by Paul Cuddihy
Thomas opened the door and stepped inside the house, almost having to tug Kate to follow him. There were voices coming from the front room and he automatically began creeping along the corridor, though when Kate closed the door noisily he stopped, knowing that it had announced their presence. He decided to take the initiative by opening the door and walking into the room. Monsignor Dolan sat in his usual chair while Mister Walsh sat opposite him. He stood up when he saw Thomas and Kate.
‘It’s good to see you again, Father Costello,’ he said, holding out a hand, which Thomas took reluctantly, having let go of Kate when he stepped into the room.
‘And you must introduce me to your … companion.’ Everyone looked round at Kate, who blushed and stared down at her feet.
‘This is…’ Thomas began.
‘Miss Riordan is one of our parishioners,’ Monsignor Dolan said, now standing up. Walsh bowed slightly.
‘So what brings you’re here this time, Mister Walsh?’ Thomas asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound too nervous.
‘Your brother, Father Costello. As always.’
‘My brother? What’s he done now?’
‘Just being a nuisance as usual,’ said Walsh with a smile.
‘Well, that’s Mick for you.’
‘It certainly is. But I was just wondering, Father Costello, whether you’d like to see him?’
25
REVELATIONS
Kate felt like they were re-tracing the footsteps that she and Thomas had just left behind when they’d headed back despondently to St Alphonsus’. Walsh led the way while Thomas followed at his shoulder. Kate had to keep breaking into a jog to catch up with him and a couple of times she tugged his sleeve to make him slow down. He would do so for a few steps, usually muttering an apology at the same time before speeding up again. Eventually she grabbed hold of his hand and allowed him to almost pull her along. She was sure a few curious eyes watched them. Anyone who recognised the priest would be surprised to see him walking hand in hand with a girl. Anyone who knew her, and knew her past, would be shocked.
At some point on their journey, a couple of men had joined them without her noticing, and they remained a few steps behind. They were obviously with Walsh and Kate suddenly felt like she and Thomas were prisoners being led off to jail, even though they had done nothing wrong.
‘Where are we going?’ Thomas shouted at Walsh, but he either didn’t hear or pretended not to because he didn’t answer. Kate squeezed Thomas’ hand and when he glanced round at her she mouthed the same question to him. He whispered something in reply but she couldn’t make out what he said.
She was nervous about seeing Mick. More than that, she was worried. After what had happened the last time Walsh had captured him, she wondered what would greet her when she saw him again. Whatever Walsh had done on the ship had scared Mick so much that he wouldn’t talk about it. She tried to persuade him, encourage him – she even threatened not to have sex with him unless he told her – but she could tell that, no matter what she tried, he was going to remain silent. The temptation was to let her imagination run wild, but that would only upset her. She’d seen enough terrible deeds herself to know exactly how wicked people could be and she couldn’t bear the thought of Mick suffering. Why did he have to keep getting himself caught?
Kate mentally blessed herself as she remembered what had happened to some of the other girls she used to work with. She didn’t want to let go of Thomas’ hand, which was comforting at the same time as being useful in pulling her along.
They arrived outside St Mary’s and Walsh strode confidently to the chapel house, knocking loudly on the door, which was opened almost immediately as if he’d been expected. It wasn’t a priest who stood aside, holding the door open while they all walked in, and Kate presumed it was another one of Walsh’s men.
He led the way up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and stopped outside one of the bedrooms. He knocked on the door – two quick knocks which were greeted by two from the other side, and then he knocked a further three times. A key clicked in the lock and the door opened. Soon they were all inside the bedroom – Walsh, Thomas, Kate, the two men who’d walked with them from St Alphonsus’ and two guards who’d already been in the room. And then there was Mick.
