leather pouch with a broken strap, Brehon,’ shouted Fiona, unconcernedly picking it out from the mess with her dainty fingers.
‘The strap’s broken,’ said Shane. ‘I’d say that once the man was down and lying on the ground, a cow probably caught its leg in it and then broke the strap loose.’
‘A cow weighs about six hundredweight – that’s what my father says – think of that; they’re massive animals – about six times heavier than Fiona – well, they are massive!’ said Moylan, and the other scholars, by their thoughtful faces, were picturing the scene when the cows swept over and across the prostrate body of Garrett MacNamara.
‘Let’s look in the pouch,’ said Aidan impatiently and Fiona opened it.
‘There’s just this, Brehon,’ she said and handed to Mara a folded and sealed roll of vellum. Her eyes widened as she read the inscription. ‘It’s to Cardinal Wolsey,’ Fiona said. ‘Perhaps it belongs to Stephen Gardiner, what do you think, Brehon?’
‘He would just be the messenger, I believe,’ said Mara examining the small neat letters. ‘This is Garrett’s handwriting,’ she added as she broke the seal and unfolded the vellum. It only took her a minute to scan the words and then she rolled it up again and placed it within her own pouch. She would have read it aloud if only her scholars were present, but in front of Ardal, although he was discreet, she felt that she could not betray Garrett’s secrets to him. Back at the law school they would discuss the implications. For now she would keep in mind that Garrett had been a traitor to his king and to his clan; that he was planning to do service to King Henry VIII in return for the title of earl; that he would follow English customs, would wear English clothing and that his eldest and only son Peadar would be given the title of Lord Mount Carron and would, without any election, succeed his father to the title of earl and to the extensive property formerly belonging to the MacNamara clan and ruled over by an elected
taoiseach
. No mention, thought Mara, that this son had only just been discovered and that he was not the son of Garrett’s lawfully wedded wife, Slaney. The English minded about things like that, mused Mara, but Garrett had probably decided that nothing should be said on that score, and Stephen Gardiner had been too pleased at securing a convert to the English way of life to bother about a small matter like that. That would be Stephen. An ambitious man, a man with a twinkle in his eye and probably his feet set firmly on the first rung of the ladder to success.
‘I think, Brehon, if you have no further tasks for me, I will leave you now. I must have a word with my steward.’ Ardal’s voice broke into Mara’s thoughts and she smiled gratefully at him. He was such a well-mannered, sensitive man; he had immediately picked up on her slight hesitation and was now making haste to remove himself from the scene and leave her to consult with her scholars on business, which, for the moment, would have to be private. Mara thanked him warmly for giving up his time and when he was gone turned to her scholars who were looking at her expectantly. Briefly she summarized Garrett’s letter to Cardinal Wolsey, chief advisor to the English king, Henry VIII.
‘What would that have meant for the kingdom, Brehon?’ asked Moylan after a minute of stunned silence when the scholars looked at each other with horror. It was one thing to hear that the O’Donnell of Donegal had bent the knee to the king of England, but another that one of the four chieftains in the kingdom of the Burren was proposing to do the same thing.
‘It’s a very good question, Moylan, and I’m not sure of the answer,’ she said honestly. ‘However,’ she went on slowly and with a feeling of pain in her heart, ‘it may have caused war and many deaths. I don’t think that the MacNamara clan would have been happy to give up all their ancient rights and to
‘The strap’s broken,’ said Shane. ‘I’d say that once the man was down and lying on the ground, a cow probably caught its leg in it and then broke the strap loose.’
‘A cow weighs about six hundredweight – that’s what my father says – think of that; they’re massive animals – about six times heavier than Fiona – well, they are massive!’ said Moylan, and the other scholars, by their thoughtful faces, were picturing the scene when the cows swept over and across the prostrate body of Garrett MacNamara.
‘Let’s look in the pouch,’ said Aidan impatiently and Fiona opened it.
‘There’s just this, Brehon,’ she said and handed to Mara a folded and sealed roll of vellum. Her eyes widened as she read the inscription. ‘It’s to Cardinal Wolsey,’ Fiona said. ‘Perhaps it belongs to Stephen Gardiner, what do you think, Brehon?’
‘He would just be the messenger, I believe,’ said Mara examining the small neat letters. ‘This is Garrett’s handwriting,’ she added as she broke the seal and unfolded the vellum. It only took her a minute to scan the words and then she rolled it up again and placed it within her own pouch. She would have read it aloud if only her scholars were present, but in front of Ardal, although he was discreet, she felt that she could not betray Garrett’s secrets to him. Back at the law school they would discuss the implications. For now she would keep in mind that Garrett had been a traitor to his king and to his clan; that he was planning to do service to King Henry VIII in return for the title of earl; that he would follow English customs, would wear English clothing and that his eldest and only son Peadar would be given the title of Lord Mount Carron and would, without any election, succeed his father to the title of earl and to the extensive property formerly belonging to the MacNamara clan and ruled over by an elected
taoiseach
. No mention, thought Mara, that this son had only just been discovered and that he was not the son of Garrett’s lawfully wedded wife, Slaney. The English minded about things like that, mused Mara, but Garrett had probably decided that nothing should be said on that score, and Stephen Gardiner had been too pleased at securing a convert to the English way of life to bother about a small matter like that. That would be Stephen. An ambitious man, a man with a twinkle in his eye and probably his feet set firmly on the first rung of the ladder to success.
‘I think, Brehon, if you have no further tasks for me, I will leave you now. I must have a word with my steward.’ Ardal’s voice broke into Mara’s thoughts and she smiled gratefully at him. He was such a well-mannered, sensitive man; he had immediately picked up on her slight hesitation and was now making haste to remove himself from the scene and leave her to consult with her scholars on business, which, for the moment, would have to be private. Mara thanked him warmly for giving up his time and when he was gone turned to her scholars who were looking at her expectantly. Briefly she summarized Garrett’s letter to Cardinal Wolsey, chief advisor to the English king, Henry VIII.
‘What would that have meant for the kingdom, Brehon?’ asked Moylan after a minute of stunned silence when the scholars looked at each other with horror. It was one thing to hear that the O’Donnell of Donegal had bent the knee to the king of England, but another that one of the four chieftains in the kingdom of the Burren was proposing to do the same thing.
‘It’s a very good question, Moylan, and I’m not sure of the answer,’ she said honestly. ‘However,’ she went on slowly and with a feeling of pain in her heart, ‘it may have caused war and many deaths. I don’t think that the MacNamara clan would have been happy to give up all their ancient rights and to
Similar Books
