by C R Dempsey
“RUN!”
It was his turn to be the hunted.
He directed his men to split up as they ran in three different directions. The English gave up on none of them. Eunan ran as fast as he could back toward Derrylinn, hoping to run into Óisin along the way. The first of his men tripped and fell into a gorge. His pursuers made their way down the muddy slopes to fish him out of the river below. They felled the second with a bullet, and the soldiers retrieved him as well. Eunan was now alone, running in the woods, with bullets whizzing past his head. He ran as fast as he could but could hear the English gaining on him as they caught his comrades, and more soldiers turned to hunt for him. Eunan ran until his feet hurt and his face stung from running into twigs and branches. He saw a chink of daylight between the trees. It was not far now. Surely the English would not be brave enough to chase him out into the open? He looked back behind him. The soldiers were still gaining on him. Just a little more to go… THUD!
Eunan awoke to the point of a sword held by the uniform of an English officer.
“I thought that since you Macs and Os lived in the forest, you’d have learned to avoid the trees.”
Another voice laughed from somewhere behind the officer.
“Don’t worry, we’ll spare you the disgrace of hanging you in your own home. We’ll hang you in the town instead,” said the officer.
The other voice laughed until the air was filled with a swish, and the laugh became a gurgle. The officer turned to see his soldier collapse with an arrow through his neck.
“Run while you still can, Englishman!” came a voice from the woods.
The English officer looked around him, saw no one, and then took to his heels.
Óisin came out from the bushes and picked Eunan up from the ground.
“That was Captain Willis! You could have got my vengeance!”
“Yeah, and then we’d both be dead in the woods. Come on, I’ve got your horse.”
* * *
Eunan rode towards the O’Cassidy’s house. He left the remains of his men on the outskirts of the grounds, cursing himself for throwing their lives away with nothing to show for it. But he still had a chance to redeem himself and rescue his clan.
“Óisin, you come with me. The rest of you, if we are not back by the time the sun sets over those trees there, come and get us,” instructed Eunan.
The men nodded while their horses pointed northwards, as if they may need to make a quick getaway. Eunan saluted them and prayed that their loyalty would still be intact when the sun went down.
Grimacing as he rode his horse towards the house, he knew he had to hold his nerve much better than he did the last time. He needed to be strong enough to overcome his uncle’s inevitable resistance. Such strength and fortitude may even impress Caoimhe. Such pressure merely increased the weight on his young, muscular shoulders. Such strength in limb was not matched by a similar strength in mind.
Eunan approached the house to see that no preparations were being made for the English. Treachery or negligence? He flung himself off his horse and ran to the house to find out.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
A pointed sword blocked his path.
“I must warn the master of the impending arrival of the English army. He must evacuate now,” he pleaded with the snarled face of the grizzled Galloglass.
“You’ll do no such thing! The master knows what’s coming and has many a dealing with Captains Willis and Dowdall. He also knows what to do about your interference.”
Óisin dismounted from his horse.
“Put your sword down now or have my axe cleave its way through your thick skull,” and Óisin strode with grim purpose towards the Galloglass.
Men gathered at the front of the house, armed with whatever came to hand.
“Let him in,” cried a female voice, and Eunan saw Caoimhe once again.
The men backed away, and Eunan walked past them. But he only had eyes for Caoimhe. She secretly grabbed his hand.
“Whatever happens, don’t let my brother die,” she whispered in his ear.
Eunan smiled and squeezed her hand. Several more Galloglass appeared at the door to escort him.
* * *
Cormac O’Cassidy prowled the room like a cornered ferret. Gone was whatever politeness or curiosity was there before. The sight of Eunan gave direction to his fury.
“I thought I told you to leave and never come back?”
“I came back to warn you, to save you and your family,” pleaded Eunan.
He glanced over to Caoimhe to see if she was impressed, but she had melted into the background of the crowd of men that followed Eunan into the room.
