by C R Dempsey
“Again!” he shouted.
But as soon as they were in range to throw their javelins, they found themselves in range of the guns, and the first O’Cassidy boys fell.
“Come on! Throw your weapons!” Eunan exclaimed.
But the boys started to run. The shot had gained their sight now and picked off the O’Cassidys as they ran.
“Retreat!” and Eunan waved them back up the hill.
He saw something he recognised as he walked up the hill and reached down behind a bush. He picked up Cillian O’Cassidy by the hair.
“Come on! You can’t hide there all day!”
Eunan laughed, and Cillian cursed him, but followed him up the hill nonetheless.
Eunan reached the top and surveyed the battle. The pike of the Maguire and O’Neills had mauled the rear of the English army and forced it up the valley. The pressure of the compacting army forced the English pike at the front over the ford, which forced the Irish shot back. The English army was now a shambles and forcing its way across the ford for that was its only escape route. Eunan knew he had to act, or the battle would be gone. He raised his axe.
“The cry of the Maguire!”
But there were few to hear his cry. He charged down the hill with about twenty men towards the remains of the enemy. The O’Cassidys discharged their missiles and then ran up the hill again. However, Eunan was determined the battle would not pass him by, no matter how encumbered he was by the O’Cassidys. He charged the English stragglers with Óisin and his handful of steadfast men. He swung his axe, and his wolfhound emblem soon dripped with blood. However, his enemies abandoned both their weapons and their baggage, and Eunan was too tired to chase after them.
“Victory!” he cried as he raised his axe, inadvertently soaking himself in his enemies’ blood at the same time. But there were none there to celebrate with him, for his compatriots had descended like crows upon the baggage train of their fled foes. They would feast heartily tonight.
13
Hunting for rabbits
When Eunan got back to the Maguire camp, it had erupted in celebrations. The Maguire sent messengers to all the clan leaders of the north, whether friend or foe, to tell the tale of the rebels enormous victory. It was bittersweet for Eunan. As much as he had taken part and slain a few of the enemy with his own hand, the O’Cassidys were a cowardly disgrace which, as their leader, he should take responsibility. However, Óisin embraced his glum shoulders and poured alcohol down his reluctant throat. Eunan soon felt the alcohol in his belly and caught the joy in the air, and soon, he too became a reveller.
He rose at midday the next day, shook off the pain in his head and searched the camp for O’Cassidys. He regretted not agreeing to a specific number of O’Cassidy boys he had to return before Cormac officially recognised him. In his immediate surroundings, he counted twenty. Most of them were hungover but bore no scars of battle, for they ran away the first chance they got. They surprised Eunan by having the gall to come back to the camp and not run straight home. He ordered them to stay put, for he would berate them later for their cowardice when he had gathered together as many as he could reasonably find.
Eunan searched the campfires of the officers and the nobles of the various clans, for there lay the best pickings for hungry boys. Every time he came across a renegade O’Cassidy, he redirected them back to the campsite. He finally came to Hugh Maguire’s tent, where Hugh hosted the other leaders to plan the campaign. There he met an animated Donnacha O’Cassidy.
“Here’s your war hero, lord, the captain whose men ran away!” exclaimed Donnacha.
“What am I supposed to do with a load of turncoat cowards? They were waiting to run since they arrived,” roared Eunan.
“And this is the family you do so much to join.”
“The sooner Hugh Maguire does away with that coward Cormac O’Cassidy and his crony Connor Roe, the sooner Fermanagh will be united against the Crown.”
“Oh Donnacha, don’t goad him so. You use up so much of your credibility defending that useless cousin of yours whose only interest is lining his pocket. We won the battle, and Eunan is no coward, as I have seen many times myself. If you continue this path of sowing seeds of discontent and ill will, I may have to go to the islands and find Desmond MacCabe,” said Hugh Maguire, unwilling to have his mood deflated by such bickering.
“I apologise if I caused you any offence, lord. But I have to face my clan and explain how their boys died whilst running away,” replied Donnacha.
“It’s because their fathers train them to be rabbits!” exclaimed Eunan. “But they’ll be better the next time we face the enemy.”
“I expect it, Eunan. You can always go south and recruit your own men if you wish to give them a bit of spine. The men you and Seamus brought with you acquitted themselves well.”
“The men of south Fermanagh will acquit themselves much better the next time, lord. You have my word.”
Eunan bowed and left the tent. The next day, he rode south with Óisin.
* * *
In the meantime, William Russell arrived in Dublin and officially took up his new role as lord deputy. He was greeted by news of the defeat at the Ford of the Biscuits and was told of the army’s subsequent retreat to Sligo. In addition, he was informed that Enniskillen had remained unsupplied. Russell contemplated his first move. As a distinguished veteran of the Dutch Revolt and having formerly served in Ireland earlier in his career, he quickly decided that the only way to end this revolt was to crush it and organised another relief force for Enniskillen.
A week later, Hugh O’Neill rode into Dublin and presented himself before Russell and pleaded for terms. The lord deputy granted an audience while continuing to organise a relief party for Enniskillen. Meanwhile, the lords of the north took advantage of the time generated by O’Neill’s ploy and took in their harvests.
