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spreads up here and it could make things very unpleasant if priests try to forbid their parishioners. It’s an old custom and a harmless one. Will you come? If you show approval, then it will be hard for the bishop to stand against you.’
    ‘Of course, I will,’ he said with all the good humour that she had learned to expect from him. ‘I will enjoy that. I’m sure it will be good exercise for me, too. Your lads are going too, I suppose. How many of them have you now at your school?’
    ‘Just six,’ said Mara. ‘The four oldest scholars graduated last year – Cormac went back to Cork, his father is Brehon there, Aodh got a position in Ossary, Giolla went to Donegal, and Colman, you know Colman … well, I kept him as an assistant master. He’ll move on when this term finishes.’
    ‘Funny, you keeping him,’ mused the king, his eyes on Colman who stood a few feet away, wearing the severe expression of one who bore the burden of the whole day’s proceedings. ‘I’d’ve thought that some of the others would be more your type. Cormac, now, he was a boy of great spirit.’
    ‘Come to court all ye people of the kingdom of the Burren and hear the judgements of the Brehon,’ called Colman in his shrill, reedy voice and everyone obediently drew nearer, all the while casting uneasy glances at Diarmuid and his dog.
    Mara rose to her feet and picked up a scroll of parchment. ‘The first case is between Diarmuid O’Connor and his cousin Lorcan O’Connor,’ she said, raising her voice more than usual. Normally she could pitch it perfectly to the back of the crowd, but the barking of the dog made her doubt whether her normal tones could be heard. She unrolled the parchment, glanced over it and then rolled it up again. She had, in fact, not got round to writing up this case, but the scroll was like a wand of office to her by now, always held in her hand, but seldom referred to. Her memory was excellent, trained by years of study.
    She wondered briefly whether it would be worthwhile telling
the dog to be quiet, but decided not to bother. After all, he would prove her case better if he kept barking.
    ‘Diarmuid’s cow was stolen from a latched cabin within the yard around his house,’ she continued, her eyes scanning the back of the crowd to make sure that everyone caught her words. ‘The door to the yard was bolted on the inside, but the bolt could be reached over the top of the door from the outside. This dog, named Wolf, was free in the yard.’ Abruptly she pointed her scroll at the dog and it stopped barking and eyed her uncertainly. Mara took advantage of the quiet and proceeded. ‘During the night someone entered the yard and stole the cow. But,’ she paused dramatically, and heard the sigh of anticipation from the crowd, ‘this dog did not bark. Why did the dog not bark? The dog did not bark because he knew the man that came in and stole the cow. Who was that man?’ Again she paused and again the crowd sighed. Mara felt a familiar rush of pleasure. She loved these occasions.
    ‘That man was the only man on the Burren, apart from Diarmuid, who could approach this dog. That man was the breeder of the dog.’ Here Mara stopped and turned around and pointed at Lorcan, who was looking down at his feet. ‘And the breeder of the dog was Lorcan O’Connor. What do you say, Lorcan? Do you plead guilty?’
    ‘I found the cow straying,’ muttered Lorcan. ‘I was going to return her. Someone else must have stolen her.’
    ‘And who, except yourself, could have gone into that yard and faced the dog?’ said Mara, raising her voice. The dog had begun to bark again. ‘Diarmuid’s bedroom window was just above the yard. One bark would have woken him.’
    ‘Other people knew the dog,’ said Lorcan with desperation in his voice. ‘He would not have barked for some people that he knew well.’
    ‘Who?’ demanded Mara. ‘Is there anyone here today who can
approach this dog without making him bark?’