Free Chain of Evidence by Cora Harrison

tightly bound with a winding sheet by the time that she and her scholars had arrived at Carron Castle early in the morning. She had commanded that the sheet be undone, and had to force herself to gaze down at the remains of what had once been Garrett MacNamara. The body had been terribly mutilated though it still possessed the remains of its four limbs. But there had been no trace of a piece of chain around what had been a leg. The blood-soaked clothing had been burned or thrown out and presumably the chain had gone with everything else. No one seemed to know anything about it.
    Slaney, Mara was interested to see when she arrived at the castle, was playing the part of a grief-stricken wife, sitting over a fire in the hall and sipping mead while various maids hovered around her. She accompanied Mara on her mission to see Garrett’s body, crossing herself and issuing sighs that turned to gulps as she struggled to contain her emotions. Only when Mara mentioned the chain around the leg that Ardal had seen, did Slaney revert to her usual self and she snapped out the words, ‘no such thing’ with such rapidity that it was no wonder that the servants immediately denied having seen any such thing.
    And what could be done? Mara asked herself. Nothing for the moment, was the answer. Against that solid bank of women who had cleaned and bound up the remains of the body, it was one man’s word – and the word of a man who, moreover, had just seen the body lying in mounds of filth and dust and blood. And yet, thought Mara, I have known that man for the whole of my life, we were brought up as neighbours, I have never known Ardal to be inaccurate. He was not a talker; he said little, but that which he said was always carefully considered. Mara passed between her fingers the rosary beads which Slaney had handed to her and mechanically made the responses to the prayers while thinking hard.
    From a distance she could hear sounds of merriment in the hall. It had been full of silent men and women when she had arrived, but the removal of Slaney’s presence had unlocked tongues and probably the mead had been flowing. There had been no sign of Stephen Gardiner, the Englishman – perhaps he had retired to his room to write up his notes – but Jarlath had been there, moving among the clansmen and women, already, in their eyes, invested with the status of
taoiseach
. The man Tomás had been whispering in his ear and there was an eagerness on the faces of all as they looked at the handsome, amiable young man. Rhona and Peadar were still outsiders, though. Once again they had withdrawn to the seclusion of a window seat and Peadar’s young face wore an expression of angry embarrassment which made Mara feel rather sorry for him. What would be his position now? The question must be troubling both, but it was not the most urgent problem to be solved at the moment so Mara turned her thoughts back to the terribly mutilated dead body in front of her.
    A chain around the leg? Was there any possible reason why Garrett himself should tie a chain around his leg? She could think of none. Garrett was a pompous man, a man who always dressed well for his role as
taoiseach
of his clan. During his four years of office she had never seen him engage in any work on his land – and even if he were dragging something, surely the chain would have been wound around his shoulders. She dismissed that thought from her mind and went back to Shane’s suggestion. A lunatic, or a fierce dog, might be tied in order to prevent him from escaping. But a man in possession of his senses would not be detained long by a chain around his leg unless his hands also were bound. But Ardal had not mentioned a chain around the wrists – more shocking and more noticeable than one around the leg.
    ‘The third sorrowful mystery: Jesus is crowned by thorns,’ announced Slaney. ‘Let us consider in silence for a moment the agonies of our saviour.’
    Another thirty ‘Hail Marys’, not to