Laws in Conflict (20 page)

‘Let’s see about that pie, now,’ said Joan, trying to smile, but her face was anxious. Mara’s suspicions about the gathering of the Blake family at their castle beside the docks grew to a certainty. Still, it was not her business. On the other hand, she decided, the affair of young Walter was her business in so much as it was the business of every human being to endeavour to save a life, if at all possible. She sat very still, gathering her powers; her knowledge of the law was of no use to her at the moment – English law reigned here – but her knowledge of human nature, the power of her intelligence and of a well-trained, well-organized mind might come up with a solution. Intuitively she had felt that Walter would not do such a deed and that intuition had been confirmed by her examination of the dead body in the church. She would say nothing of this to her scholars for the moment, she thought. Let them approach their fact-finding missions with clear and unprejudiced minds.

The pie smelled mouth-wateringly delicious and Joan refused any extra money for it – ‘Just a few bits and pieces left over since last night,’ she said dismissively. ‘I’ll leave you in peace now,’ she said. ‘I have an errand to do, so just let yourselves out whenever you’re finished. There’s not a soul will disturb you.’

And then she was off – going down to Blake’s Castle with the news, surmised Mara.

‘That’s interesting, thinking about the dead man,’ said Shane, speaking with his mouth half-full of hot pie. He chewed, then swallowed and said dramatically, ‘So was the fatal blow struck because Carlos was ambitious or because he awoke jealousy?’

‘Or fear,’ put in Hugh. ‘That ship’s captain must have been scared stiff to go back to Spain with him.’

‘Or was it,’ continued Shane, imperturbably ignoring the interruption, ‘because he was wealthy?’

‘Nothing was stolen from him,’ pointed out Aidan.

‘That’s true,’ confirmed Mara. ‘I saw his purse on the body.’

‘I know what Shane means, though,’ said Fiona. ‘We should be thinking about the Gomez wealth. He was the son and heir to his father; now he’s gone, who will inherit?’

‘Someone in Spain, I suppose,’ said Shane sadly. ‘It can’t be any of the sailors, so that one has to be crossed off our list. We can’t investigate the people over in Spain, I suppose, can we, Brehon?’

‘No, it doesn’t have to be crossed off our list,’ said Fiona. ‘What about Catarina – the gorgeous Catarina; she was his cousin and he had no brothers and sisters; I remember hearing him saying that.’ She gave a teasing look at Moylan. ‘I
bet you that she was the one who stuck a knife in him. She looks that type.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Moylan turning red. ‘A girl like that!’

‘She’s almost as tall as you are – she’s a monster,’ said Fiona. ‘Did you see the size of her hands? She has hands like a man.’

Mara kept a diplomatic silence while Moylan and Fiona argued, but it was an interesting point. Not only was Catarina tall and well made but she rode like an athlete and was probably very fit. After all, it didn’t take much strength to knife a drunken man, especially if he were asleep. But why do it?

And then she thought of something else. Something that had been said by Margaret on that night at Blake’s Castle.

‘You’re forgetting that Catarina has an older brother,’ she said. ‘David Browne was heir to the Gomez fortune until he was ten years old. Carlos was born then.’

‘If he was heir then, he’s heir now,’ said Aidan wisely.

‘So David Browne is about thirty years old. What does he do, do you know, Brehon?’ asked Fachtnan.

‘I haven’t heard,’ said Mara. ‘I think,’ she said rising to her feet, ‘that we need to gather some more information about two households. The first is the Browne household and the second is the Athy household.’

‘So our suspects are,’ said Fiona, lowering her voice to a murmur, ‘the Spanish captain, Catarina Browne, David Browne, Richard Athy – his children are too young; the eldest is only about Shane’s age.’

‘I’m perfectly capable of killing a man,’ said Shane indignantly, but Moylan interrupted him.

‘We’re forgetting all about young Anthony Skerrett.’ He looked around at his fellow scholars and said defensively, ‘I don’t care what you all say, I think this is a
crime passionel
.’

‘Don’t think much of your French accent,’ said Fiona scornfully. ‘Anyway, Catarina is not all that wonderfully beautiful that everyone has to go around committing murder in order to be number one with her.’

