The Welshmen of Tyrawley

by Graham Barratt

  As the evening progressed, the political content lapsed and the atmosphere became more light-hearted and less intense. The music was traditional including harps for the laments, love songs and ballads with pipes from Scotland and the north of England providing the majority of the dance music.

  Many clan elders had been invited to the event and Walter Bourke attended with his wife Ceara and their maturing children, William, James and Emily. Emily was with Sally and Rose for much of the evening but danced many times with the young men who asked for her arm. When approached by the young men of the clans, she quickly returned to the corner with her back to the stone wall where the other girls stood surveying the room with interspersed giggles. She had been asked to marry at least three times during the evening but took none of them seriously. She refused to provide a response to any of them, other than a courteous and acknowledging smile before turning around to leave the company of the suitor. The main purposes of the proposals were to prompt Emily to discuss the suitors with her father, rather than to suggest a serious bid for marriage. Emily shrugged them off and did not even commit the names of admirers to her memory.

  When she returned to her father, Walter was speaking to a young man who had not yet been introduced. She had remembered seeing him several times over the years and was aware of him. He was now more handsome and taller with a muscular build, dressed traditionally as a clansman with a ceremonial sword and daggers. She noticed him and Walter looking in her direction a few times during the evening and assumed correctly that she was the subject of their discussion. Emily made a point of showing a measured amount of attention and gave flirtatious glances in order to keep him interested. The two men positioned to bring her into conversation, Walter postured his face with a slanted smile and raised eyebrow before introducing the young man.

  ‘Emily, I would like you to meet Richard Barrett from Ballysakeery; he is the son of the MacPadine.’

  She looked surprised as though she had never known of him. Walter continued,

  ‘He will be staying here for some time while we discuss the matters regarding Belleek, the church and the English.’

  In spite of the usual Barrett traits, Richard seemed to be of a pleasant and gentle nature and had a calming influence on people in his company. He was not the warrior kind, but more a politician and so far had been unlucky with women. Despite this, as a son of the MacPadine, he was constantly under pressure to be more assertive and even aggressive. He did not fit in well with the Barrett “style”, but tried hard to succeed as a clansman and was proud to still be the tanist.

  ‘Hello, Emily, I have heard much about you, it has been a great pleasure to meet your family and especially your father.’

  ‘Sir, it is always a happy day when I meet members of our cousins in Ballysakeery, whom I have not met in a long time.’

  ‘Have we met before?’

  ‘Yes, I think our parents have been at céles and we have both been present in our younger years.’

  ‘Ah yes, I remember you now. You were a little shorter and much fatter.’

  ‘Yes, that was me, and you were skinny with many spots on your face.’

  They both chuckled. Walter looked on giving a half-nod of approval to Ceara.

  Emily felt there was a little mutual attraction between them, which deserved further consideration and exploration. During the evening, Emily danced several times with Richard. There had been no awkwardness and it was clear that they were both happy with their respective first impressions.

  As the evening continued, the time came to leave the men alone. At the signal from Walter, Ceara led the wives and daughters away from the hall as they divided into smaller groups before entering the bedchambers and tents. Being regarded as subservient to men, the women traditionally left before them. Once they had served their purpose to provide charm, glamour and dance partners at the céle, they were required to leave. This allowed the menfolk to discuss business, politics and theological issues openly without being in the presence of women. They outwardly considered women to be the source of gossip and therefore could risk divulging their secrets.

  Walter Bourke deemed women to be gossips and therefore the changes being imposed by Dublin and the English were considered too confidential to be discussed openly, however, in private, he discussed everything with Ceara. He kept nothing secret from his beloved wife, he wouldn’t dare to.

  Outside of such gatherings, the exchange of political information between men and women was more often than not propagated in the drinking houses, the bedroom and across the eating table, rather than at the céle. The women would not retire to their beds though. They would be required to provide carnal pleasures for their men once the evening was at an end. At least for the ones who were still conscious and capable.

