Laws in Conflict Read Online Free PDF Page A

judge.’ Lawyer Bodkin presented the girl to Mara almost absent-mindedly, his eyes still devouring the horse, examining the large hoofs and running his hand along the withers and stroking the large throat.
    A spoilt child, very sure of her own charm, thought Mara, but she could not help responding to the compliment, praising the horse and telling the girl what a lovely pair they made.
    ‘Have you heard that a Spanish cousin of mine is visiting us, sir?’ Catarina enquired of Henry Bodkin.
    ‘For a visit?’ asked the lawyer, while Mara suppressed a slight smile. This was the second time within the last couple of minutes that Catarina had mentioned this Spanish cousin.
    ‘No, well, yes, originally I believe it was for a visit, but he has determined to stay here permanently. He is going to set up a business importing Spanish mares and breeding from them. He has lots of ideas,’ she finished, trying to sound dispassionate but her cheeks flushed to a bright rose colour and a small smile twitched the corners of her mouth. Mara guessed that this Spanish cousin had seen more than a business opportunity to make him decide to remain in Galway.
    ‘What’s your cousin’s name?’ she asked obligingly.
    ‘Carlos.’ The girl’s voice became more foreign as it lingered lovingly over the two syllables. ‘He’s just two years older than I am. But you will see him tonight. We are all coming to supper with the Blakes – it’s in your honour.’ She bestowed another smile on Mara and then trotted off on her Arab steed.
    ‘So that is Philip Browne’s daughter,’ said Mara remembering Ardal’s story. She watched with amusement how the heads of the parading soldiers on the wall turned and gazed in the girl’s direction until a sharp command from the sergeant made them swivel back again. She was a tall, strong, well-made girl with a great seat on a horse. ‘Ardal O’Lochlainn told me that he had married a Spanish lady,’ she added.
    ‘Huge expense,’ muttered Lawyer Bodkin, and then when she looked at him with surprise, he added, ‘Importing Arab horses, I mean. Anyway, come and see my horses, and afterwards I’ll show you the windmill.’
    Mara was very fond of horses and admired his. A lot of horses for one man, even if his sister Jane rode, she thought. She counted ten and one mare was obviously near to giving birth. The mares were mostly sturdy Connemara horses, but the stallion looked to have some Spanish blood in him. After a while she ran out of compliments and waited for him to make the next move. I’m bored, she thought. I’m so used to being busy, to packing so much into every minute of the day, to doing three or four tasks even before breakfast. If only Sorcha and the children were here I could go to visit them – she saw little enough of her daughter as during the school holidays she felt a duty to be with her kingly husband as much as possible, and Sorcha herself had three small children and Oisín’s business interests kept them tied to Galway. This month, however, by an awkward coincidence, Sorcha had accompanied him on a visit to his family in the kingdom of Thomond.
    Henry Bodkin was determined to prove the perfect host and insisted on showing her the windmill. A broad, stone path ran up to it and the grass grew thick and undamaged around it. There was little to see – a dusty ground floor filled with heaped up empty sacks, the huge vertical shaft, the horizontal wheels, the hot grinding stones, nothing was new to her. The lawyer was slightly surprised to hear that they had a windmill also in the Burren – thinking, no doubt, that they were primitives who each ground their own oats with the aid of a couple of stones.
    ‘Could I visit your law chambers, now?’ she asked, and then, suddenly inspired, said, ‘I would love to have an opportunity for studying any books that you have on law.’
    ‘Dull work for you; I had planned to take you to visit some of the foremost families – the Browne