The Welshmen of Tyrawley

by Graham Barratt

  William headed off towards Crossmolina as fast as his horse could take him. The beast came close to collapsing several times before he allowed it to rest. When he got to Templeboy for a scheduled break, there were a number of people gathered to the rear of the halfway house and a cart was positioned ready to load something. William was curious so he stopped his horse and dismounted to investigate the commotion. He recognised a body in the cesspit. It was the young kern that had gone missing during the evening of their stay. William remembered that they had checked the dunghill but hadn’t noticed anything in the cesspool. It was obvious now that the kern was in the pool below the surface of urine and mud. It is no wonder that the search for him was not particularly thorough here. The darkness had helped conceal the body and with so little light there was nothing to help reveal the features of a body. Furthermore, there is no question that the cesspool of a lodging house is something that you don’t linger around for too long at any time of the day.

  The mouth of the dead man was full of mud and his head had been pushed face down into the vile sludge. When they turned him around, his trews were pulled down and his penis was exposed. He had been murdered at one of the moments when a man was most vulnerable, whilst urinating and holding his manhood. It was recalled by William that Thomas had lied the evening he turned up at halfway house. There was no real reason for the kern to desert the party and little possibility that he would have double-backed to the halfway house. He must have been murdered by Thomas outside and shortly after leaving the Mrs Corcoran’s house. William was too pre-occupied with reporting the demise of Cirilo and facing up to his father to pay any further attention to the spectacle in the pool.

  There was now a murderer of the Irish amongst the rebels. William should have returned to Sligo to report the matter, but he was not a brave man. Mrs Corcoran looked across and recognised him. She raised her arm to attract his attention and walked towards him.

  ‘Oh will ya look at that, it is the same man who was in the Fianna. Hello sir, see who we have here?’

  William re-mounted and swiftly continued his journey. On the road, he convinced himself that Cirilo was dead. He had to be, but he would need to explain why he did not bring the head back as planned. On the road, he developed a new version of the story to conceal his failure. Covering up his cowardice, he would explain that the explosion had killed both MacSweeney and Donovan instantly. He also correctly surmised that the kern, if they had survived, would not return to Dael. He was not going to complicate his predicament with a murder to explain and made his way back to Dael to face his father. William’s story involved reporting that he had not recovered the head of Cirilo because it did not survive the explosion, but he could have recovered some black flesh to prove the identity of the victim. Again, he had his excuse ready. William would explain that O’Rourke’s men were quickly at the scene, and he had to “make leave in haste or be arrested”.

  At the camp in Sligo, once the event was explained and the routines returned to normal, a team of capable (and soon to be experienced) gunners were available for each of the heavy cannons. The Welshmen of Tyrawley had now experienced a loss, which served well as a warning of the dangers. The new team was immediately emplaced in O’Rourke’s tower house to provide protection on the Ulster border at Dromahair.

  Donovan’s status as a slave was not forgotten. Many months went by without battle or skirmish and he was again deployed on menial, heavy and filthy tasks around the tower house. Considering he was a slave, he was reasonably well fed being required at the house as backup for the gunners. His expertise and knowledge was respected amongst the gunners and he was treated reasonably well by his team, including Duald, who had grown to value him. The courtesies were not unanimous though. Respect for black men did not extend to the Irish foot soldiers, kern, redshanks and gallowglass who were too often merciless bullies as was MacSweeney and they showed little pity to anyone once a sword was drawn. Donovan continued to be beaten and was involved in many fistfights. In the fights, which often involved wagers, his natural height, strength and appearance were usually enough to subdue his opponent, however, in other impromptu attacks, there were few rules, and as soon as a third party joined in, he would come off worse.

  He proved himself a competent gunner and trainer and despite the Irish preferring to utilise their own people, the rebels needed his skills and experience. In time, he was assigned to ambushes, fighting alongside the growing numbers of Irish rebels opposing the English. Allied to his Irish community and his Catholic faith, he was prepared to fight against the crown forces. On the other hand, he inwardly hated the killing and never came to terms with arguments for war or the crudeness of armed conflict. But as a slave, his thoughts were irrelevant to all who believed his purpose was to serve.

  There was little possibility that he would ever be able to make his way back to Mayo and remain living and held no hope of ever seeing his beloved Emily again. He dwelled on his love and feelings for her every day and she was in his thoughts at all times, especially at times of reflective self-satisfaction. His memory and love was just as vivid as on the first day they came together and had no awareness that she had become pregnant and given birth to Tibbot. Donovan had no knowledge of her hardships and that she had been forced to lie about their encounter betraying it as rape.

  The war would surely deliver his death. If not, then would the Bourkes ultimately exact their revenge on him? Would he die at the sharp end of an English halberd? Lose his head to another gallowglass? Or would he be beaten to death by bullying tormentors for pleasure?

  Blackmail and the Glutton

  For some months, it seemed that Emily had been successful in concealing her encounter with Patrick the Toothless and his ultimate demise. However, one day and entirely unexpectedly, a bold man called at the Barrett tower house at Ballysakeery asking to speak with Emily in private.

