The Rebel

by May McGoldrick

“What?” he screamed at the young man, who stood ready to knock again on the door.

  “’Tis Captain Wallis, sir.” The soldier took a step backward. “He…he has…left the barracks. I rode here directly to let you know.”

  “Left to go where?” Musgrave snapped.

  “To Cuchulainn’s Seat.”

  The confusion and question must have shown in Musgrave’s face as the young man quickly explained again.

  “The captain and two dozen of his personal Guard took all the prisoners…for the exchange with the rebels. The captain told Corporal Evans that the meeting place and time had changed, and…and that you were already aware of it.”

  “WHAT?” Musgrave’s roar sent both soldier and servant back another step.

  “We…had…no way…of knowing…sir…until…Sergeant Powers came back on duty…and he said…if you didn’t go with them…then you didn’t know. Begging your par…”

  “When did they leave?” Musgrave shouted as he rushed about his room, dressing in haste.

  “Just over an hour, sir…”

  “Wake up whomever is left in the barracks.” As the man leaped to go and do as he was told, a forbidding thought occurred to the magistrate. “Wait!”

  Thinking a moment, he then gave the dragoon specific instructions of whom he should fetch…including his own man Sergeant Powers.

  Captain Wallis was far more influential with these soldiers than he’d been able to achieve himself. And if the treacherous dragoon officer had decided to garner a few laurels for himself, then Musgrave doubted he would be able to get all of Wallis’s men to fight against him.

  But there were always a select few who stayed loyal to a cause.

  Yes, this select few would be all that Musgrave needed to snuff out this untimely show of independence.

  CHAPTER 33

  The light from the torches on the ruined walls of the castle could be seen easily from the distance. As Musgrave and his men drew near, two dragoons appeared, riding toward them. The magistrate didn’t order his own troop to stop until the oncoming riders had reached them.

  “Where is Captain Wallis? What is the meaning of this?”

  “He is waiting for you at Cuchulainn’s Seat, sir,” one of the men replied. “The exchange has been made.”

  Musgrave stifled his angry outburst. “He has the rebels?”

  “Aye, sir,” the second soldier responded.

  Cursing openly, the magistrate spurred his horse ahead of the others. Halfway up the hill, another half dozen dragoons were guarding a number of horses. He paused by the group momentarily. Jane’s high-spirited mare pranced among the rest.

  “Whose horse was that?” he asked brusquely.

  “The rebel Egan’s. She is in shackles up there with the other three.”

  His temper somewhat controlled, Musgrave ordered his own men to take positions along the road up the hill with the rest of the dragoons. Now that he had them, there would be no taking them away. This might be a salvageable situation, after all.

  Captain Wallis saluted smartly but was obviously avoiding looking at him directly as the magistrate remained atop his horse.

  “There was no waiting, Sir Robert. The blackguards sent the message that they did not trust us to release their women and children in Buttevant. They wanted to make the exchange here. That was easily accomplished. We sent their women and children down that hill, one by one, as the leaders came up the same road.” Wallis motioned for a soldier to take the bridle of the magistrate’s horse as he finally dismounted. “This is the kind of action you have been encouraging for some time, sir. I know how much the arrest of these people means to you. I did not want to lose the…”

  “Take me to them.” Musgrave snapped at the man.

  Of course, the Irish bastards were right. He had no plans of freeing those families. How much more dramatic the final execution would be with the wives and children watching and weeping. How much fiercer his reputation would be when he then marched the families directly to the docks and onto a ship bound for Australia!

  He fell in step with Wallis. Of course, one of the disgraced families would remain. What a stir that would make in the Lord Lieutenant’s office! They could do nothing to him, the hero who had ferreted out the very daughter of the great Sir Thomas Purefoy.

  “There they are, sir.” The captain gestured toward what must have been at one time the keep’s great hall. A gaping hole showed that the floor was only slightly above the castle courtyard.

