by C R Dempsey
“That foolish boy has at least a couple of hours on me.”
Once he reconciled Eunan was gone, Seamus noticed who else was missing.
“Where are the Lady O’Malley and Lord Tibbot?” he asked again of the man by the fire.
“I do not know, nor would I look for them after their fury following their meeting with Red Hugh. If I were to suggest, they would have gone to speak to their allies. I’m sure you’ll find them at the inauguration ground if you want to.”
Seamus grunted his thanks again and strode off with a purpose.
* * *
Most of the Mayo gentry gathered outside the entrance to the old hill fort and were denied entry by the soldiers of the O’Donnell. The lords and ladies had given up attempting to petition the soldiers to let them in and turned inwards to their group. Seamus overheard discussions of their grievances with the process imposed on them by Red Hugh, or trying to find out how the other lords voted, what their impressions of their meeting with Red Hugh were, and then assessing whether they still thought they were in with a chance or not. Seamus picked his way through the crowd and found Tibbot and Grace, who were less than pleased to see him.
“I hope you put in a friendly word with your master when we were dismissed,” said Tibbot. “Red Hugh would be sorely mistaken not to appoint me the Lower MacWilliam Burke. I’ve got the votes, and I’ve got the muscle. He would be a fool to make an enemy of me!”
“Nobody is making a fool out of anyone else. If nothing else, Red Hugh has a sensible head on him. He’s got to show consideration for everyone so that everyone goes along with the process. He has a heavy weight on his young shoulders, being the O’Donnell. I think everyone is getting a bit overexcited. Imagine if Bingham showed up to break up the ceremony. You’d be glad of his army then!” replied Seamus.
“We trust you, Seamus, for you brought back the cream of our youth to us,” said Grace. “However, spend that trust wisely and don’t use it on a false hope that could evaporate into the wind,” advised Grace.
She and Tibbot turned their back on Seamus when the next minor lord left the ring fort. They wished to base their assessments on how their clansmen spent their votes. Seamus knew he had no time to waste. He went to fetch some men to ready themselves so they could depart to Fermanagh when the opportunity arose.
* * *
The deliberations went on throughout the day, and since it was Christmas Eve, night fell early. However, Red Hugh was determined to wrap everything up before Christmas Day. He ordered his men to light three massive fires to illuminate the ring. They invited the disarmed nobles of the Lower MacWilliam Burkes in to hear the result. They congregated around whichever fire reflected their confidence in being elected. The flames of the central fire reflected in Tibbot’s eyes as he stood before the empty seat beside Red Hugh. Grace stood behind him, her face as impenetrable as the cliffs of Clare Island. Seamus, again, got in under the pretext of being an adviser to Tibbot and Grace. He stood nervously behind them, hoping that they would settle the outcome by the end of the evening and he could saddle up for Fermanagh.
Red Hugh appeared to the address the Lower MacWilliam Burkes with Kittagh Burke smiling beside him. The speech was a blur to Seamus. As he heard the air punctuated with the words ‘loyalty and ‘the O’Donnell’ he could only play out in his head the scenarios of how long it would take him to get to Fermanagh, given the numerous disastrous outcomes he imagined the speech would bring. He missed the simplicity of swinging his axe to solve his problems. The only alleviation of seeing the crimson fury of Tibbot Burke was that Tibbot was taking it in silence. That did not last long, however. A cry came from the other fires.
“How can he have won? He is an attainder!”
“Who said that?” shouted Eoghan McToole O’Gallagher. “That is English law! It has no jurisdiction here.”
“Attainder!” came the shout again.
“The O’Donnell has no jurisdiction here!” came another shout.
“SILENCE OR I WILL HAVE THE FORT CLEARED!” cried Red Hugh.
It finally dawned on Tibbot that O’Donnell’s soldiers surrounded them, and Red Hugh could massacre the nobility of the MacWilliam Burkes with ease while his own soldiers stood idle outside.
