Condemned to Death by Cora Harrison Page B

strand, on either side of the River Caher.
    ‘It may be that there has been a history of finding these objects on Fanore beach and that might be why it is named the as “the slope of the gold” – because, as you can see, the sand is not as golden as on other beaches along the coastline – that it is, in fact, rather more a dark orange colour than golden,’ she concluded.
    ‘A treasure hunt!
Iontach!
’ exclaimed Cael.
    ‘I was wondering whether some gold objects might have been washed in from the sea,’ said Slevin, ‘but Domhnall came up with the idea that it was more likely that they had tumbled down the hill when the river was in flood – and I must say that I think he is right. The gold would be too heavy to float. A cask might have been picked up the waves but the necklets and rings would have been more likely to be swept further out to sea, or to remain on the seabed.’
    ‘And it has to be just one or two every few years,’ put in Domhnall. ‘Otherwise, we’d have heard about it. Just something that a fisherman saw, picked up, took to the gold merchant in Galway, sold, and said nothing about. It makes sense that the gold merchant became suspicious and started to question the fishermen as to the exact spot where they had picked up the pieces of jewellery.’
    ‘Yes, and then he put two and two together.’ Cael was bubbling over with enthusiasm.
    ‘He would have had no right to it,’ said Finbar in a low voice and Mara gave him an encouraging smile.
    ‘But who does own the rights?’ said Domhnall coming back to the point with his usual pertinacity.
    ‘I should have asked Setanta.’ Mara felt annoyed with herself, though in the face of the hesitation shown by all of the fishermen, she had been very wary of disclosing anything.
    ‘I think I know.’ Art spoke out so seldom that all heads turned towards him immediately.
    ‘Not Fernandez,’ said Cormac.
    Art shook his head. ‘No, not Fernandez,’ he said. ‘He just bought that land. That Cathair Róis is just new. He comes from south of the Burren, not from around here.’ He looked across at Mara. ‘I believe that it is Brendan,’ he said, his voice steady and confident, though the words were tentative. He would be right, thought Mara. Art did not speak until he was sure of a matter, unlike her volatile son who chattered continuously and gave vent to a thousand theories every day.
    ‘Of course!’ she said. The fact that Brendan did not have a herd of cows had prevented her from thinking of his name. But, of course, Brendan and Etain’s father before them did have cattle. It was Etain, she thought, who had started the business of gathering samphire for sale in the nearby Galway City and this had proved so lucrative that Brendan had given up keeping the cows and had turned his attention towards getting a better boat and becoming a full-time trader. It suited his personality better, she thought. Both he and Etain were sociable, talkative people. The life of a cattle farmer was restrictive and solitary.
    ‘There’s Etain now; shall I run down and ask her,’ volunteered Cael.
    ‘Are you calling Art a liar?’ Cormac’s tone was angry and aggressive.
    ‘That’s a little unnecessary, Cormac,’ said Mara coldly. ‘Art himself said that he was not sure. But I think we won’t say anything about rights to things found on the shoreline, yet, Cael. It’s just as well to keep our thoughts to ourselves at the moment, don’t you all agree? We don’t want to start people talking and speculating about this matter before we can solve it. A secret and unlawful death in the community always makes people feel deeply uneasy and the last thing we want is to set tongues wagging.’
    She had talked on at length in order to get over that awkward patch. She felt a little sorry for Cael. As the only girl, she had felt somewhat excluded from the others when she had been refused permission to camp with them and she had expressed her fury and, boy-like, the