by C R Dempsey
“The Maguire is coming!” came the shout.
The battle froze. Everyone looked to the river, and sure enough, two boats appeared on each side of the island.
“Retreat!” came the call from the English boats. The soldiers grabbed whatever they could and made for their crafts. Eunan was too exhausted to follow them, but tried to scavenge what few fallen muskets were still on the field. The boys ran to catch up with Eunan and the remaining three Galloglass. They cheered, but Eunan knew they had got lucky. The English escaped in their boats, but it did not matter. The Maguires had a victory to tell their brethren and rally them back to the cause. Hugh Maguire did not pursue his beaten enemy. His boat rowed back to shore. He landed and went straight to embrace Eunan.
“You came and saved the Maguires! You can have whatever you wish for when the war ends. Whatever you want.”
At that moment, Eunan was just glad to be alive.
7
Derrylinn
It had been weeks since the attack on Devenish Island, and Captain Dowdall thought better of launching another large-scale attack on the lower lough islands. His men had raided as far as Belleek but skirted along by the northern shores, for they were not foolhardy enough to expose themselves on the lough. The captain had mounted guns on riverboats and could command the river up to the lower lough. They cut Fermanagh in two, but mounted guns could not make up for the power of geography. They could not get past the key strategic stronghold of Devenish Island.
Hugh Maguire sat in the safety of his lodgings. His quill bobbed with the delight of a man who had won a glorious victory, or so said the words on his letters, which oozed a persuasiveness seldom seen merely days before. He employed all possible levers, duty, greed, destiny, even immortality through a bard’s melody. He distributed each lever with discernment, emphasising the lever most likely to work on the designated recipient of each letter. His letters were sometimes coarse, sometimes brief, for he was a man of action, a wielder of a sword, not a pen. He missed his linguistic warrior, Donnacha. His diplomatic bard seemed to do more with his well-selected words than Hugh could ever do, evoking the Maguire’s mythical power, the manipulation of the past, and, if all else failed, there was the time-honoured lever of threats. Hugh finished his lesser letters, and he impatiently waited for messengers to deliver them and also for the signal from his father-in-law, Hugh O’Neill, that he should return to the field. He did not have to wait long.
A small boat rowed across the lake to be intercepted by a patrol boat of the Maguire. The soldiers identified the messenger and sent him straight to their master. Meanwhile, Eunan trained the boys who had performed so bravely in defence of Devenish Island in the fields of the monastery.
“Come quickly, the Maguire summons you!” cried a messenger between breaths after running to fetch him.
Eunan hurried his way through the forest to the little house. Hugh’s mood made once tiny rooms as colossal as a castle.
“My father-in-law has unleashed raids right across the north: from Connor Roe to Marshall Bagenal, let our enemies in the north quiver!”
Eunan clasped him on the shoulder. He had not learned his lesson.
“That is splendid news, lord. When do the Maguires get their revenge and set forth for Enniskillen?”
Hugh freed himself from Eunan’s grasp, his mood only slightly diminished.
“When we assemble our forces, we are to march north and meet Cormac MacBaron. Then we can free Fermanagh! But first, my friend, I have something to ask of you.”
“Whatever I can do to help, please ask.”
“Go to the mainland and reassemble the nobles and men of Fermanagh and when you are ready, send for me, and we’ll set out together and join the O’Neill.”
“What about you, lord? The men would rally all the quicker if they could see you.”
“I need to go to Tirconnell to speak to Red Hugh. Our allies grow strong and please do not let me down if I promise them a Maguire army!”
“You will lead the finest body of men ever to fight for Fermanagh when you return,” Eunan boasted.
“Thank you, my friend. A boat awaits you, so make haste.”
Before the hour was through, Eunan was on a boat headed for the south side of the lake from which he would get a horse and set forth for south Fermanagh with a heart full of energy and courage.
* * *
Eunan spent the next two weeks searching every forest or mountain that he knew loyal men of the Maguire would hide, waiting for the call. He quickly found Seán Óg Maguire, Hugh’s trusted commander, and they agreed that Seán Óg should set forth to an assembly spot just south of Belleek, where Eunan would direct the men he found on his travels. Seán Óg eagerly agreed and sent Eunan on his mission with a hearty embrace to warm his way.
As Eunan tread through forest, bog and field, most people he met recognised him, and most were more than willing to set forth towards Belleek. He showed those who proved more reluctant or sceptical, a letter with the Maguire’s seal and poured forth whatever decorative words he considered apt to grease the persuasion. Eunan stretched the bounds of his imagination to convince the illiterate, especially those with no respect, or even contempt, for the seal of the Maguire. But he soon learned that the appeal of greed or vanity could be just as effective as appeals to more honourable motivations.
Eunan had spent so much time on his horse and met so many steadfast warriors of the Maguire that he soon had a posse of men to assist him. One such illiterate was Óisin, who seemed especially motivated by the calls of the Maguire. He was of similar age to Eunan, but opportunity would only carve out the role of common forest bandit, not that of an emissary for the Maguire like Eunan. However, as with Eunan, he was a youth of boundless energy, looking for a cause to absorb it all. Óisin’s passion was not stirred by calls of patriotism or calls to defend the Maguire or the motherland but he was enthused by the potential for riches and glory. However, in Eunan’s mind, it took all kinds of men and motivations to form an army, and as long as he could fight, the Maguire would be happy. The Maguire had employed Seamus, after all.
