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Authors: Cora Harrison
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put a query into her
voice and he nodded a silent assent. ‘I saw his son last night,’ she continued. ‘I hadn’t even realized that there was a son. What happened to the mother, why did he divorce her? What was her name?’
‘Her name is Deirdre,’ Toin’s voice was compassionate. ‘As for why Sorley divorced her, well, she isn’t what you could call a good-looking woman. She was only about sixteen when Sorley married her, so perhaps she had a certain bloom, then. I think that Sorley just got tired of her. He divorced her when the boy was about seven or eight. He said that she had a lover, swore it in front of the Brehon at Kinvarra; they were living most of the time at Kinvarra at that time, and he won the case. I don’t know that anyone around here believed it. She didn’t look like the kind of woman to have a secret lover. She spent a lot of time here at Newtown Castle while he was away in Galway, buying and selling, or even while he was at Kinvarra: she liked this place best of all. She was very religious and she was devoted to her children, especially the boy, and anyway there was no sign of a lover afterwards.’
‘Did she go back to her own people then?’
‘No,’ said Toin. ‘She’s still living around here. She lives up the mountain, up there.’
‘I see,’ said Mara. ‘I think I saw her walking away from the church with young Cuan after the burial Mass for Father David.’
‘Yes,’ said Toin. ‘She was there. I remember noticing her going into the church in front of Cathal the sea captain.’
His voice was now quite faint and Mara looked at him with concern. ‘Come on, boys, we’d better be going,’ she said, ‘we have a climb ahead of us.’
‘Keep your eyes on the village, Newtown, as Sorley used to call it,’ said Toin as he walked to the gate with them. ‘You have to go right through that. Then you have another short climb. You see up there, the top terrace is just above the village, if you can call it a village – it’s just a collection of hovels – no farmer would house his cows in a place like that. Anyway, you’ll see it for yourself. Go about halfway up to that and you will be at the mine entrance. Bring the boys in for something to eat on your way back. I’d enjoy their company.’
‘I don’t think I will,’ said Mara gently. ‘Brigid will have their meal ready and would be annoyed if they didn’t turn up.’ A message could be sent to Brigid, she knew, but Toin would probably find six sweaty, tired boys a bit too much for him.
‘Well, you would have been very welcome, but, in the meantime, here is something to keep them going.’ Toin beckoned to Tomas who came up with two large linen bags. ‘Just a few oatcakes for the lads,’ he said, and Enda stuffed one bag into his satchel with a beaming smile and an elegant bow while Fachtnan took the other with murmured words of thanks.
The lower slopes of the small mountain were full of beauty. The limestone glittered in the slanting rays of the sun as it moved over towards the bulk of Slieve Elva. Silver-blue harebells tossed their silky heads among clumps of grass deep in the fissures and small stunted holly trees, with the gnarled trunks of fifty-year-old veterans, showed their
gleaming berries, different on every tree, some orange, some scarlet and some a deep crimson.
When they were about halfway to the summit, though, Mara could see how the bare smooth sides of Cappanabhaile were scarred with the ugly workings of the silver mine. Great rocks, showing the dark blue of newly cut limestone, had been hacked out of the hillside, leaving ugly gaps; small wheeled wooden carts were piled high with crushed stone and the grykes were filled with dead and dying heaps of blackened vegetation.
‘Let’s stop here to catch our breath,’ she said, whistling to Bran to recall him to his mistress’s side.
‘You can see the men,’ said Hugh pointing. ‘Look, Brehon.’
Mara’s eyes followed the direction
voice and he nodded a silent assent. ‘I saw his son last night,’ she continued. ‘I hadn’t even realized that there was a son. What happened to the mother, why did he divorce her? What was her name?’
‘Her name is Deirdre,’ Toin’s voice was compassionate. ‘As for why Sorley divorced her, well, she isn’t what you could call a good-looking woman. She was only about sixteen when Sorley married her, so perhaps she had a certain bloom, then. I think that Sorley just got tired of her. He divorced her when the boy was about seven or eight. He said that she had a lover, swore it in front of the Brehon at Kinvarra; they were living most of the time at Kinvarra at that time, and he won the case. I don’t know that anyone around here believed it. She didn’t look like the kind of woman to have a secret lover. She spent a lot of time here at Newtown Castle while he was away in Galway, buying and selling, or even while he was at Kinvarra: she liked this place best of all. She was very religious and she was devoted to her children, especially the boy, and anyway there was no sign of a lover afterwards.’
‘Did she go back to her own people then?’
‘No,’ said Toin. ‘She’s still living around here. She lives up the mountain, up there.’
‘I see,’ said Mara. ‘I think I saw her walking away from the church with young Cuan after the burial Mass for Father David.’
‘Yes,’ said Toin. ‘She was there. I remember noticing her going into the church in front of Cathal the sea captain.’
His voice was now quite faint and Mara looked at him with concern. ‘Come on, boys, we’d better be going,’ she said, ‘we have a climb ahead of us.’
‘Keep your eyes on the village, Newtown, as Sorley used to call it,’ said Toin as he walked to the gate with them. ‘You have to go right through that. Then you have another short climb. You see up there, the top terrace is just above the village, if you can call it a village – it’s just a collection of hovels – no farmer would house his cows in a place like that. Anyway, you’ll see it for yourself. Go about halfway up to that and you will be at the mine entrance. Bring the boys in for something to eat on your way back. I’d enjoy their company.’
‘I don’t think I will,’ said Mara gently. ‘Brigid will have their meal ready and would be annoyed if they didn’t turn up.’ A message could be sent to Brigid, she knew, but Toin would probably find six sweaty, tired boys a bit too much for him.
‘Well, you would have been very welcome, but, in the meantime, here is something to keep them going.’ Toin beckoned to Tomas who came up with two large linen bags. ‘Just a few oatcakes for the lads,’ he said, and Enda stuffed one bag into his satchel with a beaming smile and an elegant bow while Fachtnan took the other with murmured words of thanks.
The lower slopes of the small mountain were full of beauty. The limestone glittered in the slanting rays of the sun as it moved over towards the bulk of Slieve Elva. Silver-blue harebells tossed their silky heads among clumps of grass deep in the fissures and small stunted holly trees, with the gnarled trunks of fifty-year-old veterans, showed their
gleaming berries, different on every tree, some orange, some scarlet and some a deep crimson.
When they were about halfway to the summit, though, Mara could see how the bare smooth sides of Cappanabhaile were scarred with the ugly workings of the silver mine. Great rocks, showing the dark blue of newly cut limestone, had been hacked out of the hillside, leaving ugly gaps; small wheeled wooden carts were piled high with crushed stone and the grykes were filled with dead and dying heaps of blackened vegetation.
‘Let’s stop here to catch our breath,’ she said, whistling to Bran to recall him to his mistress’s side.
‘You can see the men,’ said Hugh pointing. ‘Look, Brehon.’
Mara’s eyes followed the direction
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