Uprising

by C R Dempsey

  “You are not staying?” said Cormac, trying to hide his disappointment at the offhandedness of his soon-to-be new relative.

  “You would need to convince me that this is friendly territory. You have not laid on too much security, so I presume you think it is?”

  “Think of it as your second home,” said Cormac, doing his best to ingratiate himself to his guest.

  Connor Roe laughed

  “Many a Maguire wish my second home as a cell in the jail of Enniskillen Castle, so I will decline your offer and set up my own security.”

  Connor Roe turned to Donnacha.

  “What news of the promise of peace? That would be the best wedding gift you could give me. I so wish to remove the yoke of the O’Neill from my back.”

  “No news as yet. Being it the middle of winter and the famine biting again, nobody is interested in anything more than writing letters to delay what they can until the spring.”

  “What news of Spain? Do the wise lords of the North still pander after a Spanish ruler rather than an English one?”

  “Therein lies their great hope! The O’Neill and the O’Donnell recently wrote to the Spanish king suggesting that after he liberates them, they will become his vassals and that he should make his cousin Archduke Albert prince of Ireland.”

  “Who’s he?”

  “A royal person who has the perfect balance of piety and laziness, specially chosen by the Irish clergy in Spain for having enough gravitas to deserve an army but also the same quantity of laziness to let the Irish lords rule as they please.”

  “They can pray all they like to the good Lord for salvation, but the Crown will always be the primary route to power in Ireland. Remember our bargain, Donnacha. I am here giving my son because when the Maguire dies in some bog in Connacht trying to rob some cows for his master, the O’Donnell, you said you will support me and make sure I am made the new Maguire, the title that is rightfully mine!”

  “That is why we are here today,” and Donnacha nodded solemnly.

  “Good. As long as we are straight with that. I don’t want any tricks. I want to get the wedding done and get back to Lisnaskea. Now, where’s that food we asked for? Let us eat and get this day over with.”

  Donnacha hurried off to make arrangements. Cormac went back towards his house to see what they were doing in the kitchen. One of his Galloglass approached him.

  “Lord, one of the local villagers says he has news of bandits and seeks a reward.”

  “Get Cillian to deal with it. He is in charge of security,” and Cormac waved the man away.

  The Galloglass looked bewildered and then went off to find Cillian.

  * * *

  Cillian O’Cassidy felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He was the second born but the only son. His father had been surrounded by tragedy, with the death of his wife and the death of his sister. Caoimhe, according to his father, encapsulated the best parts and the beauty of both, and his father had only to set eyes on her to be visibly moved. Cillian had no great skills in the art of war or agriculture nor any great intelligence nor skills with people that would make him in any way noteworthy. The role he took was that of the head of his father’s underlings, but even then, he was overlooked when the task required a particular deftness or skill. He was given the tasks that required an O’Cassidy, jobs that his father did not want to do. Listening to tall stories from the local peasantry was just one of those tasks.

  Taighe Maguire and his companion were presented to Cillian around the back of the O’Cassidy house. The meeting was arranged out of the sight of the wedding party so that the O’Cassidy and his guests would neither see nor hear anything unpleasant. They picked up their sacks and emptied the contents in front of Cillian. The numerous heads rolled on the ground until they settled in whatever divot on the ground, or in the skull, brought it to a halt.

  “I’m here to claim the reward for Eunan Maguire and any bandits that may have rallied to his cause that once lurked in the yonder woods. The villagers elected me to collect the reward. Eunan returned to the village of his birth and tried to rally us against the O’Cassidy cause. When he left with no more followers, we set upon him and behead him which lays before you now.”

  Cillian did not want to dirty his wedding clothes and did not recognise the head of Eunan from what was visible before him.

  “Bring his head to me before I consider any reward.”

  Taighe searched the heads until he found one that was sufficiently mutilated.

  “That is him,” said Taighe as he showed the face by rolling the skull under his foot.

