The Welshmen of Tyrawley

by Graham Barratt

  The evening went on and the four men ate and drank well but did not speak much either. Nangle, Niall’s grandfather, an old bearded man stood up and fell against a chair, knocking it against the heavy table. As he steadied himself with his ash walking stick, he gave a habitual backward wave goodbye to his friends as he walked out of the door.

  The eldest of the Barretts and Richard’s younger, but more aggressive brother, John, kicked the young man next to him and held his arm.

  ‘Listen, I will leave by the backdoor as if needing a piss, but I will walk around the building and pursue the old man in his tracks. His tongue will be loose and I wish to hear what he says to people on the way.’

  John walked out and followed the old man down the street. It was late and dark now and to his disappointment, Nangle did not meet or speak with anyone along the way. All that could be heard was the sound of his walking stick poking the ground and the occasional snapping of dry undergrowth and the shuffle of the old man’s feet. John knew that at night, sound would carry and the old man may become aware of his presence, so he matched his steps and kept well back. Following Nangle to a small stone house at the corner of Carn house, he wondered whether he should attack Nangle and beat a confession from him. He could see a flicker of candlelight through the gaps in the window shutters, so knew that it must be occupied and there would be a conversation once he entered.

  The old man had been expected and someone else was in the house waiting for him. He watched the door open as a young woman smiled and let the man in. John quickly ran around the side of the house. Before him was a stone wall which matched his height. He found a foot-hole in the stone and climbed the wall before dropping into the yard. If there were sufficient gaps in the slats, the sound would carry well and he might be able to hear any conversations. John positioned himself quietly and made sure that he was silent and there was no risk of noise.

  ‘The Barretts have sent more arses here. They were at the inn tonight, Molly. There were six riders in all, but there are four now. The four didn’t all go home and are still looking for Dermot. I reckon they will still be here tomorrow.’

  With a far lower, but still audible voice, Molly replied,

  ‘Grandfather, be quiet and I hope you have kept your tongue. We must not speak of that day for fear of being heard by others or by our children. Shibby is already asking too many questions.’

  ‘I don’t care, we can’t help what has happened. He got what he deserved for outraging you and he is now in hell, where he belongs,’ Molly started to cry as Nangle comforted her.

  John had heard enough and would be back with the others to question them in the daylight. He turned and climbed the stone wall, but this side was not as weathered as the side he had climbed over. He lost his foot-grip and his boot slipped down the wall to the ground. Nangle heard it and Molly stood firm. Neither would open the door to see what made the noise and neither would speak again that evening. They both went to their beds wondering whether there had been an intruder or an animal in the yard.

  A Baby Betrays a Clan

  The next morning, with the mist hanging low, Nangle awoke as he heard several more horses pacing into the town. He opened the wooden shutter to what could be causing such a furore. He could now see that they were mounted clansmen, around twenty of them all in their battle dress. This was a serious event and hoped they were just passing through the townland rather than stopping to do business.

  Something inside Nangle told him this was to do with Dermot but did not suspect it could have been anything to do with his conversation with Molly the evening before.

  Maybe Dermot’s body had been found, perhaps they had detained a suspect. His fears were realised when the horses slowed as they walked slowly into the townland; as they passed each building, a single rider was posted to each one junction of the road or track. MacPadine and the two riders who left the previous day assembled a contingent and they met in the inn. It was not long before John and his group joined them for discussions.

  John addressed MacPadine directly.

  ‘It is clear to me, Father, that within the townlands of Carn and Garranard, there is much secrecy and concealment amongst the Lynotts. I do not doubt that these people or at least some of them know of Dermot’s fate. The old man I heard spoke of him with hatred and at least he knows what has happened to him.’

  ‘It is no surprise to me that Dermot should foster such resentment, however, this does not help in finding him.’

  The party all left the inn and MacPadine waited as Nangle was escorted up the road.

  ‘Old man! Where is Dermot?’

  ‘I beg your pardon, sire,’ replied Nangle.

  ‘You know what I mean. Where is my treasurer and clerk, Dermot Nephin? He visited this place, some four days ago.’

  ‘I know nothing of a visit, sire.’

  John stepped forward and pointed his pistol at Nangle. ‘You know of his fate, I heard you speaking of him last evening to a girl.’

  ‘Put your pistol down, John,’ called MacPadine.

  Nangle thought back to the evening before. He realised in a moment that it was John Barrett who was listening at the back window; he had heard the scuffle outside, someone had indeed been in the yard listening.

  ‘Ah, it seems that you remember last night and your words when you were a fool with drink.’

  ‘Sire, I beg your pardon, but you may not have heard well, I was not speaking of the man you seek, but a friend.’

  ‘You lie, old man. I know you do. You cursed and welcomed his fate, whatever that was.’

  Shibby had wandered away from her home and was standing across the street. The young child was bare-footed and dressed in simple rags. She was only six years old and did not understand what was happening. She welled up with excitement at the sight of the horses and the armed warrior clansmen. Straying up the street, she walked past the last alms-houses in the mist and followed the riders to the inn. Shibby looked up at a solitary rider. He was bearded and at first she thought it was her father.

