Eye of the Law (28 page)

‘They were a long time there then.’ Mara felt even more puzzled. The Moher was a small field, enclosed with tall flagstones, and it would have taken Seán a good twenty minutes walk from the law school.

‘And, of course, with all that hee-hawing from Seán, the two of them came to the door then, but Cumhal had already seen what they had been up to.’

‘Up to?’ Mara put a note of query into her voice.

‘The son it was – the woman probably can’t read.’ Brigid injected a strong note of scorn into her voice before continuing dramatically. ‘And you’ll never guess, Brehon. He was looking through your books.’

‘Perhaps he got bored waiting.’ Mara was annoyed, though. ‘But I locked it,’ she said as memory came back to her. ‘I locked it before I went.’ These days, when the schoolhouse was not occupied that wooden press was always kept shut and securely fastened.

‘And so you did,’ said Brigid triumphantly. ‘I know you locked it because the first thing that I did after you all disappeared down the road was to give the schoolhouse a good clean out. I scrubbed the flagstones and then when they were dry I gave your table and the press a good polish. It was definitely locked. But I’ll tell you something else, Brehon, when Cumhal went into the schoolhouse after the two of them had gone, what do you think that he found?’ Brigid didn’t wait for a comment from Mara before finishing dramatically, ‘That very same key, that had been lying in your drawer, was left stuck in the keyhole of the press.’

‘Let’s go and have a look.’ Mara put down her milk and rose to her feet, all tiredness gone.

‘I knew you’d be furious.’ Brigid’s expression was torn between curiosity and concern. ‘Shouldn’t you go to bed though?’

‘Come on,’ said Mara, ‘let’s go and see what the lady was up to. If they took the key from the drawer then they must have been looking for something.’

‘And she took the son along so that he could do the reading for her. She can’t read; I’d wager you that, Brehon.’ Brigid’s voice held the scorn of one who, though she couldn’t read herself, worked for someone who had been able to read since the age of four.

I wonder could it be anything to do with Fachtnan, thought Mara as they both hurried along the road between the Brehon’s house and Cahermacnaghten. Caireen had seemed to be very interested in Fachtnan on that Sunday when they had all gone for dinner at Caherconnell. Perhaps she wanted to find out his marks in law examinations or something like that. The thought made her rigid with anger, but then she remembered that all documents to do with the scholars were locked up in a box with the Burren law judgements and the key to that box was in her own pouch.

The schoolhouse was dim with a small fire of banked turf just smouldering in the brazier. Brigid took a candle from a box on the window seat and thrust it into the small glow.

‘How lovely everything looks!’ Mara forced her voice to sound sincere in her praise. Brigid worked so hard and always treasured a few words of praise. In reality, though, Mara’s whole attention was focussed on the huge oaken press that took up much of the space against one wall. Mostly the doors were kept hooked back against the whitewashed walls, but before leaving for Aran she had closed and locked them, more to protect the precious books than for any reason of secrecy; all private documents were kept securely locked in the box.

‘Here’s the key. I put it back in the drawer.’ Brigid pulled out the large key and handed it to her.

‘Odd.’ Mara had unlocked the door and stood staring at the books. There they all stood, these large tomes, heavily bound in leather and bearing the sheen of the many hands that leafed through them on almost a daily basis. She knew the order in which they stood as well as she knew the placement of the different sized fingers on her own hand. Each scholar was trained into replacing a book back into its correct situation. Her eyes immediately went to the left hand side, but
Bretha Déin Chécht
, the book that dealt with matters of interest to a physician, had not been moved. She was sure of that. It was a week or so since that it had been consulted and an opportunistic spider had woven the first few strands of web between it and the top of the next shelf. There was one book that had been moved, though, and that had been replaced so carelessly that one of the leaves had been slightly twisted. Mara took it down from the shelf, automatically smoothing out the page. Its title was inscribed boldly on the spine of the book – there could have been no mistake.
Din Techtugad:
on legal entry. Why on earth were Caireen and her son, the medical apprentice, so interested in a book that dealt with the legal procedure for taking possession of a disputed property?

