In Dublin's Fair City

by Rhys Bowen

  As soon as he had disappeared inside the pub I helped Cullen downinto the boat, untied it, and cast off. Luck was with us. The tide was in full ebb, which made the rowing easy. We passed under one bridge and the next. I kept expecting to hear shouts or shots as we were detected, but none came. At last we passed the great shape of the Custom's House.

  “The docks are just up ahead,” Cullen said. “Pull in to the next landing place.”

  He seemed a little more lively and cheerful and handed me the rope as I climbed out. “I am certainly more agile without that blasted petticoat,” I said, and he chuckled.

  I helped him out and we came up to the quay.

  “Fishing boat. Green flag,” he said.

  I searched up and down the quay. It was empty.

  Thirty-three

  Cullen and I looked at each other. “Are you sure this is the right place?” I heard the tremble in my voice.

  He nodded. “Right where the Grand Canal Docks meet the Liffy, they said. And see—that's where the docks begin.”

  “Maybe there was a hitch and they had to tie up somewhere else.” I tried to stay positive. “You stay there and I’ll look.”

  “You can’t look the whole length of the Liffy,” he snapped. “We have to just face it. The boat has gone without us. It wasn’t safe to wait any longer.”

  “Then what do we do now?” Until this moment there had been hope. Now hope was rapidly fading. “We have to go back to Mrs. Boone. There's nothing else we can do.”

  “I’ve told you, we’re not going there,” he said firmly. He closed his eyes. Then he attempted a deep breath, gasped in pain, and put his hand to his side. “There is an emergency plan,” he said, almost in a whisper. “Another place where a boat could pick us up if they are warned in time.”

  “Right. Let's get there.”

  “But it's several miles out of Dublin.”

  “Oh wonderful,” I said, my patience and optimism now worn remarkably thin. “We’ll just run several miles out of Dublin then, shall we?” “Grania,” he said. “We’ll have to risk going to Grania.”

  “Are you mad? If you’re worried about putting Mrs. Boone in danger, then what about Grania?”

  “I think we’d be fairly safe there. They probably won’t think of checking on her. Especially as her husband is now in residence.”

  “Oh sure. Her husband. That makes it all the more inviting.”

  “We need help from somewhere, Molly. And we have to get out of Dublin.come on. We’re but a stone's throw from Grania's here. I can make it just fine.”

  I took his arm to support him, and he didn’t refuse me. We cut inland and soon came to the elegant outline of Merrion Square and Gra-nia's house.

  “We can’t just walk up and ring the front doorbell,” I said.

  “No, I grant you we can’t do that,” he agreed. “What time is it? Not yet eight o’clock. That means the servants will be fully occupied. We’d better go round to the mews and wait.”

  We did so, standing shivering in the alleyway beside the stable door.

  “The groom must be still at supper,” Cullen said. He leaned back against the woodwork and closed his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know how badly I was hit.” “What happened at the prison?”

  “Utter disaster. They must have been tipped off to us. Just as we were setting the explosives, a whole band of RIC showed up. I yelled for the others to run, then I pressed the plunger. At least that gave the boys in blue a shock. And did quite a bit of damage too, from what I could see. But they started shooting at us. I didn’t even have a chance to get inside. I had to run away with the rest. What a shambles.”

  “My brothers,” I began, not wanting to know the answer. “What about Liam? Did he get away?”

  “I’ve no idea. I saw some of our boys go down.”

  “I think they shot Joseph,” I said. “I told him to run but there were police everywhere, and it was all I could do to escape.”

  “You did just grand,” he said.

  I shook my head, fighting back tears. “I was the one who caused the disaster,” I said. “Oh, not intentionally, I promise you. But it seems thepolice had been tailing me from the ship. They had found out about the shipment of rifles, but let me go ahead, waiting to see where I went and what I did.”

  Cullen nodded. “As I said, the enemy is not stupid.” He grimaced and his hand went to his side. “I’m afraid your petticoat is quite soaked through,” he said.

  At that moment a light shone from a side door and the groom returned, whistling merrily as he sauntered across the mews. The whistling ceased abruptly as he noticed figures lurking in the shadows, and he gave a yell of alarm when Cullen lurched out on him.

  “Oh, it's you, sir,” the boy stammered.

  “We’re in trouble, Johnnie,” Cullen whispered. “You’ll not have heard the news yet, but we had a little run in with the police and we have to get away from here. I need you to take a message to your mistress.”

  Fear registered in the groom's eyes. “They have guests for dinner, sir. It's more than my job's worth to disturb her.”

  “Then do you have access to pen and paper, man? I’ll write her a note.”

  “I have pen and paper up in my room. You’d better come up.”

  We went up the rickety outside staircase and into a low-ceilinged room. Johnnie found Cullen a notepad and pen and ink, and Cullen sat composing a note.

  “Take this to the butler and tell him he has to get it to your mistress somehow or other. It's a matter of life and death. Do you understand me, boy?”

  The frightened groom nodded, his eyes as wide as saucers. “And we’ll need to borrow a couple of horses.” “Borrow our horses, sir? Without asking the mistress?” “We’ve no time to waste, Johnnie. We must get out of the city while we still can.”

  I’d been taking no part in this, but now I was listening with growing alarm.

