by C R Dempsey
“He had two children, Fiona and me. His brother had several children, and one such child, Donnacha, showed exceptional promise. My father used his influence to get Donnacha a posting and an education in the court of the Maguire in Enniskillen. The O’Cassidys were on the rise.
“When we reached our teenage years, it was time for our father to make his move. He used the influence he built up with the Maguire and arranged for Fiona to marry one of Turlough O’Neill’s sons. It was a very important engagement that my father had to work hard to arrange and put up considerable sums of both coin and cattle, since words and deeds alone did not suffice. It would have been the making of the O’Cassidys in the court of the Maguire and the pinnacle of my father’s life’s work. However, she succumbed to ‘love’, and the object of her affections was none other than Teige O’Keenan, a young man in the employment of my father as a Galloglass and your father Cathal’s brother. My father feared the cancellation of the wedding and that the scandal would be the permanent ruin of the O’Cassidys and the undoing of everything for which he had worked. However, he loved his daughter and trusted her to see reason, so he forbade Fiona from seeing Teige again. She had none of it, ignored my father’s wishes, and continued her romantic liaisons in stables and amongst the shadows. Fiona denied having anything to do with Teige when confronted by her father. But when his minions felt both loyal and brave enough, they would whisper in his ear rumours of his daughter’s continued dalliances. The day of the wedding came near, and my father was determined that his daughter should respect his wishes and do her duty for her clan. He sent some men to deal with Teige.
“Teige was a handsome young man with a silver tongue, an eye for pretty but naïve young ladies, and a life dedicated to being a fop. A believer of fate, a consumer of drink and a hopeless risk taker should also be added to the list of his character flaws. He also had a devoted younger brother of a firmer moral standing, potentially linked to not being blessed with his brother’s looks, who clung to his every word. Cathal got wind of his brother’s peril and went to warn him. Teige made his belief in love a servant to his belief in fate as he used to make his decisions by tossing a wolfhound emblem. The wolfhound meant that he would pursue passion; the harp on the back meant that he would flee and leave Fiona to her fate. On the toss of that emblem, the ambitions of the O’Cassidys died.
“Teige came back for Fiona and persuaded her to flee with him. They intended to make their way to Dublin port. Cathal was to go with them halfway and at that point they would split and Cathal would lead the pursuers in the wrong direction. However, they were caught before Cathal could execute his part of the plan by Maguire’s men, who were sent to retrieve her. They captured him trying to buy horses. Though he initially escaped, his pursuers followed him back to where Teige and Fiona were hiding. Teige died in the ensuing sword fight. Cathal survived and was dragged back to Enniskillen with Fiona. Fiona was with child and miscarried in Enniskillen after the delegates from Turlough arrived. The O’Cassidys were disgraced, and Fiona was cast out of the family. Cathal Maguire agreed to marry her to save some face for both families. Nonetheless, I still believe it is because he thought he would never get a woman so beautiful as my sister, so he took advantage of her fallen state: either that or guilt, because he caused his brother’s death.
“The opportunity for Domhnall was gone, and Donnacha was shunned for years and eventually clawed his way into his current position.
That emblem you have in your axe is the same one Teige O’Keenan tossed in the air to decide whether to run away and marry Fiona. His bad luck is now enshrined in your axe, bringing death and misfortune.”
Cormac rose from his chair and moved in for the emotional kill.
“Now, let me be frank with you, for I do not want to either see you or to have this conversation again. Our boys were a disgrace in that battle, but your cause is as false as your dream about your mother and not worth dying for. The English will come and rattle our cages but will leave if you pay them their rent quick enough, and you do not have the misfortune of getting a corrupt and greedy sheriff. We told our boys to run, and they did. You got a few of them killed, which was not our arrangement, but I will overlook that to be rid of you. I grant you your wish. I recognise you as an O’Cassidy, the boy of my dead sister. You can use the O’Cassidy name if you wish, but I banish you from our lands and commanding our soldiers, be they boys or men. I place a bounty on your head of fifty cattle for any man that slays you on O’Cassidy land; however, out of respect for my dead sister, you have until sundown before the bounty takes effect. It has taken me most of my life to claw the O’Cassidys back into a position of influence, and all my good work will not be ruined by you. Now begone with you! Men, throw him out!”
