by C R Dempsey
The monks sang, except for the pocket of silence. The finest bards her father could hire scribbled notes trying to add sheen to the solemnity of the occasion. If Caoimhe could not have the wedding she wanted, at least she could read a decent poem and dream. Then her father’s money would have bought something of value even if it were just an illusion. Cormac passed Caoimhe’s hand to Art. Art put on his best smile, and Caoimhe looked at the ground.
“Can we get on with it?” said Connor Roe to the priest.
Eunan’s dreams were disintegrating before his eyes. He turned tearfully to Seamus.
“What are we to do? She will soon be gone and the O’Cassidys too. Help me, Seamus!”
Unfortunately for Eunan, Seamus had already planned ahead.
“Where are your throwing axes?”
“Strapped to my leg.”
“You know what to do to end this.”
Eunan’s hand trembled. Kill Connor Roe? Revenge for his father? How would he escape? Where was Óisin and would he get here on time?
“Hurry!”
Eunan stuck his hand under his habit and fumbled with the knife belt around his leg.
“Ow!” he pricked his finger on his blade.
“Hurry!”
He picked out the first string knot, then the second, then the…
“Got it!”
Eunan held the shaft of his axe in his hand beneath his habit and jutted it out within his habit as if he was symmetrically pregnant.
“Don’t just show it to me, throw it!” hissed Seamus.
“I cannot get good aim,” whimpered Eunan as Connor Roe’s helmeted head bobbed and ducked behind the heads of his men.
“I can see him perfectly well, and so should you. Throw it!”
Eunan panicked. His childhood flooded back. Death, death, death, bad blood, ‘it’s all your fault’, ‘your poor mother’, ‘you’ll never be the O’Cassidy Maguire…’
Seamus shook his arm.
“You’ll never be the O’Cassidy Maguire if you don’t throw that axe!”
Eunan meekly lifted the axe from beneath his habit and brought the clan chief maker out into the open. His hand shook.
“Now it is time for the tying of the hands,” said the priest, as he smiled at the soon-to-be betrothed couple.
“Now or never!” hissed Seamus, only to receive the meekest of smiles.
“Pass me the tie,” said the priest.
Seamus snatched the axe from Eunan’s hand, paused momentarily to take aim and then…
“Fly straight and true.”
The axe spun in the air. Eunan’s world imploded.
“What if it missed?”
But Seamus’s aim was true. It spun and flew straight into the back of its intended target. The back of Art Maguire’s head exploded and blood and brains spattered all over Connor Roe’s breastplate and Caoimhe’s veil and dress. Caoimhe screamed.
“AMBUSH!” came a male voice.
The wedding party and guests scattered in all directions. Moments after the ambush cry was made, a hail of arrows rained from the sky. The monks tried to flee, but Seamus grabbed the nearest one by his habit hood and the monk became a cushion full of arrows, blood gushing from every pore.
Eunan tried to hide amongst the scattering monks, but Seamus grabbed his arm.
“Óisin is nearly here. I can hear them charging. Lose the habit and grab an axe. Here we stop Connor Roe for good.”
“Why did you kill Art?”
“So that he couldn’t marry Caoimhe. That was the plan all along. Now grab an axe!”
Arrows whistled down again and “the cry of the Maguire” was heard in the distance. Seamus went down to the old oak tree amongst the fallen O’Cassidys and Maguires and selected a battle axe. Eunan discarded his habit, only to be immediately recognised. He threw his two remaining axes to stop O’Cassidy’s men from surrounding him.
* * *
Meanwhile, Connor Roe recovered from the initial shock. He fled the wedding site and was now at his horses, which were set up for his escape.
“Rally the men, constables,” he shouted at his bodyguards. “We must have my son’s body and the bride back at Lisnaskea! I’ll remain here until you bring me news.”
Ten Maguire Galloglass were dispatched towards the old oak tree.
* * *
Cormac fled back to his house after the first volley of arrows.
“Cillian! Cillian! WHERE IS Cillian?” he screamed to anyone who would listen, but most had scattered into the fields.
Little did he know Cillian was forever ingrained into the tree roots of the old oak tree he enjoyed playing under as a boy. The shiny parade armour was no match for a determined volley of arrows that pinned him to the roots of his beloved tree. The blood of Eunan’s greatest rival seeped into the ground.
Óisin had discharged two volleys of arrows and was too impatient to wait for the third to be loaded before he had the honour of hollering ‘the cry of the Maguire’. He gathered the best part of a hundred men whose chief strength was their archery skills, but Óisin preferred the adrenalin of hand to hand combat. With most of the O’Cassidy patrols picked off, they more or less had an unobstructed charge from the woods to the house.
Cormac desperately tried to rally his men from the remains of the wedding ceremony. Donnacha stood behind him and concluded all was lost. He turned to leave, but Cormac spotted him.
“The Maguire will hear about this abomination and the perpetrators will hang for it!” exclaimed Donnacha.
“Good to hear, but what are we going to do in the here and now?”
