man who had secretly expressed contempt for it?
Whatever had happened she had fled, leaving the small bonnet behind, hidden by the purple flowers and the clusters of bees until Art’s sharp eyes spotted it.
When next Mara had seen Grace, her head had been demurely covered with the hood of her travelling cloak, her face almost invisible.
‘It’s Fachtnan,’ shouted Slevin, just at the moment when Mara was regretting that her boys, even Domhnall, were too young to appreciate the nuances of adult love and the problems of a woman, badly scarred and yet deeply attracted by a man in whose company she had already spent weeks. Fachtnan, she knew, would be able to bring a mature understanding and compassionate heart to this problem.
Fachtnan was Mara’s assistant teacher. He had first been a scholar in her school, had managed with enormous difficulty to pass the lowest grade for qualification as an
aigne
,
and had stayed on as her assistant, trying desperately to pass the further examinations but finding a poor memory an insuperable handicap. Mara valued him immensely, not just for his gentle, kind nature but for his intelligence and his deep understanding. Eventually, when it became plain that he could progress no further, she had offered him this position as a permanent teaching assistant. It had been an impulse that she had never regretted, and now she often wondered how she could have managed without his companionship, his intuition and his caring relationship to the scholars that she taught. Six years ago he had become betrothed to Nuala the physician who owned property at Rathborney – only a couple of miles from the law school. As Nuala was Mara’s cousin and as dear to her as a daughter, it had been one of the happiest days in Mara’s life when Fachtnan and Nuala had married, and now they had three small girls – worshipped by their father.
Mara came forward now, her hands outstretched. ‘Fachtnan,’ she said impulsively. ‘You are just whom I was wishing for. What made you come? How on earth did you know about this?’
‘The O’Lochlainn sent one of his men to go to Cahermacnaghten, and Cumhal immediately sent someone down to Rathborney with a message,’ explained Fachtnan. Mara nodded in understanding. Ardal would have known that she would value help and had thought of her even in the course of the headlong chase to arrest the passage of the pilgrims to Aran.
‘That was like Ardal,’ she exclaimed thankfully. ‘Domhnall, you tell Fachtnan what happened. Art and Cormac, you go and have another look around the churchyard and see whether you can discover any more clues. Slevin and Finbar, go and ask Blad whether you could check the pilgrims’ bedrooms to see whether anything may have been left behind.’
She waited till they were all occupied and then mounted the ladder and went into the small, windowless first-floor room of the tower. Yes, she thought, a very cosy and private place for an assignation. With the key in her possession, Mór would have not failed to take advantage of it. Mara remembered the wink and the whisper in the ear of the German. Had others noticed it also? Of that she could not be sure.
Four
Seanchus Mór
(Great Traditions)
And this is the
Seanchus Mór
. Nine persons were appointed to arrange this book. Three bishops: Patrick, Benen and Cairnech; three kings: Laeghaire, Corc and Daire; two Brehons, learned in law: Rosa mac Trechim and Dubhthach; and one poet: Fengus.
Nofis
, therefore, is the name of this book that they arranged, that is the knowledge of nine persons.
It was said of St Patrick that there were three offences which he particularly forbade among the Irish:
Killing trained oxen.
Offences against milch cows.
Arson – in particular the burning of church buildings.
T he small group of pilgrims was dwarfed by the size of its escort. Ardal, or his steward Danann, had picked up additional men from the tower house of Lissylisheen and were riding in the van of the
Whatever had happened she had fled, leaving the small bonnet behind, hidden by the purple flowers and the clusters of bees until Art’s sharp eyes spotted it.
When next Mara had seen Grace, her head had been demurely covered with the hood of her travelling cloak, her face almost invisible.
‘It’s Fachtnan,’ shouted Slevin, just at the moment when Mara was regretting that her boys, even Domhnall, were too young to appreciate the nuances of adult love and the problems of a woman, badly scarred and yet deeply attracted by a man in whose company she had already spent weeks. Fachtnan, she knew, would be able to bring a mature understanding and compassionate heart to this problem.
Fachtnan was Mara’s assistant teacher. He had first been a scholar in her school, had managed with enormous difficulty to pass the lowest grade for qualification as an
aigne
,
and had stayed on as her assistant, trying desperately to pass the further examinations but finding a poor memory an insuperable handicap. Mara valued him immensely, not just for his gentle, kind nature but for his intelligence and his deep understanding. Eventually, when it became plain that he could progress no further, she had offered him this position as a permanent teaching assistant. It had been an impulse that she had never regretted, and now she often wondered how she could have managed without his companionship, his intuition and his caring relationship to the scholars that she taught. Six years ago he had become betrothed to Nuala the physician who owned property at Rathborney – only a couple of miles from the law school. As Nuala was Mara’s cousin and as dear to her as a daughter, it had been one of the happiest days in Mara’s life when Fachtnan and Nuala had married, and now they had three small girls – worshipped by their father.
Mara came forward now, her hands outstretched. ‘Fachtnan,’ she said impulsively. ‘You are just whom I was wishing for. What made you come? How on earth did you know about this?’
‘The O’Lochlainn sent one of his men to go to Cahermacnaghten, and Cumhal immediately sent someone down to Rathborney with a message,’ explained Fachtnan. Mara nodded in understanding. Ardal would have known that she would value help and had thought of her even in the course of the headlong chase to arrest the passage of the pilgrims to Aran.
‘That was like Ardal,’ she exclaimed thankfully. ‘Domhnall, you tell Fachtnan what happened. Art and Cormac, you go and have another look around the churchyard and see whether you can discover any more clues. Slevin and Finbar, go and ask Blad whether you could check the pilgrims’ bedrooms to see whether anything may have been left behind.’
She waited till they were all occupied and then mounted the ladder and went into the small, windowless first-floor room of the tower. Yes, she thought, a very cosy and private place for an assignation. With the key in her possession, Mór would have not failed to take advantage of it. Mara remembered the wink and the whisper in the ear of the German. Had others noticed it also? Of that she could not be sure.
Four
Seanchus Mór
(Great Traditions)
And this is the
Seanchus Mór
. Nine persons were appointed to arrange this book. Three bishops: Patrick, Benen and Cairnech; three kings: Laeghaire, Corc and Daire; two Brehons, learned in law: Rosa mac Trechim and Dubhthach; and one poet: Fengus.
Nofis
, therefore, is the name of this book that they arranged, that is the knowledge of nine persons.
It was said of St Patrick that there were three offences which he particularly forbade among the Irish:
Killing trained oxen.
Offences against milch cows.
Arson – in particular the burning of church buildings.
T he small group of pilgrims was dwarfed by the size of its escort. Ardal, or his steward Danann, had picked up additional men from the tower house of Lissylisheen and were riding in the van of the
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