Eunan and his small band of adherents travelled all over south Fermanagh, where the call of the Maguire had a more subdued response, and he soon found himself on the outskirts of Derrylinn, the seat of the O’Cassidy Maguire. He remembered what Desmond had told him, and decided to tread cautiously. Eunan had only been there as a boy and never visited or met his uncle. He heard of him, but very little of it was from his parents. Derrylinn was a small but prosperous market town, a reasonable size for south Fermanagh; it was a stop on the road to Enniskillen or Lisnaskea for those seeking the genuine power of the Maguires. Armed men roamed the small, winding streets. Eunan could not tell their loyalty so he got directions to his uncle’s farm on the edge of the town instead.
* * *
He rode out of town with his men, only to run into a blacksmith near the farm holding. The smith bashed out the share of a plough, moulding the end so it would furrow a deep gorge in the rich Fermanagh soil. Eunan’s past weighed heavily on his shoulders, and his supposed bad blood pulsed through his veins and preyed on his mind. How much did his uncle know? Did his uncle know that he even existed? There was only one way to find out, and it terrified Eunan right down to his bones. However, he had an idea and brought his horse to a halt opposite the blacksmith. The man ignored him. Eunan felt humiliated in front of his men and slammed his fist on what appeared to be the shop front.
“Blacksmith, I need a battle axe, forged from the finest O’Cassidy steel, that will slice a man’s arm off with me only having to exert the effort of lifting the axe over my head. The blade will stand between the O’Cassidy and his enemies to protect the good folk of the O’Cassidy clan. Can you do that for me?”
The blacksmith did not look up from his work.
“I am sorry, lord, but I am only in the employment of Cormac O’Cassidy. He has me working for his fields and his oxen. Only he can instruct me to stop from my tasks.”
Eunan nodded. He did not know how to respond to such reason, but some of his men were not so easily put off.
“Do you know who you are speaking to? He may be an O’Keenan Maguire, but he is the finest young warrior in all of south Fermanagh. He has returned to claim his O’Cassidy heritage, and you should be honoured to be asked to equip him before he goes into battle to protect you from the English. What do you say now you know who he is?” said Óisin.
The blacksmith rested the share on his anvil and stopped bashing.
“I would say that the O’Cassidy Maguire is situated only a mile from here and if you want my time, request it from him. This young man may be the most famous man in Fermanagh, but I have never made his acquaintance and care not whether he stands for Hugh or Connor Roe. I merely beat metal for my master. Please, converse with me no more, for if I continue, the share will be ruined and break in the soil.”
The young man went for his sword, but Eunan had spotted the armed villagers coming for them.
“Easy there, Óisin. We come in peace to raise men for war, not to start one.”
Eunan remounted his horse.
“You may as well prepare my axe, for I will be back with my uncle’s permission, and he will be angry if you do not obey him.”
“I will wait for my master’s word before any work begins.”
The blacksmith continued his work. Eunan saluted him and left before the armed men arrived.
“Just wait until my uncle finds out how disrespectful he was to me,” said Eunan to Óisin.
He knew he had to regain the men’s respect given this humiliation.
“If only he knew you had the Maguire’s ear,” replied Óisin. “Then you would get your axe.”
* * *
Eunan’s nerves began to tingle, and his hand shook. He stuffed his hand back in his pocket.
“I am a warrior of the Maguire. I slay all my foes. I am not afraid of my uncle. He should be afraid of me!”
Eunan expected the gush of an out-breath to be replaced by a steely belief in his abilities. It did not work. He was out of breath and out of confidence. He quivered on his horse like a little boy taking his first ride. His fragile ego had been dented when the blacksmith had never heard of him. He could not banish the memories of his childhood from his mind. But he needed to recover his composure to be strong when facing his uncle.
“He could be a man of cunning, your uncle,” said Óisin, seeing that Eunan needed distracting.
“Why is that?”
“He timed his defection to Connor Roe to perfection. There is barely a kernel out of place in his fields while the English have ravaged all the surrounding lands. You’ll have to keep your wits about you.”
“Every blade of grass in Fermanagh seems to conceal a viper,” hissed Eunan.
News of Eunan’s arrival appeared to have travelled fast as three MacCabe Galloglass waited for them on their approach to his uncle’s house.
“State your business here,” shouted the central Galloglass, as he signalled for them to stop.
Eunan brought his horse to a halt.
“I come as a messenger from the true Maguire, Hugh of Enniskillen, head of all the MacCabe Galloglass to receive a pledge of allegiance from the O’Cassidy Maguire.”
“The O’Cassidy Maguire does not tip his hat to any old group of armed men that come across his land. Leave, for if you remain, it will be to your ultimate detriment!”
“I’m sure your master would not like to deliver the body of his nephew to Hugh Maguire; should his men be so fortunate to overwhelm that said nephew?”
The Galloglass adopted a more aggressive stance.
