‘Mr O’Brien, sir, there are horsemen.’
A column of riders was coming towards them from the town, six Hussars in a single line. The leader was holding a white flag. The night air was clean and crystal clear and their tunics shone bright in the moonlight. They trotted slowly, almost casually, as if they knew there was no threat to them.
O’Brien held Coburn’s arm. ‘Daniel, go! Now! Kate, take him. It’s him they want.’
‘Daniel.’
‘No, Kate. We will not leave. They’ve not come to take me, at least not yet. Not with six men. They’ve come to talk and I think I can guess why.’
The riders halted some fifteen yards away. The leading officer lowered his flag as the others brought their horses level with his in a line. He shouted.
‘May I talk with Mr Daniel Coburn? I believe he is with you?’
‘He is here. Speak and he’ll listen.’
‘Is that you, Coburn?’
‘It is. What is it you want?
‘I must tell you first that Thomas Meagher has been arrested. By the time the few came to listen to him, he was already in chains. Your people tried to stop us and barricaded the bridge but with good sense he stood on his carriage and forbade them to try to rescue him. It was wise. We have three warships in the harbour ready to reduce that pretty town to rubble within minutes. He is presently on his way to Newgate Prison to join your man Duffy. Within the week they will be transported on the convict ship.’
‘I expected to hear no less,’ Coburn replied. ‘This is not our night.’
‘Yet it may well still be, sir. I am instructed to make you an offer. It seems that my government does not want you alive or dead. Neither you nor your mistress. My government fears that killing you by English bullets or hanging on English gallows might well incense people who until now have remained mostly subdued.’
‘Not subdued,’ Coburn shouted back. ‘Starved to submission.’
‘As you wish, sir. But the offer remains. Would you hear it?’
‘I’m listening.’
‘It comes from the very highest office, from a gentleman whose word is final. To his mind, the Atlantic is more of a barrier to your mischief than the Irish Sea and he would prefer to export it elsewhere. There is a ship presently anchored on the Shannon soon to sail. That is our offer. Safe passage to America. I hope you agree that no pair of traitors can ever have expected such a generous settlement. And please do not expect help from the townspeople. My soldiers have orders to shoot on sight anyone who dares open their door.’
O’Brien leant towards Coburn and whispered, ‘We could shoot them now and be done with.’
Coburn did not reply to him. Instead, he looked to Kate. ‘Safe passage, Kate? To America. Is it a bargain? Nod if you think we should go the English way.’
Kate did not nod. She did not speak. Coburn waited. Kate shook her head.
Coburn urged his horse forward.
‘I see you are a captain and a very young one at that. Well, tell this to your gentleman, whose word you say is final. I reject his generous settlement. Tell him it settles nothing for me or my people, for such I believe them to be. You say you will shoot them if they come to help me and I believe you. You offer me free passage to America but I’ll not take it because I do not believe it to be an honest proposal. Nothing has ever come freely from you English except from the barrel of your muskets. Tell your master that we are defeated tonight but we will fight again another time and when we do, we will decide the place of it and the nature of it. You have been here for five hundred years but one day you will be gone and we shall still be here. Then you will understand why we hated you so much. And when you have gone we will hate you less and you will also know why.’
‘A pretty speech, sir, and I appreciate your dilemma. I do. But the offer stands. Refuse it and you are drafting your own death warrant and that of your mistress too. Must you do that to her? Reject this and you are a selfish fool.’
‘But not a trusting one.’
‘You have weapons?’
‘We are not fools enough to come here naked.’
‘It doesn’t matter. You are surrounded. Accept the offer. Agree and you and your mistress will be free to leave Ireland. Refuse and you both die.’
‘No, sir, we do not agree. Now go your way and we will attempt to go ours.’
The young captain urged his horse a few paces closer until he was only a length away. He lowered his voice as if he wanted only Coburn to hear.
