An Irish Hostage

by Charles Todd

  I knew how much he cared for her. I knew how much she had just hurt him.

  Without a word, he turned and left the kitchen. I heard the outer door slam, and a few minutes later, the sound of hooves. He’d taken one of the horses.

  There was a silence in the kitchen that I didn’t care to break. I knew as well that she was listening to where he’d gone, what he was doing.

  Then she turned to me. I thought she was going to apologize for involving me in what was a family matter—in many ways a lover’s quarrel.

  “You’ll say nothing of this to Michael. Do you hear me?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she went into the front room and shut the door with a slam of her own.

  Wild horses couldn’t have dragged what I’d just witnessed out of me. Not to Michael, not to anyone. It was far too painful and private.

  In the late afternoon the Constable was back. I heard his fist pounding on the door and his voice calling someone’s name.

  I slipped quietly out of the kitchen and up the back stairs, careful neither to be seen nor heard. I shut the door of the bedroom as softly as I could.

  I could hear the argument downstairs. Not the words, of course, but the sound of raised voices, harsh and angry.

  It was very likely that the Constable got his way this time and questioned Michael, but I didn’t think he got much satisfaction in that quarter. Then there were footsteps on the stairs, and Eileen was coming through the bedroom door, her face flushed with fury and worry.

  “He wants to speak to you. That Constable.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I said, and followed her down the front stairs, into the room where a very pallid Michael lay on his pallet, his gaze on the ceiling.

  The Constable glared at me, but said civilly enough, “I’m told the searchers have found no sign of the Englishman. Where is Terrence Flynn?”

  “I truly don’t know. He was in the kitchen earlier, but I can’t tell you where he could have gone from there.” It was the absolute truth.

  The man nodded. “At least you’ve been honest with me. I’ve called in reinforcements. One man dead. Two abducted. It doesn’t speak well for law and order in this village.” I noticed he made no mention of a fourth man poisoned. But he sounded irritated with us, as if we’d done these things deliberately, to put him out.

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could say I knew what was happening here. All I do know is that my patient is not progressing as quickly as I’d like. His fever went up this morning—never a good sign. And I’m fearful that if we don’t find the Major soon, he could die. It’s only a miracle that Michael Sullivan didn’t.”

  He wasn’t very pleased with that response. But I knew how important it was to keep looking for Major Dawson. And if there were reinforcements, they might have better luck finding him. Depending as always on where they stood in the Irish situation. The Constabulary was supposed to be independent of politics, but several had been ambushed and killed in Ireland in the past six or seven months. It had been in the London papers. By the Irish rebels, or so it was suspected. But that should spur the Constables on to try to keep the peace.

  He nodded and left. Standing in the doorway, watching him walk away, I didn’t hold out much hope that he would make any more progress than the searchers had done. Not if the Major, like Michael, had been taken away by boat.

  Should I have told him that? I bit my lip as I considered my decision. The thing was, the only person I was sure I could trust was Simon.

  Terrence Flynn spoke behind me, standing in the shadows of the staircase.

  I turned. “I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I was down in the cellar. Amazing what you can hear through the floorboards. You don’t trust him?”

  “Should I?”

  “In theory, you should. He’s what passes for the police here. But he doesn’t seem to do anything but interview people.”

  He came down to stand beside me. The Constable was far enough away that even if he turned he couldn’t see Terrence there in the doorway with me.

  “I think you know more than you’ve said.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “I should like to know just how that’s possible.”

  “Michael trusts you, I think. He can’t trust Eileen, she’s too emotional at the moment. But you keep a clear head, and I think he’s told you where he was kept.”

  He was far too observant!

  “Do you think I’d keep that to myself, if I knew? Wouldn’t I be trying to rescue that poor man? They intended to kill Michael, you know. I don’t think they’ll have any qualms about killing the Major. Besides—if there’s to be trouble, I don’t want to find myself taken up in the middle of it on some trumped-up charge.”

  “There’s something between you and that Romany tinker.”

  “What?” My response sounded quite genuine, because it was. I stared at him, meeting his gaze.

  “He’s only come to this house to ask about mending pot and pans,” he pointed out.

  “This is the only house where he can be sure of the money to pay him.”

  “There’s that,” he agreed, glancing over his shoulder at the staircase behind us. We’d kept our voices low, so as not to be overheard. Granny had the hearing of a hawk. “But bear this in mind. I couldn’t have survived this long without having my wits about me.”

  And he walked off, down the passage toward the kitchen. I heard the outer door open and close.

  Was that an offer to help?

  But why should he help an English officer? He’d been actively involved in the rebellion against England, and he had the scars to prove it.

  The only reason I could think of for his volunteering was Eileen. Terrence must know that when the Major and I left, Eileen and Michael would go with us. I wasn’t sure he knew anything about Eileen’s mother’s part in all of this. But he wanted Eileen out of Ireland. And there I thought perhaps I could trust him. He loved her enough to want to see her safe.