  Emily walked into the large function room where the man had been ushered. He was a rather large and well-fed man with a pot-marked face in his thirties with long, dirty, red hair, one leg moved with some evidence of deformity. Although well dressed, his body stenched and it was obvious that he had not washed for weeks. While this was usual, for men of lesser status, for a man of such apparent wealth and keeping, it seemed unusual and somehow threatening. He looked vaguely familiar to Emily as she guessed that this was a man who did not have the company of a woman.

  Dermot was a staunch Barrett, and over the years had come to oppose the alliance to other clans, especially since the Belleek Agreement five years earlier, whereby the Barretts lost the majority of the Belleek estate to the Bourkes. Emily therefore was not particularly respected by him. He had recently been made treasurer and had responsibility for the collection of rents for the MacPadine and the exploitation of the lower clans of Tyrawley.

  Dermot though was not a man to miss an opportunity. Wasting little time in introducing himself, he made no attempt to hide his real intentions.

  Dermot whispered to her. ‘Madam, may I introduce myself, I am Dermot of Nephin, I am in the employ of the MacPadine and the council, but that is not my business today. I have admired you for some time and am here to insist that we become better acquainted. I have wealth and may provide your every need.’

  His approach shocked her. His forwardness and confidence was completely unexpected.

  From where does this man receive his wisdom?

  She sensed that he had in some way some influence or other motive, which was not yet clear. Something told her that it would not be long before his real intentions would become apparent, so she decided to be every bit as direct as he was.

  ‘I am sorry, sire, but I have no purpose to marry a stranger, whether Irish, Welsh or cousin and even less desire for a man who is not of my taste such as you. I have had several proposals of marriage and each one I have refused.’

  ‘Please do not confuse yourself. It is not marriage I seek, but companionship and pleasures. You have no worth as a wife and your son will ce
rtainly not become my tanist. My use for you is that of a servant and someone who will keep my bed warm and happy at night.’

  Emily’s heart raced; there was something he was not telling her. She was so shocked that she didn’t know what to say next. A fumble or a test, her response was to the point.

  ‘And what of my baby, sire?’

  ‘Your baby will be taken in by those who make it their vocation to look after orphans, perhaps he will be fostered – he is after all a Bourke. There will be no need for bastard children in my household until he can serve as my slave and servant.’

  Emily felt that she needed to be abrupt enough to expose his motives.

  ‘Then my reluctance to become your concubine is only matched by my unwillingness to marry a man such as you.’

  ‘Well, if it pleases you but let me explain further. I saw you walking away from the house of Toothless Patrick the night he died in the fire. You were covered in blood, your clothes were torn and so I have reason to conclude that you killed him and then burned down his house.’

  ‘Sire, he viciously attacked me and my baby, he raped me and I fought back. I defended myself, and you are well to take heed.’

  ‘You were quick to react and you killed a well-known member of the Barrett community. Let me make myself clear. You will be punished or even put to death if you do not agree to my tender. You have no means under Brehon law to make repair to his family. What will happen to your brat then? No, you will come to me this evening without your baby and you will attend my pleasures. If you are to my liking, then we will discuss my propositions further and make arrangements, maybe they will include your baby. If you do not do these things, then you will face the Nemed.’

  ‘This is blackmail. You are attempting to take away my freedom and keep me in bondage forever.’

  ‘So it will be.’

  It seemed he knew Emily was an outcast from the Bourke community. He also knew she was vulnerable, alone with no support from family and that she lived with the Barretts and her baby. He was also well informed and was keen to speak with her in private. Dermot made it clear that she had no choice but to meet with him that evening at his country house, otherwise he would report the murder to the council. Emily was shocked and had no plan at first. There was nothing she could do, but to comply with his request.

  That night, she told no one where she was going. Leaving Tibbot with Richard’s mother, Eireann, she left alone, taking a horse from the stable. She made her way quickly along a muddy track to the remote house in the woods. As she listened to a pack of wolves in the distance ahead, the nag faltered and fidgeted on the track. Their sounds were becoming closer and so in a strange way she felt relieved to arrive at Dermot’s house before the horse chanced to bolt. She secured the horse within the croft and walked up to the cottage. It was large and well built in comparison to others in the area. There was smoke coming from the chimney and under normal circumstances, would appear to be a desirable place to live, with a homely feel to it. Emily looked behind and braced herself as she knocked the door several times with a stone which was clearly placed near to the door for that purpose.

  Dermot came to the door and smiled, exposing two rows of discoloured brown and black teeth. His patchy red beard was adorned with several smidgens of food and dry broth. As she walked into the room, she again noticed the stench of flatulence. Dermot was making no attempt to impress, perhaps because he didn’t need to.

  The inside of the house was stonewalled with a timbered staircase and upper floor. The furniture was refined, well made and would have been relatively expensive. He had evidently been a man of moderate wealth and had either lost his income or had stopped spending it, nonetheless, there was little doubt that he lived alone.

