by C R Dempsey
The guards were aware of of Eunan Maguire’s reputation and owed the refugees nothing. They did as he asked. Lorcan and Manus stood with the axes of their guards, but refused to raise them. Eunan was confused. Then he remembered:
“What would Seamus do?”
He swung his axe towards his foes.
“Have you no shame?” “You call yourself a Galloglass?” “There is no honour in murdering the unarmed.”
Where there should have been the glory of striking down a foe, there was an empty hole, where there should have been glory and pride, bitterness and resentment, where there should have been the closure of a searing wound on his soul was…
“Eunan!”
A hand from behind grabbed his axe. Eunan snapped to.
“You do that, and we’re both dead,” cried Óisin.
Eunan wrenched his axe back from Óisin’s hand and saw what he had done. Two barely recognisable corpses, blood haemorrhaged from their cavernous head wounds. Before him, Dervella knelt, her arms raised, pleading for her life.
28
Clontibret
Lord Deputy Russell was shocked at the fall of Enniskillen, for he believed that it could have held out for several more months as he resupplied it only nine months previously. Having received reinforcements of veterans from Brittany, he was feeling more confident about subduing any rebellions. Already engaged in Wicklow, he asked Sir Henry Bagenal to resupply the besieged garrison at Monaghan. Sir Henry assembled a massive force of fifteen hundred men and two hundred and fifty horse made up of Brittany veterans and recruits from the Pale. During the preparations, the captains complained of the potential shortage of ammunition, but Bagenal waved them away. He considered he had such a powerful force the rebels would not be brave enough to engage him. He set out from Newry to relieve Monaghan.
* * *
Eunan found himself outside Monaghan, laying siege to the town. He reconciled himself with Óisin for his behaviour in the forest and got his agreement that he would not disclose what happened to the men. It had all happened so quickly. When they got back to camp and had sobered up from the celebrations, he was called into the tent of the Maguire and given the news that they were to join campaigning with the O’Neill. Eunan was elated. He could think of nothing better to clear his troubled mind. A proper campaign with a proper army. The most impressive force he had ever seen, which included all the English troops he had encountered, was that of Cormac MacBaron, and the main army of the O’Neill was supposed to be far superior. But the O’Neill was somewhere in the distance as he was stuck in a siege which meant they were part of the inferior quality of soldier.
The order soon came to abandon the siege as word spread that Bagenal and the English forces were coming. Eunan was viably disappointed when summoned by the Maguire, but Hugh told him to have faith. He temporarily sent them back to Fermanagh to wait for further instructions.
In the meantime, Red Hugh returned to Tirconnell with his forces to counter amphibious raids being launched along his coastline. That left the O’Neills, Maguires, MacMahons and an assortment of minor allies to face the English army.
Sir Henry had suffered some harassment on the way to Monaghan town but replenished and reinforced the garrison. The next day he set off on a different route back to Newry. However, Hugh O’Neill planned for this eventuality. He summoned the Maguires back and northern rebels lined themselves up on either side of the route and prepared an ambush.
* * *
Eunan returned from the tent of Hugh Maguire. The bittersweet reality of fighting openly with the entire O’Neill army sank in. They sliced the Maguire forces up into different sections depending on the level of sophisticated weaponry and, to a lesser extent, experience. They took the limited number of pikemen and shot in the Maguire army to support the equivalent O’Neill units. Hugh Maguire’s calvary joined O’Neill. They left Eunan with his men, boys, and farmers from south Fermanagh and their pitchforks, old swords and axes. Even the MacCabe Galloglass, traditionally armed due to lack of weaponry, were grouped with the traditionally armed soldiers from the other minor lords of the north. These so-called inferior men were designated to play a lesser role by merely harassing the enemy in the battle. Eunan bitterly ordered his men to gather as many javelins, darts, bows and arrows and other throwing objects as they could, and they took up positions on route to Clontibret just south of Monaghan town.
Bagenal and his men marched in formation, split into three sections. Each section had a core of pikemen. Their ten-foot pikes bristled on the cloudy but dry day, and their steel helmets and breastplates shone whenever the sun snook out for behind the clouds. Drawn in squares, the hedge of pikes was enough to drive away even the most heavily armoured horsemen. They feared for nothing.
On the flanks rode the calvary, again with their shining helmets, breastplates and the addition of slashing swords. They struck fear into the hearts of the most resolute Irish, for even the O’Neills had no match for them.
The army also had two sets of shot. One group was armed with heavy muskets, the latest gun technology not widely available to the rebels. They supported the pike squares and were deployed in sleeves or lines on the flanks of the squares or out in front. The second set of shot was armed with lighter caliver guns and was deployed as sleeves or lines alongside the marching columns to offer protection from attack.
All the English soldiers were armed with weaponry and armour the rebels could only pick up from the battlefield or, if they were lucky, get in limited amounts from Scotland. Only the O’Neills had weapons of this calibre. The rebels were no match for the veterans of Brittany and could only hope the men of the Pale would run away and leave their equipment behind.
Eunan gathered his men on the other side of a small hill and waited for the English army’s front section to pass. Óisin lay beside him as they hid in some bushes and observed the army pass by below them.
