by C R Dempsey
“You can eat this,” and the last thing Seamus saw was the butt of an axe swinging towards his face.
The cool breeze and several slaps revived him. The light was now fading on the rooftop, and Captain Williamson stood, supporting himself on his elbow on the other side of the roof.
“Now you have seen your motivation. I’m sure you’ll be more amenable to my offers.”
“Speak of your offers, and we shall see what I can do for you.”
“It should be quite easy. All you have to do is swap sides. You are a mercenary, after all.”
“If only it were that easy!”
“Let me continue my tale from the Netherlands, and you shall see why my mission so fits a man of your skills, flexible morality and deftness with dagger, axe or gun!”
“You talk me up so much. You’ll only increase your disappointment!”
Captain Williamson ignored Seamus’s sarcasm.
“You followed our unit after the battle of Zutphen and you whispered in the ears of Rowland York and the traitor Stanley. You served with the Irish brigades in the Spanish army, and your deception was that your Irish soldiers were going to defect to us! Meanwhile, unbeknown to the loyal officers of the garrisons of Zutphen and Deventer, you were planning the ultimate double-cross. So when the double-cross came, they executed many loyal and faithful soldiers of the Crown, hanged, or best died when trying to make their escape. When I fled, I pleaded to track down every Irish wretch that ever tried to return home to cause trouble and hang them from the nearest tree. I have dreamed for years of capturing you and watching the life squeezed out of your neck!”
“But you still haven’t answered my questions. Why am I still alive, and why are you bothering to blackmail me with the life of my wife?”
“Because we hear there is a bigger prize than you coming back from the Netherlands. Even bigger than you! One prize that I would even risk seeing you escape for if I could get them.”
“Which is?”
“Hugh Boye MacDavitt!”
“MacDavitt!”
“Yes, MacDavitt! Your commander in the Netherlands. We revile and loath you, but he is a much greater threat to us than you are. You are a cunning, devious, bloodthirsty mercenary, but you do not have MacDavitt’s military prowess. The rebel confederacy would be much more powerful with his organisational and training skills. That is why we want you to kill him for us!”
Seamus shook his head.
“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Just throw me over the side and into the river and get it done with!”
“But I also have personal reasons for sparing you for MacDavitt.”
“Which are?” Seamus did not want to know but knew he would find out anyway.
“This!” and Captain Williamson waved the stub of his left arm at Seamus. ”I sought the Queen’s revenge against the traitors, and MacDavitt stabbed me in the arm. I was too injured to fight and was forced to flee. The wound went septic, and the doctor had to take it. From that day onwards, I swore revenge on MacDavitt, and now, you can deliver it for me!”
“How am I supposed to do it if no one knows where he is?”
“Ha! It will not be easy, but we know how you can do it.”
“More to the point, why would I do it?”
“Because we have your wife and the families of your men. If you refuse to do it or double-cross us, we’ll make such examples of them, their legend will never be forgotten on these shores.”
“So how am I supposed to do it, and how do I know you won’t double-cross me?”
“Don’t worry about that. I have a plan. I have thought of everything.”
* * *
The next day Seamus rode out of the castle in front of a body of men. Shea Óg and Sean O’Rourke rode beside Seamus. Six other Irish veterans from the Netherlands rode behind. They ducked to avoid the hanging body of Dáithai MacCabe, the ex-Maguire commander of the castle, as he hung above the castle gate.
6
The cry of the Maguire
“Must you go so soon?” said Desmond. “Your wounds have barely healed. Your pale skin still betrays the trust you put in those priests. I fear for you when you go back out there. You’re still young and naïve, and they’ll eat you alive.”
Desmond put his hand on Eunan’s shoulders, the most fatherly hand ever to be placed there. Eunan glanced at Desmond’s sorrowful eyes and felt a pang in his heart, the ache of a stranger to his modest, controllable, emotional range. Once he had identified the strange feeling, Eunan’s shell hardened to repel this intruder. He moved away. The emotional exposure unnerved him more than any swinging axe because, with an axe, he could evade, but with raw emotion, he could only run away. He had to be strong. He was going away to war. How could he fight the enemies of the Maguire if he blubbers when he is leaving his friends? He must be strong and true, like the blades of his Maguire throwing axes. If they bent when faced with friction, he would surely be dead.
