Cross of Vengeance by Cora Harrison

flow of soft Welsh. The prioress herself, despite her angry words earlier, was looking between her sisters and Hans Kaufmann and there was an air of irresolution about her. Brother Cosimo, also, seemed deeply uneasy. Perhaps Hans Kaufmann knew something about him. A picture of the ornate, bejewelled cross in the Benedictine monk’s satchel flashed into Mara’s mind. What was it that Brother Cosimo had accused the German of? ‘
A maligner of honest men
’,
those had been his words. All except the Dominican priest would probably prefer if the German was set free tonight. It was not something that she could square with her conscience to do, though, she thought. A crime had been committed and retribution had to be exacted.
    ‘Father MacMahon, will you give the key of the church to Blad?’ She turned to the innkeeper. ‘The kingdom will pay the bill for his meals, but food, drink and all other necessities he must have. When he has all that he needs you may lock the church and keep him there until the morning when he will be taken under escort from Nechtan O’Quinn to the judgement place of Poulnabrone where I shall pass sentence on him.’
    ‘The church cannot be locked,’ said Nechtan. There was an unusual ring of authority in his voice. ‘The rights of sanctuary allow the man to leave the church in order “
to take the air, to visit the lavabo and for the relieving of his necessities
” – that’s what the monks laid down. But he must not go beyond the boundaries of the churchyard.’
    ‘I’ll stay here tonight, if Father MacMahon will give me room,’ said Ardal O’Lochlainn. ‘I’ll assist you to patrol the boundaries, Nechtan. My steward will be with me. And the stables. They must be guarded to make sure that he does not take his horse, until he has paid his fine and can depart from the kingdom, of course. We can work it out between us, Brehon. You have no need to concern yourself. All will be well. We’ll patrol the boundaries. He has no right to go further. What do you say, Nechtan? Danann and I will do whatever you order.’
    A tactful man, Ardal O’Lochlainn, thought Mara as she gathered up her scholars and once more reassured Blad that the kingdom would pay for the extra night lodging for the remaining pilgrims and for the supper for the guilty one. Why should the innkeeper lose more revenue, she thought, looking at his face, mottled red and white with anger and anxiety? Life would be a worry for him from now on. Without the huge incentive of the relic of the true cross, the flood of pilgrims arriving at Kilnaboy would soon dry up.
    Nechtan and Ardal were chatting amiably about guards and boundaries and throwing knives and other weapons. Grace’s tears were being efficiently scrubbed away from her cheeks by her widowed sister. She appeared to make some tentative moves towards the guilty pilgrim, but was instantly intercepted by her sister and borne off in the wake of the prioress, in whom the word ‘supper’ – and at someone else’s expense – seemed to operate a powerful force drawing her towards the inn. Mara quickly stepped in her way. Father Miguel and Brother Cosimo stopped abruptly behind her and looked enquiringly at Mara.
    ‘There is now no reason why you should not go on your journey tomorrow,’ she said, ‘but there will be no boat to Aran until tomorrow afternoon so I think it best if you stay in the inn until then. I shall come over first thing tomorrow morning and we will all ride together over to Poulnabrone, the judgement place for this kingdom. There you will see how justice is done and retribution paid under our laws.’
    It was possible, she thought at the time, that some words from the pilgrims about conversations with the accused man, Hans Kaufmann, might prove of use to her in deciding the punishment for this very unusual crime. And also, she acknowledged to herself, it would afford her great satisfaction to show these people from other countries how law and order could