He sat up in bed, arms folded, smoking a cigarette that nearly fell out of his mouth when he saw Kate and Thomas. Kate wanted to rush over and tend the wound on the side of his head – a large bump covered in dried blood – but she thought the guards would have tried to stop her, so instead she began to inch her way towards him, hoping they wouldn’t notice so quickly. Even if they did pull her away from him, at least she’d have time to leave the imprint of her lips on his. She had let go of Thomas’ hand and he stood at the foot of the bed. He nodded at his brother, who nodded back, slowly and painfully. Kate was at the side of the bed now, facing Walsh who stood with his arms folded and grinning.
‘I brought you some visitors,’ he said as Mick took a deep draw on his cigarette. ‘Just so that you can say goodbye.’
He turned to face Thomas, still wearing the same grin that Kate knew would always haunt her.
‘And I’ve taken no chances, Father Costello, as you can see,’ he said, nodding towards the guards. ‘We don’t want any fake priests turning up and trying to rescue this man, do we? Even the Brotherhood wouldn’t shed blood here, in this place of God.’
Kate was now at Mick’s side and discreetly placed her hand on top of his, smiling when she caught his grateful eye.
‘How romantic,’ Walsh said. ‘You certainly have a way with the ladies, Mick. I’ll give you that at least.’
Kate wondered why they hadn’t bothered tying Mick up if he was their prisoner. He’d escaped so many times before she thought Walsh would be worried it would happen again but he didn’t seem at all concerned. Perhaps it was the fact there were four guards in the room that gave him the necessary sense of security. Still, she was grateful if only because it meant they were able to hold hands, which Walsh and the guards were happy to ignore.
‘I just want to know why,’ Thomas said. ‘What’s he done that’s so bad you’ve hunted him all the way from Galway to Glasgow?’
‘You really want to know?’ Walsh asked.
Thomas nodded and Walsh laughed.
‘Forget about it, Thomas,’ Mick said as he flicked his cigarette onto the floor. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Of course it matters,’ said Thomas. ‘They tried to get you in Ireland and they burned our family out of our home. He’s followed you here and hunted you down, no matter how many times you’ve managed to get away. So, yes, it does matter and I want to know.’
‘Just leave it,’ Mick muttered as he let go of Kate’s hand and folded his arms. He was chewing his bottom lip nervously.
‘Well, I think your brother has a right to know,’ said Walsh. ‘And your young lady, too.’
‘Leave her out of it,’ Mick snapped. ‘She’s got nothing to do with any of this.’
‘Why don’t you tell them, Mick?’ Walsh said.
All eyes were on Mick now, who shook his head angrily. Kate tried to take his hand again, but he snatched it away.
‘Sorry,’ he immediately said.
‘I love you,’ she whispered, surprised at her own words, but he shook his head, which was not the reaction she’d been expecting.
‘So are you going to tell them or shall I?’ Walsh said.
Mick shrugged. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again to Kate.
Walsh walked slowly over to the window and stared out for a few minutes. Kate’s eyes darted between him and Mick, who was glaring at Walsh’s back, throwing imaginary daggers at it. Walsh turned round and folded his arms.
‘Now, where should I start?’
‘Just get it over with, Walsh,’ Mick said with a sigh.
‘Okay. Her name was Agnes…’
Walsh began telling his tale while everyone watched him except Kate who kept her eyes on Mick the whole time, k
nowing she’d be able to tell instantly from his reaction whether what was being said was true or not.
‘You’ll know who I’m talking about,’ Walsh said to Thomas. ‘You remember Agnes Flaherty?’ Thomas nodded.
‘And of course you’ll have heard what happened – the heroic lovers who gave their lives for Ireland.’
Kate glanced at Thomas who nodded again while Mick looked away, not wanting to catch his brother’s eye.
Walsh explained for Kate’s benefit that Agnes Flaherty lived in the next village from Mick and Thomas. She was a girl who could turn heads from a mile away and many a young man found himself drawn towards her cottage, only to be chased away by her father, who issued threats as to what would happen to them if they were ever to re-appear. Charlie Flaherty was a giant who could flatten a man with a single punch, so his words carried some weight. More than that, he was a big man in the Irish Republican Brotherhood, so you crossed him at your peril.
