start with the bushes.’
They were thorough in their search, Domhnall allocating to each an area of the path, and then they swapped areas and searched again, but nothing was to be found – neither the knife, nor the clothing.
‘Don’t search too hard for the knife,’ said Mara. ‘It doesn’t look like suicide, so the knife is probably still in the possession of its owner. Most people carry a knife in their pouch. One good wipe and it could be put back in. Concentrate on looking for clothing.’
The path to the ancient tomb was a short one, but the boys then extended the search, going right back to the churchyard, and then coming back to start rooting under the gorse bushes that blocked the circle around the ancient tomb; they searched around in front, behind and on both sides of the sheep-shearing enclosure; they even looked up into trees and bushes, but nowhere was there a sign of the man’s clothing.
Hans Kaufmann must have been naked when he was killed.
And then carried out here and laid on the capstone of the ancient wedge tomb, his arms and legs arranged in semblance of the crucified Christ.
Six
Díre
(Payments)
A man’s foster brother is nearer and dearer to him than his brother of the same blood, especially if he is a ‘foster brother of the blanket, cup and bed’; in other words, where they are reared together from infancy.
If a man is killed, not only must his nearest male relation be compensated, but a fine named an
airer,
consisting of one-seventh of his honour price, is paid to his foster brother.
M ara glanced up at the sun. She had noted its position when Fachtnan left and it would be, she reckoned, a good hour before he and Nuala came back. No time should be lost with the investigation into the murder. She looked again at the naked body on the limestone slab, noticing that it still had potential to shock even someone as used to violent death as she was. And she nodded her head. Shock was often a useful weapon when looking to uncover the truth.
‘Fetch me my satchel from the mare, Finbar,’ she said, and seated herself on a nearby boulder, directing him to open it and hold the inkhorn in his hand while she took a small scrap of vellum and a well-trimmed quill. ‘The advantage of living on the Burren, Finbar, is that you can always find a stone exactly of the size and shape that you need,’ she said as she picked up a small, flat piece from the ground. She talked on as she wrote a few lines. She was sorry for the boy. He was immature and not too clever; neither Domhnall nor Slevin, friends for the last six years when they entered the law school together, had too much time for him. Now they were busy looking into the gorse bushes, methodically searching them inch by inch. If she asked, Domhnall would give Finbar something to do also, but they did not naturally include him.
‘Take this to the priest’s house at Kilnaboy and give it to the O’Lochlainn,’ she said, rolling up the note and tying it firmly with a piece of pink tape from her satchel. ‘Make sure that you hand it to him and to no one else. If he is not there, go and find him, and if by chance he has returned to Lissylisheen, then bring this straight back to me. In any case, return as soon as you have handed over the note.’
‘I’ll run there and run back,’ promised Finbar. He cast a smug glance at where Domhnall and Slevin were still searching the undergrowth and set off at a tearing pace. It would only take him a few minutes to arrive at the priest’s house and after that she had to rely on Ardal’s quick wits and his obedience to her as the representative of his king.
Of course, by now, she thought, with another quick glance at the sun, it was very possible that the absence of the false pilgrim from his place of sanctuary at the church might have been discovered and the hunt might be on. In fact, Ardal might even now be on the road to Cahermacnaghten Law School – though it would be more like him to send one of
They were thorough in their search, Domhnall allocating to each an area of the path, and then they swapped areas and searched again, but nothing was to be found – neither the knife, nor the clothing.
‘Don’t search too hard for the knife,’ said Mara. ‘It doesn’t look like suicide, so the knife is probably still in the possession of its owner. Most people carry a knife in their pouch. One good wipe and it could be put back in. Concentrate on looking for clothing.’
The path to the ancient tomb was a short one, but the boys then extended the search, going right back to the churchyard, and then coming back to start rooting under the gorse bushes that blocked the circle around the ancient tomb; they searched around in front, behind and on both sides of the sheep-shearing enclosure; they even looked up into trees and bushes, but nowhere was there a sign of the man’s clothing.
Hans Kaufmann must have been naked when he was killed.
And then carried out here and laid on the capstone of the ancient wedge tomb, his arms and legs arranged in semblance of the crucified Christ.
Six
Díre
(Payments)
A man’s foster brother is nearer and dearer to him than his brother of the same blood, especially if he is a ‘foster brother of the blanket, cup and bed’; in other words, where they are reared together from infancy.
If a man is killed, not only must his nearest male relation be compensated, but a fine named an
airer,
consisting of one-seventh of his honour price, is paid to his foster brother.
M ara glanced up at the sun. She had noted its position when Fachtnan left and it would be, she reckoned, a good hour before he and Nuala came back. No time should be lost with the investigation into the murder. She looked again at the naked body on the limestone slab, noticing that it still had potential to shock even someone as used to violent death as she was. And she nodded her head. Shock was often a useful weapon when looking to uncover the truth.
‘Fetch me my satchel from the mare, Finbar,’ she said, and seated herself on a nearby boulder, directing him to open it and hold the inkhorn in his hand while she took a small scrap of vellum and a well-trimmed quill. ‘The advantage of living on the Burren, Finbar, is that you can always find a stone exactly of the size and shape that you need,’ she said as she picked up a small, flat piece from the ground. She talked on as she wrote a few lines. She was sorry for the boy. He was immature and not too clever; neither Domhnall nor Slevin, friends for the last six years when they entered the law school together, had too much time for him. Now they were busy looking into the gorse bushes, methodically searching them inch by inch. If she asked, Domhnall would give Finbar something to do also, but they did not naturally include him.
‘Take this to the priest’s house at Kilnaboy and give it to the O’Lochlainn,’ she said, rolling up the note and tying it firmly with a piece of pink tape from her satchel. ‘Make sure that you hand it to him and to no one else. If he is not there, go and find him, and if by chance he has returned to Lissylisheen, then bring this straight back to me. In any case, return as soon as you have handed over the note.’
‘I’ll run there and run back,’ promised Finbar. He cast a smug glance at where Domhnall and Slevin were still searching the undergrowth and set off at a tearing pace. It would only take him a few minutes to arrive at the priest’s house and after that she had to rely on Ardal’s quick wits and his obedience to her as the representative of his king.
Of course, by now, she thought, with another quick glance at the sun, it was very possible that the absence of the false pilgrim from his place of sanctuary at the church might have been discovered and the hunt might be on. In fact, Ardal might even now be on the road to Cahermacnaghten Law School – though it would be more like him to send one of
Similar Books