  “Pick it up! I can’t see it properly under your foot, and it’s covered in blood and mud. If you want a reasonable price for it, pick it up and show me properly.”

  Taighe grabbed the skull by the hair and held it up in front of Cillian.

  “That is not him. It may be the most battered face you could find, but it is not Eunan. I served with him for the Maguire, you know? I know his face well, and it is not his. Do not take me for a fool. How do I know you are not a bandit and killed these men yourself and try to sell their heads to me as if they were those of someone else?”

  Taighe saw the anger boiling in Cillian’s eyes.

  “You have me mistaken, sir. I come to you for I know you as a great man who can make things happen.”

  Flattery floated easily into Cillian’s ears. Anything to raise his esteem and make him look like the next O’Cassidy Maguire in his father’s eyes.

  “What, pray tell, can I make happen?”

  Taighe leaned into him so they would not be overheard.

  “I bring you a message, but it is for you alone.”

  Cillian contemplated the risks and rewards from hearing this message. But a great man should not be afraid. He waived his two guards away.

  “I bring you a message from a great warrior by the name of Seamus MacSheehy, a man of influence and stature in the court of the O’Donnell.”

  “I know of him,” replied Cillian, who by now was most intrigued.

  “He has noticed you and how you lead men. He has also seen that you go unnoticed by those in your own clan. Probably motivated by pure jealousy because of your esteemed service for the Maguire.”

  “Humph!”

  “He wishes to enlist your help in a scheme to assist you both.”

  “Why should I trust him?”

  “If you don’t, your father will give away your inheritance, and you’ll never be the O’Cassidy Maguire.”

  * * *

  As the caravan travelled past Derrylinn, the O’Cassidy soldiers withdrew to form a ring around the house and wedding venue.

  “Good on you, Taighe,” exclaimed Seamus as he grabbed and shook Eunan’s arm to absorb his own delight. “If you weren’t such a snake, you’d make a great Galloglass!”

  “I would have thought that being a snake was a prerequisite for being a Galloglass?” sneered Eunan.

  “A different type of snake, there are loads of types of snakes,” and Seamus dismissed his nephew’s sarcasm.

  “Don’t celebrate yet,” said Sean. “We’ve still to get into the wedding itself.”

  The caravan was ordered to disburse in a field in front of the O’Cassidy house.

  “Where do we go now?” said Eunan, whose fit of nerves had not dissipated.

  There was a group of monks kneeling beside a pond, praying.

  “I hope you’ve got sturdy knees, boys. Keep your eyes out for Taighe!” exclaimed Seamus.

  They walked over to the monks whilst rubbing their knees to warm them up, each hoping their knowledge of Latin was sufficient for them not to be found out.

  * * *

  Connor Roe was slightly more pleasant now that he had been fed and interfered in the wedding arrangements by ensuring that everything was up to his exacting standards. He was sorely disappointed.

  “Where is that incompetent boy of yours?” he demanded of Cormac.

  “May I remind you that yo
u are a guest in my house!” came the heated reply.

  “I beg your pardon, but as pretty as your garden is, I don’t want it to be my grave, which is what it will be if your boy does not get the security right. Where is he?”

  “My men will fetch him,” and they obeyed as soon the words as they were parted from his tongue.

  Cillian came with his breastplate and helmet freshly polished.

  “Boy, you look splendid. Fitting to grace the finest courtyard in all of England!” said Connor Roe. “But alas, it is not your skills as a mannequin that are required today but your organisational ones. My newly arrived men rode all the way here from the lake and only encountered your men once they got past Derrylinn. Where are the patrols you agreed to and the perimeter you said you would create?”

  Cillian smiled.

  “Because I had good news! My agents killed our major rival, a certain Eunan Maguire, along with many of his fellow bandits. Therefore, with him dead and the Maguire and the famine calling more of our men away, I concentrated our forces in a smaller area. Nothing will get past them.”

  “That is splendid news! Now let me get into this joyous occasion of seeing the evidence of the death of our foe so we can all join in your relaxed mood.”