In launching an expedition to relieve Enniskillen, Russell took an alternative route. On the orders of O’Neill, the column met no resistance even though on their way to Enniskillen, none of their scouts ever returned. When Lord Deputy Russell arrived at Enniskillen, the rebel army melted away, and the O’Donnells and O’Neills retreated to their respective territories, and Hugh Maguire returned to the woods. Given the lack of opposition and the previous pleadings of O’Neill, Lord Deputy Russell considered the rebellion over. He left a garrison in Enniskillen and discharged some of his Irish soldiers. In return, O’Neill and O’Donnell agreed to a truce with the lord deputy and made a series of submissions to the Irish Council to negotiate a more permanent peace.
* * *
The clouds darkened, and the rain beat down upon Eunan’s head. It had been a long time since he cast his shadow on the entrance to his old village. He had tried to avoid it as he rode around south Fermanagh for weeks, visiting every village and clutch of houses except for it. The inhabitants restored some fields, houses and fortifications, but it was a far cry from the once prosperous village Eunan remembered from his youth. The locals soon recognised him, and the women shied away and went to fetch the men from the fields. An older man, similar in age to what his father would be if he were still alive, approached him.
“What are you doing here? Surely your curse has done us enough damage and has moved off somewhere else?”
“Shall I remove his insolent head?” said Óisin as he squeezed the grip of his sword.
“No,” Eunan sighed. “He was once a friend of my father. Do you speak for the village?” as he again addressed the man.
“They’ll listen to me far quicker than you!”
“I am here on behalf of Hugh Maguire. I need able-bodied men willing to fight.”
“You destroyed our village with your last plea for men. What makes you think that any’ll volunteer for you now?”
“Just spread the word. I’ll wait here for as long as it takes to get my answer.”
“I’ll ask, but don’t wait too long.”
Eunan went to the lake to water his horses. He le
ft Óisin in charge as the horses drank and went to have a look around. The burnt-out remains of his parent’s house were still there. Somehow, when he looked at it, the remains were distant, as if they didn’t belong to him. He felt he was an evil and cursed cuckoo who landed in the nest to cast out all the other eggs and watch the children die as they splatted on the ground. His parents had taken him in, for they did not know what they were doing. The cuckoo destroyed everything.
The man from the village returned to end Eunan’s daydreaming.
“We’ve got some recruits,” said his father’s former friend.
Around fifteen years of age, with rags on their back and sweat of the fields on their foreheads, two young boys smiled enthusiastically at Eunan.
“If that’s it, they’ll have to do. You can be horse boys until you learn how to fight. Now let us leave, for this place is bringing me down.”
“Don’t let me stop you,” and the man from the village turned his back and walked away.
Eunan hung his head as they trotted out to the road to Derrylinn with their two recruits.
Eunan and Óisin called into other villages along the way, but he could only entice young, naïve boys, the likes of which rendered by his village, to heed the call of the Maguire. None of the villagers said a word to them. The villagers’ faces said never to come back, but the weapons of Eunan and Óisin meant they were not brave enough to say it.
Whilst Eunan was recruiting in south Fermanagh news came that Connor Roe submitted to Hugh O’Neill. Upon hearing this, he almost fell off his horse, not knowing if he should be delighted that his nemesis had finally succumbed or to be angry that he was not there to avenge RÓisin. His men made merry that night even though such celebrations were frowned upon in the village because of their old allegiance to Connor Roe. Eunan fell into despair: how could rounding up ten farmers boys that would run the first time a gun was pointed at them be considered a success? Seamus wrung out of the same population ten passable Galloglass, the deaths of who their fellow soldiers would at least mourn, instead of cowards more passable as rabbits than men.
Óisin grabbed him for a drunken embrace.
“We can catch up with your girl, ya miserable wretch. But this time, we’re not getting thrown out by her father!”
“He should be a bit more receptive this time now his protector is gone.”
“I think he won’t be able to deny you’re an O’Cassidy anymore. Once we get some decent men and a few victories under our belts, he’ll even have to let you marry his daughter!”
“Let’s not get carried away with ourselves. He still has powerful friends.”
“Nothing a little axe wouldn’t fix. You’ve got to take what you want. You’re Eunan Maguire!”
“You don’t know who Eunan Maguire really is. No one does!”
“Stop being so miserable and just have a drink.”
“Not tonight. Leave me to my thoughts this evening. Then we’ll ride to Derrylinn with a clear head.”
“You’ll never have a clear head,” and Óisin wandered back to the campfire.
How right Óisin was, for Eunan had not a wink of sleep, for during the breaks where he practised addressing Cormac O’Cassidy in his head, he figured out what to say to Caoimhe.
14
The tale of an axe
Nothing was right for Eunan Maguire that morning. His clothes stank; he was a failure as a son, warrior, and leader; and the stale bread was, well, stale. He bit into the heel of the bread and was overwhelmed by a feeling of protectiveness for his remaining teeth. The bread became fuel for the fire.
“Nervous, are you?” asked Óisin.
Eunan just snarled.
