Chain of Evidence by Cora Harrison Page A

conceived in the bushes,” – that’s Aidan’s favourite one—’
    ‘Fiona,’ interrupted Mara and then she stopped. She knew the sound of the heavy step at the doorway. It was Cumhal, her farm manager, and he would not interrupt the morning school unless there was an emergency. He opened the door without knocking and thrust his head inside. Mara’s heart stopped for an instant. Had anything happened to Turlough? She had not expected him back last night. Ardal O’Lochlainn had a secondary castle near to the border and she had guessed that he would have invited Turlough and Teige O’Brien to spend what remained of the night there in comfort. The morning was well-advanced, though, and she had anticipated his arrival at every minute, so she turned a worried face towards Cumhal.
    ‘Brehon,’ he said. ‘There’s news from Carron Castle. A body has been found. Someone has been found on the road below the castle.’
    ‘Trampled to death,’ said his wife, Brigid, from behind him. Her voice was shocked, but excited by the news. ‘They do say that whoever it is – the word is that it might be Brennan the cattleman – they do say that he is ground to pulp like as though he had been under a mill stone.’
    Mara shuddered. The image was too real. ‘The poor man!’ she exclaimed.
    ‘There’s a horse coming down the road,’ said Aidan, alive with interest at the dramatic turn taken by the morning schooling. ‘Coming fast, too; by the sound of it.’
    Mara moved to the door of the schoolhouse. There was certainly the sound of rapid horse hoofs ringing out on the limestone-paved road and she went to stand by the great iron gates that led into the law school enclosure. A minute later a beautiful strawberry mare came into sight and her heart rose up thankfully. This was Ardal O’Lochlainn,
taoiseach
of the O’Lochlainn clan. If he were safe, then Turlough and Teige were probably safe, also. Nevertheless, she held her breath until she saw his face and saw him nod reassuringly.
    ‘I’m the first with the tale,’ he said, ‘but most of the cattle have been recovered and the King, thank God, is well. He and Teige will soon follow me.’
    ‘He hasn’t been injured?’ she asked, but she knew the answer. Ardal did not waste words. He would have told her the truth instantly.
    ‘No,’ he replied. A smile lit up his blue eyes and spread over his handsome face. ‘A bit disgusted that most of the action was over before he arrived, but otherwise unhurt. Muiris O’Hynes and his men managed very efficiently. They got to the peak of abbey hill well ahead of the herds. First of all they opened a gate to a meadow with a few cows belonging to the monks grazing and then they set up a road block right across the road with carts and such-like from the abbey. So when the herd came up the hill, going slowly now because of the steepness of it, the men from the Burren were behind the barrier waving sticks and shouting – O’Donnell’s men were behind the herd, so the cows had no choice but to turn into the field. And glad they were, poor animals, to get in there and to drink from the trough and snatch a few mouthfuls of clean grass. And Muiris had the good sense to let the Donegal men go. All over safely, thank God.’
    ‘Thank God,’ said Mara, echoing his own words, but then waited. He had more to say, she knew the slight hesitancy with which he was now eyeing her.
    ‘What is it?’ she asked.
    ‘I stopped at Carron Castle to tell them the cattle were on the way back,’ said Ardal slowly. ‘There’s been an accident,’ he added. ‘A trampling . . .’
    ‘I know – we heard,’ said Mara, conscious that Stephen Gardiner was by her side, that her flush-leftly well-run school had dissolved into chaos and her scholars were all out on the road drinking in the news avidly, ready for any more horrifying details.
    ‘Brennan, the cowman, that was the word,’ said Brigid, giving a toss of her ginger hair. She liked to be