“I don’t need saving. I don’t need warning. A rumour tells me you’ve taken control of the O’Cassidy men sent to help Hugh Maguire? You’ve no right to do that. Your mother may have been an O’Cassidy when she was born, but she certainly wasn’t one when she died!”
“Don’t you speak ill of my mother!” and Eunan squeezed the shaft of his axe.
“Did no one disarm him when he came in? What do I pay you Galloglass for?”
“Why weren’t they sent to join Hugh Maguire?” and Eunan pointed accusingly at the Galloglass.
“Are our sons and the sons of my clansmen not good enough? How much blood must the fields of Fermanagh absorb before this young Maguire is satisfied?”
“You may as well have sent me a bunch of frightened rabbits, except they won’t run so fast.”
“Our boys are only carrying on a great Maguire tradition, running at the first sign of trouble. How do you think the Maguires have survived for so long to sing their songs of glory to themselves?”
“The O’Cassidy boys won’t run when I’ve finished with them!”
“That’s because they’ll all be dead. But let me reconsider, for I would like my son back, preferably alive. If you can bring my boy back alive and those of my fellow clansmen, I will suitably reward you.”
“What does suitably reward me mean?”
“I will give you what you most desire in the world: to be acknowledged as being from clan O’Cassidy. But once I do you must agree never to darken our door again.”
“What about the English?”
“Leave now with your men and return our boys to us. Then you will be an O’Cassidy free to roam the earth as long as it is not south Fermanagh!”
“What if I refuse?”
“My men will cut you to pieces, blame the English and then I try to retrieve my boy.”
Eunan looked around the room, and four heavily armed Galloglass jutted out their chins, straightened their backs, and fondled their sword grips.
“I reluctantly accept,” for Eunan realised there was no other way out while remaining alive.
Caoimhe smiled, which was of little consolation for his submission.
“Oh, and avoid the town on your way out. The English are stringing up some rebels they found in the woods.”
Eunan turned, and the anger boiled in his eyes.
“I thought you might not be able to help yourself. My Galloglass will see you off my land.”
They surrounded Eunan and led him to the door.
He walked out of the O’Cassidy house to mount his horse. Óisin pointed down the road. In the distance, Eunan could make out the first elements of the English army.
“Come. We must warn Hugh Maguire.”
“Not so fast,” said the Galloglass constable. “We want you off this land without causing us any trouble.”
“As much as it pains me to abandon my men, I must warn the Maguire.”
“If it’s any consolation, your men are already dead.”
Eunan paused, pained.
“So be it. Enniskillen is my destination. Are you going to hinder me from getting there?”
“If it is the quickest way to be rid of you, then no.”
“Tell your master I’ll be back to claim my inheritance when the English are defeated.”
“So
I won’t have to set the noose upon the old oak tree any day soon them?”
“Good day. May God hasten the day you join the ranks of the army of the Maguire!”
“May God give you the sense never to come back here again!”
Eunan ignored the man and mounted his horse. He and his men rode away from Derrylinn as fast as the wind would carry them.
12
Ford of the biscuits
Eunan and the remains of his men made it back to the camp outside Enniskillen, and the guards on the perimeter directed Eunan straight to Hugh Maguire’s tent, where a war council was taking place. All the captains and high-ranking clansmen from the Maguires, O’Donnells, O’Neills, and the minor clans were there. Spirits were high, and defiance lingered like the chill in the air, steadfastly stating its existence even though it was mid-August.
The O’Neills had with them a guest, Pablo Blanco, a military aide sent from the king of Spain. Cormac MacBaron ensured Pablo had worn his Spanish army uniform and stood proudly beside him, a subtle hint if one were needed, that the O’Neills were the dominant clan.
The tent was too small to accommodate all the clan chiefs and their constables, so the men of the lesser clans had to make do by peering into the tent from the adjacent ground. They listened eagerly to hear if they would fight this day.
