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“Better ys late thane never”, and the warder couldn’t think of any more. He said that he would give Aidan the money to go to the tavern for a drink, but then Aidan said that if he would give us a look at his prisoner then we’d pay for a drink for everyone, including him. And that’s how we saw Sheedy.’ Fachtnan finished, giving her a slightly apprehensive look and explaining that he had just got small beer for the boys and confided Fiona to Moylan’s care before going into the alehouse.
    ‘That was very clever of Aidan,’ said Mara appreciatively. ‘Did Sheedy know you? I suppose it must be well over a year since he disappeared.’
    Fachtnan shook his head. ‘Not at all,’ he said sadly. ‘He’s completely out of his mind, Brehon. We must do something to rescue him. The warder said that he would definitely hang. There’s been a lot of thieving from the shops recently – people say that it is those Spanish sailors who are in town – but no one has been caught except poor Sheedy, of course.’
    Mara thought about the matter, watching the seagulls squawking overhead, flying towards the harbour. What would be the best course of action? Here in Galway she had no status. In fact she was probably doing an imprudent thing in even visiting the city. Not only was she a Brehon – and Brehon Law was proscribed and detested by the English, but in addition she was the wife of a Gaelic king. Could she perhaps be captured and held to ransom, thrown into the squalor of the city gaol, placing an obligation on Turlough to come and rescue her and her scholars?
    ‘Ah, here are some fellow guests,’ called back Lawyer Bodkin. He dropped Fiona’s arm and hurried back to Mara. ‘Here is Mayor Lynch,’ he said and then hastened forward. Mara watched his hurried gait with interest. The lawyer was fighting his way through the crowds on the pavements while the mayor stood still and awaited his arrival.
    Mayor Lynch obviously lived up to the old name of ‘sovereign’ and expected greetings from all of his subjects. The busy evening crowd had already parted to allow him and his family to walk in the centre of the pavement and most bowed and doffed caps as he passed. He showed no signs of acknowledging these salutations, though his wife and son bowed and smiled from time to time.
    Mara made a sign to her scholars and waited, her mind alert and interested. What sort of man would he turn out to be? The mayor and his family had hardly paused to greet Lawyer Bodkin, but were coming towards them – a tall, very thin man, fairly elderly, a plump middle-aged woman and a boy of about Fachtnan’s age.
    The boy took Mara’s attention. He was so vibrant, so full of life, gleaming like polished copper, a tall boy with curly, chestnut-coloured hair, a bright alert face with a grin stretching from ear to ear as he surveyed the group with frank curiosity. He was wearing a bright red jerkin, a crisp white shirt with Spanish lace work showing and he had a jaunty red cap with a kingfisher’s feather stuck into it.
    ‘Greetings! Welcome to Galway!’ he called out excitedly and then gave a shamefaced, guilty look at the frowning face of his father.
    And yet, what had been wrong with the boy’s impulsive speech, thought Mara as she eyed James Lynch carefully.
A hard, cold man
had said Ardal O’Lochlainn, and Ardal was a man who never spoke without due consideration of his words. She smiled politely and waited for introductions. Mayor Lynch gave her a courteous bow in acknowledgement of Henry Bodkin’s words, but did not return her smile. He had a pale face with pale grey eyes and a thin, pinched mouth. He did not speak and did not offer to shake hands, but his wife, introduced by Lawyer Bodkin as Mistress Lynch, had taken Mara’s arm impulsively and said immediately, ‘Please call me Margaret. What beautiful hair you have!’
    Like her son, thought Mara, smiling as she mentioned her own first name, and decided to return the compliment by