The Welshmen of Tyrawley

by Graham Barratt

  A heavy and sodden tree branch came into view as it swirled around the bend before the bridge. Cirilo spotted it first and braced himself for the effort he would soon need. It was his turn to hook the branch and pull it towards him. It had all its leaves and with several branches submersed with a deceiving amount of drag. Despite having to squeeze through the bridge columns, it moved with great force towards the young boys. In the expected manner, Cirilo hooked the branch with his stick and held on to pull the branch towards him. Miscalculating the forces involved, in a fraction, he was pulled into the deluge. Cirilo was gone. Dominic called out and ran to the other side of the bridge, expecting him to surface safely. What seemed like minutes passed and there was no sign of Cirilo, only the end of the tree branch that had taken him, poking up through the water. The other end had become snagged under the bridge along with Cirilo. He let go of his stick, but it was too late, he was now being pushed by the tree branch and had little strength against the force of water. The frightened boy struggled to push himself through the water. At last he found an air pocket under the bridge and rested as he gasped to regain his breath. He could hear Dominic calling but was too short of breath to respond. The rush of the water was deafening as Dominic dived into the water on the upstream side to be pushed into the path that Cirilo had taken only a few seconds earlier. He too struggled against the force of the water and soon emerged into the same pocket of air. As Dominic surfaced, Cirilo looked surprised at his appearance. A few seconds of reflection, they both laughed at their adventure and quandary. They had been in danger and still were as the water continued to rise, but somehow, their togetherness helped them to enjoy the excitement of the moment.

  ‘Cirilo, we should push the branch away if we are to get out of here before the water rises high enough to take our last breath.’

  Both boys held hands and braced with their backs and elbows against the wooden bridge struts. They kicked away the branch with their feet. It soon started to move, but the branches behind them scooped both boys back into the torrent. In just a few seconds, they found themselves free from the bridge with their bottoms dragging along a shingle bed. They tussled with the branch and kicked it in defiance before sending it downstream to meet with the sea. Cirilo pressed the water out of his curled hair before reflecting on what had just taken place.

  ‘Dominic, you came into the water to save me. I do not deserve such kindness from a master.’

  ‘You are my friend and I could not leave you there without trying to help you. Also, you may have died and my father would have been mad with me.’

  They laughed at each other hysterically. With every lull in laughter, each boy broke infectiously into the next giggle.

  ‘Yes, but you could have been killed too. I do not understand such a thing. Why did you endanger your life to save a slave?’

  ‘It was something that I knew to be right, anyway, it was fun.’ The mood changed slightly.

  ‘You must promise me that you will not make reference of this day to anyone as it would not be looked on with favour. Regardless of the outcome, if it were discovered that I did such a thing, then I would receive a great beating.’

  Nothing was ever said about the events of that day, but an unspoken bond grew from it. Cirilo knew his place and standing within the community but there was a great battle of values taking place in the mind of Dominic. Despite their friendship, there were pressures to conform to the practices of the day, and Dominic was expected to be obeying the norm. At times, he was obliged to lash out and beat Cirilo to demonstrate his supremacy and to conceal their friendship. Cirilo took no offence and forgave him and their brotherly bond would never be broken. Only Cirilo, Dominic and Juana knew how close it was.

  Earlier that year, when the plan for the armada was still being conceived, De Cortez had supported King Philip II’s plan to restore the Catholic state church and monarchy. Why wouldn’t he? War was always an opportunity for anyone who manufactured arms and gunpowder. Such was the confidence of victory that Dominic was to board a Spanish Carrack in preparation for the new campaign and invasion. His motives behind embarking on the adventure were not totally personal. The trading arm of De Cortez’ business had suffered greatly at the hands of Queen Elizabeth’s privateers such as Sir Francis Drake and other plunderers such as the Irish pirate queen, Grace O’Malley. At times, it had had almost ruined his business empire, but now was the time to put an end to the antics of the English and the Irish.

