When Seamus Flaherty was out of sight, Brendan returned to his role of fearless leader in an uncompromising cause. Riley Flaherty was blindfolded and gagged before being taken towards the old barn. Lots were drawn from the assembled men. Brendan was relieved immeasurably not to have lost. In a moment one shot signified the end of Riley Flaherty’s young life.
Riley’s body was wrapped in sheets previously packed for rough camp. They buried him nearby before erecting a small cairn with large rocks from the property. When finished, Brendan turned to his men.
“There is no triumph in a pyrrhic victory. Tonight was another shameful chapter in the struggle for self-government. Think back to sacrifices many before you made to keep us in the fight. And always remember that no one knows the price victory will demand to see our country free.”
Riding off from Sheehan’s Rest, Brendan O’Bannon was thankful for the cover of hard night. Silently he shed soft tears, releasing pain forged from a lifetime of absolute conviction.
Chapter Twenty One
TIMES FOR WHEN A STRANGER CALLS
Why are our hopes rarely matched by the fate of reality?
Niall managed steady progress since leaving the familiar landscape around Sligo. Alone with his thoughts, he felt the meeting ahead would be most challenging. Relating any bad news was difficult enough, though telling a mother her only child was in peril was almost without equal.
While hours passed along the vastness of this land, Niall chased awakening sunrise on his southwesterly course. There was just one necessary break to refresh his horse and eat a light meal during the whole journey.
Eventually the Atlantic’s salt air became more distinguishable as early afternoon marked his approach to Kilmarnie. Like Brendan directed, he pulled into the town proper to ask for the whereabouts of Peter’s family homestead. He found his inquiry readily answered. Taking this scenic route to the fringes of habitation, he soon faced a sharp turn in the road ahead.
Rounding the tight bend, his eyes beheld a most moving sight. There in a stark seaside setting was a weathered stone cottage holding sentinel over all the unyielding beauty about it. Niall’s mouth truly gaped while taking in this defiant haven amidst such a tasking landscape.
Drawing nearer, he could make out a semblance of garden, showing more evidence of the occupants’ resiliency. Niall could see testament to timeless survival in every corner of the Harvey homestead. As he dismounted and prepared to announce his arrival, he looked about in quiet reverence.
“Sakes alive,” he muttered to himself. “So here is the style of land it takes to make a man like Peter Harvey!”
As afternoon fell upon Kilmarnie, Mary continued to perform endless tasks needed for daily survival. All on the surface continued to function normally, kept together through dedicated, tireless effort. Though emotions were telling a different story altogether.
Mary was now suffering from frequent bouts of mother’s intuition. She had no pressing reason for concern. Her son graduated from a good university, which was a fine achievement in itself, and currently pursued a promising career in Dublin. Writing in his last post, Peter seemed well settled while living a comfortable existence. Mary could be rightfully proud of his accomplishments.
Contrast this with her recent wanderings throughout the county, where Mary continued to notice worrisome changes. Old acquaintances and longtime townsfolk slowly disappeared by twos and fours. Discontent colored the context of most conversations with bitter folk who remained. Throughout these times, continual evictions of many a long time tenant turned generations of toil into one way passages for a faraway land.
It was not a trick of memory there were fewer people to greet. Reality continued to tally scores of families who could not afford one day longer surviving on the empty feed of false hope. Those spared these indignities remained thankfully fortunate. Still, a final ultimatum of starvation or disease addled ocean voyage always remained one untimely incident away.
So went the cruel ironies. Here was a land which exported beef and grain aplenty to England, though had plenty enough for none where it was raised and grown. These benefits of vast holdings in the possession of so few lead many inhabitants to search for their own sustainable plots abroad.
For those who remained, monies earned from the crops of smallholdings found their way in most part back to these same landholders. This vicious game of musical chairs almost always resulted in a sorrowful conclusion for hapless tenants. Unfortunately, the vicious cycle showed no signs of letting up.
Meanwhile, Mary’s abandoned infant was becoming a proper gentleman of note. Yet through it all, nagging pulls of underlying concern would not leave her at rest for long. Many times she had to remind herself to stop groundless fretting. In these instances, only the expectation of a pending post would put her mind at ease.
Still, days continued to progress with no word. Perhaps delivery of the post had been afflicted with the administrative paralysis seen elsewhere? Dismissing her anxiety as wasteful emotion, Mary continued to focus her efforts on carrying out daily chores. Besides, Eamon caught chill three weeks back, so there was no luxury of dithering about while survival required each waking moment.
Mary’s latest task was the preparation of a light lunch for Eamon, which was promptly delivered. She hoped to finish her regular chores by late afternoon to sneak in a short walk to the seaside. While her mind was occupied with visions of Atlantic waves, a loud rapping suddenly broke through the afternoon air.
Mary had not been expecting company, so a visitor caught her by surprise. She brushed off flour dusted hands on a nearby towel before cautiously approaching the entrance.
“Hello there. May I ask whose calling?” she spoke out loud.
Her response came from an unfamiliar male voice. “Good day to you madam. I’m terribly sorry to interrupt you unannounced. No, you have not made my acquaintance before. First off, I do want to confirm this place as the Harvey household?”
