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will be revealed and the King will know the truth.
’ What was meant by that, she wondered? Of course, it might mean nothing – just a hook to take the poet, Seán MacBrody, out of the picture and put the Brehon as the centre of attention. He had gone on to make more vague threats about knowing scandals and evil-doing; that might have caused even more uneasiness.
    All in all, it was not a comfortable atmosphere and Mara hoped that Brehon MacClancy might retire early to his bedchamber and leave the King to enjoy his celebration without that old death’s head at the feast.

Four
Duties of the King
    (Ancient Poem of the Gaels)
    If thou be a king thou shouldst know the prerogative of a ruler, refection according to rank, contentions of hostings, sticks, quarrels in an alehouse, contracts made in drunkenness; valuations of lands, measurement by poles; augmentations of a penalty, larceny of tree-fruit; the great substance of land-law, marking out fresh boundaries, planting of stakes, the law as to points of stakes, partition among coheirs, summoning of neighbours, stone pillars of contest, fighters who fasten title.
    From a king must come the extent of protection; the right of the fine, up to the sixth man, in movables and land. Valid is every neighbour-law that is contracted by pledges and secured by fines consisting of séts. Greater or smaller is the value of penalties. The penalty for breaching a boundary fence: from a bull-calf to a heifer-calf, from that to a yearling beast, up to five séts it extends.
    Let fines be forthcoming on the fifth day after the offences, according to the law of neighbours. What single ox shares liability with the drove? What overleaping by a single piglet shares liability with the herds? What are the drivings carried out negligently for which final responsibility is not enforced? What are the concealed drivings forward? On which man grazing-expense does not fall? What are the unauthorized stalkings which deserve immunity? What are the larcenies from houses which do not entail a penalty?
    M ara surprised herself by really enjoying the night’s festivities. Everything was very informal. Villagers and clansmen mingled freely with everyone, people passed up and down the stairs between the main guard hall and the great hall, and Turlough, suddenly tired of the praise heaped on him, announced that he wanted no more speeches or poems about him – let everyone eat and drink and sing and dance and laugh was his command and that was the way that evening went. Instead of two elaborate banquets, the food and drink were arranged on the table on the raised platform of the great hall or on tables pushed to the sides of the main guard hall and the guests sampled from both floors.
    ‘Have some of the lampreys,’ said an elderly woman to Mara. ‘They do them well here; put vinegar on them. And spice, too – cinnamon, I’ve heard tell.’
    ‘I think I’ll just stick to the salmon,’ said Mara apologetically, heaping some applemoy sauce on to her platter. She loathed the taste of lampreys, eel-like fish, and her housekeeper, Brigid, had a great prejudice against them, saying that she would never eat them unless she prepared them herself as there was poison in the sac and they had to be very carefully cleaned out. Still, lots of people were eating them here and they seemed to be very popular. Bunratty was a great place for fish as two rivers, the immense River Shannon and the tiny River Raite, met here before joining the ocean a little further west.
    ‘You’re the King’s wife, aren’t you?’ said the old lady in a friendly way. ‘I haven’t seen you before; I don’t live around here, but I’m the mother of the King’s carpenter. He’s a lovely man, your husband, God bless him.’
    ‘And a very handsome man,’ said Mara laughing as Turlough joined them, a flagon of ale in his hand.
    ‘Say
God bless him
, don’t you know that it brings bad luck from the fairies if you praise someone and