“You have the upper hand. Connor Roe will no longer protect him. If he resists, tell the Maguire. Then whatever he has denied you, we can come back and steal!”
Eunan glanced over at his farm boy recruits. For some, the glamour of going off to fight had not lasted but one night.
“What about them? If we take them with us, the O’Cassidy will smell weakness. If we leave them here, they will all have gone home within the hour. I can’t go back to the Maguire empty-handed. His patience is far from endless.”
“I could stay here? Can you face the wrath of your uncle with only your axe for company?”
Eunan sprung to his feet and grabbed his axe.
“Of course I am alright! How dare you suggest otherwise. Wait here. I will be back before nightfall.”
Eunan untied his horse and mounted him.
“Good luck,” said Óisin, and he waived to his friend.
“It is the O’Cassidy to who you should wish luck. Begin their training within this idle time you have been granted.”
As Eunan rode away, the anger dissipated. But into the gap seeped fear.
* * *
The horse slowed to a trot, then a walk, and came to a stop outside the O’Cassidy house. The finest house in south Fermanagh, draped in autumnal reds and browns of the ivy that clung to the brickwork, and the leaves on the branches of the large oak trees were a picture of prosperity. But to Eunan, the house was a giant looming tombstone, protruding from the ground as if a festering sore blighting the landscape. Across this tombstone was emblazoned the names of his mother and father and all those who had died to maintain this illusion of prosperity. The fertile lands of Fermanagh demanded much blood.
As he rode up, the fields beside him were being harvested, and he could have sworn that he recognised some boys working there. But all that waited to greet him was the crevassed and worn face of his uncle’s Galloglass constable.
“Did my master not tell you to stay away?” he said as he passed Eunan’s horse along to the stable boy.
Eunan took a deep breath.
“No, he never said that to me. He said that if I protected the lives of his boy and the other O’Cassidy sons, he would declare to the world that I am an O’Cassidy.”
“That is selective hearing, or dreaming, or both!”
Eunan employed selective hearing.
“I look forward to riding with you to join Hugh Maguire, for you can no longer hide behind Connor Roe.”
“Your cockiness will be your downfall. But the time for jesting is over. Come inside. My master waits for you.”
Even the corridors of the house closed in on Eunan as they led him to Cormac O’Cassidy. Each step forward, more leaden than the last. The fineries of the house glared at him to tell him he was an alien and did not belong. There was not even a smile from Caoimhe to provide a light amongst the claustrophobic gloom. She looked at the floor, not even acknowledging his entrance into the room.
There were papers strewn carelessly across the desk, pollution in the considered order of the room. Even the Galloglass guards had an angry twitch on their stony faces. Cormac leapt out of his chair upon sight of Eunan.
“I suppose you’re here to gloat, are you, with the demise of my protector? Do you think the world will now fall to its knees before Hugh Maguire? The only unknown is how much destruction must befall Fermanagh before the Crown crushes your beloved leader. You foolish boy, coming here to destroy everything, chasing some dream of your mother that never existed. You want to become an O’Cassidy so much because you destroyed the O’Keenans and what you had. I don’t think you know it, but your mother left here a disgrace and married beneath her. Having an offspring such as yourself is what she deserved for what she did.”
“Don’t you speak about my mother like that!” and Eunan went for his axe, only to be met with a bristle of sword points marking the distance between himself and Cormac.
The anger in Cormac juddered to a halt, for something had caught his eye.
“Bring me his axe. I wish to see it,” he instructed.
The soldiers picked up on his curiosity.
Eunan gripped his axe and positioned to defend himself, noting where his adversaries stood. The fear fell away, for violence was more familiar to him. Cormac waived this adolescent defiance away.
; “If I wanted you dead, I have more than enough coin to have it done long ago. Just hand over the axe.”
The constable held out his hand, and Eunan paused and then gave him the axe, shaft first. He handed it to Cormac, who worked his finger through the joints and embellishments.
“This is fine workmanship. Where did you get it?”
“From your blacksmith.”
“I’m glad to hear I’m getting my money’s worth.”
He flipped the axe and broke into a knowing smile.
“What’s this emblem here, this wolfhound?”
“It was amongst my mother’s belongings. I hoped you could tell me!”
Cormac laughed and handed the axe back to the constable.
“You are more of a sentimental fool than I thought, grasping at any object that may remind you of your mother with no idea of its true meaning. Maybe if I tell you what dream you are trying to reclaim, then I will be rid of you?”
The look of expectation that Eunan failed to suppress showed to Cormac he was on the right path.
“Constable, clear the room, disarm Eunan, and I will tell this sorry tale that will hopefully free us all from the chains of the past and me from the moping and whining of this boy.”
The constable did as instructed, and Cormac sat down in his seat by the fireside.
“Sit, Eunan. Make yourself comfortable for your last time here.”
“I’d rather stand,” growled Eunan, who did not want to appear weak.
“So be it. Let us begin.
“My father, Domhnall O’Cassidy was an ambitious man who had his eye on becoming the Maguire himself, even though he was not from either of the main Maguire branches. The O’Cassidys were, and still are, a minor family of influence in the Maguire hierarchy. But he would not let his low rank constrain him.