gave a hearty laugh. Cael smirked and looked at her brother for approval. A few people smiled, but there was an air of tense preoccupation on most faces.
‘I see,’ said Mara coldly. By now each of her scholars had a pen and a sheet of vellum and Domhnall was busy mixing ink from the powder they carried in a small leather bag, and some water from a flagon. Rapidly she told them the questions to ask – this would be a quick, simple investigation into everyone’s memory of the time since their return to the great hall just after midnight.
‘It’s especially important to check whether anyone went towards the window recess or whether they saw anyone linger in that area,’ she said emphatically. ‘And remember to ask everyone whether they observed Brehon MacClancy, and if so what they noticed about him.’
She arranged for them to use the four remaining window recesses, all of which were furnished with small tables and benches, as places in which to ask their questions. Slevin and Art would interrogate the three professional men, Aengus MacCraith, the poet, Brian MacBrody the harpist and the physician, Donogh O’Hickey, she decided. To Enda and Cormac she assigned Conor, his wife Ellice and his son, Raour. To the tactful Domhnall and the well-mannered Finbar would fall the task of taking evidence from the notoriously touchy Fionn O’Brien and his heiress wife.
‘I’ll do the MacMahon family myself,’ she declared just as Turlough came back into the room. He cast a hurried glance at the still body in the corner and said in a hushed whisper: ‘Should I send someone to wake up the priest?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Mara was embarrassed that she had not thought of that. Of course it should have been her first thought. There was something she remembered about a man’s soul not leaving his body until half an hour after death. The priest should have been sent for instantly. It was surprising that no one had thought of it. It seemed to show that there was not much interest in Brehon MacClancy’s place in the next world from the crowd who had feasted so merrily in his company this past night.
‘I’ll have a word with Rosta – get him to send one of his lads down to the priest’s house in the village – you won’t need any of them, will you? None of them have been in the room for an hour or so.’ Turlough seemed glad to get out of the room and away from the solemn faces and didn’t wait for an answer before rushing away. Mara crossed over to Donogh O’Hickey, who had just given his evidence to Domhnall, and Finbar and said in his ear:
‘When the priest has finished giving the last rites then I’d like to talk with you about the cause of death.’
He nodded. There was a thoughtful look in his eye as he glanced across at the dead body slumped across the table but he did not go near it, nor, she thought, had he shown much interest when the body had been discovered. For a moment she wished that she were back in the Burren and conducting this investigation there where her word was the law and where her first thought was always to send for Nuala and watch the girl conduct a detailed and thorough investigation into the cause of death. Still there was no use in wishing for what was not possible at the moment, she thought, as she sent Cormac with a polite request to Maccon MacMahon.
Maccon MacMahon had little to say. He had wandered down the room at one stage, he thought – just to look at the finely carved wall bench near the door leading to the stairs. He thought he had looked across at Brehon MacClancy on the opposite side of the hall, but couldn’t give Mara any information on what the man was doing, or whether he was sitting upright, or sprawled across the table at the time. He had no idea how long it was since he had gone to look at the bench, but thought it might have been quite soon after they had returned from the hall below. Mara dismissed him to his soup after a few minutes and thought that oddly, this
‘I see,’ said Mara coldly. By now each of her scholars had a pen and a sheet of vellum and Domhnall was busy mixing ink from the powder they carried in a small leather bag, and some water from a flagon. Rapidly she told them the questions to ask – this would be a quick, simple investigation into everyone’s memory of the time since their return to the great hall just after midnight.
‘It’s especially important to check whether anyone went towards the window recess or whether they saw anyone linger in that area,’ she said emphatically. ‘And remember to ask everyone whether they observed Brehon MacClancy, and if so what they noticed about him.’
She arranged for them to use the four remaining window recesses, all of which were furnished with small tables and benches, as places in which to ask their questions. Slevin and Art would interrogate the three professional men, Aengus MacCraith, the poet, Brian MacBrody the harpist and the physician, Donogh O’Hickey, she decided. To Enda and Cormac she assigned Conor, his wife Ellice and his son, Raour. To the tactful Domhnall and the well-mannered Finbar would fall the task of taking evidence from the notoriously touchy Fionn O’Brien and his heiress wife.
‘I’ll do the MacMahon family myself,’ she declared just as Turlough came back into the room. He cast a hurried glance at the still body in the corner and said in a hushed whisper: ‘Should I send someone to wake up the priest?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Mara was embarrassed that she had not thought of that. Of course it should have been her first thought. There was something she remembered about a man’s soul not leaving his body until half an hour after death. The priest should have been sent for instantly. It was surprising that no one had thought of it. It seemed to show that there was not much interest in Brehon MacClancy’s place in the next world from the crowd who had feasted so merrily in his company this past night.
‘I’ll have a word with Rosta – get him to send one of his lads down to the priest’s house in the village – you won’t need any of them, will you? None of them have been in the room for an hour or so.’ Turlough seemed glad to get out of the room and away from the solemn faces and didn’t wait for an answer before rushing away. Mara crossed over to Donogh O’Hickey, who had just given his evidence to Domhnall, and Finbar and said in his ear:
‘When the priest has finished giving the last rites then I’d like to talk with you about the cause of death.’
He nodded. There was a thoughtful look in his eye as he glanced across at the dead body slumped across the table but he did not go near it, nor, she thought, had he shown much interest when the body had been discovered. For a moment she wished that she were back in the Burren and conducting this investigation there where her word was the law and where her first thought was always to send for Nuala and watch the girl conduct a detailed and thorough investigation into the cause of death. Still there was no use in wishing for what was not possible at the moment, she thought, as she sent Cormac with a polite request to Maccon MacMahon.
Maccon MacMahon had little to say. He had wandered down the room at one stage, he thought – just to look at the finely carved wall bench near the door leading to the stairs. He thought he had looked across at Brehon MacClancy on the opposite side of the hall, but couldn’t give Mara any information on what the man was doing, or whether he was sitting upright, or sprawled across the table at the time. He had no idea how long it was since he had gone to look at the bench, but thought it might have been quite soon after they had returned from the hall below. Mara dismissed him to his soup after a few minutes and thought that oddly, this
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