Mary replied hesitantly. “Yes it is. May I ask the nature of your business here?”
“Well then, you must be Mary Harvey,” was the even reply. “My name is Niall. I have ridden quite a way to deliver an important message concerning your son Peter. I would prefer to speak directly to you Ms. Harvey. I have instructions not to leave until doing so.”
It had been some time since she heard words from her beloved Peter. Even more was the last time she held her son’s firm embrace. Judging from the serious tone of Niall’s voice, she knew it was necessary to hear him out.
“Give me a moment to let you in,” she decided, loosening two latches which held the solid old door firmly in place. When it swung open, she faced a man burdened with the heavy weight of unpleasant news.
“Once again I express my apologies Mary Harvey. I truly wish we were meeting under more favorable circumstances. It has taken quite a few hours to ride out here.”
“Well then,” Mary replied as she steeled herself for hearing his news. “What’s the message you’re supposed to relay?”
Niall hesitated while nervously clearing his throat. “My news concerns Peter of course. I don’t know any other way to tell you this Ms. Harvey. Peter is now labeled as a wanted fugitive. He is no longer living in Dublin, as he’s currently on the run from authorities.
“A number of days ago he was accused of fatally shooting an innocent man on Dublin’s Wheatstone Fields. If he is captured, they will try to prosecute him for the crime with a verdict of hanging.”
Mary fainted towards the floor before being caught in mid-air by Niall’s saving arms. In that moment all her previous contentment was blown to dust. Mary’s confidence in everything was now lost to her.
Nothing could have prepared her to receive such devastating news. She was beyond consolation, her heart aging years in the span of an instant. After seating her in a nearby chair, Niall fetched a cup of water and put it down on the table.
Moments later she regained her faculties, taking a long sip before saying anything.
“Listen here one moment!” she cried out. “How can you be sure of all this madness? These are not the actions of my child. I find all of this too hard to believe. I am sorry Niall, though you do not appear to be any constabulary as I would know them!”
Niall returned a look of complete understanding before replying. “This news has been received in complete disbelief by many friends of your son.
“Make no mistake Ms. Harvey. Your son, who resided in the St. Stephens Green area of Dublin, had attended Queen’s College in Galway with Duncan Malloy, and worked for the Malloy family in Dublin, has been positively identified.”
Looking at Mary, Niall had some concerns with her disposition. “Are you going to be well Ms. Harvey? I know it’s a silly question under the circumstances. Given your state, I can spare some time if you need my assistance.”
Mary recovered her composure as Niall’s news began to sink in. There was no reason for this man to come with such a message unless it was merited. He appeared to have no benefit from furnishing false information. Besides, this would explain Peter’s lack of correspondence over recent weeks.
“I am getting better,” she replied tentatively. “Surely you can understand my present situation. I hear devastating news from a man I have never met, who suddenly appears on my doorstep. Furthermore, this stranger will not even properly address me with his full name! Just what is your connection in this matter Niall?”
Niall proceeded to be candid with Mary. “Naturally there are questions any person should ask when a stranger arrives at their door with unwelcome news. You are correct in stating I’m not a member of any constabulary in this country. In the strictest confidence I will tell you more. But no one outside this household can hear any of this, or there will be consequences! Is that perfectly clear Ms. Harvey?”
Mary knew by his demeanor Niall was not a man to be crossed. He had a manner which suggested formidable power backed any oath he made. His careful choice of words showed Niall’s experience in dealing with uncomfortable situations. She decided to take Niall at his word and learn more about the situation.
“Yes Niall, I deserve to hear more. If you truly knew anything about my son’s character, you would know keeping confidences is a Harvey legacy.”
Niall moved towards the table and took a seat near her. Drawing the chair closer, he began a more detailed account.
“Your son was becoming one of the main proponents of self-government for Ireland. He and Duncan Malloy were gaining popularity far beyond their Dublin base to that end. I do not need to tell you such actions are not welcome in many quarters. Entrenched power does not give freedom easily Ms. Harvey. Such a thing has to be wrestled away.
“Peter and Duncan chose a more civil approach to achieving their aims, which is all well and good. Nevertheless, there exists others who realize these goals can only be achieved by counteracting the Lion’s force with force. Make no mistake; that is the limit of differences. Both parties realize the folly in presenting a divided front for their common appeals.
“I cannot say my full name for your protection as well as mine. My associates know the truth about Peter. He was a brave man, and saved the life of Duncan Malloy from a suspected assassin. To tell you more would place you directly in harm’s way, so I will stop there. That is all I can say. Perhaps you know too much already.”
Mary’s mind turned back to the day Peter came home after witnessing the Connolly eviction. In her mind’s eye she knew it left a deep impression on him. Now she realized the extent to which this dramatic event shaped resolve within his determined mind. Mary felt so conflicted, with welling emotions of pride though fear for his life as a result of his strong character.
“I appreciate all you have said Niall. So tell me, how will I know about my son in the future? How can I help him or reach him?”
Niall gave a calming assurance. “He may be on the run Ms. Harvey, though Peter has some good people keeping watch over him. If anything merits your knowledge, someone will be in direct touch with you.