‘I think it’s worth investigating,’ said Mara, doing her best not to laugh. Fiona had had her own way for the last year at the law school; it would do her no harm to see that there were other pretty girls around. ‘Now this is what I’d like you to do,’ she continued. ‘Shane and Hugh, you go and talk to the women in the fish market and see if they have any more information about the Spanish captain. The sailors might have spoken to them. Don’t cause any trouble or rouse any suspicions, though. Lend them a hand at putting their stalls back up again, be friendly and don’t ask questions until you have established good relationships with them.’

‘And us?’ queried Moylan.

‘You and Aidan should find out as much as possible about the Athy household; again be tactful and careful. Chat in shops or ask for help, for directions, anything like that. And Fachtnan, I think you should talk to young Anthony Skerrett, if you can get hold of him. Compare notes about the law schools that you both attend, find out what he was doing and who he was with on the Shrove celebrations, and, I know you will do this well, Fachtnan, get some sort of impression of what he is like. It takes a certain personality to commit a murder, and also, I suppose to commit what Moylan rightly calls a
crime passionnel
.’

‘And what about me?’ asked Fiona.

‘You,’ said Mara, ‘are going to come with me and to call upon Catarina Browne. I expect to hear by this evening that you are her best friend. Talk about riding. Ask her to take you on The Green; they live very near to the Bodkins; you can easily fetch your horse and join her if you can persuade her that some outdoor exercise would be good for her in her sad state. And, Fiona,’ she added, ‘do allow her to criticize your horse. Bear anything she says as meekly as possible, and then ask her where would be the best place in Galway to buy a new horse.’

The customs of London differ from all others in point of trial: for, if the existence of the custom be brought in question, it shall not be tried by a jury, but by certificate from the lord mayor and aldermen by the mouth of their recorder; unless it be such a custom as the corporation is itself interested in, as a right of taking toll, &c., for then the law permits them not to certify on their own behalf.

C
atarina was still in black when her maidservant ushered Fiona and Mara into her presence. She was no longer dressed in hand-downs from her mother, but wore a well-fitting gown of black velvet which suited her, though she did not look as splendid as she did in red. She had draped a veil of beautiful Spanish lace over her dark hair and it half-hid her face. However, even through the lace, it could be seen that her colour was as good as always, the faint glow in her cheeks enhancing the tanned skin and the bright brown eyes. There was little sign that the death of Carlos had affected her. She received her guests coolly and looked at Mara with disfavour. No doubt the intervention in the court of law had come to Catarina’s ears and she was offended by it. A hard-hearted girl, thought Mara, eyeing the handsome face covertly, while Catarina exchanged a few coldly, civil words with Fiona. How could she possibly contemplate with such an unmoved countenance the terrible fate of a boy whom she had known from childhood, a boy who had grown up with her and had adored her?

Fiona was playing her part well, Mara observed with approval. She barely reached to Catarina’s shoulder and that helped as she appeared more like a younger sister than a girl of the same age. She was enthusing girlishly about the report of Catarina’s Arab horse and relating regretfully how short of exercise her own horse must be since they arrived at Galway.

‘I wish I could see your horse,’ she ended plaintively, and Mara was glad that the boys were not present because Aidan, at least, would have found it hard not to have sniggered.

Well . . .’ said Catarina consideringly. She looked down at her black clothing with ill-concealed distaste. There was no one to admire the picture of sorrow that she made and she must, by now, have judged that she had far more attractive clothes to wear. Mara guessed that her sorrow for Carlos would be short-lived; she had been flattered by his attentions and encouraged by her parents’ enthusiasm. And, of course, his wealth would have been very enticing.

At that moment David Browne entered the room. Yes, she thought, he probably was about thirty years old, but bearing his years well. No Spanish beauty, such as his sister had inherited, but a chunky, square-looking young man with a shrewd eye and a smiling face. At his entrance Catarina appeared irritated. He had pretended that he did not know visitors were present; had pretended not to recognize Mara for the moment; had tried to present the picture of a languid young man about town, but those shrewd eyes belied his words and Mara saw Catarina gather herself as for a battle.

‘I am going to exercise my horse; she will suffer if I leave it any longer,’ she said in a challenging way to him.

His brown eyebrows rose.

