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horn player with the young girl, Emer. What do you think that they were up to?’
    ‘What indeed?’ murmured Mara. She sighed theatrically. ‘Young people!’ She tried not to let a smile creep out. Had he ever been young? she wondered. But no, he would have been swept out from the world and immured in some monastic establishment before he knew what the world was about. He was of the Roman school of ecclesiastics; the Celtic church was milder and more forgiving, and, until fairly recently, priests had married. One of the Heptads, she remembered, stated that the wife of a priest must keep her head covered in church.
    ‘I require you to investigate this matter, this morning if possible, and bring the culprits to justice,’ he said angrily. ‘There should be a heavy fine for all of them.’
    Mara shook her head firmly and allowed a note of iron to creep into her voice. ‘No, Father, I can’t do that,’ she said. ‘I’ve studied the law since I was four years old and I’ve never come across a law that prevents the young from singing and dancing and enjoying themselves.’
    ‘I’ll report you to the bishop,’ he snapped. ‘Bishop Mauritius of Kilfenora will be most angered to hear about this.’
    Mara shrugged. ‘King Turlough Donn O’Brien will be here himself today at Poulnabrone. You can speak to him if you wish,’ she said coldly. ‘I am his officer and it is for him to tell me what to do. Bishop Mauritius is in the kingdom of Corcomroe. Now, I must say farewell to you and get back to the law school. I have my scholars to care for.’
    ‘I hope none of them were involved in last night’s devilry,’ he said spitefully. ‘There are things going on near your own law school, you know. I’ve heard sounds from that cave. I’ve watched them. You should take better care of your scholars; you should
keep them harder at work, Brehon. The devil finds mischief for idle hands to do …’ And then, when she said nothing, he called after her, ‘I am going up Mullaghmore Mountain myself tonight. The bishop requires a report from me. He is thinking of banning these pagan festivals like Bealtaine and substituting a Christian service in the church in honour of Our Lady.’
    Mara had turned away but now she faced him. ‘I’m going up myself, also,’ she said, making an immediate and swift decision. ‘King Turlough will come too.’ The king would probably not be too happy, she thought with an inward chuckle, but he would enjoy his dinner all the better after the exercise and it would do him good. After all, he was not yet fifty – not too old. No need to go right to the top and no need to stay until the bonfire at midnight. They could just climb the first few terraces, and then come back. The important thing was to be seen to do it. Even the bishop would be wary of interfering with a custom sanctioned by the king himself.
    That gave Father Conglach a shock. He stood staring at her, his grey eyes as cold as those of a raven.
    ‘The king!’ he said, and then he rallied. ‘I’ve heard that the king is a man of poor judgement.’
    ‘He is a man of warmth and integrity,’ said Mara evenly. ‘And I am surprised to hear you criticize your king.’
    The priest knew he had gone too far and he tried to retract. ‘All of us can make mistakes,’ he said loftily. ‘If the king’s chief advisers, his Brehons, do not give him the right counsel then he may be led into deeds unworthy of him.’
    Mara was walking away, but then she stopped. She took a deep breath. Would she ignore this or retaliate? Retaliate, she decided immediately. She whirled around and walked back to him.
    ‘By the way, Father Conglach,’ she said stonily, ‘one of the cases that I will be hearing today at Poulnabrone is about poor young Nessa. What can you tell me about her?’

    ‘What do you mean?’ he asked furiously. ‘What have I to do with that girl who committed such a grievous sin?’
    ‘One of your own flock, nevertheless,’ said