Eunan tried to slip in behind the Maguire captains while looking for Seamus. There was no sign of Seamus or Red Hugh O’Donnell. He settled in behind the front rank of Maguire captains, who stood to one side of the table in the centre of the tent.
Hugh Maguire stood by the table and conversed with Cormac and Pablo until the appropriate moment came and he stepped forward to take charge of the proceedings. There was an excited quiver in his voice.
“Good afternoon, chiefs and warriors of the north. The English once again attempt to invade our lands but we will defy them!”
The gathered men cheered as Hugh poked the table to punctuate his speech.
“Our scouts tell us that the English left Cavan on 4th August…”
“They have already reached Derrylinn!” said Eunan, pushing past the front ranks of Maguire captains to make himself known.
“How do you know this?”
“I have come from there. I was trying to get the O’Cassidys to evacuate.”
Hugh nodded in appreciation.
“Thank you, Eunan. Our scouts have reported back the strength of the English army and we have decided to attack. Cormac Mac Baron and I will take charge of the army. Pablo Blanco and the scouts of the Maguire have found us a suitable ambush spot, so come forth Pablo, and tell us your plan.”
Pablo strode forth from behind Hugh and unrolled his maps on the table. With the revelation of the details, the Maguires and O’Neills smiled as one. It seemed the perfect ambush.
* * *
At the end of the meeting, Eunan waited behind to speak with Hugh Maguire. Donnacha O’Cassidy hovered around in the background, curious to know what he had to say. Hugh finished speaking with Cormac and Pablo and turned his attention to Eunan.
“Have you seen Seamus, lord? I wish to speak to him before the battle begins.”
“He has returned north with Red Hugh. They are expecting a thousand redshanks from Scotland. Seamus appears to have done well for himself and earned Red Hugh’s trust. He is apparently in charge of recruiting ex veterans into service for the O’Donnell. So prestigious a role that Red Hugh insisted Seamus come with him to meet his Scottish contacts.”
Eunan struggled to rein in his contempt.
“No matter the scenario, he always seems to thrive.”
“An admirable quality we should strive to achieve, especially in the battle to come. Are your O’Cassidys ready?”
Donnacha jumped in.
“The O’Cassidys are ready to serve! My young nephew Cillian O’Cassidy has trained them well.”
“The O’Cassidys will be present and correct, lord,” and Eunan glared at Donnacha, who did not flinch. “They will help set a trap for the English.”
“Good,” said Hugh. “I look forward to your tales of glory when we celebrate our victory.”
* * *
Eunan lay in his tent, barely able to close his eyes. Tomorrow would be the first time the farm boys and spoilt O’Cassidy children would see combat, and he was responsible for their performance. Eventually, the exhaustion of the day got the better of him, and he nodded off. But the kindness of sleep eluded him once more.
He walked on the road to the O’Cassidys house. The road was straight and narrow, and the trees on either side closed in on him. Dark clouds rumbled in the sky, the rumbling thunder giving notice of the lightning to come. A whisper hung around Eunan’s ear.
“Where are our boys? Where are our boys?”
He looked around, but no one was there. He proceeded forward, and the road narrowed and pointed towards the house.
“Where are our boys? Where are our boys?”
The earth cracked but did not shake. Eunan broke into a trot. Hands broke out of the ground along the side of the road: some had axes, and some had spears, some had farming implements, some hands had none.
“Where are our boys? Where are our boys?”
He turned, and Seamus was beside him. Seamus strode aggressively towards the house, axe in hand.
“You’ve got to take what is yours! Put an axe through his head! What would your father think of you?”
They got nearer the house.
The skeletons of the boys dug themselves out of their graves. They fell in behind Eunan, and they marched on the house. Eunan saw a female figure come out of the house, being pursued by Cormac O’Cassidy. He strode forward and recognised his mother. She was crying and could not see him. She ran into the woods. The skeletons of the boys chanted, “you’re not an O’Cassidy, you’re not an O’Cassidy.”