  After the women and young people had retired, it was not uncommon for a fistfight or sword dual to take place, to conclude a fiery discussion. Though it was a tough challenge if you happened to be a competitor, it seldom ended in serious injury. In a fistfight, the winner was the last man standing (and declared the victor). In a sword fight, the winner was the first to draw blood or subdue the opponent. Regardless of the facts behind the opposing views, the winner was declared to be right. If the fight was serious enough, then the matter would be postponed until the following morning. The clans would then meet at the fighting stone on the Belmullet road where the dual would be fought to its bloody conclusion.

  Many men were lining the dance floor in both battle and traditional dress. The clansmen thoroughly discussed a range of issues, not least the news that the Spanish Fleet had been seen towards the west and north. Were the bards correct and were the fleet gathering for a bridgehead to prepare for an attack on England? Or had the Earls managed to gain support for the Irish rebellion?

  Despite tempers being high and the usual disagreements between the clans, there was a common understanding that they would remain allied to fight against English rule, incursions and evictions which had been initiated by the Queen and her lord deputies.

  Earlier in the evening, there had been a discussion over the killing of two thousand Scot mercenaries and Bourkes at Ardnaree only two years ago. They were united over their wish for vengeance over the English but had different views. The Barretts suggested that ultimately they should seek to accept the terms of Queen Elizabeth through the surrender and re-grant of land. They suggested that a lasting political solution could only be achieved through the earls. The Bourke’s opinion was that only through a rebellion of the sword and alliance with the Scots would there be any chance of removing the English from Ireland. They all agreed that either outcome would be followed by the execution of Sir Richard Bingham and cursed that he should die with no surviving children. Much of the discussion would not have been remembered as the night had progressed into a drunken brawl with more fights and scuffles breaking out over trivial things, as expected.

  Later, when the discussions over English rule were exhausted, an argument ensued over which clan had built the magnificent Moyne Abbey at Ballina. Neither side would agree so as the evening developed, a drunken brawl ensued with fights breaking out with alarming repetition. This behaviour troubled Richard at a time when there were the issues of English rule. One part of him wanted to leave the banquet and avoid the rather primitive banter and fighting. Another side told him to stay and participate in the drunkenness and petty clan feuding.

  As family members of elders and chiefs, both Emily and Richard stayed at Glencastle that night. The next day, Richard approached Walter to ask his permission to ride with Emily later in the morning. Emily was in agreement but had no real choice in the matter and they both knew it. Walter consented and the horses were made ready before they set off from Glencastle to Belmullet for a day of riding. Richard wanted to make an impression and re-wore his clan dress, but this time he was armed with his sword and bow. He was attracted to Emily and determined to take the time to speak with her privately and in the hope that he could indicate his inte
ntions.

  They had not ridden far when Richard suggested they should visit the chapel at Carrowkeel to say prayers for the dead and to discuss the events of the last evening. As they dismounted, Emily looked into his blue eyes and smiled. He was not an ugly man with a kind smile and she could understand how women might be attracted to him.

  As their friendship grew, for Emily, there was something that did not feel quite right. There was no excitement in her heart even though she ached to experience the passion and attraction that she needed. Richard on the other hand was acutely attracted to her and as time progressed, he could control himself no longer. With the horses providing cover from the road, he pulled her gently to him and kissed her lightly. For an instant, she submitted to him completely, as if to immerse herself in the passion that she felt certain was about to happen.

  As the kiss lengthened, she realised that it was empty. There was a lack of desire and she felt no passion for the man. There was an absence of any feelings and even the sensation of mutual attraction had gone. Richard was deeply attracted to Emily, but he sensed the lack of a shared passion. She knew instantly that there would be no future for them together. Despite his good looks and charm, Emily knew that this was not a man that she could fall in love with.

  Richard was aroused and his basic instincts took over. He had desired Emily from the moment they had met. He had struggled with his clan identity and the pressures on him to treat her according to tradition. Barretts had a reputation for taking what they wanted and regarded women as being inferior. Inside, he was wrestling his good nature with the attitude of his clan. Emily, on the other hand, was strong and determined. This was not the man for her.

