The Welshmen of Tyrawley

by Graham Barratt

  ‘So that is the kind of man you would like to marry Emily, a rich noble without clan or Irish descent.’

  ‘Possibly, it is how I said before cousin, clan is not important and this man is so kind to the eyes. He seems to me to be a man with great respect, dignity and humour.’

  The journey back to Glencastle for the three scouts and their casualty was much slower than expected as Richard had to keep the body from jarring too much. Grass and foliage was used to cushion Cirilo, but he was still in pain with a large wooden splinter in his side. They also needed to conceal him and watch out for any Spanish who might try to take him back or indeed the English, who would wish to dispatch him on orders.

  The party reported intelligence and their activities to the council of clans, but were surprised at the news that the Spanish had passed through Glencastle on the way to the Mullet and the next rendezvous. For this to happen without incident, there must have been a parlay of some description. While nothing was said on the matter, there were certain presumptions the Barretts would surely have received benefit from the Spanish in order to allow passage to the Mullet.

  Since the slave would probably die, the three men decided they would leave him at Glencastle and get back to the Rata without delay. Infections set into his body and he deteriorated into a coma. Despite his hopeless condition, the splinter was removed, he was stitched up and women assigned to nurse him.

  The next day, a stronger party was sent to the wreck by the council to search for anything that would provide benefits. They would need to extract any items very quickly, before either the sea or the English claimed them. Other people, farmers and travellers had seen the wreckage but quickly moved away from the scene once the clansmen arrived in numbers from Glencastle. Villagers at Doona were hoping to have their pick and only people with strong horses for moving the timbers would be able to benefit any further. It was fortunate for the Bourkes that there had been a gathering of the allied clans at Glencastle, since if there was not, then there is no doubt the Barretts would have profited from the spoils from the boat. On the other hand, the Barretts may not have appeared so strong and would not have attracted such a good deal from De Leiva.

  Clan guards were placed around the boat to protect any further looting of any wreck items. The Barrett and Bourke Nemed chiefs had ruled over the division of any wealth from the boat, but it didn’t stop looters gathering to try their luck.

  On the low tide, the clansmen soon discovered several heavy cannons amongst the timbers of the boat and some abandoned items at Fahy. As the landing party had to be fast moving and mobile, the heavy items such as demi-culverins were abandoned by De Leiva and the crew. There were limited means of transportation for any heavy objects and a judgement had to be made between being slowed down and having artillery at hand to provide protection. Even though cannons would be a valuable asset for the Irish clans, there was little time for the Spanish to arrange for their successful destruction. The priority had been to move on quickly to the other vessel, the Duquesa Santa Ana, moored on the opposite side of the bay in a more sheltered location.

  At the site of the burned boat, cannons and other items such as lamps, shot gauges, chests and cooking implements were transported on carts and moved to the stronghold. As the Barretts were the clan mainly disadvantaged by the actions of the Spanish, the items were used, gifted or bartered by the clan. The allied clans were considered warrior people and the cannons were initially stored for use by the rebel Bourkes, perhaps in battles against the English and other aggressors. For now though, they could not be deployed without powder, shot and most importantly skilled men to operate them. One day, they would be used if only they could acquire the skills needed to use them effectively and safely.

  The Ascension

  Apart from a few human thoughts, Cirilo had been a humble and honest Catholic throughout his short life. He had feared God and was a devout Christian (as devout as any Spanish slave was allowed to be) and when alive, it was his faith that helped him to live through periods of suffering and despair. He had been confident of being rewarded with the kingdom of heaven at the end of his life.

  In death, it seemed that he had been given his dues and just reward. Paradise was a much different place to that he had come to expect. This place was dark and quiet. He had expected intense light and beautiful surroundings with perfection and ecstasy for all the human senses. The place he had been sent felt serene, warm, soft and quiet, but there was nothing for the eyes. He was now safe, secure, protected and he felt no pain, a feeling he had never experienced before. Cirilo had been in constant pain and discomfort, through hard work, injury, hunger and abuse. Although in comparison to other slaves, he had been relatively lucky, he was often subject to regular beatings from all who cared to bully him. At times, even Dominic beat him when he felt pressure to display his authority. His idea of heaven was simple and was a place where the soul and body were both happy and content. This was it, this was heaven and he would be at one with the Lord soon.

  Enhancing the blissful silence, he could hear the sound of several angels singing in tongues and was unfamiliar with the language they used. The sound of a plucked harp was also a new to him. The graduated chords of the angels complemented the harps which provided a beautiful sound of very simple but happy music. The voices were not of boys, as he had heard coming from the churches in Spain, but were female and continued for some time.

  Apart from the darkness emerging from his dreams, his ascension in paradise was just as he had imagined it would be from his worship within the communities of Spain. He was now a soul without the painful body he had experienced up until now, but was in a place where he could not communicate with other souls, perhaps he was to be tested first. It was not the place that he had been expecting from the simple teachings of his Catholic faith. Maybe the ability to move, communicate and see in heaven was something he would need to learn or earn through salvation.