“You worry too much and overthink things,” Eunan finally replied once he was a safe distance away.
Desmond knew him too well. A quivering boy in the body of a man, trying to steady himself. A boy who thought the path to adulthood was to have an axe in his hand and the threshold when he found someone to use it on, a boy crying out for guidance, a sense of belonging and some unconditional love. Desmond braced himself for rejection, but knew he had to try.
“You think too little. You get caught up in a whirl of emotion and then lash out. Stay longer. The war will still be there when you’re ready to leave.”
“It’s too late. I must get ready to leave now,” and Eunan pushed his three Maguire throwing axes securely to his belt. “I need to get a good supply of expendable throwing axes, for I think there is going to be much demand!” he laughed to break the tension, but Desmond was having none of it.
“If you must go, you know you are always welcome here, and be safe from whatever.”
“Thank you for everything, Desmond,” and Eunan embraced his friend’s bulk.
Arthur smiled from behind his master’s back.
“I have so much to thank you for, too, Arthur. Not least, if you hadn’t fed us, we’d have starved on this little island!”
They both laughed and embraced. Eunan placed his spare clothes and battle-axe into the small boat Arthur got for him.
Desmond knew he had lost him for now, but hoped he would see sense and return soon. He sighed and stood on the shore by Eunan’s boat. Desmond had seen many a young man he had got close to in their training go off into the world seeking battle, but this was one of the most emotional. He hid his feelings, for he knew the boy was weak and had no wish to exacerbate this when he was about to go off and fight.
“If you want the Maguire and some action, head for Devenish Island. That is the first place the English will attack if they haven’t already,” said Desmond.
Eunan gave Desmond a nervous smile.
“I know how to get there. I’m sure I’ll be intercepted by the Maguire’s men long before I arrive.”
“Good luck, and come back!”
Eunan got in his boat and rowed. The island seemed like home. Eunan felt as if a sadness propelled him over the tiny waves of the lake. No one had waited and watched him leave before. Well, no one who wanted him to stay. His parents would look to make sure that he had gone.
Desmond and Arthur waved from the shore. They stayed until he was out of sight. Both were more than a little downhearted.
“Do you think he’ll come back?” asked Arthur.
“I hope so,” replied Desmond, and he slapped his friend on the back. “I didn’t think he’d make it back last time, so there is hope yet. It’s almost time to prepare for dinner. Don’t you think so?”
* * *
Devenish Island was an obvious place for the Maguire to hide. The family’s historical shelter, their traditional burial ground, and the Maguires had patronised the Augustine monks and their three churches on the island. Hugh Maguire calcula
ted the English had neither the boats nor sufficient soldiers to launch a full-blown assault it would take to overcome his Galloglass or the small fort on the island. If they did, his blood would soak into Sour Hill, and he would join his ancestors in heaven and become another glorious chapter in the annals of the Maguire. The time-honoured sanctuary on the upper lake will be the Maguire’s magnificent last stand if need be.
Eunan’s oars dipped steadily along into the stillness of the lake, giving him swift but silent propulsion. He passed by islands large and small, wooded and bare, inviting and uninviting, and felt prying eyes upon his tiny craft. But the words of Desmond had left a resonance, even when Eunan spied Devenish Island up ahead. He paused to think.
“I’ll think of three good reasons I should help the Maguire in his hour of need and three reasons I should heed the words of Desmond and wait until I’ve healed. To whoever I can assign the wisest option, I’ll row in their direction. One, the Maguire needs me, but I am not ready. Two, if the Maguire dies, the rebellion dies with him. But I could flee north and bring Desmond and…”
No sooner had he looked away from his potential destination of Devenish Island than the boats of the Maguire surrounded him. Three boats pulled up alongside him and pointed their weapons in his face before they recognised him. All four boats cried with delight, and Eunan clasped hands with his comrades, for his small craft was too shaky for him to throw his weight to one side for a full embrace.