  ‘What is the name of your horse? Can I touch her?’ said Shibby.

  ‘No, she might kick you, keep clear and go away.’

  ‘Have you come here to kick the fat man? He is not here now.’

  The rider took a second look at Shibby, suddenly he was interested and Shibby sensed it. He took off his helmet and dismounted to question her further.

  ‘Would you like to feed an apple to my horse? She likes you. What did you see, what of the man and what happened to him?’

  Shibby replied, ‘Skiddy kicked the fat man and then the others made him sleep. They took him to see the devil at the tobber in Garranard.’

  The rider looked down and asked her to explain. As she looked at the expression of surprise on his face and realised she had said too much, she turned to run away but ran into the arms of John.

  ‘Father, it seems this girl has witnessed Dermot’s ruin.’

  ‘Let her go, she has said enough. She has confirmed our suspicions. The Lynotts must now account for Dermot’s disappearance.’ It had become apparent that Dermot had gone missing after he had been beaten by several men. Thomas was summoned to explain. He made his way to the Barretts with a priest by his side.

  ‘Sirs, it is time to explain the truth, I fear we cannot prolong lies and turn from the truth any longer. Dermot committed a sin and defiled a young girl. He assaulted her terribly and in front of the whole townland of people.’

  ‘What was the assault? Did he commit rape?’

  ‘Nay sir, he touched her body and took her parts into his mouth before biting a nipple and drawing blood. She was maimed and left defiled and scarred for life.’

  ‘Death is not payment for the deed as you describe. You of all people know that clan law dictates crimes against a higher rank will afford a greater penalty. To you, he may have seemed a good-for-nothing, but as my treasurer, he held high office among the Barretts. Tell me who killed Dermot?’

  ‘His crime was one o
f many attacks and outbursts against our people. He does not have a killer. Not one man killed him, sir, the men all dealt equal blows and he quickly died, but not by a murderer, but by a single blow by each person.’

  ‘Show me the girl,’ Molly stepped forward and did not speak.

  ‘She looks well to me. You tell me that Dermot lost his life because of a terrible injury to this lass?’

  ‘Sir, her body is mending well, but she went through a vile assault with great suffering and will never fully recover from her ordeal.’

  MacPadine moved the group into the inn and over several hours, the questioning continued. Thomas Lynott concluded the discussions. MacPadine called the clansmen to order and sent a contingent to Scraggs Well to recover the body.

  ‘Sir, since the attack, the whole clan has taken confession and begged forgiveness. Our priest heard our sins and the Lord has forgiven.’

  John interjected and was clearly losing his temper. He stood up and raised a sword above Thomas.

  ‘And what of Dermot?’ said John.

  ‘Did he ask for forgiveness and was he shown any mercy? I beg to wager that he asked for mercy many times and was not forgiven, but you still beat him to death. The Lynotts did not forgive his sins. Did they? DID THEY?’

  Thomas looked at MacPadine. ‘Nay sir, we forgave nothing.’

  ‘I damn you, Thomas, damn all you Lynotts and damn the priest who granted your pardon. The punishment you dealt out was great. Dermot’s sins were of this world as were yours. Your final punishment will be at the seat of God. Today, your punishment will befit the crime according to Brehon law and fit for a man of Dermot’s position. As you cannot offer up the murderer, the blame is spread; I will unfold equal punishment to you all.’

  Thomas cried out.

  ‘My lord, you must not kill us all. Please have mercy on these good people.’

  ‘A single killer would be tortured before hanging, but clan will grant you mercy, ’twill be a lesser pain for each one to endure, but it will be fitting. Then after all the Lynotts have been punished and compensation paid, we Barretts will all confess our sins to your priest and we will still be promised God’s kingdom.’

  ‘What of the clan law that the victim’s family will decide on the punishment?’

  ‘Dermot did not have his own family and the crime was against the whole clan. I do not disagree that Dermot was an animal, but he had rank and the clan has been defiled by the Lynotts.’

  The door burst open and a Barrett elder entered without prompt.

  ‘MacPadine, come see! We have the body of Dermot. He was in the tobber twenty perches north of the road to Carn, on the road to Ballycastle. Many flies and worms have had their fill. He suffered great injury and his head looks like that of a demon. His skin is a bloated bag and what must lie within are guts and broken bones. His corpse bears little likeness to the man as he was, but it is him.’

  ‘I do not need to see, I have heard an account from Thomas.’

  MacPadine solemnly turned towards the Lynott leader.

  ‘Thomas, we have the area enclosed and cut off. We are armed and we will go to all Lynott farms to gather the men. As you prefer forgiveness through the Lord, you will choose the atonement for your people.’

  ‘MacPadine, there are Lynotts in the outer townlands, who did not have any part in this work. Surely they will not be punished.’

  ‘Thomas, you know as well as me that the sins were that of one clan against another and so the punishment will be. I have not received a full list of transgressors from you and so will inflict the punishment on all the Lynotts of Tyrawley that can be found on this day. Your people will be reminded of this deed every day until holy judgement. You must propose a choice to all Lynott men over the age of 10 years. Firstly, each man and boy with only one gonad will have it cut out and thrown into Scraggs Well. The men with two will lose them both. With luck, we will fill the well with your bloody balls.’