Before Eunan could protest, he found his face in the dirt of the courtyard outside the house and his horse roaming freely, searching for the exit.
“Take your bad luck with you!” and the Galloglass constable threw the wolfhound axe onto the dirt after Eunan.
Eunan picked himself up, retrieved the axe, got his horse, and rode off without another word.
15
The Reunion
Hugh O’Neill used bribery as both a lever and lubricant to get what he wanted, and his consistent use of it through John Bath was one of his more masterful displays. Bath was a merchant who could get whatever you wanted in almost any quantity if you were willing to pay the right price. Smuggling was not beyond him. It was his speciality.
O’Neill’s agents were regular visitors to his office in Dublin. Towards the end of 1594, they gave Bath a rather sizeable sum of money to buy as many guns and ammunition as possible for the northern rebels. He readily agreed and sent his agents across England, Scotland and the continent to arrange purchase and shipment.
O’Neill’s agents waited and watched the coastlines of the north for either the ships of the Spanish or the vessels of John Bath. In the winter of 1594, only Bath’s ships arrived, but O’Neill’s money was well spent. O’Neill took the lion’s share of the guns and ammunition, as it was through his connections the operation was organised. Besides, he had paid for most of it. Red Hugh took the next largest share, but because it was not equal to that of O’Neill, he took it as a slight against himself and the O’Donnells. He also saw it as a sign that O’Neill considered him the junior partner. Hugh Maguire and the other lesser lords in the confederacy were grateful for what they got. The Spanish survivors from the Armada and the Irish veterans from the continental wars set about turning traditional Galloglass into modern pike and shot.
* * *
Rebellion stirred once more in Wicklow. There had been a continuous low level of aggression from Fiach MacHugh O’Byrne and his loose alliance of Irish Catholic clans ever since the end of the Desmond Rebellions. But in 1594, the violence escalated, and the lords of the Leinster alliance conscripted men to fight.
That winter Lord Deputy Russell was in a strategic bind. The increased tension in the island drained his resources, for he had to distribute a large part of his fighting men to garrison various parts of the country. This left him with near 1,100 men. Since he estimated that the lords of Ulster had about 5,000 men at their disposal, including what Scottish mercenaries they could raise, Russell could only contain an ever-escalating rebellion.
However, Lord Deputy Russell saw the threat of the loose Leinster alliance and decided it was time to take action. The rebels were numerically weaker than the lords of the north, which made his decision easier. Russell first served in Ireland in 1579 and spent several years fighting O’Byrne and the Wicklow rebels. Indeed, he had been rewarded with lands around Carlow, Kildare and Dublin for his excellent service. During his service it had been ingrained into him that to pacify Ireland you first needed to pacify Wicklow; then Leinster and the rest would follow. Indeed, when he served the Queen in her foreign wars, he wrote a treatise on the subject.
Lord Deputy Russell waited until early 1595 to strike. On the assertion that O’Byrne wa
s assisting the rebels of the north, he marched into south Wicklow to drive O’Byrne out of his home in Ballinacor.
The perpetual rebels of Wicklow, led by O’Byrne, then entered a secret alliance with the northern rebels. They had acted as a distraction to the crown forces when otherwise they would have focused attention on the rebellion in the north. Russell had had enough and concentrated all his forces to destroy the Wicklow rebels. O’Byrne appealed to Hugh O’Neill for help.
* * *
In late 1594, rumours reached O’Neill that the Queen was about to send veterans from the Brittany campaign to Ireland, soldiers far superior to the recruits the Crown conscripted in the Pale. Emboldened by the receipt of his new cash of arms, the positive flow of assurances from Spain, and the offence he took at the unprovoked attack on O’Byrne, he decided it was time to join the rebellion. In February 1595, he ordered his men to attack the fort on the River Blackwater.