  Looking through the crumbled stone walls, he could see the four people crouched down with their hands behind their backs tied to each other in a circle. Musgrave pushed Wallis aside and climbed the half dozen steps to the entryway.

  They all were wearing black. No white shirts for them today, he noted. A woolen hood had been pulled over each prisoner’s head. Musgrave roughly yanked out the hood off the first. The man’s head jerked back, and Sir Robert studied the rebel’s calm impression. He showed no fear, in spite the noose that was awaiting him.

  “This one calls himself Patrick.” Wallis quickly offered from the doorway.

  Musgrave kicked the second man before pulling the hood off his head. This one’s face showed his hatred, and he growled something in Gaelic.

  “Liam.” The captain said.

  Musgrave gave the rebel another solid kick and moved on. He was about to pull the hood off the next one when something occurred to him. Of the two that were left, one had to be Egan. Wallis had met and seen Jane Purefoy on a number of occasions over the past few years. Why, he wondered, hadn’t the captain mentioned the taking of the former magistrate’s daughter?

  From the long legs and size of the boots, Musgrave could tell the next rebel was a man. He stepped past him and stood over the last hooded figure.

  From beneath the shapeless woolen sack, he could see tendrils of dark hair showing.

  “Am I correct to assume this one is Egan?”

  “She is, sir. You cannot imagine our surprise in finding that we knew her.”

  His elation returned, and he yanked the bag off her head. As the woman’s dark eyes snapped up to his, Musgrave stared for only an instant before drawing the dagger from his boot.

  “There shall be no hanging for this one.”

  Stepping beside her, he quickly put the knife to her throat.

  ***

  “Drop it now…or you shall die.” With the point of the knife pressed against the woman’s throat, Musgrave looked up in surprise at the pistol pointed at him. Rage boiled up inside him when he met Sir Thomas’s cold gaze.

  “What do you care if she dies?”

  “If one drop of her blood is drawn, you are a dead man.”

  “Very clever of you to hide your daughter and switch this one in her place.” Musgrave’s hand didn’t waver. “But regardless of whatever you think you are doing, as magistrate I can do as I please…”

  “You were formally relieved of the duties and authority of magistrate nearly a week ago.”

  “That’s a lie.” Musgrave cast a quick look at the number of dragoons who had gathered behind Wallis. “Arrest this man. He is interfering with…”

  “Both Captain Wallis and I received copies of the same letter sent to you by the Lord Lieutenant. We had our own additional orders attached to it.”

  “This is a trick.” He looked angrily at the watching soldiers. “You just want to execute these four yourself! You then can keep your slut of a daughter and still add to your glory!”

  “As I tried to make you understand yesterday, with the Whiteboys here offering to disband, our best course is to let them. Our own landowners and tradesmen in Cork City itself are tired of the injustices Parliament is afflicting us all with. Our own people are crying out for change.”

  “You mean your daughter.”

  Sir Thomas ignored the comment and spoke clearly and methodically. “Killing these people will only stir the cauldron of violence. Hang them and it could be another dozen years before we have a chance
of bringing any real peace to this region. Now drop that knife.”

  Musgrave’s attention shifted to the man entering the hall from a side chamber with one of Wallis’s dragoons behind him. Spencer.

  “You…!”

  The former magistrate saw the look in Musgrave’s face change. As the man yanked back the woman’s head to make the lethal cut, Sir Thomas fired his pistol. Musgrave’s body jerked with the bullet’s impact, and as his dagger fell harmlessly in the woman’s lap, he dropped like a stone to the ground.

  Pandemonium immediately erupted in the castle and down the hill. Shouts and orders rang out from Captain Wallis.

  Nicholas tucked his own pistol back into his belt, hardly glancing at Musgrave as he stepped over the dead body. Sir Thomas was checking the neck of the woman as Nicholas pulled the hood off the last rebel’s head. Paul’s grinning face was the one that looked up at him.

  “That bullet came a wee bit close, I’m thinking?” he said with a chuckle.

