Torn Asunder

by Renny deGroot

Michael nodded. “It’s desperate, all right. I saw Father Kenney earlier and he said they were going ahead but there may be no one there.”

  Kevin stood. “I might as well.”

  “Emmet?”

  “No, I told Liam I’d go down and have a pint with him.”

  Kathleen raised her eyebrows. “He’s home, then?”

  “He is.”

  “Well that’s a blessing.”

  Michael pulled on his jacket. “We may join you if the dance is a bust. Will you ould ones be all right without us?”

  His mother threw a sock at Michael. “Go on. Ould ones indeed.”

  The boys all went outside together. Emmet watched his brothers walk away and then climbed onto his bicycle to go in the opposite direction to Ashbourne House for a pint with Liam.

  Emmet shook the few snow flurries from his cap after he parked his bike in the courtyard in front of the long two-storey white building. He went in through the arched doorway and wheeled left to go through to bar. The lounge, where women were permitted, was on the right, but he knew he was most likely to find Liam in the men-only bar. He looked around and spied Liam sitting on his own in the corner by the fireplace.

  “Liam. Great to see you.”

  Liam rose, reached over and punched Emmet lightly in the shoulder. “And you.”

  Emmet nodded to the half pint of Guinness that sat in front of Liam. “Are you ready for another?”

  Liam lifted the glass and drank most of the contents without taking a breath. “Make it a pint.”

  Emmet smiled and shook his head. “Sure.”

  Liam was thinner than when Emmet had last seen him. He had hollows below his eyes and his cheeks were sunken. His red mop of hair looked faded. It’s hard to imagine he’s been in the British army over in France. Do I talk about it or just carry on as if nothing’s happened?

  When Emmet brought back the two drinks he saluted Liam with his glass. “Good luck.”

  Liam nodded and clinked his glass to Emmet’s. “Sláinte”

  Emmet took a deep breath. “You were de-mobbed pretty quickly. How did you manage that?”

  Liam shrugged. “I was already in England in November, so that bumped me up. Maybe they wanted rid of the Paddies as quick as possible.”

  Emmet frowned. “Why were you in England?”

  Liam hesitated before setting his glass down. He shoved the sweater sleeve on his left arm up and Emmet saw an angry red scar running from the elbow up towards the shoulder. There was a puckered one-inch indentation in his forearm with white lines spidering off around his arm.

  Emmet blinked. “Oh my God.”

  Liam pulled down his sleeve again.

  “Jaysus. What happened?”

  “Shrapnel.”

  Emmet had a childish desire to touch it, the partially healed hole. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose the arm, I guess.”

  Liam nodded. “Believe me, this is nothing compared to the other fellows in the hospital.”

  Emmet shook his head. “Was it worth it? I know you went because you were broke, but at the end of it all, was it really worth it?” Emmet clenched his fist on the table. Every time he thought about Liam joining the British army, he felt the bile rise in his throat.

  Liam grinned and Emmet took a deep breath as he saw his boyhood pal in Liam’s face again.

  Liam lowered his voice. “The Brits taught me some great skills. Luckily it was my left arm injured and not my right. I’ll have to use something other than my left arm as a prop if I’m doing any target practice in the near future, but I was one of the squad’s best snipers.”

  Emmet smiled. “I was afraid you’d have changed.”

  “Not me, boyo. Listen, the dosh I sent home kept Mam going, and I put some away as well. Between that and the pension the Brits are so kind as to give me, I’m free to get on with my real business, so yes. It was worth it.”

  Liam stood. “You want another one?”

  “Go on.”

  When he returned, already taking a sip as he walked back to the table, Liam clearly wanted to change the subject. “So, you’re looking very scholarly these days. Are you enjoying University College Dublin?”

  Emmet nodded. “I am. I meet interesting people with great ideas.”

  Liam laughed. “There’s no shortage of great ideas in Ireland.”

  Emmet frowned. “I mean ideas that can really make a difference. Writers and people studying law.”

  “Tell me again what you’re going to do with all this education?”

  “I plan to be a journalist.”