Mara was refreshed by her early night and was already in the schoolhouse when the scholars entered. She had thought of going over the duties and privileges of an over-lord, in order to reinforce what they had learned in Aran, but the discovery of last night had made her change her mind.

‘I think today, we’ll talk about
Techtugad
,’ she said. ‘Hugh, fetch down the right book for me, will you?’

He went straight to the shelf and she saw him give a slight start. The book had been left where it had been put when she was away and for a moment Hugh could not see it. She watched him carefully. Hugh had been in charge of keeping the press neat and tidy last week and he would instantly see if anything was amiss. He picked up the book, frowned hesitantly and his colour rose. He was a very sensitive boy, always anxious to do the right thing and to please, so she hastened to put him at ease.

‘It’s a bit of mystery,’ she said lightly. ‘Someone came into the schoolhouse when we were in Aran and took the key from my drawer and opened the press. Which book do you think this person looked at?’

‘
Din Techtugad
,’ said Hugh hesitantly, and she rewarded him with a beaming smile.

‘Well, done,’ she said. ‘A good piece of deduction. I also think that.’

‘It’s out of place, isn’t it?’ Aidan tried for his bit of glory and Mara didn’t disappoint him.

‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Now why would anyone come into my schoolhouse, open my press and take out
Din Techtugad
?’

‘Was he a lawyer?’ asked Enda alertly.

Mara shook her head. ‘No, he was a physician.’

‘But there is a lawyer coming across the yard just now.’ Aidan, as usual, was keeping an eye on the comings and goings out the window.

‘That’s Cavan, the fellow who used to be at MacClancy’s law school,’ said Moylan, twisting his body around and balancing precariously on two legs of his stool. ‘He used to be a great man with a hurley.’

‘He qualified as an
aigne
last year,’ supplemented Enda.

‘And went off to Thomond,’ added Fachtnan. ‘He’s about my age.’

‘Open the door, Shane,’ said Mara.

Large heavy footsteps sounded outside. It was obvious that this young
aigne
was coming to see her. Perhaps Turlough had sent him with a message, she thought.

Mara remembered the young man once he was inside the door. Quite a bright lad; she remembered Fergus MacClancy saying that he was sorry Cavan had not got a position in some household or as an assistant to some Brehon, but he had preferred to take a chance wandering the countryside and giving his services to any who needed them. She welcomed him and went through the usual greetings and enquiries.

‘So where are you living now, Cavan?’ she asked in the end.

‘Mostly in Arra and in Galway, Brehon.’ His voice was reserved and she wondered what had brought him here. He did not seem interested in his former opponents at the hurling matches that took place every few months between the MacClancy Law School in Corcomroe and the O’Davoren Law School in the Burren. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on her and ignored the scholars.

‘So you’re on your way over to see Brehon MacClancy,’ she continued, wishing that he had timed his arrival better. He should know that the boys would be hard at work at this hour of the morning, she thought impatiently. Presumably he came to impress them with his experiences and to talk over former days.

‘No, I came to see you, Brehon, on a private . . . well, a legal matter.’ He had said the words bluntly and she sensed unease within him.

‘A private matter?’ she queried. ‘Is it private to you, personally?’

Cavan shook his head. ‘No,’ he said.

‘Here’s Nuala,’ said Aidan suddenly.

On this occasion there had been little need for him to be gazing out of the window. The clatter of pony feet on the flagstoned yard had made every head turn.

A minute later the door was flung open and Nuala burst into the room.

‘So there you are.’ Her voice was quivering with fury. She marched straight up to the young
aigne
and stared aggressively into his face. ‘Why didn’t you tell me to my face and not sneak behind my back?’

Cavan blinked and then recovered. ‘Because your father is your legal guardian,’ he said in a voice that he strove to make authoritative.

Suddenly Mara understood everything, the surreptitious visit of Caireen and her son, Ronan; no doubt a plausible reason would have been found to consult
Din Techtugad
even if they had encountered a less gullible member of her household, the arrival of Cavan, a young
aigne
practising in Galway, in the same area as the dwelling place of Caireen and her sons. And then there was the relationship between Nuala’s benefactor, Toin, the man who had bequeathed his house and farm to the girl, and Caireen’s late husband; it all added up.