“Where is that boy of yours? He is skilled with the sword and axe, but this is not the place for me, a man of words. My skills are better deployed elsewhere. Troops will be dispatched as soon as I set foot in Enniskillen! To me, men!”
Donnacha and his two bodyguards ran towards the stables.
“Curse you, brother!” and Cormack shook his fist at his brother, but Donnacha was long gone. He picked up a sword, gathered as many men as he could, and prepared to defend the house.
* * *
Óisin’s men gathered around the house and sheltered from the sporadic gunfire and the occasional arrow. He wanted to burn the house down and would have done so if he only had Eunan to contend with. The men then spread out and mopped up the dying as they robbed or beheaded those they could find that had coins in their pockets or a price on their head. That is, until Connor Roe’s men counterattacked. No match for the disciplined Galloglass that Connor Roe could afford to train and hire, Óisin’s men were soon on the run.
* * *
Seamus and Eunan found themselves alone beneath the tree, encircled by the men of the O’Cassidy. They were both armed and prepared for one last stance.
“Well then, what are you waiting for?” shouted Seamus. “If you don’t close now, fifty Galloglass of the O’Donnell will be here to cut you into little pieces. However, you may also choose to drop your weapons and run, just like your masters did.”
The men looked at each other until one of them said, “I don’t want to die today,” and he dropped his axe and ran. The rest were straight behind him. Eunan put down his axe.
“Our day is nearly done here,” he said as he sat on one of the large protruding roots from the oak tree.
At his feet lay the body of Art Maguire. The arm twitched.
“He’s not dead!” exclaimed Eunan.
“He soon will be,” replied Seamus. “Do you think his head is worth anything or is that a sensitive subject with the politics and all?”
Seamus raised his axe.
“Do that and it’ll be the last thing you do!” came a voice.
Connor Roe’s men had arrived back to retrieve the body.
* * *
Óisin’s men ran back to the woods.
“RALLY HERE! RALLY HERE!” he shouted.
He hid behind a massive boulder and peered back over the fields to the O’Cassidy house. No one pursued them.
> “There can’t be that many of them!” he murmured in his despair of staring defeat in the face.
Óisin ran around the wood, gesticulating with his axe in the direction of the battle.
“To me, men! To me!”
He gathered as many as he could find: sixty men sat or stood around him after heeding his call.
“We have about equal numbers, but at the very least we need to rescue Seamus and Eunan. How many of you have bows?”
Óisin counted about half who raised their hands. He found himself a stick and made a crude drawing of the house and its surroundings.
“We will drive a wedge between the house and the wedding venue. The bowmen will pin down the men at the house, the others will attack the wedding venue. The aim is to rescue Seamus and Eunan and then we see what happens. Are you with me?”
The men raised a reluctant nod.
“Then let us charge once more.”
They lined up in two groups.
“FOR THE MAGUIRE!”
The earth appeared to shake as they charged for the Maguire once again.
* * *
Seamus and Eunan stood over the body of Art Maguire, being careful so that they did not create an obstacle for their feet. Connor Roe’s men circled around them until Connor Roe appeared before them.
“Men, you get him,” he said, pointing to Seamus, “and leave the other one to me!”
They prised Seamus and Eunan apart.
“An axe!” cried Connor Roe, and one of his men obliged.
“I know who you are,” said Connor Roe. “That fool O’Cassidy should have taken care of you long ago, but I’ll just chop you in two.” He thrust his axe forward only for Eunan to parry.
They circled around each other and jabbed with their axes until Connor Roe heard the cry of Óisin charging over the field again.
“Do you think I’m a fool to fight a young warrior like you? Men, help me finish him!”
Three of his men broke off fighting with Seamus.
“EUNAN! RUN!” cried Seamus as he fended off the men attacking him. But Eunan was already surrounded.
* * *
Óisin’s bowmen rained arrows down on the men in front of the house. The defenders scattered, as they had little response to the new assault and sought shelter in the house and its surroundings. The bowmen pinned them down in the house, reducing the threat of their opponents to Óisin’s flank. Óisin commanded the rest of his men to charge to the wedding venue. But to their left appeared heavily armoured, fresh Galloglass charging towards the oak tree. Óisin hesitated.
“If they are not with me, I lead my men to get massacred, but if I hesitate, then Eunan and Seamus could die.”
Óisin raised his axe.
* * *
Eunan swung his axe in a semi-circle around himself but Connor Roe’s men closed in like a pack of vicious dogs. They took it in turns to thrust from different directions, and Eunan parried each time. He began to tire. Seamus had some early success and downed a couple of his opponents, but he also found himself surrounded. Connor Roe broke away.
“Constable! Bring me some archers!” he cried to the men guarding the horses, and two archers duly obliged and ran to his side.
“That one,” he said, pointing to Eunan. “Cripple him, then I’ll finish him myself. Kill the other one!”
The archers loaded their arrows and pulled back their bows.
“For the Maguire!” the Galloglass charging the field had changed directions and descended onto Connor Roe and his men. The bowmen were forced to defend themselves, and their arrows were loosened into the mass of charging men.
