Deed of Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

figure stretched out on the hard, stony ground at the edge of the valley. She knelt beside him filled with a passionate anger – whatever few foibles and conceits he had, he did not deserve this.
    The four young boys knelt too, awkwardly, overawed by death in one who, only a few days ago, had laughed and teased, worked and played alongside them.
    Nuala, though, did not kneel. She stood very upright, looking all around her, at the hill above the pathway, at the tumbled stones on the ground amongst the grasses. After a long, appraising glance around, and upwards at the mountainside, she knelt beside the body and touched it with sure, unfaltering hands.
    After a moment she looked up at Cumhal. ‘Broken his neck?’ she queried with a lift of her dark eyebrows.
    ‘That’s what I thought.’ Cumhal nodded and Mara drew in a breath of relief. This was just a tragic accident. The young man had probably been thrown from his horse, had tumbled down the steep slope of the stony hill, had fallen awkwardly and then broken his neck. Looking upwards she could see the traces of a narrow pathway high above their heads. She was about to say something when she noticed Cumhal’s eyes were still resting on Nuala – almost as though he expected her to say something else.
    ‘Funny bruise on his neck, though. Just here. Almost like a blow.’ She looked at Cumhal. ‘What about the horse? Where was that found?’
    ‘Turned up at Cahermacnaghten – trotted in through the gates – looking the worse for wear. I’d say it had done quite a journey.’ Cumhal gave the facts quickly, still looking at Nuala in an enquiring way.
    ‘A journey? How far?’ Mara was still wondering how Eamon had ended up in this place. Was his death then connected with the flax garden?
    ‘Could have gone over to Thomond, then across the Shannon, and back, perhaps.’ Cumhal had read her mind.
    To Thomond. Mara’s eyes were on the opened satchel beside the body before she turned to Muiris who had been standing quietly, well away from the body, just beside the barn where the spinning wheels had been set up.
    ‘Come and join us, Muiris,’ she invited. ‘You found him?’
    ‘That’s right, Brehon. I was just having a wander around – just making plans, you know. Not wanting to get in the way or anything.’
    He had the right to evaluate the property that he had leased, but Mara guessed that he would not be a very welcome visitor. She could understand why he hovered on the edge, keeping away from the busy workers, but also noting how the various procedures worked: how the flax went from scutching, heckling and combing in one shed; on to the next shed to be spun; then some of the spun threads to be dyed, but most straight to the next shed to be woven into lengths of stuff, ready to be sewn into the léinte , those straight, long-sleeved garments – either knee-length or full-length – that everyone in the kingdom from cradle to deathbed wore every day and night of their lives.
    ‘So you noticed the body,’ she said aloud, and he nodded.
    ‘Didn’t see it for a while because of all the limestone and his cloak being the same colour . . . I was looking the other way, of course, looking over towards the sheds. But then I noticed him.’
    ‘Was he still warm?’ asked Nuala.
    ‘Not warm, but not stiff.’ Muiris nodded. ‘Not too long dead, I’d say. You see that bit of blood there on his chin – well that hadn’t dried too well when I saw him first. It wasn’t that black colour then.’
    ‘And how long had you been here when you discovered him?’ asked Mara.
    ‘Only a few minutes, I’d say,’ replied Muiris looking very directly at her.
    Mara looked around. There was something rather strange about the intense lack of interest from the O’Halloran clan. The hum of the spinning wheels and the clank of the looms continued without hesitation. Children scurried from shed to shed carrying and fetching, casting scared glances towards the little group on