  “Oh yeh. That’s right. I remember now.”

  Emmet narrowed his eyes at the sound of Liam’s voice. The slight sneer he felt in the tone. “I know college wouldn’t be for you, but I like it.”

  Liam shrugged. “I was always more of an action-oriented person”.

  There was an awkward silence as they ran out of words. The easy camaraderie of their boyhood had been left behind in the trenches of France.

  “We’re not all like you, Liam.”

  Liam sat back with his arms resting on the table. “Very true.”

  Emmet felt the flush rise in his face. “I’m not a coward.” He knew his voice was raised when the fellows at the next table both turned to glance over.

  Liam frowned. “I didn’t say you were. Don’t read so much into everything. You do your bit and I do mine.”

  Emmet finished his pint. Liam stood as Emmet did. “Are you leaving already?”

  “Yes, I’m beat, and I said I’d help Da cut turf tomorrow.”

  “Your soft hands won’t find that easy.”

  Emmet forced a smile. “You’re right, so I better at least get a good night’s sleep.”

  Liam stuck his hand out. “Will you shake the hand of a former British soldier?”

  Emmet cocked his head at the uncertainty in Liam’s voice. He suddenly understood that Liam’s comments were more bravado than insults aimed at Emmet. He shook Liam’s hand. “Of course. We’re still friends, Liam, no matter how much I don’t agree with what you did. It’s in the past now.”

  Liam nodded. “I’m glad. You’re more like a brother to me than my brother is.”

  Liam followed him outside and they both stopped as the cold air engulfed them.

  Emmet shivered. “Jaysus. I should have had a pish before I left.”

  Liam tugged on Emmet’s sleeve and steered him into the deep shadows between the hotel wall and the house next door. Emmet smiled and closed his eyes as the two of them stood side by side and relieved themselves in the peace of the dark snowy night. We’re taking different paths, but we’re connected for life.

  • • •

  The election was over, and Emmet was ecstatic.

  He and his father sat side-by-side at the table reading the results from the paper. Emmet pointed to the final numbers. “Can you believe it? Sinn Féin won seventy-three seats out of a hundred and five.”

  His father shook his head. No one in the Ryan household needed the explanation that this party, which literally meant ‘We Ourselves’, had never had a significant role to play in the political landscape of Ireland.

  “It’s unbelievable. You see, lad, mighty oaks from little acorns grow.”

  “You mean that the Easter Rising didn’t look like it achieved much when it happened, but now we’re seeing the results, right?”

  Ned nodded. “The country’s with us now.”

  Emmet leaned his elbows on the table, hunched over the paper to read every word again. “A hundred and four men and one woman. Brilliant, isn’t it?”

  “It is indeed. Now we’ll really see the republic stand up on the world stage as a country separate from Britain.”

  “Sinn Féin will work with the British parliament to move Ireland’s independence, won’t they?”

  Ned smiled. “They will, of course. It’s just a matter of time now.”

  Emmet folded up the paper to save it. “It’ll be a great Christmas and New Year this yea
r.”

  • • •

  Emmet was back in school, so he was in Dublin for the historical first meeting of the Irish Parliament on the twenty-first of January. The Sinn Féin members had refused to take their seats in the Parliament of the United Kingdom, instead meeting in the Mansion House in Dublin.

  Emmet knew this day would be extraordinary. He barely felt the cold wind ghosting around the great stones of the university. In the gardens behind Earlsfort Terrace, he grabbed the arm of Sean Flynn, his friend from his Social History class. “And did you get in to listen to the speeches?”

  Sean grinned. “I was right there in the Round Room when the Proclamation was read out.”

  “You’re a lucky man. I wish I could have been there.”

  “I’ll try and get you a part-time job with me on the paper. That’ll get you places in the future.”

  “That’d be grand. Tell me again what you heard.”

  Sean flipped open his notebook. “I tried to scribble as much as I could. They said there’ll be copies printed out that we can get later, so I’ll be sure to get you one.”

  Emmet nodded, still waiting to hear some of the words that Sean had heard.

