Eye of the Law Read Free Page B

you and your brother?’ she addressed Becan.
    ‘That’s right, Brehon,’ he said gruffly. ‘And our father before him.’ He looked at her suspiciously, and, when she didn’t reply, he said aggressively. ‘So what’s going to happen now? I have to go back to Aran as soon as possible and I want to see this affair settled. The priest said that Iarla would have to be taken in by the O’Lochlainn. There’s nothing for him on the island; his three sisters have their own families to look after and so do I.’
    So it was as she suspected. If there were a suspicion that the boy was not his brother’s son, then Becan would feel no duty to share the meagre income of the blacksmith’s business with him. Mara glanced at Ardal. He was a man of principle and of honour. His own convenience would never form part of a reason for a decision. His eyes met hers, but there was doubt in them. He glanced over at Iarla, looking at him curiously and intently. Iarla flushed, a warm tide of red flooding under the sea-tanned skin. He was a handsome lad in a dark swarthy way, thought Mara, eyeing him with interest. His eyes stared defiantly back.
    ‘What is the position now, Brehon?’ Ardal addressed her with his usual courtesy.
    ‘Two things have to be taken into consideration,’ said Mara, mentally scanning through the dusty piles of law texts and judgement scrolls that filled the shelves and wooden presses of Cahermacnaghten. ‘The first is the sworn deathbed testimony of the mother, witnessed by a priest, that Iarla, here, is the son of Ardal O’Lochlainn. However, secondly, it must be borne in mind that this was a married woman. No doubt during the Eastertide and the weeks that followed, this woman had intercourse with her lawful wedded husband. It would have been strange if she did not do so. She herself might honestly have believed that Iarla was the fruit of her brief intimacy with the O’Lochlainn; a taoiseach – and you were already taoiseach at the time, were you not, Ardal? – would seem a romantic father for her son. This does put a doubt in my mind. As well as that –’ Mara looked very directly at the young man – ‘there is no physical likeness between Iarla and Ardal. In fact, I can say, since I know all of the O’Lochlainn’s family, that I don’t think that I have met any dark-haired members. The red hair seems to persist. What was the colour of your mother’s hair, Iarla?’
    ‘It was red,’ he muttered.
    ‘I see,’ said Mara, ‘and of course, two red-haired parents would seem to forecast a red-headed child.’
    She looked at him carefully. No, he had no resemblance at all to Ardal: the features were quite different. Ardal had a white-skinned face with a straight, well-cut nose, a high forehead and thin, fastidious lips, whereas Iarla was dark with a swarthy skin, dark eyes and a blunt, fleshy nose. However, she knew that this would only be enough to cast a doubt. The law was very clear; a deathbed confession had always to be believed.
    ‘I think I need some time to decide on this question; perhaps I could appoint a time in two weeks at Poulnabrone. Poulnabrone is our judgement place,’ she informed the two men from Aran.
    ‘And in the meantime, perhaps you would like to stay with me at Lissylisheen,’ said Ardal, trying to force a note of hospitality into his voice. ‘And you, Becan, until the high seas die down.’
    The two men looked at each other and then Becan nodded an off-hand acceptance.
    There was an awkward silence for a moment. Becan looked from one to the other. ‘Well, perhaps in the meantime we’ll go back and join the party and let you talk it over,’ he said, grabbing the young man by the sleeve and leading him from the room.
    ‘I think it might be an idea to send someone over to Aran to investigate,’ said Mara as the door closed behind the two. ‘I could send Fachtnan and Enda. They would do it very well and it would be good experience for them. I’d be interested to hear