Agnes was a good girl, so far as her father knew, a daughter not to be promised to any young heifer on heat that turned up. It would only be an Irishman of good, upstanding republican credentials who would be considered and even then there was still no guarantee that Charlie would approve. What Charlie didn’t know, however, was that Agnes had fallen in love. James Lyons had been in her class at primary school, and while they had lost contact when their schooling finished, a chance meeting at the Galway City Fair had sparked a romance that, though secret, was fired by their youthful passions.
‘James Lyons was my nephew,’ Walsh said. ‘He was my sister’s only child.’
It seemed like no one knew about the secret romance, Walsh explained, apart from him. His nephew had confided in him, asking for advice. James knew there was no chance that Charlie Flaherty would give his daughter’s hand to a man whose uncle took the Queen’s shilling. So they were faced with two choices – never see each other again or leave Ireland forever. Since the first choice was unbearable to both of them, they began planning their escape to America, with Walsh helping them.
It was also around this time that the Brotherhood suffered a number of setbacks, Walsh told them. An ambush on an army patrol had gone wrong, and three of their men had been killed in a shoot-out with soldiers, while a number of others had been arrested. The Brotherhood suspected an informer and suspicion gripped the organisation.
‘And my nephew just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,’ Walsh said. ‘He was caught near Flaherty’s croft, hiding in the hills. They thought he was spying on the cottage while he was only waiting for Agnes.’
‘But he was your informer,’ Mick said and Walsh held up his hands in mock surrender.
‘Everything has its price,’ he said in an almost confessional tone. ‘And the price James had to pay for my help in arranging passage for him and Agnes to America was some information. She would tell him who’d been visiting, anything she saw or heard at the cottage, and he would pass it on to me. I thought it would work – it was working – for the time it took to help them get to America, but then James had to go and get caught.’
There was a hint of remorse in Walsh’s voice and Kate studied him as he composed himself before continuing his story. James was not a strong character – ‘He had the soft heart of a mammy’s boy,’ Walsh said – and it did not take the Brotherhood long to find out the source of his information. Then they told Charlie Flaherty.
‘I don’t know exactly what was said,’ Walsh said. ‘All I know is that Charlie warned that there would be much blood spilt between former comrades if anyone tried to take his daughter. The Brotherhood was anxious to avoid a civil war and so a compromise was reached. Charlie Flaherty and his family were to be banished from Ireland, and never allowed to return. And this is where our very own Michael Costello enters the story.’
Kate stared at Mick who held his head in his hands.
‘I need a cigarette,’ he muttered and she was surprised when it was Walsh who offered one from the small silver case he produced from his coat pocket, before striking a match off the wall behind Mick’s head and holding it close to his face until the cigarette was lit. Mick drew deeply and then filled the room with smoke.
‘I didn’t know,’ he said to Kate, stretching over and taking her hand. ‘I swear to you, Kate. I didn’t know what they were going to do.’
‘It’s a bit late to be claiming innocence,’ Walsh laughed. ‘Let me tell the rest of the story and leave your pleading for God. He’s the only one you’ll really need forgiveness from and I wouldn’t hold my breath as far as that’s concerned.’
Kate kept hold of Mick’s hand but now she was desperate to hear what Walsh had to say. There was a sick feeling in her stomach, but still she gave Mick’s hand a reassuring squeeze, which he quickly returned.
Charlie Flaherty’s family had been given fourteen days to leave Ireland, Walsh explained, and as the family tried to make plans for where they would go, selling what they could to raise money, they remained virtual prisoners in their own home. Charlie didn’t want to let any of them out of his sight, especially Agnes who he knew was still in danger. They already had James and he knew what they’d do to him.
The day before they were due to leave, there was a visitor to the Flaherty’s house. It was someone they trusted, the son of one of Charlie’s oldest friends, who had since passed away. Not only that, but it was someone who grew up with Agnes, who had gone to school with her, sitting in the same classroom as her and James Lyons. At one point, Charlie and his father had spoken, only half in jest, of the great and proud union that the two would make in years to come when they grew up. So Charlie Flaherty opened the door and let Michael Costello into his cottage.
