Uprising

by C R Dempsey

  “Should we row and try to escape?” asked Sean.

  “We don’t know if they’ve seen us yet,” replied Seamus.

  The small boat set off towards the shore with three oars to its port and starboard. It set off at a good pace towards the coast. Inadvertently, the fugitives thought it was heading straight for them.

  “We need to escape now,” pleaded Art.

  “Why would an English vessel send men to shore in the dead of night?” asked Seamus. “We can’t outrun them to Wicklow, so we may as well stay hidden here in plain sight.”

  They sat and watched the boat and prayed that the moon would disappear behind the clouds. The boat headed straight for the shore.

  “Let us pull onto the shore and hide from this boat and wait. It is now obvious they are not coming for us,” said Seamus.

  “All the better reason to escape,” said Art.

  “I am the ranking officer here, and I say let us pull up on the shore!” hissed Seamus.

  The men obeyed and dipped their oars quietly in the waves, heading for the pebbled beach. The front of the boat soon wedged in amongst the small stones. They crept out of the boat, hid behind it, and watched. The other vessel rowed steadily to the shore.

  “They don’t look like they are English sailors,” said Sean. “Maybe they’re smugglers.”

  “With a boat that small, they can only smuggle people,” replied Seamus.

  “So why are we hiding here and not making our way to Wicklow?” said Art. “Smugglers are usually heavily armed.”

  “Patience. My guts tell me there is something interesting going on here, so we wait.”

  The other boat pulled up onto the shore. They counted eight men in the boat. Four got out and looked along the beach as if they were waiting for someone. They were heavily armed, as Art suspected. They waited for about ten minutes, and Seamus could see agitation on their faces. Then one of them spotted something moving behind Seamus’s boat. The man pointed his sword, and they went to investigate.

  “We are going to die if we remain cowering behind this boat!” and Seamus stuck his head above it, drew his axe and advanced towards the men.

  Sean nudged his fellow veterans.

  “Come on, then!”

  They walked behind Seamus.

  “Who goes there?” he said.

  “We’ve more swords than you. What is the password?” said one of the mysterious men.

  “What password?”

  The leading man raised his sword.

  “Zutphen. It is Zutphen,” and Sean stood beside Seamus and faced the men.

  “Where were you? We sent messages to you but got no reply.”

  They all walked back to the boat from the ship.

  “We were trapped in Dublin. We couldn’t communicate with anyone. They were hanging any veterans they found on the streets.”

  Seamus glared at Sean, demanding to know what was going on. Sean shrugged his shoulders to show that he did not know, but that he should play along. The man signalled to the boat, and the last four people disembarked.

  Seamus and Sean stood before the men in front of the boat. Seven armed men formed a semi-circle around them, and they faced the last man who remained with a hood that hid his face.

  “Are you what is being smuggled?” asked Seamus.

  The man stood and threw back his hood.

  “Hugh Boye MacDavitt!” Seamus exclaimed.

  “Seamus MacSheehy? Have you not gone to hell yet?”

  21

  Escape to Wicklow

  The moonlight shone on Hugh Boye’s face and caught the angles of his cheekbones. He ushered his men forward onto the beach so he could get out of the way of the lapping of waves around his feet. His boots were not what they were when he set out from the Netherlands. Once Hugh Boye was static again, his men reformed their defensive circle with the added benefit to Hugh Boye that it broke up the chilly wind but did nothing for his feet.

  He was a man of slight build and pale complexion, only some of which could be attributed to having just completed a perilous sea journey. The few remaining hairs on Hugh Boye’s head were combed together to provide as much coverage as possible, a man with a fading grip on his youth and a large concern for his image. But his efforts with his hair just made a plaything for the wind. Sean noticed the well-kept beard that climaxed at a point at the end of Hugh Boye’s chin. Sean reckoned it must be the height of fashion on the continent, but would stick out a mile in Ireland anywhere except the Pale. That had to go. But it would not be his struggle to persuade Hugh Boye to do it.

  From what Sean could make out from beneath his cloak he was well dressed and ill-prepared for hiding out as a fugitive. Sean had heard of but not met Hugh Boye and was well aware of his reputation for being difficult and vain. All the evidence he could make out in the moonlight reinforced that view. However, his men crowded defensively around him as they obviously held him in high repute. However, Seamus occupied their attention, for they did not know whether to consider him a threat. Sean felt it his duty to break the tension, not least so they could get off this cold, moonlit beach.

  “You know each other?” asked Sean of Hugh Boye.

  “We go back a long way, a long way,” said Hugh Boye.

  Sean sensed respect, some animosity, but not much friendship. Seamus stuck out his hand and Hugh Boye took it.

  “You could have met far worse than me at some bay in Ireland. Do you know the price on your head?”

  “It had better be high, for I don’t come cheap. Few Irishmen have been lucky enough to gain the skills that I got from learning from someone as proficient on the battlefield as William Stanley himself.”

  “At least I know I won’t have to talk you up when I introduce you to people!”

  Hugh Boye was confused.

  “Surely they would have heard of me already?”

  Hugh Boye considered some more.