“Listen to the O’Donnell,” he pleaded with his fellow nobles. “We should accept Kittagh as our leader, for he is the O’Donnell’s choice.”
With those that protested, he whispered in their ears that if they did not accept it, they would not see the end of the day. Silence extinguished the rippling protests in the crowd.
Red Hugh sat down in his chair.
“Good. Now we have silence and you can listen. Many of you have served the rebellion well and have received my generosity. However, Kittagh came to me at an early stage as he was treated so unjustly by the Crown, as was I. You insult both him and me when you condemn him with the English term ‘attainder’. It is a branding of our oppression by the Crown that we use this term to curse each other. Kittagh has my full confidence, and when Christmas is over, we will bring the war to the English. Come and join us. Connacht is a rich province. The supporters of the crown are rich, so there are plenty of rewards for all. Come and hail the new MacWilliam Burke and join us outside for the celebratory feast!”
There was a half-hearted cheer from the crowds gathered around the two fires to the sides.
“But first, we must have the pledges and hostages from the MacWilliam families. Eoghan, line them up and have my scribes ready to note down their hostages and what soldiers they pledge.”
The various branches of the Lower MacWilliam Burkes were lined up and forced to pledge to Kittagh and Red Hugh. Three of the losing candidates were taken hostage there and then, and as the other families named their hostages, men were dispatched to take the unlucky relatives into custody.
“’Tis a bitter irony that my son exchanges an English prison for an Irish one, all in the name of freedom,” muttered one of the minor clan heads as he queued to add his son’s name to the register.
Red Hugh then named four of his supporters as heads of four of the minor clans in the region. Taking hostages for those clans then began.
They forced the nobles of Mayo to part take in the celebratory feast to show their loyalty to the O’Donnell. Seamus tried in vain to speak to Red Hugh but was rebuffed at every attempt. Neither Grace nor Tibbot appeared to want to have anything to do with him, so he went to drink with the men from the Galway mission. At least they seemed to be happy, if only because they were given free wine.
* * *
Seamus awoke in his tent the next day with a thumping headache. It was eerily quiet, which let paranoia get the better of him. The inside of the tent was covered in mud, but the clothes and the contents of the pockets were his, so he reckoned he had slept in the right tent. He stuck his head outside. There was a large hole in the campsite where the O’Malleys and Tibbot’s men once were.
“I really shouldn’t get so drunk!” he muttered to himself, wondering how he missed or could not remember them leaving.
He got dressed and wandered through the camp, and noticed other gaps of varying sizes.
“How could O’Donnell have been such a fool, and am I a fool for following him?”
Seamus now heard the noise of drunken men and looked over to the camp of the O’Donnells. The celebrations continued with the odd priest dotted around the camp, not shielding their disgust at the blasphemy as they prepared to hold mass for Christmas Day. Seamus knew he had not got long. The wedding would take place on New Year’s Day, and it would take several days to get there. Eunan already had twenty-four hours on him.
“But the boy needs far less than a day to destroy everything through his own stupidity. Why am I continually surrounded by fools?”
Seamus decided his mission with the O’Malleys was over. He went to get his men and left for Fermanagh.
37
New Year’s eve
After several harrowing days of travelling blighted
by wind and driving rain, avoiding random bands of men, and not wanting to find out if they were friend or foe, Seamus got back to familiar territory. He had been here many a time in his life defending and springing ambushes in the woods of south Fermanagh. The woods felt like home, as if they embraced and protected him, every clearing offering a potential ambush spot to rid himself of his enemies.
He felt that the local population had been ungrateful for all the persistent efforts he had made to defend them, even though he was well compensated for his time and loss of men. He thought that what he was about to do was for the good of the Maguire, and they would be no less ungrateful this time. The boy’s gratitude was another matter, but as long as he reestablished the Munster MacSheehys as a force, that would be all the gratitude he would need. First, he had to find out what kind of mess the boy had gotten himself into in his haste to get back to Fermanagh.