  His craving for her along with his desires combined into a massive rush of passion as he pulled her close to him once more. He considered his warrior-like appearance and it fed his boldness and confidence. In a surge of craving, he kissed her again before sliding his hand down the cleavage of her bosom, holding her breast, touching her nipple between two fingers. Emily was shocked and pushed him away as her breasts fell out of her bodice, exposing them to his lewd gaze. Other women may have succumbed to him but this was disgusting. Richard pulled her back to him, kissing her hard and fondling her as she began to feel suffocated.

  ‘Get off me, Richard, you are a waste of a body with mind, stop it, I do not want you to do this. Please get away from me now, you wastrel!’

  Richard realised he had taken his intentions too far and released Emily from his hold without falter as his gait reduced to that of a coward.

  ‘Oh Lord, forgive me; I’m sorry, Emily, I did not know my mind. For one moment, I thought we were both enjoying the embrace and then, when you rejected me, I thought that I could persuade you to give in to me and we would then make love. Please accept my apologies, I did not want to hurt you. I am sorry, so sorry.’

  ‘Take me back to Glencastle and take me back now. Do not bother me again. Did you think I was the Lianhan-Shee? Well, I am not such a fairy, I am a mortal woman who will give myself to only one man who has not yet been in my company. I did nothing to encourage you to touch me as you did. I want nothing more from you or your like. I hate you, Richard Barrett, you know nothing about women.’

  As they rode back to Glencastle, not a word was spoken. Richard realised that day that she had no feelings for him and that she was not going to settle for an arranged marriage to please the clans unless she was in love. When the time came, she would know who the right man was, but after that night, she was not going to look for opportunities and any alliance of clans would be a by-product of the marriage and not the reason for it. Richard said nothing to anyone about Emily. Walter, expecting a request for marriage was surprised when it was not forthcoming and nor was an explanation.

  The Scattered Fleet

  The crew of the Rata Santa Maria Encoronada were tired, hungry and distressed. The flagship of the Levantine squadron had been battered terribly by high North Atlantic winds, seas and rain over many days and nights. Swaying relentlessly from side to side, it now creaked and moaned at the punishment being dealt by the wind and sea, rocking the boat violently and unpredictably without mercy. The hull was constantly colliding with the huge waves, causing further injury and misery to the crew.

  Rigging had been damaged and most anchors had been cut when the English scattered the fleet with fireboats off Calais. The 900-ton Spanish carrack had sailed with some 35 guns and 420 souls which included soldiers, slaves and noblemen with what has now become known as the Spanish Armada. The large vessel, although built for the open ocean, was now struggling to remain afloat during an appalling anti-cyclone to the north west of Scotland. One of the sails had torn but left in place to flap, since it would be impossible to repair in such conditions. The main sail weighed three tonnes when dry and attempts to recover it would prove fatal for anyone attempting to manoeuvre it from its present position. Sailing against the winds, the ship was now being forced towards the Irish coast.

  Standing on the forecastle of the boat was the figure of the tall and slim commander bracing himself against the movement of the boat. The long-bearded commander’s pale complexion exaggerated the red-raw blush of the wind chill from the wind and sea. Don Alonso De Leiva had considered their predicament very carefully. Perhaps, if they could find a haven, the crew, who desperately needed rest, may be able to shelter until the storm abated.

  Constantly bracing against the motion of the boat, De Leiva considered the consequence of the fierce battle with the Drake and the English fleet a month earlier. He was now on an unplanned journey against particularly unseasonal Atlantic winds to the west of Ireland. His only comfort was that the Rata was not alone.

  A safe landing would mean the crew could recover and undertake the next leg of their journey back to Portugal. The passengers and crew were all exhausted, craving sleep, rest and many of them were now in need of medicine and treatment. Victuals were running low, drinkable water was all but gone and they desperately required fresh supplies. Where possible, the crew were assisted by soldiers and slaves, but fatigue on board was weakening their efforts.