  “Why would Hugh O’Neill send you to fetch me?”

  “He didn’t. Do you know where you are?”

  “Well, I’m hoping it is the Mourne mountains, for I am sick of travelling. The weather on the seas was terrible. We got waylaid by a storm and then were pursued by the English. We lost our bearings in the stormy seas. It was decided that I should land here as the ship was damaged and could not outrun the English any more.”

  Seamus shook his head.

  “You are so wrong. They are the Wicklow mountains, and above us is Dublin. We need to hurry and try to reach the foothills before morning and hope Fiach’s scouts find us before the English do.”

  Hugh Boye ignored being told he was wrong.

  “My men will get my things, and then we shall set off.”

  The men took three large chests from the boat. Seamus strode over and waved them away.

  “You can put them back on your ship! We’re going nowhere with them.”

  “But they have all my possessions, instruments and maps!” Hugh Boye protested.

  “The English will have a great time going through these trunks while we swing from the trees above them. I am not sacrificing my life for your fineries.”

  Hugh Boye boiled with rage.

  “I am not going anywhere without my things!”

  “You went soft when you were indulged by the kings of Spain. Put them back on the ship or bury them here. I don’t care. We’re leaving now, and they are not coming with us.”

  Hugh Boye’s men absorbed their master’s anger and pointed their swords towards Seamus’s face.

  “We only take orders from MacDavitt, not some cheap cattle rustler from Munster.”

  “Then you may as well dig your own graves as you bury the chests because as soon as the light comes, we’re not getting off this beach.”

  Both sides stood off against each other in the moonlight. Finally, Sean tried to break the deadlock.

  “Seamus is right. We have to travel light when we go into the mountains, or we’ll never make it.”

  Hugh Boye did not reply, s
o Seamus decided they had to compromise as time was short.

  “Take whatever we can carry and leave the rest here. Once we are secure in the mountains with Fiach, we can send some men to fetch them. I cannot make you a better offer than that.”

  Hugh Boye looked at him and finally relented.

  “Let me take some things for us to carry, and we can hide the rest.”

  “Art, you take three men and hide the chests. I will set off towards the hills with Hugh Boye.”

  “But you don’t know the way.”

  “I am going to head for the valley entrance and stick by the coast. By the time we get there, you should have caught up.”

  Hugh Boye nodded his agreement, and Art knew there was no more to be said.

  * * *

  They travelled until dawn, and the foothills of the Wicklow mountains were still in the distance. Hugh Boye insisted they wait while Art caught up, for he did not want to lose track of his baggage. Seamus found an old abandoned house to hide in, and the two veterans from Dublin went out to find Art and the rest of Hugh Boye’s men.

  Those that remained found some chairs and other comforts of home and settled in to wait for Art to return. The men from the Netherlands were well provisioned and shared their rations with Seamus and Sean, who expressed their appreciation. Hugh Boye sat alone and ate off a rickety table but it was the only table in the house. However, barely had they digested their food than Hugh Boye wanted to get down to business.

  “What is the situation in Ireland? What have I got myself in for?”

  Seamus stopped Sean from answering, for he knew Hugh Boye well from the past and thought he knew what he wanted to know.

  “The main rebellion is in the north, led by Hugh O’Neill and Hugh O’Donnell. They have forced most of the minor lords of the north that had not already joined them into an alliance with them. The Irish lords in Connacht are weak, but it is a tinderbox. Leinster is pacified, except for the Wicklow mountains. The English did a terrific job in suppressing Munster during the Desmond Rebellions so there is hardly a stir out of her these days. Whatever rebellious spirit is left could only be revived when the whole of Ireland is in flames.”

  “So the assessments I have received are relatively accurate. Many on the continent want to see Ireland free, be it for religion or see the English beaten. The problem is that Ireland is low on the Spanish king’s list of priorities since he has so many other things to worry about, not least the Low Countries. What forces do the rebels have at their disposal?”

  “Galloglass, mercenaries from Scotland, some shot and pike for the O’Neills and the O’Donnells. The lesser lords have farm boys with axes mostly and some small amounts of Galloglass.”

  “So they have not progressed since I left?!”

  “That’s why they want you so bad.”

  “Do they use modern battle tactics? I heard they won a brilliant victory over the English.”

  “Their skill in the ambush will be a trip down memory lane for you. If they took the field to fight a straight battle, they would be slaughtered.”

  “So, more or less, I have to start from scratch?” said Hugh Boye with more than a hint of anger.

  Seamus looked puzzled.

  “I thought you would have guessed that, no matter what you were told before you set out.”

  Hugh Boye looked out the window and wondered if he had made a mistake.

  “And what of my clan, the O’Dohertys?” he said, turning to Seamus again.

  “Once again, loyal servants of the O’Donnells.”

  Hugh Boye slumped into his seat and held his hands in his head.

  “I thought I had given up this rebel life to grace the finest battlefields of Europe! I thought I had come here to create an army!”

  “You have, but you didn’t look to see what materials you had to do it with. I can always bring you back to the boat?”

  Hugh Boye rose and stared out the window again, but his wounded pride just rebounded back to Seamus off the walls.