Arriving at the location where Seamus had arranged a meeting, there was no one there. It was a half-day ride to Derrylinn at the best of times and longer if you needed to avoid the O’Cassidy patrols and invitees making their way to the wedding. He sent one of his men north, towards Enniskillen, to look for Sean O’Toole. The second man was told to wait where he was in case anyone came along, and Seamus, knowing how prone Eunan was to sentimentality, rode towards the old village.
It was midday when he arrived, and the sun came out from behind the clouds depriving cold of its companion, rain. The grey of the sky compounded the grey of the land for famine even blighted the garden of Fermanagh. The remains of the village clung onto the shore, refusing to accept its destiny of being forever doomed. This backdrop made a familiar home to its on/off leader - Eunan O’Keenan Maguire - the man whose fortunes and inward toil fluctuated as with the fortunes of the village. Eunan had returned to revive his fortunes, as much as he had buried the O’Keenan part of his name in the village cemetery. He held court with those who remembered him with any fondness outside the building positioned over the ruins of his father’s old house. He held court by the shore, just as his father did.
In Seamus’s eyes, Eunan had returned to revel in the past and was foolish to potentially reveal his position when they still had to formulate their plan. He had to extricate Eunan without revealing he was there. The hood could only hide Seamus’s identity for so long. He knew that if he waited long enough, a spark of luck would come along. That spark was Óisin’s weak bladder. Óisin got up from his seat and walked between the houses.
“What are you doing here, you bloody fool?”
Óisin stumbled around in a circle, searching for the voice, and then looked to the heavens as if his judgment day had arrived.
“If I was your enemy, I could have slit your throat, set the village on fire and be helping myself to your cows by now.”
“Seamus? Is that you? Reveal yourself and don’t be a phantom of the shadows.”
“Young, reckless and lucky to be alive, that’s what you are,” and Seamus stepped out from behind one of the wooden houses.
“We were wondering when you were going to show up,” replied Óisin.
“So you went back to the place that Eunan was more or less thrown out of and announce your presence the day before the wedding?”
“He wanted to see how much support he had if he was going to become the O’Cassidy.”
“He has all the support he needs from my axe. You should have hidden out in the forest and waited for me as I told you.”
“Eunan is his own man, he…”
“Quit your blabbering and just get him.”
Óisin was taken aback.
“What do I tell him?”
“That it is time to go, but do not mention me.”
Several minutes later, Eunan came around to the back of the houses.
“Seamus!”
He looked glad to see him, but that feeling was chased away by the scowl on his compatriot’s face.
“Where are your men?”
“They are coming from Enniskillen. I thought they would be here by now. However, the men of the village said they would support me. They hate Cormac.”
“Connor Roe will make quick work of farm boys. We need proper soldiers. Óisin, get the men and bring them to Derrylinn and hide near the site of the wedding. Wait for my signal and then attack. The farm boys can also attack on the signal. Eunan, you are coming with me.”
The expression on Seamus’s face meant there was no room for arguing.
* * *
The two men rode down towards the rendezvous point. Eunan rode with renewed vigour, as if the village had revitalised him and given him fresh blood.
“What has you in such high spirits?” said Seamus, still seething with anger in the wake of Eunan’s petulant actions.
“I have a certain confidence again, after everything that happened.”
Seamus was nonplussed.
“What? Giving away your position has you more confident?”
“Going back to the village reminded me of what I was fighting for. It all seems abstract in some wet and windy bog in Connacht.”
Seamus shook his head.
“That’s what war and being a Galloglass is all about, splitting some man’s head open in a wet and windy bog so that the person giving the orders can gain revenge, feel more important, or gain more cows. I thought you’d seen sense and put all this youthful idealism behind you?”
“I still fight for the Maguire!”
“Even as he tries to make a treaty selling you out to the English behind your back?”
Eunan, tired of such needling, whipped his reigns hard and rode ahead of Seamus.
