by Charles Todd
“In the open? And still blindfolded?”
“Blindfolded, yes. But they had put up canvas, we were cold at night, but dry. The stone was—was warm during the day.”
Small wonder the searchers had had no luck in finding Michael. He’d been taken away in a boat. In this part of Ireland, that could mean anywhere. There were cliffs and fingers of land—I’d seen the map in my father’s study—and even caves.
Eileen was crying now, clutching his hand. She didn’t want to know any of this. Her imagination had already seen enough in his wounds.
“What did they do to you? And why?”
His gaze moved to the top of Eileen’s head. “They wanted information. I refused. In the end, I lied. They told me there—there—there were other ways to hurt me.”
I knew what he was saying. That if he didn’t talk to his captors, they would bring Eileen and torture her. And they had taken the Major to confirm what Michael had told them.
“Who were they?”
“I was blindfolded.”
Yet I thought he must know a little—perhaps he’d recognized a voice, glimpsed a face. This was not the time to push him.
“How did you escape?”
“When they were satisfied, they told me they would let me go. I knew they wouldn’t. They just didn’t want to kill me there. But they made a show of untying my hands and feet, although I was still wearing the blindfold. I could barely walk by then, and the horse was brought up, I—I didn’t give them any trouble, even promised I’d say nothing, in exchange for my life. I was taken back to the boat, and when I thought they were occupied with the rowing, I stood up and jumped into the sea.”
I said, “That was dangerous.”
“They searched the sea for me, then decided I’d drowned. But I’ve always been a strong swimmer. I made it to shore, found a place among some reeds, and slept for a time. I don’t know how long. But it was dark when I woke up, and I moved on. Without the blindfold, I could see the sky. I headed north, praying that was the right direction. Walked all night, part of the next day. I wasn’t sure what day it was. But when I saw the carriages all around the church, I slipped inside. My mind wasn’t functioning well, it could have been Sunday. But I willed it to be my wedding day, and willed Eileen to be there. And she was.”
His strength was seeping away with every sentence. Closing his eyes, his mouth a tight line, the split lip still raw.
I said, “Michael—”
But he shook his head.
And I realized that he was slipping into sleep again.
Eileen turned and pushed me away. “Leave him alone. Do you understand me? And if you tell anyone what you heard just now, I’ll swear you are making it up.” She brushed back strands of hair that had fallen across her face. Then she said earnestly, pleading with me. “Bess, I owe you more than I can ever repay. But you don’t live here, you don’t know the undercurrents left by the failure of the Rising. Some of us, like Michael and me, just want to see this country free. We don’t want more trouble. You’ll be leaving us in a few days. Please don’t stir up something that we’ll be left to deal with!”
I understood her. And I also understood that for the Major’s sake, Michael had told me as much as he dared. But the why was still unanswered, and the question of what they’d wanted as well. I had a fair idea. But it was still just a possibility. I also understood that the less Eileen knew, the safer she was. But in order to make Michael talk, those men had threatened to hurt her. I could just imagine what ugly fears Michael must have had, to relent and tell them what they wanted to know. Even if it was all lies.
Who would they threaten to harm if the Major refused to talk?
Someone else who was also English?
I felt a little shiver of uneasiness.
Was that why Terrence wanted me out of Ireland as soon as possible?
He’d been interrogated after the Rising. He must have known . . .
Chapter Thirteen
I got up then, walking into the kitchen, leaving Eileen to watch over Michael.
I also recognized that he was a very brave man. A good man.
Leaning against the table, I considered all the possibilities, and they weren’t very pleasant.
I needed to talk to Simon, but it was too early to slip down to the meadow.
Did Niall have anything to do with Michael’s abduction? Was that why Michael had urged me to get Eileen away as soon as possible? Why he refused to tell us what he’d been asked? Who better to watch him and decide what needed to be done, than a member of his own household?
Come to that, where was Niall?
I heard the thump of a cane on the stairs, and heavy footsteps. With a sign of resignation, I realized that I had one more confrontation ahead.
Straightening my back, making certain that she found me strong and still angry, I waited.
And then she was at the foot of the steps and coming through the door.
I’d expected her to tear into me about Terrence, but she said, “What is this about the Major? What’s happened?”
“I don’t know. He’s been missing for some hours, now. I’ve looked, Terrence has looked. And he hasn’t just wandered off. The Major is not that sort of man.”
“I thought you hadn’t met him before you came here. And now you know what he will and won’t do?”
“He’s an English officer. That’s all I need to know.”
She flushed, angered by my response. “Well, Miss. English officers are fair game in this country. I’ve no doubt he’s been killed. And when the body is found, let it be a warning to you.”
“It’s odd, Mrs. Flynn, that two men who have lived even briefly under your roof—under the protection of this house and the Flynn family—should have been taken away under your very nose. I can’t think how Michael survived. He could easily have died of what was a very savage beating. I’m sure the Major is enduring much the same treatment. He may not be as fortunate.”