“Stand your ground,” Connor Roe shouted before signalling to his constable to bring his horse.
The men who surrounded Eunan and Seamus backed off to form a wall for a fighting retreat. The new Galloglass ran past Seamus and Eunan.
Sean O’Toole slapped Seamus on the back.
“Where on God’s earth have you been?” exclaimed Seamus.
“When all hell broke loose, I sneaked under the cover of the monks. I remembered the men from Tirconnell were only a few hours behind us so I took a horse and went and found them.”
“So from deserting me, you ended up my saviour?”
“I just got lucky. Unlike the O’Cassidy,” and Sean pointed to the house as it became engulfed in flames.
Seamus pointed in the other direction. Connor Roe had mounted his horse and rallied his men.
“Hold you ground boys and do a fighting retreat. You will be well remembered whether you get back to Lisnaskea!” and he turned his horse around and galloped away.
* * *
The fighting between the two sets of Galloglass lasted another ten minutes before the rest of Connor Roe’s men broke away and fled. Eunan collapsed onto the roots of the oak tree and stared at the sky. The adrenalin pulsating, he noticed Art Maguire still twitched. He put him out of his misery. Óisin came over with his men, or at least those who were not trying to loot what they could from the burning house.
“Look what I found!” Óisin said as his men threw Cormac O’Cassidy to the ground. Cormac crawled on his knees and grabbed for the edges of Eunan’s breeches.
“Please don’t kill me, I’ll give you anything you want,” he pleaded.
On the day that was supposed to catapult his family into being Maguire royalty, he was now reduced to a penniless beggar.
“Why should I not just kill you here and now?” asked Seamus.
“I renounce the title of O’Cassidy Maguire, the boy can lead the clan. Just leave me with a few pennies in my pocket and point me in the direction of the Pale and my daughter and I will sail away to a far away land and you’ll never hear from us again.”
“But if I just kill you now, then the boy can become the O’Cassidy Maguire and I’ll never have to worry about you coming back.”
“But my daughter will…”
The words choked in his mouth. He covered it with his hand, for he felt he had given too much away. Behind him now was Caoimhe, the priest who was supposed to marry her, several monks and servants from the household, all surrounded by Óisin’s men. They had been rounded up in their attempt to flee the burning house.
Seamus suppressed the smirk as a plan dawned upon him. He walked over to Caoimhe and took her by the arm. Her tear ducts were now dry, so she could only sniff and shudder.
“Eunan, do you wish to become the O’Cassidy Maguire like you always dreamed of? I give you your bride to seal your claim!”
“NO!”
Caoimhe howled as she found more tears and pulled herself out of Seamus’s grip.
“We can always do it the other way if you find the idea so repugnant,” and Seamus lifted his axe towards her father’s head.
Caoimhe ran and threw her arms around her father’s shoulders to protect him from harm. She looked at him, but he could only whimper and nod. She stood up; the blood and brains of her previous husband-to-be had barely dried on her dress.
“Well, Eunan? Destiny awaits!” and Seamus smiled and pointed his axe at the cowering Cormac.
Eunan froze. Confusion overpowered him and left his mind blank.
“Here, take this.” Óisin placed his hand on Eunan’s shoulder and handed him the wolfhound axe.
Eunan paused and looked at the axe.
“Let’s make Teige decide, shall we?” and Eunan took the axe, picked a side, and threw it in the air with a bit of spin before it fell to the ground
About the Author
C R Dempsey is the author of ‘Uprising’ and ‘Bad Blood’, two historical fiction books set in Elizabethan Ireland. He has plans for many more, and he needs to find the time to write them. History has always been his fascination, and historical fiction was an obvious outlet for his accumulated knowledge. C R spends lots of time working on his books, mainly in the twilight hours of the morning. C R wishes he spent more time writing and less time jumping down the rabbit hole of excessive research.
C R Dempsey liv
es in London with his wife and cat. He was born in Dublin but has lived most of his adult life in London.
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★★★★ “A new piece of Irish historical fiction that pulls you in through its protagonist, and is full of plenty of action. - Reedsey Discovery
What would you do to save your clan?
Ireland 1585. Eunan Maguire lives in a small village in Fermanagh and wonders why his parents hate him and his neighbours shun him. When his village is raided by the English, he flees to save himself, his parents are killed and he blames himself for their death.
When he meets Seamus MacSheehy, the head of a wandering band of Galloglass, Seamus encourages him to take his father’s title of the head of the village even though everyone in the village is dead. Eunan goes to the election of the new leader of the Maguire clan to claim his father’s voting rights. With Seamus’ guidance, he sets out to ingratiate himself with the new Maguire. But all is not well for Eunan is wracked with guilt because of the death of his parents and Seamus is not all he appears. The English invade Fermanagh, and he is called to fight.
Will Eunan find out the secret of why his parents hated him so much and the circumstances of their death? Will Eunan discover who is Seamus MacSheehy and why he has taken such an interest in him? Or will the clan fall and perish under the English onslaught?