have a fine life there in Newtown Castle. I think that he needs the sort of clothes and grooming that a musician would have so I brought him for you to advise him.’
Toin did not hesitate. ‘I would be honoured,’ he said. ‘Come indoors and we will talk it over. My manservant would like to have a handsome young man instead of a decrepit old one to work with.’ With a quick glance that was as effective as any barked order, Toin made eye contact with Tomas who came forward, bowed before Cuan and swept him out of the small hallway.
‘Come inside,’ said Toin to Mara. ‘The king has been waiting eagerly for you.’
Mara followed him into the warm room richly furnished with polished oak furniture and hung with tapestries sewn in rich colours. Malachy was sitting over by the fire, Nuala was at the window and Turlough had just jumped up from his chair.
‘Just in time for supper,’ said Turlough greeting her with a hearty kiss. ‘Tell her what we’ve planned, Toin.’
‘We’ve sent over to Cahermacnaghten to say that you’ll be staying the night, Brehon.’ Toin’s voice was amused.
‘Oh, am I?’ said Mara, raising her eyebrows.
‘Don’t look at me,’ said Turlough innocently. ‘Nothing to do with me; it’s Toin’s stableman that has gone galloping off.’
‘If you stay, we’ll stay,’ said Nuala eagerly. ‘Would you like to see your room? I’ve just been up there making sure that everything is all right. Would you like me to take you up there?’
‘I’ll do that, Nuala. You have a patient to look after, remember, isn’t that right, Malachy?’ Turlough took Mara’s arm and steered her towards the stairs. ‘Herself and Toin have been talking about physician schools and herbal remedies of the last hour. It’s time she did a bit of nursing now.’
‘She’s doing me out of a job,’ said Malachy with an indulgent smile. ‘Toin tells me that he feels much better with her than with me.’
‘So what’s your business with Toin?’ asked Mara as soon as the door closed behind the two of them.
He didn’t answer immediately, just crossed over and sat on the bed and she went to join him, slipping her hand into
his. He looked a little embarrassed, she thought, and it was a minute before he spoke.
‘Well, you see the last time that I was here I was telling Toin what a fool I was to have fallen into Sorley’s hands, by guaranteeing Ulick’s loan. I was a fool, I know that.’ His voice was rueful.
‘I know,’ said Mara. ‘I saw your signature on that document among the scrolls in Sorley’s chest. And witnessed by that Galway lawyer! Didn’t you have the sense to ask Sean Mac Flannchadha to have a look at it for you? Or me, why didn’t you ask me?’
‘I just wanted to get it over and done with and put Ulick’s mind at rest. I was so sorry for the poor fellow,’ he said uncomfortably.
‘But didn’t you understand what interest was?’ queried Mara with an exasperated look. ‘He was charging very high interest: twenty marks for every hundred that Ulick borrowed from him. You do understand, don’t you, that if, as I imagine, Ulick could not pay the interest, you were making yourself responsible for it?’
‘He did mention something about interest,’ confessed Turlough, ‘but I didn’t understand; I thought it was a bit like our system of making a man a client by giving him a gift. I thought that he might want my protection, something like that …’ His voice trailed away.
‘It’s a good job that I’m marrying you,’ said Mara fondly. ‘You need looking after.’
‘Yes, but listen.’ Turlough’s face was beaming now. ‘Toin has promised that I need not worry about it any longer. He’s going to look after everything for me. All my troubles are over now!’
‘I think in future we can manage without this. If you want silver, ask me. Half the time I don’t know what to do with the fees I get for the scholars. I go to Galway in summer and buy gowns for Sorcha and for the children, or give her money for goods that she wants for the house, but I could always lend you some. Still,’ she relented, seeing his disappointed face, ‘I suppose if you have to owe silver to someone, Toin would be a nicer person to be in debt to than Sorley. Now let me just comb my hair and wash my hands and face and then let’s go down to supper. I like that smell.’