  Sean stopped and turned to face Emmet, reading from his notes “Here’s a piece I liked:

  “to ensure peace at home and goodwill with all nations and to constitute a national policy based upon the people’s will with equal right and equal opportunity for every citizen

  Emmet nodded, repeating some of the words. “peace at home and goodwill with all nations”

  Sean went on. “Or how about this: “we ask His divine blessing on this the last stage of the struggle we have pledged ourselves to carry through to Freedom”

  Sean’s voice was choked with emotion by the end.

  Emmet patted his arm and they resumed walking. “Isn’t it fantastic to be a part of it and to know that from here on, we’ll be united as a republic?”

  Sean nodded. “It is, my friend. It surely is.”

  • • •

  Emmet joined the Literary and Historical Society. This was the college’s debating union, and every Saturday night members would read papers after which a debate would be held on questions of general interest. Many of the topics were of a political nature and Emmet loved being a part of it all. On his first night, he met his mentor.

  The red-haired student looked very young. His chin showed no sign of a beard yet. “Hiya. I’m Frank Flood.”

  Emmet shook his hand. “I’m Emmet Ryan.”

  The handsome boy grinned. “I’m going to teach you everything you need to know about debating.”

  Emmet gave a mock salute. “I’m ready to learn. I haven’t seen you in class. What are you studying?”

  “Engineering. I hear you’re taking up the pen.”

  Emmet nodded. “I am.”

  Frank told Emmet how to get to his house, and as he walked away, Emmet thought: This is going to be fun.

  At times Frank would come to Emmet’s room and on other days Emmet would go to Frank’s family home. Even though Frank’s father was a policeman, the Flood family were passionately republican.

  One Friday evening they were in Emmet’s room. Frank stood as he demonstrated the nuances of the art of debating. “See, you always make your key point first and then you continue to enumerate all the other points.” His back was straight, and he used his hands to accentuate his points. He continued: “First I’d like to assert, as we have heard from the paper just presented, that Daniel O’Connell is the greatest Irish leader this country has ever known. He has not been named ‘The Liberator’ on a whim.”

  Frank turned to Emmet. “You see. Be strong. Make your statement with all your heart. And then follow it up.”

  Emmet nodded. “I can do that bit. It’s when I have to rebut that I get a bit flummoxed.”

  “Right. So when your man on the other side goes through his argument to assert that Charles Stewart Parnell is in fact the greatest leader, here’s what you do.” Frank stood with his head down slowly shaking it.

  Emmet grinned.

  As if he had finished listening to someone speaking, Frank straightened. “I wonder if you realize that..and then you go on to get your point in. Don’t be rude of course, but don’t let him away with it.”

  The two young men opened bottles of beer that Emmet had brought in for the evening to go along with some cheese and brown bread. Emmet had heard rumours that Frank was part of the Dublin Brigade of the IRA but didn’t want to ask. Instead, he asked about someone else. “You’re friends with Kevin Barry, aren’t you?”

  Frank’s face was quizzical. Kevin Barry was known to be active in the IRA. He only hesitated for a heartbeat. “He’s a sound man. Yes, I’m proud to say we are good friends.”

  Emmet nodded. “I was with the Fingal Volunteers in ’16.”

  Frank brightened. “Were you? They have a great reputation. Ah, the Easter Rebellion was only one small battle in the fight, wasn’t it, Emmet?”

  “So it seems.”

  “The past couple of years haven’t brought us much closer, but as long as there are men like Barry, you and me who will continue the struggle, we’ll get there in the end.”

  Emmet was quiet for a moment. “It’s why I’ve gone into journalism. I hope to inspire and challenge, using my words.”

  Frank nodded slowly. “Words may not be enough, my friend.” He drained his bottle of beer. “Come. Let’s give you some practice at oration so you can shine tomorrow night for your first public debate.”

  Chapter Six

  Dublin, November 1920

  Emmet settled into the warmth of Davy Byrne’s snug, off Grafton Street. He nodded to Liam. “Hard to believe it’s been almost a year since I saw you.”

