extended carefully in front of them, there was a slight stir and Ulick Burke came hurrying up the aisle. He hesitated for a minute, his eyes on the party from Newtown Castle, but then he turned into Mara’s pew, squeezing past Toin with a beaming smile.
‘Well, my dear Brehon, this is a terrible affair, isn’t it?’
whispered Ulick as he squeezed past Mara and insinuated himself into the space between her and the wall.
Mara turned resigned eyes on him. The altar boys were lighting the candles and carrying the sacred vessels out to the table and there was a murmur of conversation in the church; if Ulick kept his voice down there was a good chance that no one would overhear.
‘You’re upset by Sorley’s death?’ Her question wasn’t too seriously meant. She had seen the look of fury that Ulick gave his sneering host that night she had dined at Newtown Castle and guessed that there was little genuine regret in his protestations.
‘Uncanny, though,’ he said with a quick look over his shoulder. ‘It almost seemed as if he foresaw his death.’
Mara frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, of course, I haven’t told you what happened after you left on Wednesday night. All the excitement yesterday morning put it out of my head …’ he paused dramatically.
‘Tell me now.’ Mara gave him her full attention. There were times when a gossip like Ulick was indispensable. He was obviously bursting with news.
‘Well,’ he said dramatically, ‘as soon as you and the king had departed, well, that hatchet-faced lawyer from Galway said that he was going to bed and Sorley said there was just a little business for him to do before he retired for the night.’
‘Business?’ queried Mara. Had Sorley decided to reopen the affair of Cathal and the boatload of silver, she wondered. Cathal, and what was probably his son, were there in the
church today. She had a quick look at Toin, but he was lost in his own thoughts and seemed to be ignoring Ulick.
Ulick nodded. ‘Yes, business. You see before you, my dear Brehon, a broken man. I have been disappointed in love.’ He waited for a tantalizing moment, his eyes dancing with amusement, before adding dramatically, ‘She is not for me, alas!’
‘What are you talking about?’ Mara sat back in her seat to enjoy the story. She cast another glance at Toin and saw that now he was listening. He had a faint smile on his purple lips. He knew Ulick of old, of course. She remembered Turlough and Ulick staying with Toin last summer when they were on their way to the Aran Islands.
‘Yes, the fair Una, she is for another. She has been betrothed!’
‘What!’ Mara realized that the word was louder than she intended. She looked hastily over her shoulder, but no heads had turned. The church was full and the air was full of murmurings of prayers and creakings of seats and of people sitting down, or kneeling or pushing past others with whispered apologies. Several women were walking around the church, reciting the Stations of the Cross in pious voices. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice to whisper, ‘Betrothed to whom?’
‘To Rory the bard! It was all signed and sealed the night you had supper there. As I said, do you think perhaps our dear friend, Sorley, had a premonition of his demise? The Bodkin lawyer took out, not a bodkin, but a quill and covered the vellum, not as beautifully as you would have done it, my dear Brehon, but I am sure that it was adequate. The bridegroom was very drunk and tried to kiss his future bride who
was obviously pining for me because she slapped his face and told him not to be a fool.’
‘Well …’ Mara’s breath was taken away for a second. She had not realized things would progress as quickly as that. She felt furious for the sake of Aoife, the lovely girl that Rory had courted for the last year, but she was glad that she had not been asked to draw up the betrothal contract. Aoife was in the church, she noticed, and her father and mother were with her.
‘Well, my dear Brehon, this is a terrible affair, isn’t it?’
whispered Ulick as he squeezed past Mara and insinuated himself into the space between her and the wall.
Mara turned resigned eyes on him. The altar boys were lighting the candles and carrying the sacred vessels out to the table and there was a murmur of conversation in the church; if Ulick kept his voice down there was a good chance that no one would overhear.
‘You’re upset by Sorley’s death?’ Her question wasn’t too seriously meant. She had seen the look of fury that Ulick gave his sneering host that night she had dined at Newtown Castle and guessed that there was little genuine regret in his protestations.
‘Uncanny, though,’ he said with a quick look over his shoulder. ‘It almost seemed as if he foresaw his death.’
Mara frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Oh, of course, I haven’t told you what happened after you left on Wednesday night. All the excitement yesterday morning put it out of my head …’ he paused dramatically.
‘Tell me now.’ Mara gave him her full attention. There were times when a gossip like Ulick was indispensable. He was obviously bursting with news.
‘Well,’ he said dramatically, ‘as soon as you and the king had departed, well, that hatchet-faced lawyer from Galway said that he was going to bed and Sorley said there was just a little business for him to do before he retired for the night.’
‘Business?’ queried Mara. Had Sorley decided to reopen the affair of Cathal and the boatload of silver, she wondered. Cathal, and what was probably his son, were there in the
church today. She had a quick look at Toin, but he was lost in his own thoughts and seemed to be ignoring Ulick.
Ulick nodded. ‘Yes, business. You see before you, my dear Brehon, a broken man. I have been disappointed in love.’ He waited for a tantalizing moment, his eyes dancing with amusement, before adding dramatically, ‘She is not for me, alas!’
‘What are you talking about?’ Mara sat back in her seat to enjoy the story. She cast another glance at Toin and saw that now he was listening. He had a faint smile on his purple lips. He knew Ulick of old, of course. She remembered Turlough and Ulick staying with Toin last summer when they were on their way to the Aran Islands.
‘Yes, the fair Una, she is for another. She has been betrothed!’
‘What!’ Mara realized that the word was louder than she intended. She looked hastily over her shoulder, but no heads had turned. The church was full and the air was full of murmurings of prayers and creakings of seats and of people sitting down, or kneeling or pushing past others with whispered apologies. Several women were walking around the church, reciting the Stations of the Cross in pious voices. Nevertheless, she lowered her voice to whisper, ‘Betrothed to whom?’
‘To Rory the bard! It was all signed and sealed the night you had supper there. As I said, do you think perhaps our dear friend, Sorley, had a premonition of his demise? The Bodkin lawyer took out, not a bodkin, but a quill and covered the vellum, not as beautifully as you would have done it, my dear Brehon, but I am sure that it was adequate. The bridegroom was very drunk and tried to kiss his future bride who
was obviously pining for me because she slapped his face and told him not to be a fool.’
‘Well …’ Mara’s breath was taken away for a second. She had not realized things would progress as quickly as that. She felt furious for the sake of Aoife, the lovely girl that Rory had courted for the last year, but she was glad that she had not been asked to draw up the betrothal contract. Aoife was in the church, she noticed, and her father and mother were with her.
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