  “My men brought me the head of Eunan.”

  “That is most excellent. Now bring it here.”

  “It has been badly mutilated. They took much frustration out on his head, for it cost them many of their comrades before he was slain.”

  “Hmm, stop me when I err. Your men bring you a badly mutilated head, one no doubt that had a large bounty on it, and you no doubt paid this bounty? Show me the record of the payment.”

  “Er, I have not had time to discuss it with my father yet and gain approval for the payment.”

  “Well, at least one of you has some sense. Your enemy is not dead! He is on his way here if not among us yet.”

  Connor Roe turned to his own Galloglass.

  “Constable, protect the bride and groom, throw a cordon around the wedding venue and prepare our horses and carriages to leave at a moment’s notice. We leave when this wedding is over.”

  Mouth agape, Cormac grabbed the arm of his witless boy to give him a piece of his mind. They had ousted him in his own house.

  * * *

  Seamus got suspicious when Connor Roe’s men appeared to be taking control of the security arrangements. He shook the sleeve of Sean’s robe.

  “We need to go now!”

  Sean nodded and poked Eunan, who finished his prayer and blessed himself.

  “You’ll definitely be needing some luck today,” said Seamus.

  They slipped away from the other monks, and Eunan led them around the side of the house.

  “You know where you are going, don’t you?” whispered Seamus to Eunan.

  “I have been here many times. The door is this way.”

  “I thought that you only knew the front door and the dirt that laid before it, for they would throw you out each time you tried to enter?”

  “I have been here enough to know my way around,” growled Eunan.

  “It’s funny, but don’t wind him up now,” said Sean to Seamus.

  They made their way around the angles of the house to the door of the kitchen where a steady stream of kitchen hands was going back and forth preparing the wedding feast. The door was on the other side of the kitchen door. Unfortunately, there stood before it two of Connor Roe’s Galloglass, who had replaced Cillian’s men. Sean looked pensively at Seamus but was waived on. He led the way and stood before the guards, and bowed his head.

  “We are here to bless the bride before her wedding. The master of the house has directed here us.”

  The guards looked them up and down.

  “No one told us. Come back with the master or a letter from him.”

  “Do you know the consequences of disobeying a priest?” Sean bellowed.

  “I know the consequences of disobeying my master, and it may not be the same thing, but both would be hell all the same. Come back with the master of the house if it means so much to him.”

  Seamus signalled to his companions to leave. They walked back to the front of the house and straight into more of Connor Roe’s men.

  “Monks over there,” and the constable pointed towards the newly concentrated brethren of monks to one side of the wedding venue.

  “I can’t sing!” protested Eunan, for he knew the monks would provide suitable religious musical accompaniment.

  “Just mouth along,” hissed Seamus. “At least you’ll know the words!”

  They walked over to the monks and took their places. The monks began their chant. Eunan knew enough to make the right sounds and not draw too much attention to himself. There was always at least one young monk that found difficulty in learning Latin. But there was a gaping hole of silence in the middle of the choir. They soon drew attention to themselves. A senior monk made his way through the crowd to them.

  “What is going on here? Why aren’t you singing?”

  Seamus gave Sean a swift kick in the ankle.

  “They have taken a vow of silent prayer until the happy couple is married. As soon as the tying of the hands is completed, they will express their joy in song.”

  “This is highly unusual. Why was I not told?”

  “They are relatives of the bride, here by special request of the master of the house.”

  “Hmm. They really should have sat somewhere else, but it is too late for that. It is about to start.”

  * * *

  Cillian had been suitably admonished by his father and told to retake charge of the outer security. He left the inner ring around the wedding to Connor Roe. In his fury at being humiliated, he sent out patrols to the countryside, hoping that such measures would both impress and reassure his father that he had made the right decision to leave him in charge.