The fort was intended to temper the power of Turlough O’Neill in the 1570s and 1580s and stood on the river beneath Lough Neagh for nearly twenty years. It comprised two towers on either side of the Blackwater River; on the eastern side was a square fort made of earthworks and a wooden wall. In February 1595, there was a garrison of only fifty men, but it could accommodate two hundred in the housing facilities within the fort and double that for the housing surrounding the fort.
O’Neill had not turned his attentions to the fort since he viewed any attack would provoke a violent response from the lord deputy. But if O’Neill was to enter the war, the fort had to be taken as it was in the middle of the O’Neill lands and within striking distance of his capital, Dungannon. In previous years, he isolated the fort and made it hard for the garrison to gather provisions. However, if he was to escalate the rebellion and show his hand, the fort had to be taken.
Art MacBaron led the assault on the fort early in the morning of 16th February. Fifty men advanced under the pretence of taking two prisoners to the fort. The guards noticed the men were acting suspiciously and preparing their weapons for firing. In reaction, the garrison shut themselves into their towers. With the rebels showering them with a hail of fire, the garrison ran out of ammunition after several exchanges. Only when the threat of burning down the towers with the garrison still inside did they finally surrender. The O’Neills destroyed the Blackwater fort. Hugh O’Neill had joined the rebellion.
* * *
A week later, a party from the northern lords was intercepted by the Wicklow foothills. Upon being detained, their leader forcefully defended his perceived right of passage.
“I’m not an English spy. Hugh O’Neill and Hugh O’Donnell have sent me. I know Fiach MacHugh O’Byrne for a long time, right back to the days of the Desmond Rebellion. I’ve roamed these mountains many a time, being offered shelter by the O’Byrnes on each occasion. You tell Fiach that Seamus MacSheehy is here. Then you’ll see!”
“Do you know how many traitors have tried that line with us?” said the leader of the O’Byrnes.
“Yes, but none of them was Seamus MacSheehy. Tell your master it is I. Then you’ll see.”
“Do you have anything to identify that Hugh O‘Neill sent you?”
“I have a letter, but it is for Fiach’s eyes only.”
The man stuck his hand out to take the letter, but Seamus did not move.
“You’d have to kill me, but I wouldn’t like to hand the letter to Fiach with bloodstains on if I was you. Be a good boy and go to your master to see what to do next.”
The man went for his sword, and Seamus grinned. Another of the O’Byrnes placed his hand on the man’s arm to stop him from drawing his sword. He glared at Seamus but went to confer with someone behind the trees who Seamus could not see. The man came back and nodded at the men surrounding the party from the north.
“You’ll wait here under guard. We should soon receive back word if Fiach knows you. If he doesn’t, we’ll cut your throats.”
“We’ll make ourselves comfortable over here,” said Seamus, pointing to a soft looking patch of grass beneath a large tree. I hope you’re not going to get us to sit beside the graves of all those other Seamus MacSheehys you claimed you’ve had to kill?”
“You’re very cocky for a man who’s surrounded. Maybe we just might slit your throats before we find out who you are?”
“You could try to do that, but you would not like to put me to the embarrassment of having to explain to Fiach why I had to kill his men? Fiach and I are like this,” and Seamus held up his crossed fingers for the man to see. “You’d better be hospitable to me, or else he’ll cut your throat!”
The man considered going for his sword again, but he thought better of it and spat and cursed. The two parties agreed on an uneasy truce while waiting for confirmation that Seamus and Fiach were so close.
A day later, Seamus and his men were brought before Fiach in his well-defended hideout deep in the southern Wicklow mountains. Fiach had answered that he knew a Seamus MacSheehy but thought the one he knew was dead. He instructed them to bring the strangers and he would decide whether they lived or died.
