CECILIA MAY

They walked in silence, the mist curling low across the cobblestone lane.

Clara didn’t ask where they were going. She simply followed.

The squeak of a swaying sign emerged through the fog.

The Hallow Stone.

The words were carved deep into driftwood, the sign hanging from rusted chains.

Inside, the pub was crowded. Scattered voices and the clink of glasses filled the air. But as they stepped through the door, the room fell quiet.

Not startled. Not rude. Just watching.

They moved towards a space being made for them at a table. Word had already spread. Most knew who she was; those who didn’t were quickly told. The name O’Clery was whispered behind drinking glasses, like a secret being shared.

Michael returned from the bar with their drinks.

Clara leaned closer. “Why are there so many people here?”

Michael hesitated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise the Elders would be here. It’s dispute day. Your grandmother was an Elder. The O’Clery name is the foundation of Cuan Cnamha (Sea Bone Bay), and it carried a great deal of weight until the fish stopped coming.”

The three Elders walked in and took their places at a long table. One of them was carrying a small piglet.

“This is the third time the case has been brought here,” Michael said softly. “And no one can decide what to do.”

The two defendants sat at either end of the table.

Michael leaned closer as the case began. “At the far end is Eamon, who represents the Doyle family. At the other is Colm, who speaks for the Keane family. This isn’t a feud; they’re friends. But there’s a disagreement over this piglet. Watch.”

Colm stood first. “My boar poked Eamon’s sow,” he said plainly. “So the extra pig should be mine.”

As quickly as he had stood, he sat down.

Eamon rose for the Doyle family. “My sow carried the pigs for nearly four months,” he said. “The extra pig should be mine.”

“Now the fun starts,” said Michael. “The three judges must decide whose pig it is.” He smiled. “But they’re all related to the Elders in some way.”

Everyone was talking at once. The whole pub was in an uproar, and everyone had an opinion.

“Come on,” said Michael, setting down his glass. “We’d better go. This could go on all day, and we’ll only be back next week for the same thing.”

Clara touched the pendant. Her grandmother’s words came quickly to mind.

You must gain their trust.

She stood. “I know how to finish this,” she called, her voice cutting through the chatter.

“This should be interesting,” Michael said, sitting back down.

The pub fell silent. Not even the creak of the wooden floor could be heard as Clara walked towards the long table.

“My name is Clara O’Clery, for those of you who haven’t been told.”

The words seemed to form in her head as she spoke.

“I would like to claim my place as an Elder here today.”

A murmur passed through the quiet as whispers spread between the tables.

One of the Elders stood. “As is your right,” he said, then walked over to join the others at the bar.

Clara’s heart was racing. What was she thinking? What had she got herself into? But it was too late to turn back now.

“Mr Keane.”

He stood at her words. “Ah, that’s me.”

“You say your boar poked Eamon’s sow?”

“Ah, I did. Eamon’ll tell you the same.”

“Well,” said Clara, “that gives you a good claim to the pig.”

He tipped his hat towards the bar, folded his arms and remained standing.

“Mr Doyle.”

He stood. “Ah, that’s my name.”

“You say your sow carried the pigs for nearly four months?”

“Ah, she did. Colm’ll tell you the same.”

“So that gives you a good claim to the pig, too.”

He tipped his hat, folded his arms and remained standing.

Clara turned to face the people at the bar. For a moment, she simply looked at them, as if deep in thought.

“My judgment is made.”

She whispered to the two other Elders, who did not seem to understand what she was saying.

She took one final look around the room, then turned back to Colm and Eamon.

“You both own the pig equally.”

A groan sounded from the bar, and the chatter grew louder than before. Everyone thought they would be back next week with the problem still unresolved.

Clara looked at Michael. His face was troubled.

She raised her hand, and a hush fell over the place.

“The pig must be cut in half, so you both receive an equal share. That is our judgment.”

Colm and Eamon rushed towards her, caps in hand, pleading with her to spare the piglet. Cutting it in half now would mean losing the value of a grown pig.

She raised her hand again. “Unless the Keane and Doyle families can decide who has the pig, here and now, the butcher will cut it in half today.”

Clara returned to sit with Michael as the two families met to talk.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Michael asked.

Clara smiled to herself. “Half a small piglet is worth nothing, as any farmer would tell you.”

Michael leaned in, his voice low. “Do you really know what you’ve done?”

Clara turned to him, unsure whether to smile or retreat. “Hopefully solved a pig problem,” she said, half-joking.

Michael didn’t laugh. He looked at her for a long moment.

“You interfered in a dispute,” he said. “You claimed your place as an Elder. That made the room listen. They will come to you now.”

Clara felt the pendant grow warm against her chest.

The chatter resumed behind them, but it sounded different now. There was less noise, as if everyone had lowered their voices to whispers.

She looked towards the long table, where the Elders had returned to their seats. One of them raised a glass in her direction.

Michael saw it too. “Welcome to Sea Bone Bay,” he said quietly.

Colm and Eamon had spoken with the Elder holding the piglet. He stood, and a hush fell over the room.

“It is agreed that the Doyle family will keep the piglet, so it can be taken back to its mother and continue suckling. Then, when the pig is fully grown at Christmas, both families will receive an equal share.”

He handed the piglet to Eamon, who held it up, not as a trophy, but as a sign of agreement.

The sound in the room picked up again, but there was no cheering.

“We have to leave,” said Michael. “There are things I need to tell you, but first we must return to my office and finish reading the will.”