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parish. Nothing was found of him, but two months later the pouch that he was wearing was found in the churchyard at Kilcorney.’
    ‘Tell me about the fight.’ It was time to put a stop to this, Mara thought, though even as she said the words, she was conscious that this fight had taken place on Monday and now it was Thursday.
    ‘Some of the young lads.’ Liam’s voice was off-hand, but he cast a swift glance at Ardal. ‘Not sure who they were,’ he finished.
    That’s probably a lie, thought Mara. Liam knew everyone on the Burren and he was the greatest gossip in the kingdom. He would make it his business to know. And why was he looking at Ardal like that? It seemed very unlikely that Ardal would have lowered his dignity to fight with Iarla. She made a mental note to ask her scholars. The four older ones, Fachtnan, Enda, Moylan and Aidan had stayed on at the party after she had taken young Hugh and Shane home with her. Turlough had wished to ride to Thomond that night so Mara had not wanted to stay late. She had confided the four older scholars to Cumhal and had taken the two youngest and departed at the same time as Turlough.
    ‘So when did you see Iarla last?’ She addressed her question to both men, but Ardal looked enquiringly at Liam.
    ‘I had supper with him last night,’ said Liam. ‘Himself –’ he indicated Ardal with a nod of the head – ‘was still in Galway so we didn’t hold the meal for him.’
    ‘And what time did you get back, Ardal?’
    ‘Shortly after compline; I know I heard the bell from the abbey when I was near to Poulnabrone.’
    Ardal’s reply was quick and decisive. Mara had a feeling that he had been ready for this question.
    ‘Must have been quite dark,’ she commented.
    ‘A great moon last night.’ Liam had the answer before Ardal said anything.
    ‘And neither of you saw him this morning. That was strange, surely?’
    ‘Not really: we saw little of him in the morning, isn’t that right, my lord? He didn’t leave his bed too early. Of course he had nothing much to do during the day so he could afford to lie on. Eating, drinking, sleeping, that’s how he’s spent the last few days.’ Liam’s tone was dismissive and contemptuous. He was not going to mourn the dead boy, that much was obvious.
    ‘Should the uncle be told?’ asked Ardal. ‘I can send a message by the ferryman. He’ll be making the crossing first thing tomorrow morning.’
    ‘That would be best,’ said Mara. An enterprising man in Doolin, in the kingdom of Corcomroe, ran a ferry a couple of times a week between Aran and the mainland. This enabled the Aran Islanders to barter fish and wool for turf, fuel that their island lacked.
    ‘We can delay the burial mass until he arrives,’ she added. ‘Now I think I’ll let you bring the body to the church while I go and have a word with Fiachra.’
    She waited while the four of them lifted the body on to the cart and then walked briskly down the road. There was no sign of life from the basket maker’s cottage, but perhaps Fiachra might have some information.
    Fiachra was in the centre of the field when she reached the hedge. He was holding the bridles of the two heavy horses that were pulling the plough through the fertile brown soil, leaving long shining ridges behind. She noticed how straight the ridges were, almost as if a ruler had made the glistening lines. She doubted whether Fiachra had seen much; work like this needed concentration, but she would wait until he came back to the edge of the field and then ask him.
    ‘Lovely day, Brehon!’ He was quite glad to have something to break the monotony of his task. ‘Anything wrong?’ he enquired.
    ‘Why do you say that?’ Mara smiled at him; he was a handsome lad with an open fresh face. Although of the same clan as Ardal, he would only be a very distant relation and yet the family stamp of the red-gold hair and the neat features was upon him too.
    ‘Your young scholar came over to ask about Dalagh