  “Closer than you know,” Nicholas replied with a nod toward Sir Thomas. Quickly, he freed the man’s hands and cut the ropes holding the others.

  Acting on Sir Thomas’s and Captain Wallis’s orders, the stable master had arranged for himself and the other three servants to substitute themselves for the rebels. The Lord Lieutenant’s directions were clear. The two were to assess Musgrave’s response to being relieved before acting to forcibly remove him. No one knew, though, how far he would go.

  “You need to catch up to them,” Sir Thomas ordered Nicholas. “Before they walk through those barrack gates in Buttevant.”

  “Are you coming along? You were the one who made this work. I think they should know it.”

  He shook his head. “Until the Lord Lieutenant sends another magistrate I must act for the Crown.” He lowered his voice. “The devil take me, I have no wish to be in a position of identifying any of these rebels if this madman’s replacement should ask me.”

  As Nicholas turned to leave, Sir Thomas stopped him.

  “But…” His warrior’s face was softened slightly. “But tell her I’m trying.”

  ***

  There were still two hours left till dawn when the four rebels approached the last hill. Beyond it, they knew, laid the river Awbeg and the village of Buttevant.

  The moon, still high in the sky, illuminated the solitary rider waiting for them on the crest of the hill. Jane immediately recognized him. She would know him anywhere.

  “I did not tell him,” she said quickly, seeing Henry’s sharp look. “I told no one.”

  Not waiting for a response from the others, though, she spurred her horse toward Nicholas. He too, having recognized them, rode in her direction. She couldn’t be angry with him for being here. But seeing him this last time only added to the piercing pain of losing him.

  The tears were already dancing on her face when she reached him. “What are you doing here?”

  “Tell them to go back,” he urged, nodding toward the three men who had reined in their horses. “There is no longer any need for an exchange.”

  “Nicholas, we must go or innocent people will die.”

  “Their families were freed tonight. But these men must turn back before one of Musgrave’s men sees them and decides to finish something that his leader could not.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Then come with me so I can explain it to them, as well.”

  Feeling somewhat stunned, Jane watched Nicholas nudge his horse toward the other riders. Pausing for a second to make sure she was indeed awake and that this wasn’t a dream, she started after him.

  None of them had bothered with masks tonight, and Nicholas simply stared for a moment when he came face to face with Henry Adams.

  Jane addressed Liam and Patrick. “Sir Nicholas says that your wives and children have been freed.”

  Nicholas went on to explain that Musgrave had been killed tonight and the new, temporary magistrate strongly believes that he should reciprocate the offer of peace by the Shanavests.

  Patrick and Liam looked at each other in disbelief.

  “But as I was telling Jane, for the next few hours and until the change of command is completed, we do not want you anywhere near Buttevant.”

  Clearly neither Patrick nor Liam seemed to be able to fathom what they were hearing, and they looked at Henry in confusion.

  “Sir Nicholas is not one to lie,” the parson assured them quietly and confidently.

  The burst of excitement from the two men was instantaneous. Patrick leaned over his horse and took Jane in an affectionate hug.

  “Well, Egan…er, Miss Jane. Why not bring this one around, sometime? Some o’ these English can grow on ye.”

  “I thought you were disbanding.” Nicholas asked, apprehension creasing his brow.

  “Patrick is talking about raising a cup or two, if I’m not mistaken,” Liam said.

  “Aye. Come around anytime. My wife brews the best ale from here to Limerick.”

  “I am not doing anything right now.”

  “Oh, yes you are.” Jane put a hand out and took hold of the bridle of Nicholas’s horse… eliciting teasing comments and catcalls from the two men.

  With a few parting words, Patrick and Liam rode off in the same direction they had all come. Henry, though, stayed and faced Nicholas’s open amusement.

  “Then you must be…”

  “Finn,” Henry said quietly.

  “But why?” Nicholas questioned, his face growing serious. “What did Sir Thomas say? ‘What would a respectable English churchman be doing fighting for a handful of discontented papist peasants?’”