  His belief was strong and therefore heaven was his ultimate destiny. Through the sufferings, confessions and un-diminishing faith, it seemed that his mortal being was now fully atoned and he had been rewarded with this new life without sin and sufferance. He was sure, through Catholic loyalty that his sins were forgiven and he would see God’s kingdom soon. It was possible though that he hadn’t reached maturity and would require more mortal time in order to achieve salvation. Perhaps he would soon be re-born as new person.

  For some time, Cirilo basked in the euphoria and lapsed in and out of his new consciousness. Eventually his solace was enhanced as he continued to experience God’s kingdom. He could still hear the angelic singing as a white light was now glaring into his eyes with a new blinding intensity amidst the warmth. He had never known such comfort and peace.

  At last, he was allowed to open his eyes and looked around and could see he was lying on a warm soft bed. The strong light and warmth seemed to be from the sunshine beaming through something that looked like an arrow slot window in the wall. It was all encompassing as his earthly senses were aroused. He became aware of sight, sound, smell and touch. He now experienced one other sensation, which was definitely of mortal men and sin. The combination of comfort, peace and warmth resulted in a strong erection.

  ‘Is this something that God allows in heaven? Surely as the church has taught, taking pleasure in these things and the thoughts that come with it is a sin? Or maybe it is a gift.’

  Cirilo wasn’t dead and he wasn’t in heaven. As his hand moved towards his groin to hold his pride, the door swung open with a thud and it rattled as it hit the stone wall and shook. Small fragments of stone fell from the wall and rattled as they fell onto the floor. A loud and foreign voice bellowed out in a language Cirilo could not understand.

  ‘Get him out, before he gets used to it.’

  He could not understand the words, but he knew the tones. These were men who were about to upset his bliss. Cirilo cried out in Spanish as he was pulled to his feet by two Bourkes in battle dress. His erection along
with his idea of heaven was gone in an instant. He was not dead after all though something told him that he was soon to wish he was.

  Since the Spanish infiltration, most available young men had been ordered to move out of the fields and their usual work and spend at least some days as clansmen. These men had been “stood-up” for battle. The donning of their uniforms gave them a renewed feeling of aggression and confidence. It would only be for a few days and then they would all be required to return to their land and livestock.

  ‘Por favor, por favor, que he hecho – Please, Please, what have I done?’ he said.

  Cirilo was quickly blindfolded, marched around 20 minutes in all directions and then tied up. With the heat from the sun, he could sense that he had been moved in an easterly direction. He was quickly placed in a cold damp and sour smelling room.

  ‘That’s more like it, a fitting abode for a slave of the Spanish,’ said a voice with humour and sarcasm.

  Although, for an invader on foreign shores and perhaps more importantly, as a slave, Cirilo had been reasonably treated, however, he was used to a certain amount of abuse. While most criminals would be horrified to be imprisoned in this way, his reaction to being tied up in a dungeon was calm and he felt settled.

  The Bourkes, including James and Emily had stayed at Glencastle to ensure protection of their newfound assets, including Cirilo. He had been nursed for several days and was now being kept for later use as a commodity. His nose was still bruised and broken, but was gradually settling back into position, albeit a little crooked now. The natural accumulation of bruising on his body had started to wane. He had been bandaged and only the pressure, pain and itching from his wounds told him when it was time to squeeze out the painful puss. Cirilo did not remember the last time he ate and was now acutely hungry and thirsty.

  The hours passed by and night fell before the door was opened once more. Emily walked into the cell, escorted by James Bourke, who was eager to ensure his investment was being protected. She bent forward revealing her upper cleavage and placed the board of food and water in front of him.

  ‘Gracias. Gracias senorita.’

  She did not understand what he was saying but realised that it was Spanish from experiences years earlier when the Spanish had previously travelled to Ireland to help restore the Catholic Church.

  From his raised eyebrows and gestures, it indicated to Emily that he was thanking her. Despite his injuries, she had been immediately attracted to him. There were times when he was completely naked and she had to feed and clothe him. She had found this highly arousing but kept her feelings secret. His pretty brown eyes producing a friendly and calming smile signalling to her that he liked what he was looking at. His physique was perfect with defined muscular limbs and a narrow waist. His legs were strong with the appearance of platted muscles on his thighs. Emily never once took her eyes off him as she backed away towards the door.

  ‘That is good, Emily, never take your eyes off the enemy,’ said her brother.

  ‘I do not intend to,’ she said with some inner irony.

  Cirilo had been nursed mainly by Emily and the Bourkes at Glencastle and it would soon be time to leave. She had fed, dressed and cleaned him. Increasingly over the many days he was recovering, she had become at ease with him; however, he was a prisoner and when she left the cell, the door was locked behind her.

  Cirilo scrambled for his food. The potage was sour and salty with a thick grainy texture; it had been re-heated several times since it had been concocted and probably added to with fresher food, leafs and grain. It came with a piece of old hard bread to provide bulk and to soak up the watery and muddy looking broth. To Cirilo, it was the sustenance he craved and needed, but it was gone in a few short minutes. Soon after, stomach cramps set in as he settled down to sleep. The sleep was not as satisfying as the previous three nights with his back aching from the days lying down, but nonetheless, it was good and his tummy was full. At times, he was still in pain from the wound in his side and he was now less confused than he was when sepsis was in his body. He was not in heaven and the singing heard was not God’s angels, it had been Emily and her cousins. He felt he had tasted heaven and it seemed he now wanted it more than life itself. Something told him that his suffering was not over and would not be over for a long time.