  He returned to his rooms to change once more, for mud spoilt his breastplate, and he wanted to look his best as he avenged himself upon Connor Roe. Climbing the stairs with his men, the risk of the bargain he made with Taighe Maguire played on his mind. He would rush down the stairs and announce that Caoimhe had been taken, the victim of a vicious kidnapping attempt, all of which occurred when Connor Roe’s men were supposed to be in charge. His father would be so furious with Connor Roe that he would send him packing back to Lisnaskea, and the wedding cancelled forever. With Connor Roe banished, he would gather his most trustworthy men and fake rescue his sister from the clutches of Seamus MacSheehy, and return to Derrylinn as a hero. His father would be so grateful that he would name him his heir. Then he would return to service with the Maguire, Seamus would put a word in for him and he would get a high-ranking position. He would then lead the men of south Fermanagh on the most successful raids the bards of Fermanagh had ever had the pleasure to sing about. But first was the matter of his side of the bargain.

  He put his hand on the door and turned the handle.

  “Be patient, brother, I’ll be ready momentarily!” came the voice of his sister.

  He nearly vomited.

  Meanwhile, the bows of Óisin’s men made quick work of the isolated O’Cassidy patrols. Once the outer perimeter was cleared, they made for the O’Cassidy house and the wedding.

  40

  Who is the O’Cassidy Maguire?

  A bitter sorrow came over Eunan as he observed the wedding venue. The tying of the hands was supposed to take place under an enormous old oak tree, supposedly seeded a thousand years ago, before Christianity came and before the stories of the Maguires in Fermanagh. It was the traditional wedding ceremony location of the O’Cassidys. His mother was supposed to have got married there, had events worked against her wishes. He could have been married there too, and he wished it was him marrying Caoimhe, instead of Connor Roe’s son.

  It was a rather low key event, all things considered, for neither side wished to draw attention to the wedding from the wider clan. What should have been a joyous occasion
was stiff and stern, a competition of polished breastplates, helmets and swords, of pride and jealousy instead of being filled with the mischief of children and smiling relatives. Connor Roe had only brought two of his sons, one to get married and the other to command the guard. He was so paranoid that he left his wife back in Lisnaskea. Cormac only brought his captains of commerce and constables of his guard. Meanwhile, the priest was from the local parish instead of a bishop or archbishop. No one was supposed to know about the new alliance until it was all over.

  All of this was hidden from Caoimhe. Her father considered her rather delicate and frivolous, and she would not appreciate how he saw the occasion. After a quick tour of the grounds in the morning, she was hidden away in her room until her brother was sent to fetch her. When she arrived outside, she returned her father’s smile until it melted away at the sight of all the soldiers.

  “Is my wedding to be a military parade, father?” she asked, hoping he would notice her subtly disappointed tone.

  “Alas, dear daughter, while sometimes marriage is a fairy tale, mostly it is duty.”

  Duty brought a tear to her eye.

  “Do I not even get one day of the fairy tale?”

  “You get a financially secure life with one of the most prominent families in Fermanagh and the chance to sire the next generation of Maguire leaders. What more could a girl ask for? If you don’t appreciate it now, you’ll thank me in the future. Now wipe your tears and think of how proud your mother would have been.”

  Caoimhe did as her father asked, except the tears multiplied no matter how much she wiped them away.

  “That is what a veil is for, dear. Allow me.”

  One lady in attendance helped her hide her tears with her wedding attire.

  Her father turned and took her hand, and the small smile of reassurance died when he saw smiles did not flower on Caoimhe’s face. He led her out to the old oak tree she used to sit under as a child, now a rainbow of ribbons and flowers tied to every branch. The men formed a guard of honour, all shiny and new, and the few female relatives that were there all gathered to one side with their best shawls to protect them from the bitter wind. Art stood at the top of the guard, waiting, smiling, for his new bride. Even the finest clothes imported from the Pale could not lift Art above being unremarkable in mind, body and spirit. He was definitely Connor Roe’s spare son. If she were to be a sow, surely they could find a better boar?