“How many do we let pass us by?” said Óisin impatiently.
“Enough so they can’t escape. Our job is to make things difficult for them. The O’Neills do the actual engaging.”
“One day, you might grow up to be an O’Neill!” laughed Óisin.
“Fat chance of that. Why would they waste one of their ladies on a layabout like me?”
“Well, if you had your uncle’s wealth! Then again, if you had that, you’d take his daughter too.”
“Just concentrate on the enemy, please.”
“Look!” and Óisin pointed north. “We want to avoid them. Let them pass.”
A unit of English cavalry rode below them.
“We need to wait for the signal now. Cormac MacBaron will charge down his hill, and we will distract the English in the middle from helping their trapped comrades.”
“You mean use us as target practice while the O’Neills grab all the glory?”
“We wouldn’t even be on this hill and contemplating this if it weren’t for the O’Neills. Just keep your eye on them and tell me when they pass Clontibret church.”
Óisin saluted him, and Eunan ignored the sarcasm. Eunan went back to compose some stirring words for the men that would give them courage when facing bullet and arrow.
He waited over the other side of the hill, just out of sight, until Óisin waved excitedly, and then led his men to the top of the hill. While not the highest piece of ground, it had a commanding view of the English column. To the south of Clontibret church, Cormac MacBaron and his O’Neill pike slammed into the front of the column once it reached a narrow section of the road. To the rear, Hugh O’Neill did the same. On the hills to the left and right, rebel shot made their way down the hill to open fire on the column. Eunan raised his axe. Forgotten were the words composed, so he relied on what stirred his own emotions.
“THE CRY OF THE MAGUIRE!”
The men of south Fermanagh followed the words of Eunan down the hill. The English skirmishers saw them coming, loaded their guns, and bullets whizzed past Eunan’s head. But he was not afraid, for this
is what he waited for. He ran down the hill and charged on Bagenal’s right. To the left was a bog. A thin line of rebel skirmishers who laid down withering fire on the column occupied it. The bog was impassable to both pike and horse, and Captain Brett ordered his caliver shot into the bog to drive off the rebels. He turned his pike to face the charging insurgents.
Eunan was almost at the bottom of the hill when the English skirmishers unleashed their last volley before retreating behind the squares of pike. Even his single-mindedness could not block out the bodies dropping. Eunan pulled up when he saw the hedge of pikes in front of him.
“Discharge your weapons and RETREAT!” he ordered to anyone who could hear over the din of battle.
The pike wall swallowed a meek volley of javelins, darts, and arrows and stood no less diminished. Eunan could see the shot rushing out from between the pike and reloading.
“RETREAT!”
Eunan turned and ran up the hill. Bullets hurtled past his ears. Midway up the hill, some O’Neill shot replied in kind.
“The battle’s that way,” and one of the shot pointed to where Eunan had run from.
“I’ve just got to go for a quick shit in that bush over there. Save a couple for me,” and Eunan winked and ran past them.
He made it to out of range of the English shot and rallied his men. He tried to hide the disappointment from his men that he had failed to get into close quarters with the enemy and could not wield his six-foot-long battle axe. Óisin caught up with him, and they counted their losses. Ten men were missing. Not that bad. Eunan looked down and saw that the English army was trapped and was being assaulted from all sides.
“Men, we go back once again into the cauldron of battle. Take up what weapons you can find on your way down and pelt them with it. If we cannot engage them hand to hand, we will charge up the hill and charge down again until we can. This army will break. We have to apply enough pressure. Now take up arms again, and I will make the cry.”
They charged again and threw what they could find. The English bullets were discernibly less in volume than before, but the hedge of pikes held. They climbed the hill once more. Eunan counted his men. Fifteen more missing. He saw his men were exhausted, so he sat them down, and they watched the battle unfold. The English forces were being squeezed from the north and south, taking substantial losses. Rebel forces fought them to a standstill from the morning until the afternoon. The English cavalry charged Cormac MacBaron’s men and cleared a path in the pass where the ambush was first sprung. They passed through the gap towards Newry. However, unblocking the passage led to a breakdown in the English discipline as the men tried to force their way through the gap. The pike squares collapsed in their rush to get through the pass.
“This is it, men! The cry of the MAGUIRE!” cried Eunan.
They charged down the hill accompanied by the Maguire cavalry. This time pickings were slim, and the main missiles hurled at the enemy were rocks. The central column broke, and Eunan’s men pursued their opponents until the rear column came up behind them. This column kept its discipline, and the marauding rebels fled as it fought its way through. The O’Neill shot ran out of ammunition so Hugh O’Neill called off the attack. The English army retreated, bruised but intact. Eunan withdrew to the hilltop to gather his men and salute their glorious victory.
29
The offer
The glorious victory at Clontibret brought a new sense of hope to the beleaguered Irish in Wicklow. Fiach was injured in a failed raid on the Pale. Turlough was released yet stayed. But that only heightened the tensions between the O’Tooles and the O’Byrnes. Seamus was given temporary control as Fiach recuperated, but Seamus wished he had not given him such an honour. It absorbed all of Seamus’s energy and self-control to prise the O’Byrnes and O’Tooles apart. He hoped that the victory at Clontibret would provide sufficient cover for himself and Hugh Boye to escape back north, but he could not leave Wicklow in such a state, for he knew that if he left, the situation could rapidly collapse.