  “The answer is not so easy. I may have begun fighting for them because I witnessed great injustice…or because I believe compassion belongs to no single religion.” Henry gave a short laugh. “Or maybe because, as the second son of an English naval hero, I have too much fight in my blood.”

  “I didn’t even know that Henry was Finn until two nights ago,” Jane admitted.

  “Even though Liam and Jenny have know it for some time, I would have continued to keep that little secret if circumstances had allowed it.”

  With their horses standing side by side, Nicholas and Jane had at some point clasped hands. Henry’s gaze now fell on their entwined fingers. “Mrs. Brown tells me there are marriage plans in the works.”

  Jane turned and smiled at Nicholas. “Now there are.”

  “Would you do us the honor of wedding us in your chapel?” Nicholas asked Henry.

  “The honor will be mine,” the parson replied pleasantly. “Of course, that is if I fail to convince Clara that she should marry me on the same day.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and met Nicholas’s astonished gaze. “You see, I am nothing more than a poor parish minister and it only makes sense for you to pay for the two sisters’ wedding feast.”

  “I will be happy to pay for a honeymoon on the continent for you and your bride, Parson Adams, so long as this wedding takes place in less than a month.”

  The two men grinned and shook hands on it, and Jane couldn’t remember a happier moment in her life.

  Henry rode away, leaving Jane misty-eyed and overwhelmed with this sudden turn of events. She looked into Nicholas’s eyes. “You knew I was…going away last night. Thank you for not trying to stop me.”

  He brought her hand to his lips. “You were Egan long before I met you. Your dedication and honor were on the line tonight. I knew you would not have me until you felt your duty had been done.”

  “You helped me…helped us. You saved our lives.”

  “But I cannot take credit for the events of tonight.”

  “I recall Stanmore mentioning some correspondence regarding Musgrave when we were in London.”

  “That was just a preliminary step,” he admitted, smiling crookedly. “Through some people I know, I was able to persuade the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland that Musgrave was teetering on madness. Sir Robert was issued an order and called back to England, but
when we arrived here, I found out that the cur was ignoring the order.”

  They nudged their horses down the hill and away from Buttevant.

  “Someone else was far more influential in what happened tonight.”

  Her mind raced, trying to think of whom he could mean, to no avail.

  “Sir Thomas,” he said.

  As the name sank in, a hundred feelings washed through Jane. Shame mixed with pride. Relief mixed with disbelief. Gratitude mixed with hope. She looked blankly ahead and they rode along in silence.

  “He saved my life,” she finally blurted out. “He saved the lives of these men and their families. And yet, I…I cannot bring myself to face him…to thank him.”

  “I think he knew as much. He asked me only to tell you, ‘he is trying.’”

  She stabbed away at a runaway tear. “It was so much easier to hate him—to ignore the possibility that he had some compassion left in him.”

  Nicholas’s hand reached for hers again. He pressed her fingers again to his lips. “I do not believe he expects you to forgive and to forget overnight. At the same time, I believe that he is trying to be a different man. Perhaps you should simply let it rest at that.”

  Jane looked up to the sky lightening in the east. A new day beginning. She let out a ragged breath and tried to cleanse her mind and heart of everything that was past. She met Nicholas’s loving gaze and thought of their own new beginning—of their marriage.

  “Us! I love that word,” he teased. “Us!”

  “Us,” she repeated and then smiled. “I must say you were pretty easily gulled into paying for my sister’s honeymoon.”

  He laughed. “I would pay for a honeymoon for everyone from Cork City to—where did Patrick say?”

  “Limerick.”

  “I would pay that and more for that smile on your face.”

  She leaned toward him. “I should have asked for more.”

  “Anything, my love,” he said, pressing his lips to hers.

  She drew away, but for only a moment.

  “Well…” she whispered, smiling happily. “This is all I shall ever want. Just ‘us.’”