Writ in Stone by Cora Harrison

fight that you can’t win,’ she reminded him quietly. ‘The abbot will rely on Rome to back him. Do it now, and we will all get through this matter with grace and dignity.’
    ‘He’ll not get another piece of silver out of me for his precious abbey,’ snorted Turlough in her ear. ‘Do you know that I gave a communion cup last year that was worth a hundred marks? And who do you think is paying for all these repairs? He’s had that carpenter and that mason working here for months. I saw them when I came to see Conor in early November.’ He rose to his feet and banged angrily for silence with a pewter flagon on the table. A spurt of wine splashed out and marked the abbot’s grey robe. Turlough eyed it with satisfaction and then said abruptly, ‘The Brehon has asked me to make an announcement that the wedding between us has been postponed due to the murder of my cousin, Mahon O’Brien.’ Then he sat down heavily, with one shoulder turned towards the abbot, and helped himself to the remaining wine.
    There was a brief murmur while some of the guests commented on this announcement. Mara looked down the room and saw Brigid’s eyes wide with astonishment, but no one else seemed to show much surprise. It was, after all, a very respectable reason for the postponement of a marriage, she thought. In fact, many people may have been expecting that announcement before it was made. Murrough finished his whispered conversation with the mason and then returned to her side, smiling mockingly at her.
    Mara ignored him, but patted Turlough’s hand as he sat back on his chair. He had done what she asked him and now he would have his reward. She leaned across in front of him and then spoke to the abbot in clear, carrying tones.
    ‘That young man, Father Denis, what relation exactly is he to you, Father Abbot? One can see that he is an O’Brien.’
    The sudden quietness from the nearby monks’ table after that remark made Mara realize that Father Peter O’Lochlainn was not the only one of them who had surmised about the abbot’s relationship to the young man. She looked around. Ardal O’Lochlainn tugged his red-blond moustache with an air of embarrassment, but Teige O’Brien was visibly chuckling as he bent down to whisper into the ear of the O’Connor. The monks all fixed their eyes upon their platters, though Father Peter shot Mara a brief, mischievous look. The abbot swallowed a few times and then took a sip of small beer to ease his dry throat.
    ‘Distant,’ he said shortly. ‘Very distant.’
    ‘I see,’ said Mara. She would not pursue the matter in public, she thought. She had had her revenge for the insult and the pain that this sanctimonious man had caused to Turlough. In private, though, she promised herself, she would not let him get away with this. If he and Father Denis were really the last to leave the church after prime then there was a cloud of suspicion over both heads. She would have to solve this murder quickly. She had noticed, as they had walked across the cloister garth towards the refectory, the wind from the north seemed already to have swung around to the north-west. Once it went to the west, this snow would cease and the roads would thaw. She would have to solve this murder quickly before the guests rode away from the abbey. Whoever was guilty would have to be accused and brought to justice at the dolmen of Poulnabrone, that ancient stone monument which was the place of judgement for the people of the Burren.
    ‘So who’s this Father Denis, then?’ queried Turlough in her ear.
    ‘Tell you later,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s go back to the lodge straight after dinner.’
    ‘Now, if possible,’ returned Turlough. With an effort, he was keeping his voice low, though the abbot was now deep in conversation again with Ellice. He began to rise to his feet, but then stopped as the door swung open and in came a maidservant followed by Banna, swathed in an enormous piece of white linen. She stood in