  Over many years, the Spanish government had been antagonised by English sponsored and legalised pirateering. International seas had become dangerous for the Spanish. These pirates had disrupted trade and denied European economies, particularly Spain and Portugal of significant wealth. This in turn pushed the prices of imported goods to a point that made trade even more attractive for the lucky ones who were left. So for De Cortez, the invasion was a necessity if the Spanish were to remain in control of their empire. It was expected that the war would provoke a reversal of the history of Britain and restore its people to the Catholic faith. In addition as a reward for success, Philip was to receive financial favour from the Pope. King Philip’s plan could not fail. His fleet and armies would soon relieve the Queen of her dominion.

  De Cortez had accepted Dominic’s request to receive the majority of his inheritance early. Using his influence as a powerful merchant, he secured a place for Dominic with the armada and the Rata. Cirilo accompanied him as his personal property, slave on the quest which was to hand the English monarchy to King Philip of Spain.

  Dominic and his slave Cirilo sailed with the armada in the summer with the utmost confidence that they would achieve certain victory in the invasion. Dominic had left his wife and two children in Cadiz in order to satisfy his thirst for excitement and ambition. Thereafter and once Elizabeth Tudor had been overthrown, he was to acquire and set up further estates in England. He would have been one of the first noble men to settle and gain the advantage in terms of staking a claim to the new governance, land and political opportunities awaiting the Spanish victors. This would provide recompense to the De Cortez’ Empire for the losses incurred in the Atlantic, Americas and the West Indies. The plan seemed relatively risk-free and he was to complete repatriation of his family, once victory over the English was established.

  On the deck of the Rata, the winds were still very strong though the dark, violent September sky had become clear. It revealed a slither of a crescent moon to help the Spanish officers and crew see the coast and avoid disaster. De Leiva’s crew battled the storm with only limited control over the boat, which by now was dangerously close to the Erris coastline and Ballycroy. His priority was now the successful mooring of the boat, the replenishment of supplies and to safeguard and survival of all the crew and passengers.

  The lookouts in the crow’s nest surveyed the horizon and misty coastline for signs of landing places. Replenishment of food stock and water was now a priority after signals were received that some boats had either been dashed against rocks or had already landed in other bays and coves. With the exception of a few seasoned crew and optimistic commanders, the hungry and tired mariners had lost all hope of survival. They had come prepared for invasion and expected a reasonably short transition. A brief conflict was to bring about the fall of Queen Elizabeth through a new Catholic crusade, but now those dreams were dashed. Their present voyage into the North Sea, skirting Scotland and Ireland, had not been planned. Without good weather, replenished victuals and maps of the area, the invasion had become a disaster and it seemed that they were now all doomed.

  Many of the lost ships were destroyed by the intense storms. Even though the sea battle was long over, the crippled crew were about to invade an alien country occupied by the English. Their only hope being that a common Catholic faith would draw mercy.

  Weeks earlier, De Leiva’s boat was one of 130 others anchored off Calais. The sight of eight British “Fire-boats” heading toward them created terror among the fleet and they made for a speedy
departure. In a blind panic, the order was given to cut the anchor ropes instead of taking the time to raise them. The sails were sheeted in haste as the boats were promptly steered to sail, drift or to do whatever would avoid contact with the burning boats, which were being skilfully steered by volunteers and heading their way. Although the sight of the fireboats was terrible, the price of a few anchors and ropes was little to pay to avoid the mayhem and oblivion. Though it was a tactic born from human fear of fire, the irony was that no Spanish boats were actually lost to the attack. That aside, it had been a huge success for the English, which succeeded in scattering the armada triggering its demise. The Rata was now without anchors.

  De Leiva and his officers frantically surveyed the coast while attempting to assess the depth of the water. At a time when it needed the safety and stability of all its anchors, the Rata now didn’t have them.

  Off the coast of Erris, De Leiva was attempting to navigate the huge vessel into safer waters. He was a brilliant sailor and strategist, who had been entrusted with the command of a huge vessel of King Philip II’s armada. De Leiva was of “mild temperament and revered by all”. The dashing young sailor knew he would need to put to shore to avoid the risk of heavy losses to his contingent. Although he was to attempt one of the most daring and successful incursions in a hostile country, in a few weeks, De Leiva and almost all of his protégé would be dead.