‘You were only there to say goodbye. Is that not right, Mick? Isn’t that what you told Charlie?’ asked Walsh.
Mick said nothing.
‘So after having made those final farewells to the family, he asked to speak to Agnes. Charlie hadn’t let her across the door since he’d found out what she’d done, but now he relented. After all, it was Mick Costello, someone he could trust. He warned them not to go far and then closed the door on his daughter for the last time.’
There was silence in the room for a few moments. Kate snatched her hand away as Mick shook his head while Walsh stood grinning. Kate wanted to slap Mick. She wanted to run away and plunge into the Clyde to cleanse herself of his smell and touch and taste on her body. But she didn’t move, though she couldn’t meet his eyes, which she knew were fixed on her.
‘But I don’t understand,’ Thomas said, breaking the tension in the room. ‘It was the army that shot them both when they attacked Galway Barracks. So how could that be the case when he was working for you and she … well, when Mick had…’ Thomas couldn’t bring himself to complete the sentence.
‘I didn’t bloody kill her,’ Mick said.
‘But you’re not exactly innocent either, are you, Mick?’ Walsh said.
Mick had delivered Agnes to the Brotherhood, Walsh explained. Just yards from the cottage they were waiting for her and then she was gone.
‘We searched everywhere,’ he said. ‘Every safe house or farm that Charlie knew about, but there was no trace of her or James. It was like they’d vanished off the face of the earth. And then, about a week later, came the first package, one to Charlie and one to my sister. You’ve heard of the three wise monkeys, Father?’ Walsh asked. Thomas nodded but Kate looked puzzled.
‘Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil,’ Thomas mumbled.
‘Exactly,’ said Walsh. ‘And that was the message the Brotherhood wanted to deliver just in case anyone else was thinking of betraying them. So in a little box that was delivered to my sister was her son’s ear. The same thing was sent to Charlie, a bloody reminder of his daughter. My sister was shocked – we needed to get the doctor for her – and she couldn’t understand why anyone would do such a thing, but Charlie Flaherty knew. He got the message loud and clear and he waited for the other packages to arrive.�
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‘Oh my God,’ Thomas said, blessing himself and staring in horror at his brother.
‘I didn’t do it,’ Mick said.
‘Do what?’ Kate asked, tugging on Thomas’ arm. The priest looked at Walsh, almost pleading with him to finish the story, not wanting to be the one to explain to Kate what had happened.
‘One week after the ears were sent, my sister and Charlie Flaherty each received a bloodied eye. See no evil. And seven days later came the final package. Charlie knew without opening it that it contained his daughter’s tongue. I made sure that my sister never got to see the other two deliveries, sparing her at least some of the horror.’
Kate couldn’t speak. She stared at Mick. The thought that he might have killed the girl had been shocking enough but to have been part of this butchery was too much to bear. She couldn’t comprehend how this man who had lain naked on top of her, under her, beside her, at times a gentle lover, at other times powerful and strong, yet never selfish or inconsiderate and certainly never violent, could be capable of such a thing. Hadn’t she told him just minutes before that she loved him?
‘I didn’t do it,’ Mick said, almost pleading now.
‘But the shooting?’ Thomas asked at last.
‘Now that was genius,’ said Walsh. He explained how the two of them had been tied to a cart. Then the Brotherhood drove it as near to the barracks as they could before thrashing the horse, which bolted straight for the front gate. They’d also fastened pieces of wood to their hands that the soldiers had mistakenly believed were guns. Thinking they were under attack, the soldiers opened fire, and since neither James nor Agnes could cry out for help or shout a warning, they drove straight to their deaths.
‘Not only did the Brotherhood get two traitors killed but they also got themselves a couple of martyrs at the same time. As I said, Father, it was genius.’