  He must be a lonely man, I realized suddenly. A price on his head, uncertain with the growing factions in Ireland intent on breaking free from England just where he could place his own trust. Yet he’d stayed in Killeighbeg to see his cousin married to another man, one who had served England in the war. Risking much for a love that couldn’t be returned.

  He’d promised me safe passage, in order to make her happy. He’d done all he could to find Michael for the same reason.

  Even using his authority and his contacts to find him. Doing the same for a man who might well turn him in, as he was bound by his Army oath to do, because again Eileen’s husband wouldn’t leave without Dawson.

  I found myself feeling a new respect for the Irishman. And however much my own country might see him as a traitor, his country saw him as a patriot.

  I’d never given much thought to the Irish Problem as it was sometimes called. The Irish soldiers and nurses I’d met in the war hadn’t had much time to give to arguing for the Irish cause. We’d been too busy trying to stop the German advance and end the stalemate in the trenches, the only way to push the enemy out of France and Belgium.

  A few men had deserted and gone home to support the Rising in 1916, but for the most part soldiers and nurses had gone about their duties and never talked about what they must have felt when it began and when it ended. Or when the leaders had been caught and shot.

  Perhaps it was just as well to open my eyes and at least try to understand their side of the problem, even though my own side had suffered too.

  If the Germans had conquered England, would they have hanged the prime minister and his cabinet for opposing the invasion? Or closer to home, men like my father and Simon who would have fought on, in any way they could, rather than accept their new conquerors?

  I jumped as someone spoke outside, and I looked up to see Father O’Halloran saying something to Mrs. Flynn, who was at her window.

  Trying to disappear gracefully before he saw me was impossible. And I braced myself as he came up the st
eps and greeted me.

  “How is the patient today?”

  “Slowly improving,” I responded. “Although his fever has risen today. That’s always worrying at this stage. It should be going down.”

  “He should come out into the fresh air. It will do wonders for him.”

  “I hope he will do just that very soon.” There was no need to be disagreeable, even though I couldn’t stand the man.

  There had been a young Irish priest at one of the base hospitals, a kind and caring man who attended anyone who needed his care, whatever their faith. Very different from this Father.

  “And is there any word on the Major?”

  “Sadly, there has not been.”

  From the top of the stairs, the elder Mrs. Flynn called, “You are keeping me waiting.” I remembered that they hadn’t been on the best of terms lately.

  “Good day, Father,” I said, and walked on down the passage, allowing him to climb the stairs to Mrs. Flynn.

  But I heard her say when he was about halfway up, “Any word on Padriac? Was he poisoned?”

  And the priest’s reply. “They are saying the fish had gone off. I ate it myself that evening, and as you can see, I’m—”

  The door to her rooms shut, and I couldn’t hear any more.

  I walked out under the trees on the back lawns, not wanting to encounter the priest as he left.

  The gardens were in their best bloom—roses and lilies and iris vying for attention, smaller plants filling in between. I saw lavender and verbena and other plants I recognized. Like England, Ireland got the rain flowers loved, without the heat.

  While the coastal trees were shaped by the wind, inland they fared much better, offering shelter from the sun on the warmest days. I found a stone bench under one of them and sat down there, looking at the house. I hadn’t been in half the rooms, I thought. Without the staff to keep them up, we lived in only a few. Making a mental note to explore them when the house was quiet, I turned my thoughts toward the Major. What awful agonies was he enduring while I sat here in peace and comfort?

  Almost on the heels of that thought, I heard a whistle. Those doves again, I realized as it was repeated.

  Rising without haste, I walked along the borders and then strolled past the stables and into the orchard. Moving through the high grass I listened again for the dove’s call to guide me.

  I didn’t need it. Simon stepped out from behind the gnarled trunk of one of the oldest trees, saying quietly, “Were you followed?”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  “Let’s move on, just in case.”

  And so we did. When we had a better view behind us, Simon stopped.

  I noticed that he was deeply tanned.

  “You’ve been on the water,” I said.

  “Yes. I borrowed a boat and I’ve been exploring the nearby islands. Searching for Dawson. Most of them are either deserted or have small settlements on them. I thought the deserted ones were a more likely choice for his captors, but they don’t offer much in the way of shelter. I went as far as Inishmore. It’s inhabited, but it’s not an island I’d choose to live on in the winter storms. There’s a large prehistoric hill fort up on the cliffs, and you can get there without alerting the village. Dún Aonghasa. It’s a damnable climb for a wounded man, but it fits Sullivan’s description of his way down to the tiny harbor and the boat. I got as near the top as I could without being seen, and someone is up there. It has to be Dawson’s captors—there’s no reason for anyone else to be in the ruins. No trees for firewood, no forage for animals. And it’s large enough to give anyone there fair warning of trouble coming.”

  “Would they use the same place a second time?”

  “You’ve given everyone to believe that Sullivan hasn’t talked about where he was or who had taken him. Apparently, Dawson’s captors felt safe enough to use it again.”

  “That means we don’t have much time.”

  “I’m afraid so. Bess, I can’t take it alone, and there’s no time to bring Arthur or anyone else out here. Do you trust Terrence enough to ask for his help?”