She didn’t like that, either.
“And while this English officer is suffering, you have nothing better to do than flirt with my grandson.”
“Indeed. You know him better than I do. Could an English nursing Sister find it so easy to turn his head?”
Giving up that line of attack, she returned to the missing house guest.
“Why should anyone want the Major?”
“You said it yourself. To kill him, for Ireland.”
“Stop talking nonsense, girl!” She was contradicting her own pronouncement, but I didn’t argue. “We aren’t savages. He was an officer in the Irish Guards, commanding traitors to this country. I know that. What I’m asking is whether or not he could be held for ransom. If his family is wealthy or important enough for London to step in on his behalf?”
“I don’t know. We never talked about such things.” But Simon might well know. He and my father wouldn’t have overlooked that possibility.
“It should be considered.” And with that she turned and went back up the stairs to her room.
With searchers out, scouring the countryside, I had to be careful going down to the meadow so late at night. And Simon might have had just as much trouble getting to it.
I’d heard men on foot, torches flashing this way and that, going down toward the spinney, while others headed up through the orchard behind the stables. How far they’d go and how soon they’d be coming back, I couldn’t guess. Would they continue to search all night?
If Michael was right, and he’d been taken away in a boat, searchers on foot around Killeighbeg were not going to find Major Dawson, unless they could track his captors to some quiet inlet where they had left a boat.
I had been standing at a window, looking out across the dark lawns, wishing I had a view down to the stile, when I was struck with a horrible thought.
Was this why Fergus Kennedy was killed? There were inlets near his house—Terrence had said he loved painting the sea in all its many moods. Had he seen a small boat putting out late one eve
ning as he was working, and later discovered what it was?
From everything Terrence had told me about the man, he was a patriotic Irishman, regardless of his background. He was even painting the portraits of the men who had fought and died for Ireland. For the day when Ireland was free and could build a memorial to them? Terrence had said the English weren’t very happy with what he was doing. But perhaps that’s what his killers wanted us to think.
There are rogues in every Cause. People who were either so intensely loyal they couldn’t see beyond their faith in it, or were hungry for the power any change would give them. And they could do more damage to that Cause, even betray what it had stood for in the beginning, by their actions. I’d seen it happen elsewhere.
Was that what was going on here? A pocket of angry men who couldn’t see that they were only going to make the English Parliament more resolute in bringing Ireland to heel?
It was all the more important to speak to Simon, to warn him what might be happening. I didn’t want to bring more trouble on Eileen and her family. I just hoped that Mrs. Flynn wasn’t so deeply involved that any trouble others brought to this house would touch Eileen or her mother.
Even so, his captors might not be as careful with the Major. God alone knew what they might do to him. And the sea was as good as any place to rid them of a body. Fergus Kennedy had gone into the sea, and it was likely that the same fate awaited Michael. I had no idea if the Major could swim.
Watching the hands of the tall case clock in the front room go round and round, I sat with Michael and his wife for over an hour, then Eileen asked if I’d stay a bit longer while she went up to her room for some of her things. But first I had to swear not to question him.
She came back some twenty minutes later, and we moved into the kitchen.
“My mother had seen the search party going through the orchard. She was worried about us. I had to tell her about the Major.” Shaking her head, she said, “I love Ireland, but I can’t wait to leave. Isn’t that sad? When can Michael travel?”
“I think he’s much stronger today. By the weekend, surely. But how do you expect to go? There are horses in the barn, but your carriage won’t hold all of us, not if we find the Major in time. And Michael can’t walk as far as the next village. A boat? Does Terrence own a boat?”
“We were planning to use the horses. Terrence was going to take us as far as possible, to somewhere we could find transportation to Dublin, then bring the horses home. I wish your aircraft could take three people, not two.” She sighed. “And Michael won’t leave without the Major. I wish you’d never told him—we could have lied, told Michael he’d already left.”
“He wouldn’t go without saying goodbye. Michael would know that.”
“I expect you’re right.” She shook her head in despair. “I wish I knew what to do.”
“I’m going up to bed. While the house is quiet, you should try to sleep as well. I have a feeling tomorrow might be a difficult day for all of us.”
I wished her a good night and went up the stairs and into our room. She had taken a change of clothes and other things for tomorrow, but even to do that she had been afraid to leave Michael unattended. As if he might vanish while her back was turned.
It was sad. I felt for her. This wasn’t a wedding she would ever wish to recall with happiness.
It was a little after midnight when I heard the aircraft flying overhead.
I waited but didn’t hear it land. Simon must have waved it off, somehow.
No one else was awakened by the sound, as far as I could tell. And drawing on a dark coat, to make me less visible, I quietly went down the stairs and out the kitchen door. Keeping close to the house as far as I could, I struck out across the lawns and prayed that no one had seen me.
I climbed the stile, and as I started down the other side, Simon seemed to materialize out of the darkness to give me a hand.
“Was that Captain Jackson?” I asked quietly.
