A Secret and Unlawful Killing Read Online Free PDF

rich purple, over the creamy white of her léine, suited her dark hair and hazel eyes and it had been made according to the latest fashion, closely fitting with a row of small buttons at the front, its flowing sleeves caught tightly in at the wrist. The admiration in the king’s eyes warmed her, but she had a task to do.
    ‘Cumhal,’ she called over her shoulder to her farm manager, who was riding respectfully behind them. ‘Go ahead to Niall MacNamara’s farm. He was with Ragnall yesterday when they were collecting the Michaelmas tribute. Get him to send a message immediately to his taoiseach and then come and meet us at the churchyard. Actually, no,’ she amended
with a rapid change of plan. ‘Tell him to bring his horse and meet us at the churchyard first.’ She would have to see the body for herself before she sent for Garrett MacNamara: she could imagine his fury if he were dragged from his tower house at this early hour of the morning because of a wild rumour from two fourteen-year-old boys.
    ‘I’ll go for Niall, Brehon,’ said Diarmuid, riding forward. ‘You may need Cumhal with you and Niall knows me well. His lands march with mine.’
    Mara gave him a quick nod and a smile. That would be best. Niall MacNamara, the illegitimate son of Aengus MacNamara, the miller, was a nervous, timid young man. She could rely on Diarmuid to bring him along without causing him any undue worry. And, of course, it still might be just a false alarm so the least fuss, the better. Aidan and Moylan were not the most reliable of witnesses.
     
     
    It was no wild rumour though. As reported, the body in the churchyard had been left uncovered, a shovel hastily thrown on the ground beside it. The dead face stared wide-eyed at the sky and a cluster of flies buzzed sacrilegiously around the clotted blood on the narrow brow. It was Ragnall MacNamara. Mara bent down and touched the hand. Stone cold. Yes, it appeared likely that he had been killed last night. She sighed sadly. There was something infinitely pathetic about a dead face shorn of all its defences, she thought. In life she had not much liked the man, but in death she mourned him and breathed a prayer for eternal rest for his troubled soul. She straightened up then and walked back to
the gate where she had asked the others to wait. Turlough dismounted his horse as soon as he saw her and came to join her, while Cumhal and the two bodyguards stayed at a discreet distance.
    ‘Yes, it is Ragnall, the MacNamara steward, and he is definitely dead,’ she said, before he could ask. He took her hand and held it between his own two large warm hands.
    ‘Is there anything I can do?’ he asked quietly. ‘Do you want me to get Malachy, the physician?’
    Mara shook her head. ‘He’s in Galway. In any case I don’t think that there is much that he can tell me. It seems obvious that the blow to the head killed him.’
    ‘Would you like me to go up to the castle at Carron and let the taoiseach know about this? I can easily do it on my way back to Thomond.’
    She shook her head again. ‘You go on with your journey. I’ll have Cumhal and Diarmuid here with me,’ she assured him.
    ‘You’re not going to prefer to accept help from that bóaire instead of from me, are you?’ grumbled Turlough.
    Mara smiled with amusement. She enjoyed Turlough’s occasional growls of jealousy.
    ‘It’s more fitting for a farmer to be running errands than for a king,’ she told him demurely. She felt she sounded like a parody of her housekeeper, Brigid, who always had a keen notion of what was or was not fitting for various members of society to do, but Turlough continued to look at her suspiciously. He had not liked finding her alone with Diarmuid in the garden earlier.
    ‘Go n-éirigh an bothair leath [may the road rise up with
you],’ she said smiling a farewell, and, despite the presence of the bodyguards, she reached up and kissed him on the lips.
    ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ he