Free Deed of Murder by Cora Harrison Page B

Cahermacnaghten, had brought home from his trip to Rome.
    ‘Seamus, a poem,’ he called impetuously to the young poet. Mara had placed Seamus MacCraith between Nuala and Fiona and hoped that the three young guests would amuse each other. Seamus would make a possible husband for Nuala, she thought. He was quite a gifted young man and had written some extraordinarily beautiful poetry about Mullaghmore Mountain on the Burren when he had come there on a winter’s afternoon, some months ago. Nuala was so brilliantly intelligent that it would be a pity for her to marry a husband too far beneath her in brains.
    However, the morning’s hunt had not inspired him – or else he was too interested in his conversation with Fiona.
    ‘Not yet, my lord, these matters need time. I have to sow the seed and wait for the flower,’ he called out, his beautiful voice making a song out of the simple sentences.
    Ulick Burke eyed him severely. ‘What is it the law says, my boy? My dear Brehon, you will put me right if I err: “ There are three things which do not profit the world by anything they do, whatever their fame for wisdom, art, and piety: a grasping miser; an arrogant poet; and a kept priest .” Methinks that such arrogance is unbecoming in such a young man. If the king asks for a poem, then as a good workman you should produce the poem.’
    Seamus MacCraith looked at him furiously. ‘I do not claim for myself the status of a workman, my lord; that would be very wrong. I am merely the channel through which the words of God flow in praise of the kingdom that He has created. You know what the great Fithail says: “ There are three duties of one who is Fili: to teach their people to live fearless in strength; to teach their people how to avoid the attention of the Mighty Ones and to teach their people the Laws of Nature .”’
    Mara looked at Ulick with amusement. How would he answer that?
    ‘And what about Triad two hundred and forty-eight?’ demanded Fiona with a triumphant glance at Ulick. ‘I don’t suppose that you have heard of that, have you? We at the law school learn all of these.’
    Ulick smiled gently at her. ‘I think I remember it, dear girl. How does it go? “ There are three improprieties of one who is a Fili: to claim as their own work, what the Gods have done through them; to demand gain or pleasure as a servant of the Mighty Ones; to allow themselves to be kept by labour that is not their own. ” Yes, no man should claim that God is working through him, just in order to allow themselves to be kept by a labour that is not their own, you would agree, my lord bishop,’ he said to Turlough’s cousin, who was busy asking a servant for more wine, but who had caught the word ‘God’ and nodded gravely at Ulick.
    ‘He agrees,’ said Ulick enthusiastically. ‘How wonderful to be on good terms with the church! I had been afraid that the little affair of having five wives had earned me the disapproval of Rome.’
    ‘I meant,’ said Fiona flushing slightly, ‘that Seamus is right in wishing to wait for inspiration – from God, perhaps.’
    ‘My dear child,’ said Ulick smiling at her benignly, ‘I know full well what you meant, and don’t think that I am unsympathetic. I remember well how it felt to be young . . .’
    ‘“ There are three qualifications for poetry ”,’ interrupted Fiona. ‘“ These are: endowment of genius; judgement from experience; happiness of mind. ” That’s from Triad four hundred and seventy-eight.’
    That’s not correct, thought Mara, that’s the wrong Triad; but she said nothing. Nuala had asked Seamus MacCraith a question about the years of study for qualification as a poet and Mara decided to keep Ulick’s attention on herself. There was something that she was curious about, in any case.
    ‘You know a lot of law, Ulick, don’t you?’ she asked, taking a sip from her glass and eyeing him over the top of it. ‘How does that come about?’
    ‘I’m a magpie,