“Yes. I used your signal that all was well. This way.”
And taking my hand again, he led me to a corner of the meadow where a clump of what looked like hawthorn trees had grown up, forming a little space where we could stand, protected from view if the searchers came back. Even so, we had to be very careful of the trees’ sharp thorns.
“Any news of the Major?” Simon asked. He was standing close to me. But in the darkness I couldn’t see his face.
I told him then everything I knew, including what I’d thought about Fergus Kennedy’s death.
“By boat, you say? There are islands off the coast out here, but they might have gone anywhere by water, even to another village. He was blindfolded, he wouldn’t know.”
“He was lucky to have got away, Simon. He really believed they were going to kill him, throw him into the sea. He didn’t know it of course, but if I’m right, that’s just what they did to Fergus Kennedy.”
“Only the currents brought him to where a fisherman spotted him. And that was a bit of bad luck. It might have been days—longer—before anyone realized that Kennedy was missing. And even then, unless someone came to the house looking, they would have no idea where he might have gone to paint. If his killers searched the house, they were looking for any sketches he might have made of a boat that the police or some of the villages might recognize.”
“Eileen wants to leave as soon as possible, taking her mother with them. But she’s right, Michael won’t go until he knows the Major is safe. What if he’s never found? Oh—”
A hare broke cover and went zigzagging across the meadow, startling both of us.
When the night was quiet again and we were sure the hare hadn’t heard sounds we’d missed while talking, Simon told me, “I’ll have to report him missing to the nearest garrison. The Army will take over the search. And they’ll have a better idea of where to look, given Michael’s experience. But are you sure that these people, whoever they are, mean to try an attack on the Army somewhere nearby?”
“I have no idea. But that’s the only reason I can think of for them to have taken Michael and the Major. If they simply wanted to kill an Englishman, a sniper in the orchard or across the lane could have done it with far less trouble.”
“But shooting either one of them would have brought the Army here, posthaste. If they simply go missing, and there’s no body, it’s harder to convince the Army to step in. Much less persuade them that this is a prelude to an attack. Whatever is being planned, it’s cleverly done.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “Who in that house or the village has military training, other than Michael?”
“Terrence took part in the Rising. He was in Dublin. But military? I can’t think of anyone. But you don’t need to be in the Army in order to be a good strategist.”
“True.”
He was silent, thinking again. I waited. Letting him work out what I’d already had time to consider. “You’re right, it must be a garrison they’re after. The problem is, if we alert the Army, they’ll come roaring in, and the ringleaders will disappear into the countryside. Free to plan something else, somewhere else. Arthur has already made his pass for tonight, but I’ll want you on tomorrow’s flight—”
Before I could tell Simon what I thought about that plan, he stiffened, then put a hand on my arm. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the briefest flash of light, then it was gone. And then it was followed by another.
The searchers were in the spinney, on their way to the meadow. And the last thing we wanted was for them to stumble across the Traveler and the English Sister lurking behind the hawthorn clump.
Simon moved his hand to my shoulder, and both of us slowly dropped into a crouch. I turned my face into his dark coat, and he lowered his head as well.
We could hear voices now, talking together as they came out of the spinney and started to cross the meadow. From the tone of the voices, they hadn’t had any luck finding traces of the Major’s captors. Had they really tried their best? For an English officer? But perhaps they w
ould for Terrence.
They were tired, they hadn’t been successful, and they were eager to reach their homes. None of them expected to find anything or anyone this close to the house. But they flashed their torches ahead of them as they walked, and for a breath-stopping moment, one beam swept over us—and passed on.
I felt Simon tense, then relax as we faded back into darkness. And then the searchers were climbing the stile and moving on toward the lane in front of the Flynn house. It was dark, quiet, and they stopped talking. Soon their footsteps faded away.
We stayed where we were, in the event there was a straggler or two still coming through the spinney. But the night belonged to us now, and to an owl, calling plaintively from somewhere among the trees.
And then I realized it wasn’t an owl at all, but a signal. Two men materialized at the edge of the trees and stood there for several minutes. They had no torches, or if they had them, they didn’t use them.
It occurred to me that they had been watching the search party. Very likely keeping an eye on their progress.
Simon whispered in my ear, “Recognize either of them?”
I had. I couldn’t miss the tall one, the violinist. But the other was turned so that I could only see one shoulder and his back. Another of his friends? Or perhaps a better word was co-conspirator.
Finally they turned and went back the way they’d come.
“Interesting,” Simon said in my ear. “If I’d had to name someone behind this, he’d have been my first choice.”
Again we waited. When all was quiet, we got to our feet. My knees were stiff from crouching.
“Do you think the Army—someone—has a file about him? He’s said to have been at the Rising,” I asked.
“If he signed the Proclamation, there will be an order for his arrest on sight.” He laughed, deep in his chest. “I have a duty to report the presence of Terrence Flynn.”
“Will you?” I asked.
“Do you want me to do my duty?”
It was an odd question.