The boats led Eunan to the south side of Devenish Island’s jetties, where small boats departed along the lake to either patrol, fish or bring in supplies. It occupied the lower lough entrance as if a giant plug to stop any force from progressing further. If Captain Dowdall were to make any excursions northwards, he would first have to take Devenish Island.
The extended hand of a friendly monk helped Eunan onto the island. Eunan felt the moist hand, saw the tension in the monk’s eyes and the worry etched upon his face. However, the monk was kind enough to bless Eunan, even if it felt like an apology, as if he was there to meet his death.
The island’s fields and dirt tracks were a flurry of activity as the monks gathered what provisions they could and hid them in their storerooms. Eunan resisted the local monastery’s lure and forgiveness for his various sins and lapses, for he felt strong enough to bear the weight of the sin to come. He went straight past the watchtower, the only place on the island so far with the presence of soldiers of the Maguire. Maguire’s men led him from the tower to the wooded half of the island. The wood was diminutive but perfectly formed, neatly hemmed in by the north of the island’s narrow pebbled beaches. It provided cover to hide men and boats under which they could bombard any enemy shipping that may pass along it. The guides led Eunan along a narrow path to a small house nestled in the wood where they told him the Maguire was hiding. Familiar faces of the MacCabe Galloglass warmly greeted him. One of the Galloglass went inside the house to announce his arrival. Hugh Maguire himself rushed out to embrace him.
“It is good to see you, my friend! Come in. We have much to discuss.”
Eunan embraced Hugh Maguire both as a friend and a leader to the rebellion. Hugh led him into a sparsely decorated room that could only tell a tale of neglect, with a couple of chairs, a table covered in writing paper and a couple of small maps. The inkpot looked as if it were as desperate for ink as the words it formed. The stack of letters was a forlorn cry for help, laid as they were beneath a bare dagger, waiting to be sent to their recipients. There were neither tapestries on the wall nor a hearty meal waiting for Eunan, just the cold bare walls to remind him of the loss of Enniskillen.
“This is the hiding place of the Maguire. It is not much, but I would be so much easier to find if I hid out in a palace!”
Hugh shrank before him with every word uttered as an excuse. Eunan nodded and tried to mould his facial expressions to wax, for he did not want to show the pity he felt for the Maguire and further demean him.
“Where are the others?” asked Eunan, as his throat went dry and his brain barren as he tried to remain calm. Hugh’s crimson cheeks were his first reply.
“To what others do you refer? Most of the lords and gentry of Fermanagh turned coat upon the fall of Fermanagh and swore loyalty to Connor Roe. Some fled to Tyrone and Tirconnell, but I am hopeful they will return when I take to the field again. My Scots and Galloglass left when they saw that I no longer had the means to pay them. It is a bitter lesson to learn, but it is partly down to me thinking that mercenaries owed me their allegiance. I am the Maguire, but such esteem only works on the Maguires or lesser clans, and then when I have a wall of Galloglass at my back. Even the Maguire must have full pockets to command the respect of the north. But I have fifty of the finest MacCabes here, guarding the island. They stayed loyal, for they are familiar with the bobbing fortunes of the Maguire. My younger brother, entwined in my fate as he is, has gone to seek rabbits for our supper. If we can prevent the fall of Devenish Island to Captain Dowdall, I am confident that I can take once more to the mainland and rally the men of Fermanagh back to my cause.”
“You will always have my loyalty, until I can swing my axe no more!” said Eunan, and he clasped Hugh on the shoulder. Eunan also knew his fate was entwined to the Maguire.
“Thank you, Eunan. You have always served my family well.”
However well the words were accepted, the clasp on the shoulder was not.
A horn sounded from a distant part of the island. A Galloglass entered the house to translate the horn’s meaning for those who did not know or sought to hide from reality.
“We must go, lord. The attack has begun!”
“The English are upon us! Let us go to the boats!” and Hugh gestured towards the door.
He picked up his pistol and his axe and blessed himself while he was bent over. After steadying his nerves and composing himself, he went out to his men. The Galloglass made a semi-circle around him and awaited his orders. He turned to Eunan, who had followed him out.
