A Secret and Unlawful Killing by Cora Harrison Page B

probably have been as quick, if not quicker, going round by the road. However, after being the bearer of such bad news, she felt some compunction at leaving the child alone. ‘Is there anyone that I could send to be with you?’ she asked.
    ‘No,’ Maeve replied tonelessly. ‘Don’t worry about me, Brehon. I’ll be all right. Fionnuala is in the kitchen.’
    ‘Would you call her, or shall we go in to see her?’
    The girl shot a quick sideways glance at her. There was something slightly odd about the expression, not sorrow — there appeared to be little genuine grief there; her face seemed defensive rather than grief-stricken. There was also a shade of impatience in her look, almost as if she wished that she could be left in peace to do what she had to do.
    ‘Fionnuala,’ she called and when an elderly woman appeared at the door, Maeve moved quickly over to her.
‘Fionnuala,’ she said, ‘the body of my father has been found in Noughaval churchyard.’
    Mara looked at her with interest; she was sure that she hadn’t mentioned the churchyard to Maeve.
    ‘God bless us and save us,’ said Fionnuala. She crossed herself, but there was something perfunctory about the gesture and her eyes were wary as they looked at the Brehon.
    ‘I think you had better take Maeve indoors,’ said Mara mildly. ‘She’s had a bad shock.’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ replied Fionnuala, and there was nothing false about the motherly way that she put her arm around the slight figure of the girl. Mara felt relieved. At least she could leave Maeve in her hands with an easy conscience.
    ‘I’ll need to find the road to Poulnabrone,’ said Mara. ‘I suppose if I strike across the fields there towards the west I’ll meet it.’
    ‘Yes, Brehon,’ said Maeve. ‘The road is just two fields away. I’ll open this gate for you,’ she said hurriedly, moving out of Fionnuala’s arms and rushing over. Obviously she wanted to get rid of the Brehon as soon as possible. Mara wondered why, but perhaps it was natural. Perhaps she wanted time to grieve privately. Many people handled sorrow like that. ‘You’ll find a gap just straight across the field,’ Maeve continued, ‘that will take you into the second field. The gap is open at the moment so you’ll have no trouble.’
    Mara thanked her, mounted her mare and went through the gate. It was strange that no further questions had been asked, she thought. However, grief can rob a person of their wits; she had often witnessed that. She rode steadily across the field to the gap at the far end and then looked back over her shoulder. There was no sign of Maeve or Fionnuala so
no doubt they had gone into the kitchen. Mara hoped that this Fionnuala was a motherly person. She might well be more of a parent to Maeve than that strange, bad-tempered man, Ragnall MacNamara.
    The second field Maeve had described seemed to have been abandoned; it was very overgrown with hundreds of hazel bushes sprouting from the grykes between the slabs of stone. The bright purple flowers of the field bugle were everywhere underfoot and the pale cream faces of the burnet rose twined around the hazel stems and raised their small pretty flowers to the sun. Ragnall should have cut down this hazel scrub and then put a few goats in here, Mara thought impatiently. She wondered why the steward had neglected this piece of land so much. However, the farm was probably only a small part of his income as he would, of course, receive a portion of all the rents and tributes which he collected each year on behalf of the MacNamara taoiseach. It was a big farm, nevertheless; too big, thought Mara, for Maeve to be able to inherit it all. The Brehon law was strict about that: land must be kept within the kin-group and the clan. Unless Maeve married a cousin, she could take only land enough to graze seven cows as her dowry. That would mean about twenty acres of this good grazing land of the High Burren.
    Mara got down from her horse and led