A man walked out of the house.
“Let him in. Let him in. Do not spoil this beautiful day by spilling blood in the garden.”
Eunan looked up, for he recognised the voice of Donnacha O’Cassidy Maguire. He dismounted and greeted him. Donnacha only invited Óisin and himself into the house.
The wealth of the land reflected throughout the house. Instead of bountiful brown soil, there were floors of boundless oak beams, the golden kernels by silver plates and ornaments. The blue skies were wooden beamed roofs, the rivers and lakes by beautiful tapestries and the wide variety of trees by ornaments from far-off lands beyond Ireland’s shores. It was the first time Eunan had seen such luxury in a private house. Donnacha led him into the drawing-room, where his uncle sat, smoking a long pipe. A small man lacking the stature of a warrior, but his fine clothes told of a man who made a weapon of his brain and exuded power through his wealth. His uncle looked at Eunan with a knowing contempt and took another toke from his pipe.
“We were expecting you some time,” said Cormac O’Cassidy. “We have watched from afar your lofty elevation from an unknown boy from a small village to, look at you now, one of the most respected warriors in the Maguire clan. The most surprising fact of all is you did it without a victory to your name!”
Eunan ground his teeth.
“Devenish Island?” could only tumble out as a croak.
“Uncle, why would you greet your sister’s son with an insult? Don’t mind him,” said Donnacha. “He has no manners. That’s why nobody will let him into their courts.”
Cormac threw himself out of his chair.
“State what you want, boy! You didn’t come all this way in your dusty clothes and battle axe for a family reunion.”
Eunan swallowed, but his mouth was dry. His nerve had deserted him. He felt again like the little boy who everyone hated.
“I have forgotten my manners. Get him a drink,” cried Donnacha, noticing Eunan’s distress.
A man-servant came with goblets of ale for everyone. The break gave Eunan time to think. He lubricated his larynx and summoned what mental strength he could.
“I am here to enlist your support for Hugh Maguire to recapture Fermanagh and free the Maguires from the tyranny of the English.”
Cormac and Donnacha looked at each other.
“Do you see any tyranny here, boy?” replied Cormac O’Cassidy, who began pacing around him.
Cormac reached into his pocket and held up a bag of coins.
“Does this look to you like the contents of the pockets of a man who is oppressed? My new line of business to the Pale is doing very well, thanks for asking! Why do you come to me, the remains of your family, with promises of war and destruction? Your own family is dead because of your foolishness. Why do you want to wipe out the rest of us? You should have listened to your father in one of the few wise things he ever said. Let other people fight other people’s wars. We are perfectly happy with the rule of Connor Roe Maguire from the senior branch of the family. He has promised to steer us away from the destruction of war and protect us and our assets. Even the great Cúchonnacht sold out to the English when it suited him. Now my servants will feed you, and you can have your precious axe you tried to force my blacksmith to make. You can even take a memento of your mother if you can find one. But if you ever darken my door again, you’ll be treated as an intruder. Now be gone.”
Insulted, Eunan’s jaw stiffened.
“Is this the same for you, Donnacha? Hugh Maguire’s chief adviser?”
“I dispense advice to Maguire and O’Cassidy Maguire alike. The path to destiny is not always clear.”
“You can keep your food, but I’ll take your axe. Just pray you’ll never meet its bitter blade!”
Eunan stormed out of the house with Óisin running behind. Eunan mounted his horse. The servant ran behind him.
“Wait! The O’Cassidy Maguire wants you to have this bag of your mother’s things.”
Eunan looked down at the bag, and his lip curl said everything he could not put into words.
“Your mother would want you to have them,” the man pleaded.
So Eunan snatched the bag and rode off without a word.
* * *
Eunan gathered his men, and they rode back to the blacksmith. The share was no longer on the anvil; an axe blade oc
cupied pride of place. Eunan dismounted and walked over to the blacksmith, but he was not first to speak.
“I received your uncle’s instructions. I’m to provide you with the finest O’Cassidy axe, and then you’ll be gone.”
Eunan boiled with rage at being addressed so. But something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He turned, and there before him was a sight that warmed his eyes and melted his heart. Her long black hair shone in the sunlight, and her piercing blue eyes stopped him in his tracks. She was everything Eunan’s wife RÓisin wasn’t. Eunan’s tongue deserted him. He could only but stare.
“She is the O’Cassidy Maguire’s daughter. Beautiful she may be, but she’ll bind you to unending troubles,” whispered the blacksmith.
“Is my axe finished yet?” snapped Eunan.
Óisin noticed that the woman caught Eunan’s eye.
“Have you finished the axe of the O’Cassidy Maguire’s finest warrior yet?” he exclaimed, ensuring the young woman was within earshot.
Eunan nervously glanced at the young woman and saw that Óisin grabbed her attention. So distracted was he that he dropped the bag of his mother’s things. Out of the bag fell an emblem of an Irish wolfhound. Eunan picked it up and saw the swish of her blue dress coming towards him. He fumbled to pick up the wolfhound emblem. She was almost beside him.
“And don’t forget to put the wolfhound emblem on the lip to show I am a warrior from the O’Cassidy Maguires.”