Fiach regained his strength and gradually took back some responsibilities from Seamus. Not long passed before Fiach heard Rose was in Dublin Castle, being attended to by no less than Lord Deputy Russell himself. She had a swift trial and was sentenced to be burned as a witch. Fiach howled with pain and quickly dispensed with Seamus and Hugh Boye’s counsel. He sent Redmond to Dublin under a flag of truce to negotiate terms for his wife’s release. When Redmond returned a week later, he was sent straight to Fiach’s tent.
“Here, father, I have two letters for you. One is from Lord Deputy Russell, as you can see from the seal. I know not what it contains. The second is from your wife that was smuggled to me when I was in Dublin Castle waiting on the lord deputy. While it is not sealed, I could not resist looking upon its contents to see if it was from your wife’s fair hand. I believe it is. Read it yourself, but I believe it confirms the doubts we already had in our minds.”
Fiach snatched the letter purportedly from his wife and devoured it. It contained only pain. He took the second letter with less vigour, broke the seal and refolded the letter.
“Please fetch me, Seamus and Hugh Boye.”
* * *
Darkness fell, and Fiach positioned his guards twenty yards from the tent, as he knew the sensitivity of the subject to be discussed and he did not want friend or foe to overhear. Seamus entered, followed by Hugh Boye. He was curious why he was summoned, for his friend’s decision making had become more erratic since his wounds healed. For Seamus, the walls closed in, and the guards seemed increasingly less friendly. When they entered, Fiach was pacing the floor.
“Gentlemen, come in. I have received two letters from Dublin. One of those is from poor Rose.
“She is still alive, awaiting her sentence to be carried out. Russell taunted her with stories that her own son-in-law gave her up. She said that Turlough was in league with Russell since the day he was captured by the English. Russell struck a deal in which Turlough agreed to give me up. In return, he would be granted an English title and inherit both my lands and the lands of the O’Tooles. I was supposed to be in that same cousin’s house where Rose was captured but was drawn away by events at the last minute. She says that she has proposed an alternative deal by offering Turlough and Uaithne O’More and I agree to retire and pass along my titles to Phelim and Redmond, then Rose will be freed and Wicklow left in peace to heal.”
“And the second letter?” said Seamus, the lines on his face pointed to his concern.
“The second is from Lord Deputy Russell and confirmed that he has Rose. He outlined what her sentence is and when it will be carried out, along with the details of the bargain Rose described in her letter. He says I have until the first of June to decide, and if he has not heard from me by then, Rose will be burnt alive.”
Fiach was almost moved to tears by the trap he found himself in.
“I need your counsel before I have Turlough and Uaithne arrested. I have my doubts about the former, but Uaithne? He has been like a son to me, a better warrior than most of my sons and more obedient than any. They want me to hand over my two sons to die.”
Seamus stroked his beard as a distraction to give him time to think.
“If you took up this bargain, which I am not advising you to do at this stage, what would you do after? Would the great Fiach the Raven of Wicklow retire peacefully with an English title and farm the land like a lowly tenant? I don’t think so!”
“I would rebuild the rebellion with Phelim and Redmond. Rose would be the glue to rebuild the alliances. We would be nothing without her.”
“I know you ask for my opinion because you value it and know there is always a large element of truth and straight talk to it. I’ll do the same as always, even though it may not be what you want to here and place my position in jeopardy here. The rebellion would die on a stake outside Dublin Castle if you sacrificed Turlough and Uaithne.”
“I still have my other sons,” protested Fiach.
“Whi
le able, neither alone nor combined do they have the talents of either Turlough or Uaithne. Russell would cut the head off the snake of the rebellion, and Wicklow would slip into the Pale.”
“I have been in worse positions in the past, made compromises and then reneged on them. Why would now be so different?”
“You are old and no longer have the energy.”
“That is why I need Rose and the O’Tooles. Now, are you with me or against me?”
“I am the representative of the O’Donnell and am ultimately here to represent his interests.”
“So be it. Then stand aside while I act.”
“You are the lord and master of Wicklow,” and Seamus bowed, departing with Hugh Boye, who followed him.
“What are you going to do now?” asked Hugh Boye of Seamus.
“Go back to your tent. You have far more important battles to fight than this. Do not get involved,” and Seamus disappeared into the dark.
* * *
Seamus searched the outer perimeters of the camp. He searched the illuminated faces around every campfire and asked for directions from anyone he could trust. At last, he found the lit face he was looking for. Seamus barged past the drunken men in his way, knocked the drink from the man’s hand, and lifted him to his feet.
“Get out of here! Run! Men are coming to give you to the English!”
Uaithne pushed Seamus back.
“What are you doing, you mad, drunken fool? Have you come here to fight me? What have I done to deserve this?”
“Rose O’Toole has done a deal with the English: you and Turlough for her own life. Run while you have the chance!”