“I will attack the English in our boats when the opportunity arises,” and Hugh waved to the Galloglass to follow him. “You take the other men and defend the island. I will await your signal.”
Eunan grabbed him by the forearm as he turned to leave.
“Be safe, my Prince. Don’t let the pride of Fermanagh fall today.”
“Thank you for your concern, but the men will fight all the better for the Maguire leading them. The island must not fall. Good luck!” and Hugh pulled his arm away from the indignity of a lesser man placing his hand upon him.
Eunan then saw the men that remained after the Galloglass departed. Some eager young men, barely older than himself, armed with bows and axes, stood before him. Their only attribute was their eyes that burnt with enthusiasm.
“Where are the MacCabe?” Eunan cried.
One boy pointed to the backs of the men that ran after Hugh Maguire.
“Is this it?”
The boy nodded to Eunan.
“Where are all the warriors?”
The boy shrugged. Eunan cursed.
“Come on then. We’ve got an island to defend!”
Eunan ran through the woods with his band of boys behind him. When they emerged from the woods, they found the rest of the island deserted. The monks and priests hid in the stone buildings of their village. Five MacCabe Galloglass who manned the watchtower came to join Eunan, leaving just one man to watch the river. He was soon gainfully employed as he hollered at the sight of the English boats coming down the river.
“What do we do, lord?” asked the boys who stood in front of Eunan, naively the only visible presence on the island.
“Come, let us hide in the village and allow them land. Then with our axes and arrows, we will drive them back into the water.”
They snook down to the village edge and made use of what cover they could find. Those boys that had bows set out their arrows, so they were within easy reach and took sight of the jetties to ensure they were well within their
ranges. Eunan bent and hid and wished he had his old axe. He hated the poverty of waiting with an axe that wasn’t his to defend an island for which he felt nothing. His pride and anger could well up and provide him with a shield for almost any situation, but all he felt was nervous adrenalin. Duty - a Galloglass could not choose when and where he wanted to fight but was at the beck and call of his master. It was his duty.
An older hand of bitten nails and a coating of Devenish clay placed itself upon Eunan’s shoulder.
“Three ships will be here before you know it, filled with English conscripts. Probably a hundred men.”
“If enough of them die when they hit the shore, they’ll surely turn back,” replied Eunan.
“One can only but hope,” and the Galloglass left to take his position.
Eunan couched down in his hiding place and waited.
The boats slowly rowed up the river. Eunan prayed for his rescue by vessels of the Maguire while he attempted to banish the memories of the fall of Enniskillen. The boats moored at the island jetties, and men came onshore. Eunan leapt from his hiding place and raised his axe.
“Let us vanquish our enemies with the CRY OF THE MAGUIRE!”
“THE MAGUIRE!”
The boys of Fermanagh sprayed the jetty and surrounding areas with a shower of arrows and then fired individually. Eunan and the Galloglass charged towards the jetties. The English soldiers on the shore dived for cover while the soldiers on the boats hesitated. The sergeant bellowed at his men while the ends of muskets poked over the boat and laid down some counter fire. It was the boys from Fermanagh’s turn to waiver. Eunan continued his charge. He was almost upon the English.
“For the MAGUIRE!” screamed Eunan, and he swung his axe at the approaching enemy. The Maguire arrow cover was much diminished, and the English sergeant inspired his soldiers to follow him and they cast their doubts into the waves and reinforced the men on shore. Eunan and his five Galloglass found themselves heavily outnumbered, their only ally was the chaos of battle. Eunan swung his axe. It sliced through flesh. Swords swung at him only to be deflected away. His axe hit a skull, and it showered him in blood. Eunan heaved it out with spurts of blood all over his arms and face his only reward. He swung again. The next victim was an arm, not fully severed but enough to send the soldier howling to the ground. But Eunan grew tired. One of his Galloglass fell. The barrage of arrows supporting him from the sky grew thinner. Another Galloglass fell. More English soldiers jumped to the shore while their comrades in the boat reloaded. They aimed at Eunan and the remaining Galloglass. The belltower blared its warning horn.