Free Chain of Evidence by Cora Harrison Page B

her urgently. I want her to give an opinion on the cause of death, and on the time of death. Nuala will do that better than any other physician.’ Her mind went with tolerant scorn to the young man at Caherconnell; he would not serve her purpose.
    ‘Is Nuala a qualified physician now? She’s only about my age, isn’t she, or not much more?’ asked Fiona rather sharply and Mara suppressed a grin as Aidan and Moylan informed her how talented Nuala was and how she had done so well in her final examinations that the king’s own physician, Donogh O’Hickey, had spoken of her in Rome.
    Fachtnan said nothing, just looked at Fiona with concern in his dark eyes. What a tangle that was, thought Mara impatiently. Nuala adored Fachtnan and, herself an heiress of valuable property on the Burren, was willing to share her considerable wealth with him in marriage, but Fachtnan worshipped Fiona who thought of him purely as an elder brother and comrade, though she enjoyed his homage. Still they would have to work matters out for themselves so Mara dissipated the slight atmosphere of embarrassment among her scholars by giving some crisp commands to Fachtnan and checking that he had silver with him and instructing him to request a meal when he arrived at Turlough’s main castle in Thomond.
    ‘Now,’ she said to her scholars as he set off towards the west, ‘I have a task for your young brains.’ She looked around but there was no one on their road back to the law school; she could speak without being overheard. ‘First question is this: why should that chain have been removed from Garrett’s leg? The second question is: why was a chain tied to his leg? No, don’t answer now, wait until we get back to the law school.’
    And I must ride over to Baur North to see my little Cormac for a few minutes, she thought as they rode in silence. The next week or so would be busy. The life of a law enforcer and judge for the whole kingdom, as well as being the wife of the king, meant that her moments with this late-born second child of hers were rationed. She was grateful to his foster parents Cliona and Setanta O’Connor, but there were times when, secretly, she felt an angry jealousy rise up within her – especially when she heard Cormac address Cliona as ‘Mam’.
    And yet, she knew that she had done the right thing, and that her active, masculine little boy was having a wonderful time playing with his foster brother, only a few months older than he, helping on the farm, driving sheep to new pasture, guarding the newborn lambs with the aid of the long-tailed sheepdogs, scattering straw for beds for the lambing sheep and soon there would be all the excitement of the sheep shearing to look forward to. He was a strong-willed, happy boy and she would not have him different in any way.
    Cliona, her son Art, and Cormac were nowhere to be seen when Mara rode onto the small farm. Only Setanta, her fisherman husband, was there vigorously pulping some unsold fish into a smelly paste to put onto the land as a fertiliser. He did not know where Cliona and the two little boys were, but he was eager to go in search for them.
    ‘No, no,’ said Mara hurriedly. ‘I can’t stay long in any case – he’s well?’ she enquired trying to keep a wistful note from her voice.
    Setanta grinned. ‘Bursting with health, and mischief,’ he added. ‘Wait till you hear his latest. Cliona had shut some of the sheep into the cabin to wean the lambs who were born early in the year. The rest were out in that field on the top of the hill and what does young Cormac do, but put a cat on the neck of one of the sheep – “just being kind to it and giving it a ride” – that’s what he told her, of course. Well, the sheep ran, the cat hung on, and would you believe it every single sheep in the place started running and that was not all; the sheep that Cliona had shut in the cabin – she mustn’t have shot the latch through properly – well, they burst out of the