‘You must listen to me, Coburn, listen to what I say. I will tell you my orders. If you will not surrender, I am to kill you and your mistress by whatever means. I am to burn your bodies and scatter your ashes. My masters want no martyrdom and no pilgrimage to your graves.’
‘Thank you,’ Coburn replied. ‘So we will be nowhere but everywhere. It’s a fitting tribute.’
The captain leant forward in his saddle and Coburn could now see his face clearly. How young he was! And how earnest he seemed. He hesitated, then spoke to Coburn again in a whisper.
‘It seems as if you jest, as if you think this is part of some game of ours. But I urge you to heed my warning, seriously. I do not want to kill you or your lady; do not ask me why. But leave here, Coburn. Now. I will give you time but it cannot be long. Once I am back with my men I must give the order to advance on you.’
‘Why? First you say you’ve come to kill us and now you urge us to leave, giving us time to escape. What kind of manoeuvre is this, what mischief? What is your trick?’
The young captain said nothing. To Coburn’s surprise, he saluted him and then backed his horse towards his men and as a troop, they all turned together and went slowly back down the hill.
As if to close a chapter, clouds suddenly swarmed over the moon and the Hussars disappeared into the blackness below.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The thunder was fierce and the lightning a blinding white, so they did not hear or see the first explosion. Then, as the orange ball of flame erupted from the town and the ruins rattled about them, they jumped from their horses and fell to their knees to shield themselves from the blast. The clouds turned bright orange.
‘Have they fired the houses?’ somebody shouted. ‘Are the bastards torching us?’
Shrapnel hit the chapel walls and fragments of stone fell on their heads. Coburn crouched low and edged his way forward beyond the pillars. Below him, where the moor met the outskirts of the town, there was a blaze like no other he had seen since the burning of Ogilvie’s house. Each explosion was quickly followed by another, like a volley of a thousand firing cannons. Gunpowder erupted and great mushrooms of white smoke billowed up; red streamers were propelled into the sky, narrow tracers rising in a long arc until they sank out of sight. Coburn saw soldiers running with buckets towards the horses trapped in their shafts, on fire and screaming.
‘They’ve hit the army’s ammunition wagons – two, three, maybe more – I can’t see it all for the fire and smoke. O’Connor must have got the message.’
‘He’s done it to keep the army away from us,’ O’Brien said. ‘To give us time.’
Coburn eased himself back towards the shelter of the chapel. ‘To do what?’ he asked. ‘There’s no way out now. They’ll be working up to the peak behind us.’
O’Brien caught his arm. ‘Daniel, it’s beneath us. The way out is under our feet. This is my place, remember? My family’s catacombs are here and there’s a tunnel where my ancestors hid when Cromwell was doing his murdering. It goes west from the town, out towards the Tipperary road.’
‘Is that beyond the soldiers’ lines?’ Coburn asked.
‘I’ve no idea. Maybe not. You will only know when you come out and see daylight. But what else is there? Do we have a choice?’
‘No! No choice.’
‘Then I will lead you as far as I need to. Then I’ll come back and surrender.’
‘You will not, William. If we go, you go too.’
‘That’s not possible
and it makes no sense anyway. As long as they can see us and our horses, they will assume you’re still here. Once I know you’re well away, I’ll go to them.’
‘They will hang you.’
‘No, Daniel, they will not. I am a Protestant, an aristocrat and once I was a member of the English Parliament, let’s not forget that. I’ll be looked after. Be assured.’
‘Daniel, he’s right,’ Kate said. ‘You cannot fight and if you surrender they will do what the officer said he’d do. You will be shot.’
‘Both of you,’ said O’Brien. ‘Yes! Kate too. Does that not persuade you, Daniel?’
‘It should but it does not. Kate, understand. How can I run away now? Wouldn’t I prefer to die? Shouldn’t I?’