  “I don’t trust him at all. Still, he’s worried about Eileen, he wants all of us to leave as soon as we can. But Michael refuses to leave until the Major is safe. That alone might persuade him to help.”

  Simon looked away, thinking it through. “We have no idea how many people are up there.”

  “Michael only had three, I think. And one stayed with the boat, from what I can gather. But that’s not certain.”

  “The difficulty is, if we attack, they might not leave Dawson alive to talk to us. That cliff is high, they only need to shove him over. I’ve gone around to the sea side to see if there was another way up. And there isn’t.” His gaze moved on to the stables. Watchful.

  “Let me find Terrence and talk to him. But how do I tell him that the other man is the Romany?”

  “You’ll find a way.”

  I said, working it out, “How large is the boat? There will be three of us, four if we manage to get Ellis out—”

  He turned back to me. “No. Absolutely not. You aren’t going.”

  “You didn’t see Michael after he escaped. How he got to the church is beyond my comprehension—he was moving on will alone. He should have died right there at the altar, but he went through with the ceremony before he collapsed. Ellis can’t be much better, and may be in a worse state.”

  “It’s going to be difficult enough to get in there before we’re seen, and I can’t be watching out for you.”

  “I spent the war years in France, within hearing of the guns—my position was overrun—” I began, incensed.

  “The Colonel Sahib would have my head if I even gave five minutes’ thought about taking you with us—”

  “The Colonel Sahib is not here to review the situation—”

  “Precisely my point. The blame falls on me—”

  “It does not. He would trust me to know what is best—that’s how he brought me up—”

  We were talking across each other, angry and refusing to give in.

  And I suddenly realized that this argument was about much more than whether I went with Terrence and Simon to the island. It went far deeper, and I was suddenly frightened.

  I turned and walked swiftly back through the orchard, knowing that Simon wouldn’t—couldn’t—follow me. He had to stay free to get all of us safely out of here.

  I came to the stable yard, and as I walked on, I heard Terrence call to me. But I didn’t stop. I kept going, and when I got to the house, I went up to my room and sat down heavily on the bed.

  Before I could even untangle my thoughts, there was a tap at the door.

  I was sure it was Terrence, wanting to know what had brought me all but running out of the orchard.

  I was in no mood to answer him, even though my better judgment was telling me that this was probably my safest opportunity to ask his help. Here, where no one could interrupt.

  “I’m busy. Come back later.”

  I hardly recognized my own voice.

  “Bess. It’s me, Eileen. The Constable is here again. He wants to see you. He says it’s urgent.”

  My first impulse was to tell her to send him packing, but in one corner of my mind the word urgent registered. It could have meant word of Ellis. And that they needed my services.

  A flood of relief swept through me.

  If the Constabulary had found the Major, it would mean we could all go home. We could leave Ireland and that fort on the island and everything else behind. We were safe. I was safe.

  I rose and went to the door.

  Eileen looked at me and frowned. “Are you all right, Bess? You’re quite flushed—you aren’t coming down with Michael’s fever—”

  “Um, no, no, of course not. I was out walking in the sun without my hat—”

  I followed her down the stairs and into the front hall, where the Constable was waiting.

  Over his shoulder I could see another man leading an extr
a horse, but it didn’t occur to me that that was troubling.

  “How can I help you?” I asked, expecting him to tell me that the Major was safe and I was needed.

  Instead, he began the formal words of taking a suspect into custody.

  I came out of my daze with a jolt, interrupting him.

  “What—are you? On what grounds are you taking me into custody?”

  “We have reason to believe that you are responsible for the death of one Fergus Andrew Kennedy, and I have here a warrant to search this house.”

  He took it out of his pocket and unfolded it for me to see. I couldn’t tell if it was a legal document or not, only that it appeared to be legitimate.

  “You may search my room, if you like. I have nothing to hide. But please refrain from disturbing my patient or the other residents.”

  He asked directions to my room, and I told him how to find it.

  I stayed there in the entrance hall while he went. I expected him to return in a matter of minutes, because there was nothing to find.

  In the shadows of the kitchen doorway, I saw Eileen watching, her face pale with alarm.

  Overhead we could hear the Constable moving about. And I suddenly realized that the man with the extra horse was now standing just below the steps, the horses waiting with dropped reins for him to return.

  Above us the door to my room closed. And the Constable came to the top of the stairs with something in his left hand.

  I couldn’t tell what it was, but I forced myself to look up at him, not what he was carrying. Whatever it was, I knew I mustn’t show any interest, any sign of recognition.

  Eileen had moved out into the passage, and she was looking up too as he clattered down the steps.

  I said nothing until he reached the foot of the stairs.

  “May I see what it is you are taking from my room? I share it with Mrs. Sullivan, who is currently staying with her husband on the evening watch. I wish to be sure what you have is not hers.”

  There was something in his face, something hard and malicious as he silently took what he was holding and unrolled it for me.

  And I stared in shock at what he was showing me.

  Two canvases, and I recognized them almost at once. I’d seen them in Fergus Kennedy’s cottage as I watched Terrence search it.