‘Do you think that will cause talk,’ he said quietly. ‘You are in mourning, you know, and the people of our blood, the Spaniards, are even more formal about occasions like this. A woman should stay indoors, hidden from all eyes until a suitable period has elapsed.’

Mara’s hackles rose. She would bet that he would not refrain from exercising his horse just because of the death of a cousin.

‘But Catarina is half-Irish, isn’t she?’ she asked in the tone of one who seeks information. And then when he said nothing, she continued, ‘What an interesting evening that was – your Shrove celebrations, weren’t they?’ she said the words to Catarina, but kept her eye on him.

‘They ended badly,’ he said shortly, taking his eyes away from his sister and fixing them on Mara.

‘Indeed,’ she said sadly. ‘What a shame that you were not successful in turning back your cousin. I saw you go after him on that fateful evening, when for the second time he went through the Great Gate to the east.’

He was taken aback at this. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment and then said, ‘Yes, indeed.’

But he did not deny it, thought Mara, looking at him in a friendly fashion while suspicions flashed through her mind. So her guess had hit a target. His sister, she noticed, was also looking at him with curiosity in her eyes.

‘I think, David,’ she said in a deliberate fashion and with a challenge in her voice, ‘I will go out. I owe it to my horse and it will be good to have Fiona to bear me company. We’re very short of girls of my age in the city of Galway,’ she said to Fiona confidentially. ‘The young men think that they know everything and that they can be the rulers.’

‘Think of me at a law school with five young men,’ groaned Fiona, and Mara knowing how this one girl ruled the roost there found it hard to keep back a smile.

‘I’ll leave you then in good hands, Fiona,’ she said. ‘Perhaps David will escort me. I still find those streets quite bewildering.’

‘Of course,’ he said, but his voice was cold.

‘You’re not too busy?’ she queried with a delicate lift of her eyebrows, and he shook his head, while Catarina gave an affected little laugh.

Soon they were back out on the streets, leaving the two girls together. Certainly not too busy, she thought. After all, today was a working day and he was apparently just lounging around the house and was perfectly at liberty to walk out with her. Perhaps his upbringing as heir apparent to the Gomez fortune until he was ten years old had unfitted him for the normal, everyday mercantile life of the city.

‘What an appalling affair,’ she said affably as she strolled down Lombard Street with him. ‘Walter Lynch seemed to be such a pleasant, well-mannered young man. I find it hard to believe that he could actually have committed a murder.’

‘Strange things happen when a man is foiled,’ he answered.

‘Foiled?’ she queried. ‘You mean that Carlos was going to be successful in his bid for your sister’s hand?’

He nodded. ‘The engagement was going to be announced on the following day. They planned a marriage at the end of Lent. Then they were going to go together to Spain for a few months.’

If that was true, thought Mara, the captain did not have much motive for the murder. If Carlos was occupied with wedding ceremonies, then he was unlikely to be pursuing his vengeance against the man – whatever the truth behind the rumours of his deceit. She looked around her, surveying the tall four-storey-high warehouses.

‘Such a busy city,’ she said. ‘I had no idea that Galway imported and exported so many goods. What line of business are you in, yourself?’

This query took him aback. She had not glanced at him, but she was skilled in sensing sudden movements, awkward pauses. She gave him a moment to recover and then looked at him with an inviting smile.

‘I’ve been remiss,’ said David, after the silence had lasted a minute. ‘I’ve forgotten to ask where you are going.’ He hadn’t answered her question but she did not repeat it.

‘To the gaol,’ she said in an offhand way, and then, as she watched his face darken, his lips tighten and his eyes grow angry, she said quietly, ‘I want to provide that poor old man from my kingdom with some fresh clothing and some hot food. That would be permissible, would it not?’

That took him slightly aback, but then he shrugged to demonstrate his lack of interest.

‘My father imports woven woollen cloth,’ he said. ‘You might find something to your liking in his shop or warehouses.’

No word about his role in the business, she noted. It was as she had thought. These sons of the successful traders in the city, like Walter and like David, were brought up as gentlemen and did not soil their hands with work. Walter was being pressed by his father to come into the business and was still quite young; David, though, was a grown man. Still, as far as she knew, he was now once again the heir to the large Gomez fortune, and so would remain in that happy state of having money to fulfil his dearest wishes.