‘Daniel.’ O’Brien was angry. ‘Go kill yourself then. Go out there now and fire off a shot and start the whole bloody thing. They’ll leave their fires soon enough for you. But don’t let them kill Kate. You talk only of yourself, but for God’s sake, remember there’s two of you.’
‘Not two,’ Kate said. ‘Three.’ She turned away from Coburn. The dancing light from the fires reflected on her back.
‘Three, Kate?’ he asked. ‘What is this nonsense? Why three?’
Still she did not look at him. ‘Because, Daniel, I am carrying your child.’
There was another loud blast, another shower of splinters above their heads and in the vivid surge of colour, the three stood still and unspeaking, silhouetted against the ruins.
The catacombs had been hewn out by hand, generations of hard labour. Either side of a long, low and narrow corridor were the coffins of the mummified ancestors of one of Ireland’s most famous families. The air was dank and smelt of burnt ash. Dried brittle skeletons of bats lay in the crevices where they had died. Fine white dust, like flour, carpeted the floor. O’Brien lit a torch.
‘Are you surprised how well I’m prepared? I have oil for the light and spring water feeds an urn further on. My father said it was a bolthole for many an O’Brien on the run.’
‘How far does it go, William?’
‘I once counted two hundred and eighty paces, say about three hundred yards. It opens beneath an outcrop that’s well hidden. If the military is still around, you can wait there until it’s safe to go on.’
‘Safe to go where, William?’
‘Listen to me, Daniel. Listen, Kate. When you look out from the tunnel you’ll see below you a road going west. It takes you to Tipperary twelve miles away. Father Kenyon’s church is there somewhere.’
‘He will not help us, William. He won’t disobey his Pope.’
‘Oh yes, he will. He’ll not turn away from you now. He’s obliged to give you sanctuary and he’ll give it willingly. You have to believe that.’
‘I believe it,’ said Kate. ‘Daniel, he’s the only one who can help us. There is no one else. He will know that. He won’t refuse us.’
‘I shall try and get a message to him,’ O’Brien said. ‘As soon as the military realise you’ve left Cashel, they’ll have no reason to stay. Before they take me I’ll somehow let O’Connor or his sons know you’re on your way. With luck you will be there before them. They will help you, protect you. Trust me, Daniel. Trust them.’
‘I trust them, of course I do. But then what? I suppose if we can make it to Limerick, we could hide up for a while. Then move on to Clare or even Connemara. We’d be safe enough there.’
‘Whatever you decide, Daniel. What’s important is that you disappear, you and Kate.’
‘Do you give a nod to that, Kate? Does that seem right to you?’
‘It does, Daniel. It’s right for both of us.’
‘You mean all three of you,’ O’Brien added. For the first time in many months, he managed a smile.
When they reached the opening beneath the overhang of rock, dawn was still three hours away. The wind had dropped but the moon remained hidden. They sat hushed, listening for any sound of talk or movement below them and waited for the light. They had taken water from the urn and it had made their hunger more painful.
O’Brien lay flat, reached out to the grass and pulled up a bunch of tall yellow weeds. He bit off the flowers and leaves and scraped the thick white stems and roots clean with a sliver of rock.
‘Eat them, Kate. A mother should feed well.’
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘Wild fennel. Some cook it. Some have it raw. Just eat it.’
She did as she was told. ‘It is delicious, William. You are a man of many surprises.’
‘And with that compliment, my Kate, and you, Daniel, I must leave. Once the military have put out their fires they will come looking. I have to be there when they do. Go as soon as you know it’s clear. Good luck to you both and pray that we’ll meet again. You are dear, dear friends and there’s much we might have done in different times.’
Kate embraced him. She said nothing. With the back of his hand he wiped away her tears.
Coburn held out his hands. ‘William …’
‘Say nothing, Daniel. It has all been said. Take care of Kate. She’s carrying delicate cargo. One day, when your names are mentioned, all Ireland will praise you.’