* * *
Fiach warmed himself by a fire with his sons. It was cold in the Wicklow mountains, with only a brief respite from the sea breezes in the valleys or woods. One of the younger men threw another log on the fire to share the heat of the blaze with his brethren. They sat in a circle in the woods, unafraid of the light a fire may create, for no Englishman or Pale lackey would dare climb the mountain slopes to ambush them. These were their mountains, and the English knew it.
Fiach was a large man and required several blankets to keep the heat in his old bones and several bowls of stew to satisfy his hunger. But he was used to it. Ever since his earliest memories he had been a rebel in the mountains with sparse periods of truce where he could take up residence in his castle at Ballinacor. The warmth of his castle was a distant memory that evening. But laughed and drank with his sons until one of his captains came and interrupted him.
“Lord, the strangers that claim to be from the north, are here.”
Fiach turned his full attention to him.
“Did they bring the letter from O’Neill?”
“We did not see evidence of such a letter, lord. They will only give it directly to you. One of them claims to know you.”
“You did not see evidence of the letter? What if all they have for me is a dagger?”
The sons of Fiach rose as one at the mention of a dagger.
“Send them in. I will never know until I meet them.”
They ushered the supposed emissaries from the north through the crowd. Fiach’s sons placed their hands on their scabbards. But when Fiach saw the men enter, he leapt from his seat and cried out: “Seamus!”
He ran towards his old friend, nearly knocking Seamus over with the bulk of his body and the strength of his embrace.
“Seamus, my old friend! Where have you been all these years? I heard you were in the Netherlands leading the good fight there!”
Seamus could not help but smile as he looked at his friend after such a long time.
“The Netherlands has been and gone. I’ve been up north for years, finding myself some gainful employment. But I’ve come all this way to see the Wicklow bear!”
“Well, there’s always been gainful employment and a welcome for you down here in Wicklow. Come meet the family and my men before we catch up properly.”
Several young men stood up from around the fire and smiled at Seamus in respect for the esteem their father held him in. Fiach slapped the shoulders of the first, a young man in his mid-twenties, of stocky build and much experience, revealed by the grey hairs nestled in his beard.
“This is Turlough, my son and heir. Was he up to your knees when you last saw him?”
“It has been so long I can barely remember, but he certainly takes after his father now! Come here to me.”
Seamus held out his arms, and Turlough readily accepted his embrace.
Two younger men,
barely out of their teens, smiled behind their brother. Their boyish faces hid their years of experience of being mountain rebels.
“These are the two youngest, barely babes, when you last saw them?”
“The sorties of the English prevented me from getting to know them better the last time. Hopefully, I will make up for that this time,” and Seamus hugged them as well.
“I don’t want to bombard you with too many faces. You must be tired after your long journey.”
However, another man wished to press his hand into those of Seamus. He eagerly shook Seamus’s hand.
“This is Walter Reagh Fitzgerald, a noted outlaw and scourge of the English,” said Fiach.
“Good to know you,” said Seamus. “We need all the good men we can get.”
An eager youth came, stuck out his hand, and presented himself to Seamus.
“This is Uaithne O’More, son of Rory. We’ve brought him up as our own since his father died.”
Seamus took the young man’s hand.
“I knew your father well. He was a great warrior and rebel. If you are half the man your father was, the English’ll be running back across the water in no time!”
Uaithne smiled, almost embarrassed at the mention of his father.
“He’s run a very effective campaign in the province, burning the English lords and settlers alike out of their homes. A great man to have on your side,” said Fiach as he slapped Uaithne on the back.
Seamus smiled at the young man, intrigued at how the life of this young rebel would play out. However, his eyes drifted to a woman who was smiling at him. Fiach invited her forward and wrapped his arm around her waist.
“Lest we forget, my dear Rose! My wife, my rock, she has been beside me all this time. Death or the weight of knives in my back would have taken me long ago if it was not for her.”
Rose gave a knowing smile, for she remembered Seamus well.
“Hello, Seamus. Glad to see you are still alive.”