They approached the forest, where they were supposed to meet their comrades. Eunan pulled up so Seamus could catch up. The two men entered the forest and broke into a trot but proceeded slowly, for Seamus knew how productive this forest could be for bandits. Having reached a stretch of the pathway with uncommonly good visibility, Seamus spied a party ahead of them. He signalled to Eunan, and they left the path with their horses tied up. Slipping further into the wood, but not far as they could not see the path, they ran through the trees to get ahead of the strangers. Both were adept at running while creating the minimum amount of noise, for it was a skill that kept one alive in the warfare of Ireland. The three figures were on foot as they escorted a cart behind them. Eunan and Seamus crouched behind a rock.
“They are monks. Leave them,” said Eunan, and he turned to go.
Seamus grabbed him by the arm.
“Sit down,” hissed Seamus. “They are perfect. With those disguises, we can sidle into the wedding without being noticed.”
“We cannot murder monks!”
“Did you bring your little ‘Maguire’ throwing axes with you?”
“Of course, but I am not throwing them at the monks!”
“Calm yourself. Just follow my lead.”
Seamus snook ahead and looked for the perfect ambush spot. He jumped onto the road from behind a tree.
“Excuse me, men of the cloth. I have an urgent need for your clothes. I’m sure it will give you great pleasure to endure the hardship of nudity and to kneel beside the roadside and pray for the deliverance of new clothes.”
These insults disgusted Eunan, and he remained hidden, refusing to take part.
“You’re way too fat for my habit and my knees far too delicate to kneel by any roadside,” and the lead monk pulled out his axe and pulled down his hood.
“Sean O’Toole!” exclaimed Seamus.
“Great minds! Great minds!” and Sean ran over and embraced him.
Eunan came out from hiding, his soul relieved.
“When I asked you to get some men, I meant more than two,” said Seamus.
“I got you many more than two. I have fifty men, Galloglass and veterans, for your unit making their way down separately, maybe a couple of hours behind me. They know where to go. I thought I would come with these two gentlemen to scout ahead.”
“Well, you didn’t let me do
wn, and it sounds like a good plan. But we have no time to waste. Let us press ahead to the meeting place and see how many men we have.”
“You might need these.” Sean went to the cart and pulled out two other habits.
Seamus beamed from ear to ear.
“Sean, you think of everything!”
38
New Year’s resolutions
Seamus, Eunan and their men sat in a wood in the cold and dark with only the wild animals, fairies and ghosts for company. They had been warm and had the benefit of light until Seamus returned and pissed on the fire.
“Are you stupid? That light can be seen for miles,” he hissed at Eunan.
Seamus was extremely agitated, for he had gone to inspect the wedding venue, but Connor Roe turned up in force.
“He has at least one hundred men with him, and O’Cassidy has at least fifty of his own and twenty of those are Galloglass.”
“Do we have to call it off?” asked Eunan, who was seated beside Seamus as they discussed with Sean the plan for the next day.
“No, it is now or never. If the O’Cassidys marry into the senior line of the Maguires, any claim that Eunan could have will be dead. We must strike tomorrow.”
“What are our chances of success?” enquired Eunan.
“How many men do we have now?” asked Seamus.
“Three, two, and us, er, eight?” replied Sean.
“We have one hundred and fifty on the way?” suggested Eunan.
“If they are not here, they are as good as a fairy tale. Eight means we are dead in five minutes. We need more.” Seamus’s words had the same dosing effect as his piss had on the fire.
“The men of the village?” suggested Eunan.
“They are only meat for the Galloglass axe. We would have an extra five minutes before we die. We need something more, a lot more.”
“Let us sleep on it,” said Eunan. “I, for one, am dead to the world.”
“With the dice in the air, we don’t know how they will fall until the morn. Let your men take first watch, Sean. The rest of us will retire. At first light, we’ll set in motion our plan once we know the circumstances of the day.”