  “No, I have given my word, and I am a patriot. I am here to help free my fellow countrymen. I shall think myself lucky to be cast back into my youth again at my tender age, something that many men wish for when they think they can take their older brains and forget about the hardship you could once endure because it was exciting.”

  “Well, you’ll certainly be cast right back to your youth when you become an outlaw in the Wicklow mountains.”

  Hugh Boye turned around, his face visibly drained.

  “What!? When can we go north?”

  “As soon as the English stop trying to hunt down Fiach MacHugh O’Byrne and I can establish a safe route north.”

  “So I could die in an obscure valley in Wicklow, and my journey will have all been in vain?”

  “The same could be said for any field in the Netherlands.”

  Hugh Boye turned to the window again for he wished to hide his disappointment.

  “You always were a brutal man, Seamus MacSheehy.”

  “And that is why my masters have always liked me so much. I get the dirty jobs done.”

  “I remember, I remember.”

  One of Hugh Boye’s guards knocked on the door.

  “Art O’Toole has returned.”

  Art followed the guard into the house.

  “I assume my baggage is safe?”

  “No one will find it, for Fiach will send men to fetch them when we meet him in a day or so,” said Art.

  “Can we depart now?”

  “Give me a few hours to scout out a route. Then I’ll come back for you.”

  Art turned to leave.

  “I’ll come with you,” said Seamus.

  * * *

  Art worked his way through the forests on the foothills of the Wicklow mountains, with Seamus walking in his footsteps. Art tried to remind Seamus of the bargain he had struck.

  “It is the easiest way,” Art explained. “You can claim he was ambushed, Captain Williamson will be happy, and you get your wife back. Sure have you listened to him complain? He doesn’t want to be here anyway.”

  He did not see Seamus grimace behind his back.

  “Keep walking. Does Captain Williamson know he is here?”

  “No. I couldn’t leave him a message with Hugh Boye’s men with me. However, he knew of our escape, so I’m sure he had us followed.”

  “Hmm, that would have been quite hard, considering we took to the sea on a relatively clear night. But I’m sure Captain Williamson is nothing if not thorough. So we’ve got to assume we’re being followed.”

  “You’ve also got to assume that he has your wife and will kill her if you try to double-cross him. He’s already deeply suspicious since so many of the men he sent to watch over you have died.”

  “You’re still alive!”

  Art gulped.

  “That’s because you still need me.”

  “It’s all about trust.”

  “And you trust no one!”

  Seamus laughed and changed the subject.

  “Where are the safer parts of the hills?”

  “We need to penetrate a little further, and then we’ll get an excellent view of what is around us.”

  They climbed hills for a few more hours until they reached the peak of a particular mountain where they stopped to rest. Both were exhausted from the strains of the last three days.

  “Look,” said Art. “We can see north Wicklow from here and south Dublin as well.”

  “My sight is not what it used to be; some say punishment for my sins, but I say because of old age. What do you think?”

  Art gulped again.

  “Let me tell you what I see, and we shall find out if it is the same?”

  He did not wait for an answer.

  “The hills roll beautifully into the lowlands of the Pale. It is easy to see why any man would fight for his freedom when he sees this view.”

  “How much coin and cows have they paid you to sell your brethren to their deaths? They
died for such views whilst you sold it and your soul for the English coin. Tell me how the battlefields lie. I don’t want to hear such frivolities.”

  Art was insulted, but he continued, for he felt he had no choice.

  “There are several forts in the south Dublin Pale. We can expect them to have many patrols that would go as far as the foothills. The main body of the Lord Deputy’s army appears to be in central Wicklow, but we can expect that supplies are going to go along the principal routes that are the least susceptible to ambush. If we stick to the tops of hills, we should make it back to Fiach’s camp.”

  “How soon should we run into Fiach’s patrols?”

  “We should be into friendly territory over the next hill or two. The English are still not strong here. What we need to avoid are the patrols and the O’Byrne faction that are sympathetic to the crown.”

  “Show me,” and Seamus waved him on.

  They climbed up the next hill and gazed down at the valleys below.

  “Which way is the safest route to Fiach?”

  “Around those mountains, sticking down by the sea. It is too obvious travelling down towards Ballinacor. That is where the English are concentrating their forces.”

  “Good. Let’s go back and get Hugh Boye.”

  They travelled for a distance before Seamus had more questions.

  “Can we set off straight away when we get back?”

  “It would be better to wait for nightfall, but the entire journey to the south Wicklow mountains will take a day and a half, so you need to choose your time to leave and places to hide along the way.”

  “But we need to be exposed for Fiach’s patrols to find us?”

  “We have to balance the risks. We are better off exposed the further we penetrate the mountains where Fiach is strong.”

  They walked down the last high mountain of the Wicklow mountains before descending into the foothills. To their right-hand side was a significant drop. Seamus looked down and then stared at Art ahead of him.

  “Art?”

  “Yes?”

  “I need help.”

  Art shivered when he saw the seriousness on Seamus’s face but stopped all the same.

  “Thank you for bringing us this far,” said Seamus, and Art could feel the coldness in his voice as Seamus advanced towards him.