  As the weeks progressed, Cirilo was put to work as an unpaid servant, shovelling dung, carrying water and performing many other tasks that were too unpleasant for the Bourkes to do. He was grateful for his relative comfort and did his best to please. More use was made of his labour and as he further recovered there was no shortage of unpleasant chores. Whenever he saw Emily, he feasted his eyes on her beauty but was in fear of being noticed. Holding his head low while being addressed, he kept eye contact to a minimum. To be seen looking at a pretty woman would be rewarded with a beating in Spain. It was probably also true in Ireland if he was seen making eyes at an Irish lass.

  The Fighting Stone

  The scout party had been led by Richard Barrett the younger. It was his cunning and leadership that delivered them safely to the wreck before the English or any other Irish people. Cirilo na Long “of the ships” had been nursed at Glencastle in the company of the MacPadine and the Barretts before he was to be transported to Dael with the Bourkes, or so they believed. It was Emily Bourke who tended his wounds and nursed him back to health. It was Thomas Welsh who first discovered the slave. All three men lay legitimate claim to ownership of the slave and now he was fit, they all wanted him. At no time did they consider that there was an option to grant him his freedom; he was a Spanish slave and was now in the hands of the Irish. Other than interference by the English, or the Clanricarde Bourkes, there was not much doubt that he would become a slave to the Irish, but which clan would be granted ownership would need to be determined.

  At Glencastle, the three men requested to discuss the matter with the Nemed and MacPadine. They were granted an audience and so climbed the stone steps to the second floor of the tower house. Richard knocked and after a muffled acknowledgement, they all entered.

  ‘Sir, before the clans leave Glencastle for Tyrawley, I beg your judgement on the ownership of the slave called Cirilo na Long (Cirilo of the ships). We all have a claim of entitlement to him, but I believe I have the best case to keep him.’

  Richard looked across at James to test his reaction. James nodded and responded to Richard’s statement.

  ‘I beg to challenge you, Richard, but we all have a claim and we came here today to request a judgement, not to put any further case forward. Please do not attempt to speed MacPadine into a decision any further or I am afraid we will become foes.’

  MacPadine looked up and cupped his chin before sighing heavily.

  ‘For me to make a decision on ownership would cause resentment for the two losers and might also cause a greater conflict between clans if others were to question my judgement. It is not a decision I should make, as there would be such a quarrel even if you were brothers. I will therefore not make a ruling on this, but you will settle the dispute between yourselves.’

  Richard knew exactly what MacPadine was suggesting and smiled. He was the eldest, strongest and wisest of the three. Thomas and James looked confused.

  ‘I instruct that this week, you will meet at the fighting stone and settle it as men and warriors. Richard and James will fight until one is subdued to relent the fight or oozes blood. Thomas is younger and so once the fight is complete, it will be his decision whether he will fight the victor. If he does fight and succeeds, he will keep the slave. If he decides not to fight, then the prize goes to the winner of the first fight. One further thing gentlemen, after you agree to this fight, I will choose the weapons you shall use.’

  James and Richard looked at one and other.

  ‘I accept,’ said James.

  ‘I too,’ said Richard, followed by Thomas, who had inwardly despised the decision. It was he, who had discovered the slave after all and it was he who had the only rightfu
l claim. He felt that his young age had been taken advantage of. If he had been older, then surely he would have been granted the respect he deserved and be awarded the slave.

  ‘Good, then I suggest this matter is given conclusion soon and you meet at the fighting stone tomorrow at midday. The weapons shall be wooden clubs. Let me explain one important thing. The bout will only decide early ownership and responsibility. There may still be the matter of a council decision to either send him to Galway for execution or grant him life within the clan of the victor who may yet only win the right to transport him for disposal and may gain, but nothing else. One further point I wish to make is that Bingham has declared that to shelter a Spaniard for more than four hours would be considered treason. That burden must fall upon the victor of the fight should the English discover the slave.’ All three of the men were prepared to take their chance and nodded in agreement.

  Word of the bout spread fast and on the day, the clans all gathered at the “Fighting Stone”. The ancient stone on the road to Belmullet and had been the meeting place of clans over centuries. Many disputes, large and small had been settled there. Word travelled fast and there was now several hundred men women and children lining the bank on either side of the beaten track. Because the tollgate at Glencastle was on the south side of the stone, there was a good contingent from the Mullet; however, many had come from the opposite side from Glencastle, including the Barretts of Cloontikilla and even as far as Ballysakeery. Many abandoned their return home from the gathering. They were still charged the toll for passage to the stone. This caused arguments at the gate, but the alternative would be to miss the fight and to weaken support for the clan. Since the Barretts were mostly landlords and not in the habit of giving money for passage this was un-popular. Nonetheless, being Barretts, most of them could afford the levy.