It was twelve miles to Tipperary, three hours walking. Was it too much to risk in the daytime when anyone might be stopped by the military or police simply for being about? Should they instead be patient and wait for the safety of night? It was Kate who decided it.
‘We must go just as soon as we think it’s clear. Once they discover we’ve left the Rock, they’ll cover as much ground as they can. That captain cannot afford to lose us.’
‘Only if he’s intent on catching us.’
‘Why do you say that, Daniel? He had orders to kill us.’
‘Yes! That’s what he said. A strange boy, and too young for trickery, perhaps.’
‘Daniel, we must leave now.’
They could see clearly the road below them, the road they must take. It was empty as most roads were now. How easily they would be spotted.
‘How far do you think we’d get, Kate, two people on a road like that?’
‘Daniel, look! Just on the left of it.’ She pointed to a deep, narrow trough that had once been a working peat cutaway.
‘See how it dips deeper with the slope. If we could reach that and keep low, we’d be hidden until we are a long way off.’
‘But it’s open ground from here.’
‘We must risk it.’
The morning light was grey and the air damp and cold. They came out from their hiding place, shivering, hesitant, and edged out slowly beyond the ledge. They listened. There was no loud army talk, no rattle of arms, no bustle of horses and no giveaway bright uniforms. Then they heard rifle shots and saw riders galloping at speed to the right, away from the road. And behind them, chasing them, a line of red and blue, a column of Hussars.
‘It’s William’s men. He’s sent them down as decoys to take the army away from us, to give us a chance to the road. Look at them ride. It’s working. God bless the boys. Come, it’s our chance. Run like you’ve never run before.’
The mist was with them, the dense, heavy mist of the boglands. Its canopy covered the moors and gave them shelter all the way to Tipperary. When they had reached the outskirts of the little market town, the mist lifted and only then did they see the first of the morning sun. They thought it an omen.
The town square of Tipperary was deserted. Shopfronts had long been boarded up and the trees bordering the water troughs had been cut to pieces for firewood. Between the houses, in the narrow alleys that divided them, Coburn saw bodies huddled under sacking, asleep or maybe dead. Beyond the square, in what might once have been the main street, he saw a small stone church. It had no name-board. Perhaps that too had been used as winter fuel. They entered by the side door. It was empty. They sat and rested.
‘You want food? You’ll find no food here. There’s nothing here. Best you go.’
The priest was loud and abrupt. He came from behind a sc
reen and faced them. He was large and ugly, unshaved, unwashed and fat when all men thereabouts were thin. Coburn stood as he approached.
‘We want directions, Father.’
‘To go where?’
‘St Olave’s church. I’m told it is south of the town in the lee of the Galtee Mountains.’
‘That‘s the church of Father Kenyon.’
‘Yes! Father Kenyon.’
‘He’s what they call the Patriot Priest. Why would you want to see him? What is it you’re after?’
Coburn hesitated. He looked to Kate. He read her thoughts. Trust no one.
She said to the priest, ‘We would have him marry us.’
‘Indeed? Well I can do that and save you the journey. Do you have money?’
‘No!’ said Coburn. ‘We have nothing. But we must find Father Kenyon.’
The fat priest came closer. They could smell the sweat of his body and the drink on his breath.
‘Are you from these parts? Do I know your face? And your woman?’
‘No, Father,’ Coburn replied. ‘We are from Cashel.’
‘Cashel, is it? Then you must be new for I know most living souls there.’
‘We’re on the move, looking for work.’
‘There’s not a person who isn’t. Yet you look well fed and you’re not in rags. Who are you? Haven’t I seen you before?’
‘It’s Father Kenyon we’re after. At St Olave’s.’
‘Yes! So you said. I could send a rider to fetch him.’
‘No! That won’t do. He knows we’re coming. It would not be right to hurry him. I’m told his church is near Bansha Woods.’
‘Do you think I don’t know?’
Dark Rosaleen Page 24