  The Rata received signals from other ships that they were not alone in the area and so De Leiva employed young and keen eyes to look out for any other boats in the area. As the ship approached the headland, the call was that Spanish masts had been observed in the distance, illuminated by the partial moon. The plan was to make for land, replenish the boat and then re-group with other ships and survivors. They hoped they would find other intact ships of the fleet and perform a mutually assisted return to Spain. This would have to be achieved as soon as possible if they were to avoid confrontation with either the English occupiers or massed Irish clans.

  De Leiva planned to set down with a small, but highly armed, party to take what they could from the local population, through force if necessary. There was a great deal of money and gold on board and so the peaceful option was open to both sides, as long as there was the will to negotiate. However, and importantly, success required the absence of Bingham’s army and a great deal of luck.

  Among the creaks and groans of the carrack, there was a murmur of human voices. Around 300 people were all below on various decks and had orders to stay there to ballast the boat. The weight lowered the centre of gravity which gave it additional stability in the rough seas. The frail and tired crew had found the boat far too difficult to manoeuvre. De Leiva intended to move into the relative shelter of Blacksod Bay; however, in such high winds the boat would not follow the intended course. Cirilo, the exhausted slave, whispered to his master.

  ‘We will soon be with the Holy Father.’

  Dominic could now feel the sideways motion of the boat. Together with the sound of waves on rocks, a new sound rang through the wooden hull: the dragging of the few remaining anchors. Both men correctly presumed that they were about to be swept ashore.

  In the dim lighting provided by the flames of the fire, Cirilo looked towards Dominic through the ropes, bedding and the stinking clothing in front of him.

  ‘I feel we will both be soon dead and your children will be without a father.’

  Cirilo believed that they had reached the moment at which he and Dominic would be killed. The galleon was at the whim of the elements and with the surge of strong Doona currents. The boat was now easing sideways en-route to the beach of Tullaghan to the East of the larger Blacksod Bay. The combination of winds, tidal currents and the heavy load on board had now made the course of the boat very difficult to predict and impossible to control.

  ‘Master, I do not understand, why did we not invade England early, while we had the chance? Why did we flee?’

  ‘We had to run, Cirilo, we had not met up with Palma’s invasion force at Flanders. We were too weak, the ships of the fleet alone would have landed a poor army and we would have failed in our quest wherever we had landed and certainly before we could have maintained a stronghold. After Calais, we were scattered to the seas.’

  ‘Master! I feel we should remember we have God on our side. He has gifted Spanish people with high breeding and intelligence.’

  Dominic’s face dropped; for a moment, he remembered that Cirilo was a slave and not a companion. He struck Cirilo across the face with his fist and blooded his nose. Cirilo knew that physically, he could have overpowered Dominic at any time but a slave had to take his punishment. Immediately, Dominic’s face changed once more as he realised that the trauma of the situation had got the better of him. He regretted his treatment of Cirilo, but this was far less than other punishments dealt to slaves. Dominic was a man better than most but nonetheless, the beating of slaves was as common as it was with animals.

  ‘If God is on our side, then why did he allow me to strike you in that way, why does he allow you to feel pain and why does our suffering continue? You should not be so faithful and sure of divine help. At times I do not understand why my father allowed you to learn to read in Cadiz. You sometimes forget who you are and at times you are too sure of yourself. You should think more before you speak. We are starving, tired, weak and if I am right, then the Rata is about to go aground. Do you still think God is on our side and on the side of the souls who have already been lost these past weeks? I don’t Cirilo, I don’t and your cheer is irksome at times.’

  ‘I am sorry, master, forgive me.’

  ‘The contents of this boat are no more loved by God as any other in the fleet or any other fleet for that matter, otherwise we would have been saved before now. I think if God has a bigger plan, then we are not part of it.’