Cormac ran over to him, his arms flailing like a scythe. “Get off my land! You’re not an O’Cassidy!”
Eunan’s bad blood boiled.
“Take what is yours! Put an axe through his head!” said a voice harsh and shrill.
Eunan’s bad blood bulged in his arms and felt like some ghost of the past took control of his arms, and he saw his axe blade fly through the sky, over his head, and down towards Cormac.
He would get no more sleep that night.
* * *
Eunan got up and spent the rest of the night sat beside the fire, turning over in his mind whether he should save the O’Cassidy boys or how much they would disgrace him on the battlefield that day. Moreover, what would Hugh Maguire think? At dawn, he visited the tents and roused his men for the day ahead. They eventually fell out of their beds, be they in tents, carts or under the stars, and assembled with their collection of substandard weapons and occasional armour. Cillian O’Cassidy rolled in last.
“Alright boys, form a line,” cried Eunan.
The line formed slowly, and he counted how many men were left.
“Seventy-nine.”
Eunan sighed. Some boys had run home early, but he needed to motivate those that remained. He braced himself, stood before his men, and puffed his chest out.
“Now we have been given an important mission today. We need to channel the English into the main trap, so we must force them toward Enniskillen. So all you’ve got to do is harass the enemy and withdraw if they counter-attack. Each of you take three javelins and distribute the bows to the best shots. Don’t disgrace me or the O’Cassidy name today.”
“My father will richly reward any of those who enhance the O’Cassidy name on the battlefield today,” shouted Cillian from the side.
Eunan fumed at being undermined but said nothing. Old wounds from his trips to the priests began to itch.
“Follow me. We need to take up our positions,” and he led the way to the hills.
* * *
On the evening of 6th August, the English army - made up of a core of experienced English troops who had served in Ireland for many years and the main sec
tion of the force who were Irish volunteers and conscripts mainly from the Pale - camped three miles south of a ford on the Arney River. The Maguires constantly harassed the camp that evening as Eunan sat in his own camp contemplated how his men would perform the next day.
The next morning he found himself on a hill with Óisin, observing the English army as they set out from their camp. He knew what he had to do, but could his men perform their task? The English pike shot and horse meandered through the valleys below along the narrow road, encumbered by their extended baggage train full of supplies for both themselves and the garrison of Enniskillen. Eunan rode back to his men, positioned on another hill further back, to get them into position.
The English army snaked its way up the narrow, shallow valley. The ford ahead was the most obvious place for an army of size to cross, but it was surrounded by high ground. Boggy ground on both sides of the road both to and beyond the ford placed the advantage firmly with the attacker. However, the English commanders were confident that their troops would prove superior in quality and weaponry than the Irish rebels should the rebels be foolhardy enough to launch an attack. Eunan’s men held their positions and let the main bulk of the army pass them by.
The English started to cross the ford, only to be stopped in their tracks by volleys of Irish shot coming from the high ground ahead of them. The entire column juddered to a halt at the shock of being attacked in such a vulnerable position. Eunan knew it was his time to strike. Hugh Maguire and his forces, together with Cormac MacBaron and the O’Neills, charged down from their hiding places on the high ground that the English army bypassed to get to the ford. Once they slammed into the back of the English, Eunan leapt out from his hiding place. He let out a shout: “the cry of the Maguire!”
His faithful men, who had been with him before his visit to Cormac O’Cassidy, followed down the hill with a selection of the braver O’Cassidy boys. Cillian O’Cassidy surveyed the battlefield, and those who followed “the cry of the Maguire”. Seeing that lesser lights of the O’Cassidy clan were charging down the hill after Eunan, he decided he had better follow, if only for family pride. Opposite the O’Cassidy charge, the English shot hastily set up their guns as the pikemen turned and set up their formations. The charging O’Cassidys released a volley of javelins and arrows before retreating out of the effective range of the shot. Eunan was elated, for he saw some of the enemy fall, but none of his own.