‘Sit down, Nuala,’ she said crisply. ‘Yes, sit down there beside Hugh. Just let me do the talking. Yes, Cavan, say what you’ve come to say.’

Cavan bowed respectfully. He had acquired a certain polish and self-assurance since she had last seen him on a muddy hurling field. Now he took a scroll from his leather satchel and unrolled it with a flourish.

‘On behalf of my
céile
, Ronan O’Luinin, I give notice, to you, Mara O’Davoren, Brehon of the Kingdom of the Burren, that my said
céile
, Ronan O’Luininn . . .’ He hesitated and then continued impatiently, ‘But, you know all the procedure, Brehon. There is no point in me going through it.’ He broke off, conscious of eight pairs of eyes fixed on him intently. A slight flush rose to his cheeks still marred by some late adolescent skin problems.

‘No, no.’ Mara’s voice was mild and judicial. ‘Let’s stick to the proper procedure. I never like to skip any of the correct legal process. Fachtnan, would you like to check? Hugh, give him
Din Techtugad
and Fachtnan, you can check, just in case my memory is defective. This is an important matter, and it is essential that all the steps be gone through correctly. You say that your client has already taken the first step. Tell us about it.’

‘The claimant, Ronan O’Luinin, has entered the property at Rathborney, formerly owned by Toin the
briuga
, declaring this property to be his by right of law, and relationship and he . . .’

‘He has crossed the boundary mound of the property, is that correct?’ interrupted Fachtnan.

Mara was surprised. This sharp cross-questioning sounded more like Enda than Fachtnan, she thought, but no doubt he was moved from his usual easy-going, amiable manner by the sight of Nuala’s eyes filled with tears.

‘He has gone through the entrance gate – the property does not possess a mound,’ retorted Cavan. ‘He has brought two horses with him – as laid down in the judgement texts,’ he added with heavy emphasis.

Fachtnan nodded gravely and waved his hand.

Mara gave a quick glance and a slight inclination of her head to Shane who seemed to be at bursting point from the strain of restraining himself, his hand waving like a flag in stormy weather.

‘What about sureties?’ His question startled Cavan who had returned to his scroll.

‘His sureties are his knife and his physician’s bag.’

‘He’s not yet a physician,’ muttered Nuala angrily.

‘So therefore his bag is of no value.’ Enda took up the cudgels with enthusiasm. Nuala was like a sister to the law-school scholars.

‘And a knife isn’t valuable unless it is made from silver,’ said Hugh, the son of a silversmith.

‘What about witnesses?’ queried Fachtnan.

‘I was the witness,’ said Cavan grandly.

‘You’re only one,
Din Techtugad
says
witnesses
.’ Fachtnan laid heavy emphasis on the plural form of the word.

‘And the physician Malachy, as present owner of the property, has gone down there now.’

‘Guardian of the present owner of the property,’ corrected Mara.

Nuala gave a loud snort, but said nothing.

‘So what is your message to me then?’ queried Mara.

‘I want to give due notice that we are asking for arbitration,’ said Cavan solemnly.

‘I think,’ said Mara with a sigh, ‘we all need to go down there to Rathborney. Please go and saddle your ponies, everyone. Fachtnan, would you ask Cumhal whether Seán or Donie could see about my mare for me?’

When the door closed behind them all, she looked at Cavan appraisingly.

‘Have you satisfied yourself that your client has a just claim?’ She kept her voice neutral. After all, he hadn’t been a scholar of hers and it was not any of her business. However, he was a young man at the onset of his career and perhaps a quiet word of advice would be valuable to him. It was important that her profession only numbered those of high integrity amongst its ranks.

He flushed angrily. ‘I take the word of my client, Brehon,’ he said stiffly. ‘I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of handling my own affairs.’

‘I see,’ she said, and then she waited quietly until her mare was ready and all of the boys were seated on their ponies. She would say no more until she reached Rathborney, she decided, and then she would explain the position to all who were there, including her scholars. After all her duty was to them, not to this opinionated young man. Brigid, she noticed with amusement, made no attempt to persuade her not to ride down to Rathborney. The housekeeper looked with concern at Nuala’s tear-stained face and then cast a look of deep suspicion at the young lawyer.