  ‘Come in, Emily, I am glad you decided to come.’

  There was no decision to make, you hold me to ransom.

  ‘My dear, please do not look at it through the eyes of a victim, be assured that we can engage in an arrangement that would be mutually beneficial.’

  Dermot closed and locked the door. ‘What are you doing? Why did you lock the door?’

  ‘You surely know why I called you here. I have been agog with you for much time now. I would like to get to know you further and I do not want us to be disturbed.’

  ‘Sir, you are surely mistaken if you believe I would give myself to you under any condition. Like any woman of verity, I will not bargain away my virtue.’

  ‘You, a woman of truth? I think not and I think you have no virtue either. Your people seem to have done you a great injustice. That is not the repute that came before you. And you are also a murderess I believe.’

  ‘Do not believe the gossips. It was Patrick’s fault for raping me and threatening me and my baby. It is of no concern of yours, but I have promised myself to one man. I make no threats, but you would be a fool and a crack-rope to take me against my wishes. I am a Bourke and my clan will exact revenge against any attack on me.’

  ‘If you are still in favour with your clan, then why have you been banished? And why have the Bourkes not avenged the attacks made on you in the past by the people of Belleek and Ballysakeery?’

  ‘I made my mistakes through love and have fallen out of favour for now, but I will be united with my clan one day. I am highly thought of by my people. Despite being displaced, my blood is important to them. Please open the door, let me take leave and I will say no more to defame you and the Barretts.’

  ‘You have no reason to be uppish and will be an old crone by the time they accept you and your tales. I will also be long gone before the Bourkes have you back in their fine houses. Come here closer to me and hold my cock!’

  Dermot moved forward and tried to kiss her on the neck. He put a hand into her bodice, squeezing a breast with his dirty, hard and abrasive fingers. She pulled his arm and turned away to avoid a repeat, hoping Dermot would realise his mistake and end the attack. He approached her from the front and pushed her over a chest causing her to fall backwards onto the ground. Emily could not cope rationally with what was happening to her. Her mind began to repeat images and sounds from the night when Toothless Patrick raped her. It was not going to happen again. After only a few short months, she was now being blackmailed into having sex with another monster.

  Dermot believed that his hold on her was great enough to ensure his plan would prevail. He was sure that his plan would succeed. He was confident that he could take his pleasure with her and convince her to become his whore and slave.

  Dermot was wrong. Emily sat up, blinked and shook her head as if to muster more strength and determination to resist the man.

  This time I will not wait until the rape is over before I will strike out to defend myself from such a vile man.

  As Dermot looked down and contemplated pulling up her skirts, to his surprise and obvious approval, Emily did it for him. He looked pleased, but slightly confused over her apparent invitation. Her heartbeat gathered pace as she realised what he was looking at and what thoughts she must now be stirring up within him.

  She did not want him to discover what she had been concealing about her body for many months. This time she was prepared for the attack and would not succumb to his demands, she would strike first, but only at the point where she was sure he would not wane. Dermot smiled with agreement as he looked at the revelation of her red pubic hair against her white legs.

  In his mind, he had triumphed over her. She had at last surrendered and was allowing him to take her. She had seen sense and was now succumbing to his demands.

  He quickly revealed himself, and she calmly took hold of his penis with her left hand, squeezing it firmly. He gave a moan of pleasure as his excitement grew. Emily knew that there would be no change of mind from the man at this stage. Once he was aroused, he would be unstoppable like Patrick, Dermot would need to have gratification and would become a brute if he was denied it. Emily would now need to defend herself and create enough time to get to the door and to her horse but not before giv
ing him what he deserved. She massaged his clammy manhood tightly with her left hand. Her right hand was for other business. She needed the control and accuracy of her dominant hand to perform the action she was about to take. She smiled back at him, closed her eyes and parted her lips as if drawing him in for a kiss. Drawn by her allure, he closed his eyes too and sighed in pleasure.

  In a single stroke, she pulled a double-edged knife from under her thick underskirt and pushed it deep into the nape of his penis. It penetrated the full girth, cutting the veins as the tip of the blade entered his scrotum, then into a tendon in his right leg.

  Dermot screamed in both agony and horror as he looked down at his wound. Blood was oozing from the gash and spilling onto both of them. He put one hand around her neck to force her to let go, but she gritted her teeth and held it in place with both hands twisting it slightly.

  ‘Let me go, Nephin, or I will pull it down and slice your cock in half. You will then have two useless cocks.’

  If Emily had pulled the knife out immediately, it would have limited the damage. As it was, the blood leaking from the wound caused his erection to subside. The reduction in the size of his penis caused the knife to cut further into his shrinking shaft. He cried out in greater agony, as the knife cut further into him and Emily held it in place. It was now his reducing erection which was causing the damage. Blood continued to pour as he began to sweat and his body went into shock. He started to lose consciousness, and at the same time she growled into his ears.