“Those who wish your son harm know no bounds to their aggression. Countering them are those of truth, always aiming to be one step ahead of their misdeeds. Do you require me any further Ms. Harvey?”
Mary paused to think matters over. “I recognize the limitations of your visit Niall. Though I am still his mother for goodness sakes! Give me a few minutes if you will.” Mary retired to her bedroom. She emerged ten minutes later with a closed envelope.
“I know you must have some way to contact Peter. All I ask is you make best efforts to see this letter gets to him. It may be the last time I am able to send along my words, so please do your utmost.”
Niall realized it would be inhumane to deny Mary’s request. He took the envelope from her offering hands.
“There can be no guarantees; though you have my promise that I will try all avenues to see he receives your correspondence.”
“That is all I ask Niall,” Mary replied gratefully. “Have a safe journey to wherever you head next. Thank you as well for coming out of your way to inform me about Peter.”
Niall stood up from his chair to leave. “Know full well Mary Harvey. Against their bullets we will use the fire of outrage, passion and action to put ancient wrongs right. In light of all that has transpired, my ride was nothing compared to your son’s dedication in the cause for self-government.
“My only regret is what he could have accomplished if given half a chance with Duncan Malloy! Perhaps this is why our opponents struck at them so violently. But make no mistake Ms. Harvey. There is something mystical about your son. It’s as if something higher is guiding his journey through this mess. Good day Ms. Harvey.”
Niall strode towards his horse and soon disappeared into the rural swallow of surrounding landscape. A shaken Mary watched Niall’s departure while standing in the afternoon light of her doorway. Kilmarnie may have been miles away from the political turmoil which roiled much of the country. Yet trouble today found itself on their doorstep, striking into the heart of the Harvey household.
Riding through slapping brisk air, Niall kept firm in saddle while strong of faith. Whether Aidan Malloy’s proud peaceful army appreciated it or not, men and women like him would make their struggles become the fear of this vengeful Lion. Of that he was as certain as the eventual independence of his homeland.
Mary silhouetted the doorframe while lost in deep throes of numbing shock. Never was a time she heard of strangers calling bearing good news. Here was no exception. Finally, she shut the door and retired to her room. Later on Mary would face the grim task of relaying this news to her weakened father. Now, emotional exhaustion overcame her, and soon she lay fast asleep.
Suddenly Mary woke in a cold sweat. She had no idea how long her rest had been. Though looking out her bedroom window, evening sky was beginning to close down over fading daylight. Knowing that dinner should be underway, she rose quickly from her roost and made towards the kitchen.
Walking softly so not to disturb her father, she remained obsessed with Niall’s words. Mary would do anything to help her only child, though was rendered powerless by the nature of events. It was not like her to let Providence decide circumstances. However, endangering her son’s life through rash action would truly end her will to carry on.
In life there are times we are forced to trust the efforts of strangers. Peter’s dilemma certainly appeared to be one of them. Resigning herself to practicality over emotion, Mary decided to let events unfold as they must. All she could do was focus on those situations under her immediate control.
While busy preparing dinner, her harried mind struggled to concentrate on the task at hand. Now she felt the added pressure of telling Eamon his beloved grandson was in grave danger. This was one conversation she dreaded to begin. In his current state, it would be harsh tonic for hi
m to swallow.
Mary had the option of waiting before relating news to Eamon. In that period, he could regain his usual vigor, becoming better prepared physically for emotional stresses.
Alas, on yesterday’s morning visit, their county doctor remained skeptical about his odds for recovery. Also, it was against her parent’s teachings to conceal matters which affected the household, whether good or bad.
With Eamon’s condition worsening by the day, both her beloved relations currently faced futures of possible misfortune. Mary wondered why this was all happening at once to a family so virtuous.
Then she recalled the numerous instances of inexplicable strife happening daily within her own county, let alone Ireland. The pointing, bony finger of misery was truly indiscriminate. Only her personal fortitude could hold together what cruel circumstance conspired to break asunder.
Slowly Mary approached Eamon’s door with his warm meal. When she entered he was well awake, staring ahead to a facing wall, half open book by his side. Try as she may, it was hard not to smell the stale must of a man in decline. Once again her heart continued its quiet lament.
“Mary, that food smells so good. I will try to eat a little if my stomach can agree with my senses.”
She smiled warmly. “Take your time father. We are in no hurry tonight.”
Eamon reached onto the plate and took a piece of her meal. He grinned in appreciation to mask the difficulty he had in breathing.
As Eamon lifted a portion to his mouth, he broke out in another bout of painful hacking. Mary leapt towards him, removing his food and bundling more covers about him. Using a homemade compress she wiped the gathering perspiration from his forehead.
He beheld his daughter with a look of fathomless appreciation. “Mary, this old man feels so feeble these days. There are so many things my mind conspires to achieve. Regardless, while the will is willing, my strength seeps from aching bones. What keeps me going is your faith in my chances to rise from this sick bed. And my sincere hopes to see dear Peter’s happy face another day.”
The Watchman's Grace Page 62