  Assuming they made land safely, their biggest challenge would then be to disembark and to survive any onslaught by the Irish clans, gallowglass, or Governor Bingham’s English Army.

  Most of the Spanish occupants, along with their slaves, had so far avoided death, unlike the occupants of more than 40 other ships of the Spanish Fleet. The only death that there had been on board the Rata so far was the injured son of an Irish rebel, Maurice Fitzgerald. There were a few Irish crewmembers, either pressed in Lisbon, or as volunteers for King Philip’s “Catholic Crusade”. It was these men who assisted the commander and crew in piloting the vessel successfully around the Ulster and Erris coast. De Leiva had believed that protecting Irish rebels would draw favour amongst the native people, but he could not be sure what would await them on shore. He determined that it would mainly depend on where they landed.

  Later that afternoon, on the main deck, the crew had taken advantage of a relative lull in the weather. A Catholic service had taken place and prayers were said for Fitzgerald who had been wrapped in hessian cloth. When given the nod, four men pulled at the cloth, while a slave leant out over the sea and steadied the body-board. The weighted body was slowly angled toward the water until it slipped away and splashed into the sea below. The final blessing was announced while the congregation, including the commander, made the sign of the cross and the service closed to the muttering a few final words of sacramental prayer.

  Cirilo behaved in the manner to which all slaves had been conditioned, that is, silence, expressionless and with head held low. Inwardly, he reflected on their predicament and the outlook for the ship and its inhabitants.

  ‘Would we all be given to the sea in a disaster and why, if Jesus loved us all, would so many people be denied such a worshipful service? At least this man was given to the sea in a Catholic way. We though, will surely sink into the abyss of the cold and the da
rk without such prayers.’

  The slave kept his head down, waited for the congregation to dissolve then returned to the lower decks, and his master.

  Dominic de Cortez kneeled with his head resting against the bulkhead of the boat murmuring some private prayers of hope in his native tongue. He had not lost faith in God and was hopeful of an eternity in heaven. He was to live in God’s kingdom.

  Cirilo’s beliefs, although just as strong, were different. He had lost all expectation of being reunited with his family in this life. He was also certain of an early death, either at the will of the sea or at the hands of the Irish and English forces. He was a man with great faith in God and the Pope, but he was at the mercy of his lord and his uncertainty was matched by the rest of the crew. He waited for Dominic to finish his prayers and then with fear filled yellowing eyes, looked at him through the darkness.

  ‘Master, what do you think will become of our souls on this day? How will you survive this torture? If we leave the vessel alive, will you be murdered, starve or drown?’

  ‘Cirilo, you show concern for me and do not speak of your fate.’

  ‘Sire, my life is worth very little, but you are a noble person with land and wealth. If you were to die, many would suffer, but if it were I, there would be few prayers for my soul.’

  ‘I am not sure how much comfort it brings to you, Cirilo, but I would pray for your good soul and be thankful if you were to pray for me and the rest of the people in this boat. We are alive now and I am sure many are lost, we are the lucky few and there is still much hope that we will be delivered back to Spain.’

  A groan emanated from behind a wooden bulkhead.

  ‘The dead are the lucky ones, you idiots.’

  The scorn came from Melchor, an old hand one-eyed sailor, who had seen many years hard labour on merchant ships, but at least it was done so voluntarily. After being pressed into service with the armada, this was an unwelcome voyage. Expected to be a short one, it was now doomed. Melchor had a great deal of sailing experience and had even lost his eye in the Caribbean during an attack by Drake’s fleet of privateers. He had seen much suffering, but was hardened to these conditions and very little troubled him. That was of course other than the “pathetic snobs” who had sailed with the fleet. He realised the peril they now faced and his only remaining desire was for a painless and rapid death. He was a strong, tough individual with very few scruples, who was afraid of no man and no God.