were chatting to that girl at the time.’
Mara gazed at them in exasperation. ‘Stop being silly, the two of you! You are both training to be lawyers and perhaps Brehons. You should know by now that the important thing is to establish the truth. Tell me what the ferryman said and try to behave like fifteen-year-olds, not five-year-olds.’
Moylan and Aidan glanced at each, their colour rising.
In a tight voice, Moylan said, ‘Go on, then. You tell it.’
‘Thank you, Moylan.’ Mara felt a little sorry for her impatience. This pregnancy was making her more tired than she would have expected. It was only just after vespers’ time; there were a good two hours of daylight still left. Nevertheless, she felt a great longing to go to bed and sleep for twelve hours. She didn’t remember this feeling of exhaustion when she was expecting Sorcha. Then she smiled. She had been fifteen then; now she was thirty-six. There was a difference, she told herself with resignation.
‘Well, it was like this,’ said Aidan. ‘When the ferryman had finished giving the message from Becan, he turned away. He was fiddling with the sail on his boat and I went over and I was asking him how the sails worked when there was a headwind and we got talking and he invited me to come over one Saturday and he would teach me to sail.’
Mara nodded and forced a look of encouragement. Aidan would tell the story in his own way.
‘And then when he was showing me the mast, he just sort of muttered to me, “Does the Brehon know that, before the two of them left Aran, Becan arranged a marriage between Iarla and his daughter, Emer?” He told me that everyone in the island was talking about it – what with them being cousins and everything. But be that as it may, the match had been made up before witnesses and Iarla had not said no to Emer at the time.’
‘What?’ Mara exclaimed.
Aidan and Moylan both nodded. The suppressed excitement bubbled up in them.
‘That’s right, Brehon,’ Moylan said, continuing the story. ‘And you remember how there was a fight on Monday night when Iarla attacked Saoirse? Well, later on, when we were all going home, as we passed the Lissylisheen road, I heard Becan and Iarla. And Becan was saying something to Iarla, he was sort of hissing it and then Iarla shouted out: “Oh, shut up and leave me alone. I’ll choose my own girl.” And then he dug his heels into the pony and galloped on ahead of Becan.’
‘And we just thought that he was talking about what happened that night,’ supplemented Aidan.
‘But you see it might have been that Becan was saying to him: “ Fan bomaite , what about my Emer?” The ferryman said that it just happened on the day before they came across.’
‘And,’ said Aidan slowly, deliberately and with great drama, ‘while we were riding back from Doolin this evening, Moylan and I were saying, “How about Becan for a suspect? They could have had a row, the two of them, and Becan could have killed Iarla with his dagger and then put his body outside Balor’s Cave to make it look like it was the god Balor that killed him.
‘And then Becan cleared off and went back to Aran. He had his own boat, waiting there at Doolin, so he could go back whenever he liked. Perhaps he expected that Balor would be blamed for the death.’
‘Would he know that it was Balor’s Cave, though?’ asked Mara with interest. ‘I know that he would probably have heard the story of Balor, but would he know where Balor’s Cave was on the Burren? I think they came in after the storyteller had finished the tale of Balor.’
‘That storyteller told the same story about three times that night,’ said Moylan triumphantly. ‘People kept asking him to tell it again. And Becan could have found out exactly where the cave was just by asking anyone. Even a child could have told him that.’
‘I see.’ Mara was silent for a moment. ‘The only problem is that no one saw either Iarla or anyone else go along the
Mara gazed at them in exasperation. ‘Stop being silly, the two of you! You are both training to be lawyers and perhaps Brehons. You should know by now that the important thing is to establish the truth. Tell me what the ferryman said and try to behave like fifteen-year-olds, not five-year-olds.’
Moylan and Aidan glanced at each, their colour rising.
In a tight voice, Moylan said, ‘Go on, then. You tell it.’
‘Thank you, Moylan.’ Mara felt a little sorry for her impatience. This pregnancy was making her more tired than she would have expected. It was only just after vespers’ time; there were a good two hours of daylight still left. Nevertheless, she felt a great longing to go to bed and sleep for twelve hours. She didn’t remember this feeling of exhaustion when she was expecting Sorcha. Then she smiled. She had been fifteen then; now she was thirty-six. There was a difference, she told herself with resignation.
‘Well, it was like this,’ said Aidan. ‘When the ferryman had finished giving the message from Becan, he turned away. He was fiddling with the sail on his boat and I went over and I was asking him how the sails worked when there was a headwind and we got talking and he invited me to come over one Saturday and he would teach me to sail.’
Mara nodded and forced a look of encouragement. Aidan would tell the story in his own way.
‘And then when he was showing me the mast, he just sort of muttered to me, “Does the Brehon know that, before the two of them left Aran, Becan arranged a marriage between Iarla and his daughter, Emer?” He told me that everyone in the island was talking about it – what with them being cousins and everything. But be that as it may, the match had been made up before witnesses and Iarla had not said no to Emer at the time.’
‘What?’ Mara exclaimed.
Aidan and Moylan both nodded. The suppressed excitement bubbled up in them.
‘That’s right, Brehon,’ Moylan said, continuing the story. ‘And you remember how there was a fight on Monday night when Iarla attacked Saoirse? Well, later on, when we were all going home, as we passed the Lissylisheen road, I heard Becan and Iarla. And Becan was saying something to Iarla, he was sort of hissing it and then Iarla shouted out: “Oh, shut up and leave me alone. I’ll choose my own girl.” And then he dug his heels into the pony and galloped on ahead of Becan.’
‘And we just thought that he was talking about what happened that night,’ supplemented Aidan.
‘But you see it might have been that Becan was saying to him: “ Fan bomaite , what about my Emer?” The ferryman said that it just happened on the day before they came across.’
‘And,’ said Aidan slowly, deliberately and with great drama, ‘while we were riding back from Doolin this evening, Moylan and I were saying, “How about Becan for a suspect? They could have had a row, the two of them, and Becan could have killed Iarla with his dagger and then put his body outside Balor’s Cave to make it look like it was the god Balor that killed him.
‘And then Becan cleared off and went back to Aran. He had his own boat, waiting there at Doolin, so he could go back whenever he liked. Perhaps he expected that Balor would be blamed for the death.’
‘Would he know that it was Balor’s Cave, though?’ asked Mara with interest. ‘I know that he would probably have heard the story of Balor, but would he know where Balor’s Cave was on the Burren? I think they came in after the storyteller had finished the tale of Balor.’
‘That storyteller told the same story about three times that night,’ said Moylan triumphantly. ‘People kept asking him to tell it again. And Becan could have found out exactly where the cave was just by asking anyone. Even a child could have told him that.’
‘I see.’ Mara was silent for a moment. ‘The only problem is that no one saw either Iarla or anyone else go along the
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