  Liam shook back the hair that flopped into his eyes. His eyes shifted around the pub, watchful in a way he never was before.

  Emmet picked up the pint that Liam set in front of him. “Cheers. So what have you been doing with yourself since I last saw you?”

  Liam shrugged. “This and that.”

  Emmet shook his head and heard the sarcasm in his own voice. “Are you telling me that your new skills are useful?”

  “Michael Collins thinks so.”

  Emmet took a long swallow of Guinness. “It doesn’t bother you that you may run into some of your old Regimental pals?”

  “I didn’t make any pals. I just did my job and took my money.”

  Emmet studied Liam. The slim boy of their youth had long since disappeared. This man was tough, and there was something Emmet couldn’t put his finger on. Something he didn’t quite trust or understand. There was a darkness in Liam’s eyes instead of the mischievous sparkle he had always known.

  Changing the topic, he waved his hand in the direction of Liam’s home. “So, are you back living at home?”

  Liam shrugged. “I go where I’m wanted. Now I’m home, but tomorrow I could be on my way to Belfast. Yes, I’m a wanted man now.” His mouth crooked in a sardonic grin. He took a deep sip of the pint.

  Emmet took a sip of his own and then set it down, determined not to try and keep up with Liam. “It was a sad day in September when the Dáil Éireann was declared illegal”, using the Irish name for the parliament.

  Liam nodded. “You had to know letting us keep our parliament wasn’t going to be easy. None of this is easy.”

  Emmet sighed. “I know. I’m writing part-time for the paper now. I know it isn’t easy, but still, it’s disappointing.”

  Liam up-ended his pint and finished it. “You can fight the fight with your pen and leave the hard work to men like me.”

  Emmet flushed. “This again. I’m prepared to fight if necessary.”

  Liam bit his lip. “I know you are. Sorry. I got carried away there.”

  Emmet nodded to the empty glass. “You’re ready for another?”

  “Why not?”

  Emmet went to the bar to get a pint for Liam and a half pint for himself.

 
Liam took the glass and clinked it against Emmet’s. “Don’t mind me. You’re my friend and I have few enough real friends. I didn’t mean any harm.”

  Emmet nodded. “I know. And I know that it may look like I’m not in the fight any more, but there are more ways to get the message across than with a gun.”

  “You’re right, of course.”

  “I’m not sure my brother always agrees with me. He’s more like you. He thinks action is what’s wanted, not words.”

  “Ah, yes. Did I hear that Kevin’s gone to Cork?”

  “Yes. He went down for the funeral of Tomas MacCurtain in March and hasn’t come back yet.”

  Liam drummed his fingers on the table. “The murder of the Lord Mayor of Cork won’t go unanswered.”

  Emmet nodded. “Yes, that was terrible, and now things are heating up even more with all these new RIC recruits that are arriving from England every day.”

  “You mean the Black and Tans?”

  Emmet nodded. “I’ve heard them called that.”

  Liam grinned. “At least they make themselves easy to spot in those uniforms.”

  Emmet sighed. “I thought this would be the year that we’d see some real progress. Now that we have a parliament in Dublin and even courts, but it’s like we have one step forward and then two steps back when you hear about the rioting in Belfast.”

  “They’re a different kettle of fish altogether.”

  Emmet raised his eyebrows. “Why do you say that? Wasn’t that the point? That all of Ireland should be united and that all us fish are in one kettle?”

  Liam sat back in his chair studying Emmet. “You’re a true believer, aren’t you?”

  Emmet scowled. “Aren’t you?”

  “I’m a believer and a realist.”

  “What does that mean? Have you given up on the idea of a united Ireland? Free from the tyranny of Britain?” Emmet stood up, his fists clenching.

  Liam slid Emmet’s drink back in front of Emmet. “Sit down and finish your pint. I’m not saying that I’ve given up on the idea.”

  Emmet sat back down. “What are you saying when you call yourself a realist?”

  Liam shrugged. “I just think that a goal like that will take a long time to come about and there will be a lot of bloodshed in the meanwhile.”