  The shock caused Thomas to lose control of his legs. The prospect was too much to take in as he fell to his knees in prayer.

  ‘Dear Lord, what have I allowed to happen? I pray forgiveness, I beseech you, do not allow this on the good folk.’

  Thomas was distraught. As he climbed back onto his feet, he pleaded once more.

  ‘I am sure that is the way you would wish, but that would be the case if we had one murderer, instead we have a whole clan who murdered one very important Barrett clansman. Furthermore, Dermot had no family to decide on the reparation and so it must be extended to the whole of the clan whom he represented.’

  Thomas was in horror at the prospects for the clan.

  ‘I beg of you, please do not make a whole clan suffer, it will destroy our friendships.’

  ‘You have not heard the choices, do not hurry your plea. Your second pick is to endure suffering through blindness. Each man and boy will each be blinded with needles and will from this day be as though in fog forever, or as if in darkness as is Dermot. As it is, Dermot was with sin and I do not believe Dermot is with the Lord. This life led him to the devil and the dark, maybe the next will earn him salvation, but his sin was judged by you and the punishment was dealt by you and not the Lord. So your penance must be earthly too. The choice is simple. The sons of Lynotts will lose their manhood or their eyesight on this day and the next. Choose well, because the choice will be for all and for always.’

  Gathered for Punishment

  The Lynotts were defeated and surrounded by Barretts. There was little chance of escape, without sound knowledge that a greater fate would befall any person who attempted to get away. The village was cut off and there was no way that anyone could travel in or out. Lanes and tracks were blocked and Lynotts were denied passage to places where they might muster help from others.

  Unless the Lord Deputy stepped in, all other Irish people would respect the ruling and would not intervene, the alternative would be an all-out tribal conflict.

  It would be weeks before word was sent to Dublin and the Lord Deputy was too engaged in the politics of Queen Elizabeth, the war with Hugh O’Neill and the other pressures from the Protestants. For now, in Tyrawley, the Barretts would interpret the law, not the English and not the Brehon.

  It was a cruel dilemma. All the men were arrested and wives followed them into the town. The women cried and hid their children where they could. Roof spaces, barns and even trees were searched. Many young boys did not understand what was to happen to them. Some went willingly and some were dragged from their homes. Mothers pleaded for mercy and tried lying about their children’s ages, while trying whatever they could to prevent the punishment from being dealt to them. Some women offered their bodies and services to guards. Some guards accepted, had their pleasure, but then took the boys anyway. The judgement over who would face the punishment was based solely on appearances and it made their torment even greater. Every mature Lynott man was taken and every boy who looked 10 years or older was also arrested.

  The only building large enough to hold the Lynotts securely was the church near to the river. Many people were already at the church, including Molly and Niall. As she held her sore and infected breast, she wrapped an arm around her brother.

  ‘Niall, there must be a way we can stop these men from doing these things to our families, it cannot be lawful.’

  Niall broke down in sheer anguish, a sight that his fellow villagers had never witnessed before. As he sat in a pew, he smothered his face and cried. Red-faced and shaking, the tears seeped through his fingers and onto a Bible. As he looked down, he brushed the Bible to one side and allowed the tears to drip onto the bookshelf.

  ‘As God is my witness, if this evil is undertaken this day, if I live, I will dedicate my life to the punishment of the sons of the MacPadine and the Barrett clan.’

  Amongst the hum of discussion, Niall stood up and addressed the prisoners.

  ‘We must decide now and shared the decision of our fate. We will all lose our feargacht, our manhood or they will make us
blind.’

  From a group of youths, one young man stepped forward and spoke,

  ‘Niall, we have discussed our fate, please leave us our eyes, we have seen animals which have had their gonads removed and they often do not suffer, they seem happy, but to lose our eyes would be to suffer every waking hour.’

  ‘That would be the end of Lynotts and you would never have a son of your own. Young people do not value this need but a community must produce young people to continue the line. It is the instinct of all animals too. We need our young to support us in our older age. With no heirs, Lynotts will lose land wealth and health.’

  ‘We have no time, show your hands if you choose blinding.’

  Hands were thrown up into the air. While most of the younger men kept their arms down, the majority was clear. The chosen punishment was blinding.

  ‘We will lose our sight on this day. Be brave and pray to the Lord God for his mercy and the strength of Christ.’

  The vote was cast not a minute too early. The door burst open and four armed clansmen entered.

  Niall spoke, almost as though breathless,

  ‘Take our eyes and leave us as men.’

  There was no reply, as though the decision had already been taken. The guard looked directly at Niall.

  ‘All women and children must leave this place now.’

  Without argument, many women, including Molly, broke off prayers and got up, shuffled along the pews and made their way down the aisle amid sobs and cries for mercy.

  One clansman stepped forward and put his sword between a mother and a young boy.

  ‘He will stay here with the men.’

  ‘No! No! NO! He is, but eight years, but tall like his father. My God, no, please do not take my son, he is a boy and he had no part in the death of Dermot. Please, I beg you, I will give you anything.’