  Cirilo said no more. In one way, Dominic was jealous of Cirilo’s faith, but on the other, he believed he had too much, which seemed foolish and confused his judgement. At times he felt that he was irrational and fatalistic, a common belief held against many orthodox Christians, who feel that people and events were a part of God’s pre-determination.

  For Cirilo, faith meant confidence in the ultimate release from all pain, discomfort and hunger. He had been encouraged by his mother to believe that atonement of his sins would be more likely following this life, as his lifetime on earth had already been full of sufferance. His faith in adversity would guarantee him a new existence sometime in the future, which bore release for suffering, as it did with all followers of Christ. The same hope that each and every slave needed in order to rationalise their world.

  ‘Cirilo, God has given us life, but he has also given us freedom with which to make our choices. You will not survive this if you continue to believe that God will step in and save you. How many miracles have you seen? Why is your salvation yet to come? I tell you it will not come in this life and it may not come in the next. I see too much suffering of good people to believe that the world is just, but I, as you will pray that we will all be handed God’s mercy after this life has ended.’

  ‘Master, I do not have the freedom you speak about. No, I have seen no miracles, but the saints have.’

  Melchor heard them and couldn’t help himself.

  ‘You will both escort me to my resting place. We will all go to hell, be sure of that, we are all sinners. The difference is that I know we will never be perfect, whereas you believe that your sins will be atoned. Only Jesus went to heaven. The rest of us have been tempted, cheated and will go to hell.’

  Quietly, Dominic mocked Melchor,

  ‘Cirilo, Melchor has a point. If our lord saves us all, then how has Melchor’s salvation been earned? And why should we bother to try seeking the love of our God. Surely we are all to be either cast to the devil or made into angels, there can be nothing in between.’

  Suddenly, the boat dragged on the shingle beach, the sound of moving rock against the wooden hull was deafening as the boat surge
d up and crashed back onto the beach. On the deck, items scraped and slid from one side to the other, rigging clattered and flapped as the sideways movement came to a halt. Now that there was contact with the seabed, the rocking was now two dimensional, but it intensified as the unpredictable waves struck the hull. The sound of timbers moving and creaking was almost deafening.

  ‘Abandonar el barco!’

  It was not long before the first occupants climbed up onto the decks and prepared as best they could. De Leiva had prepared them well. Each person was ready to leave with all possible portable belongings of protection and weaponry and almost instantly. Immediate protection of all life was the priority. The recovery of all other items would come later. As they made their way to the main deck, it was clear that the boat, although aground, was still very much intact. There was an un-easy calm which was almost peaceful as the commanders co-ordinated the plan for landing on the beach.

  After the immediate evacuation, De Leiva gave orders that all available weapons, possessions, food and valuables were to be taken from the boat and carried to the strand. Since many of the nobility had their riches on the Rata, the order to bring their belongings came as a relief to many who had thought they would be forced to leave their belongings in the boat. De Leiva’s plan was to use some gold and valuables to barter with the Irish for their freedom. The arms and artillery would be split up and two camps made in close proximity.

  The wind was still high and it began to rain again. Close to the beach was a small castle surrounded by some dwellings and a church. The Barrett Clan had acquired the castle through years of conflict and it had changed hands many times. Fahy had a commanding view of Blacksod Bay in 300 acres of countryside and farmland. It was therefore in a prime strategic position for the Spanish to fall-up, secure and replenish stocks. It was half encircled by a large playing field. Over many years, children lived almost idyllic lives there until they were expected to work from the age of about 12 years. Heavy labour before that age often resulted in stress and undue disfigurement due to their soft and un-developed bodies. Now though, the fields were quiet. Brian O’Kelly and his family had been the owner occupants and had kept a watchful eye on the Spanish boat since it had become visible on the first day. O’Kelly was a reasonably rich man of good breading. He had married into the Barrett Clan and could be sure of their support; however, he was not going to take any chances against an army of seasoned Spanish fighters, well known for their firepower and ability to fight at close quarters. Fearing attack, the inhabitants had vacated on sighting the boat.