  “Hold on there,” I interjected. “It's no use asking for a horse for me. I can’t ride. I’ve never ridden a horse in my life, apart from sitting on an old cart horse and being led around a field once.”

  “Damn,” Cullen swore under his breath. “Then you’ll have to ride pillion behind me.”

  “I’m not sure about this. Not until her ladyship...,” Johnnie began.

  “I’ll take good care of the damned horse and make sure it's returned. I can’t say better than that. Now are you with me, or will I have to take out my pistol and shoot you?”

  The boy looked terrified. “I’m with you, sir. Just as long as I don’t get in trouble.”

  “I’ve explained all in my note, Johnnie boy. You just deliver it as soon as we’ve gone. I promise you won’t get in trouble on our account.”

  “Very well, sir. What horse should I give you?”

  “One that won’t be required in the morning or missed too quickly.”

  “Then it had better be Old Traveler. The master don’t ride him no more, not since he bought that devil Satan.”

  “Old Traveler—he's got the wind to make the journey, has he?”

  “Oh yes, he's a grand horse. Steady as a rock.”

  “Then be a good lad and saddle him up for us.”

  “And while you’re doing that, do you have bandages and antiseptics?” I asked. “Mr. Quinlan has been wounded.”

  “Only for the horses, miss,” the boy replied.

  “Better than nothing,” I said. “Bring me what you’ve got.”

  He returned. “Let me take a look at that wound, Cullen,” I said.

  “We’ve no time now.”

  “At least let me put a clean pad on you and bandage you up so you don’t start bleeding again while the boy saddles up the horse.” “Very well.”

  I eased away his shirt and heard the boy gasp when he saw the dark bloody mess that was Cullen's side. I didn’t feel too well myself, but I dabbed it with antiseptic, put on a pad, and bandaged him as tightly as I dared.


  “That will have to do, Molly,” Cullen said. “We can’t wait another minute. For all we know, the roads will already be watched.”

  We went down to the stable below. The groom was hefting a saddle onto the back of what seemed to be an enormous horse. I couldn’t believe this was happening. The past weeks had turned into an ever-expanding nightmare, the kind of dream in which one runs from onemonster to the next. Was it ever going to end, I wondered, or would it finish in that greatest nightmare of all—a walk up the steps to a gallows?

  The horse was saddled and bridled. Johnnie was about to lead it out when we heard the sound of boots on cobbles.

  “You, in there,” a voice barked. “I need a mount, immediately.”

  I had been right about the nightmare ever growing in intensity. It was Justin Hartley, and he came into the stable. I shrank back into a corner, but Justin only cast a cursory glance around until he spotted Johnnie. “Oh, you’ve a horse saddled up for me already have you? My man must have informed you I was going out.” He stepped toward Traveler and then flicked his whip at Johnnie in anger. “Not that horse, you fool. Lord Ashburton has told me I may ride Satan, and I’ll ride none other. Now get him saddled up for me right away before I give you a dashed good thrashing.”

  “Right away, Mr. Hartley, sir,” the boy said, and led out a handsome black horse. Cullen and I stayed motionless in our corner until Justin Hartley swung himself up into the saddle and galloped off into the night.

  “A most unpleasant fellow,” Cullen muttered to me. “But that was a close shave.”

  He had no idea how close. My legs wouldn’t obey me, and I had to be lifted onto the horse by the patient Johnnie. Cullen eased himself into the saddle with a hiss of pain. “Hold tightly around my waist,” he said. “I’ll try to keep the pace even for both of our sakes.”

  Then he dug in his heels and we were off. I wanted to cling on tightly, but I was afraid of hurting Cullen's wound. I tried to grab onto the saddle instead, but there was really nothing to hold onto. It was like sitting on a plank on the ocean, which I’d done as a girl.

  “You will not fall off,” I instructed myself.

  Cullen took us through narrow back streets until city gave way to big houses set back from the road. Then he urged the horse into a canter. I stifled a cry as I was thrown up and down. I wanted to cling on tighter, and grabbed at Cullen's thigh as the one stable thing. After a while I began to feel the rhythm a bit better.

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “To a place where we can hide out for the night,” he said. “And after that?”

  “We pray that there's a boat at the proper place and the proper time.”

  The last lights of the city were left behind and only open country was ahead of us. It was almost too dark to see anything, but we appeared to be in a narrow lane that climbed and wound up a hillside.

  “Are we heading for the sea?” I asked.

  “No, we’re heading inland,” he called back.

  “But I thought you said something about a boat.”

  “I thought the roads to the water would be watched. They won’t suspect we’d go this way. We can drop down to the coast later.”

  We rode on, passing the occasional hamlet with the warm light of lanterns glowing from windows, inviting with the promise of normal life and safety. Dogs barked from farmyards. At last we seemed to have reached an open area of heath. Cullen reined in the horse, and a great iron gate appeared ahead of us. It swung open when pushed, however, and we passed through, coming to a halt beside what seemed to be an old ruin.

  “This is where we rest for a while,” he said. “Can you dismount by yourself? I don’t think I can help you.”

  I slid down in what was probably a most undignified manner, then I helped Cullen. He groaned as his feet touched the ground and would have collapsed if I hadn’t been holding him.

  “Where are we?” I asked.

  “Safe for the night,” he said, breathing heavily.

  “Will there be someone who can do something for your wound?”

  “No. There's nobody here but us.” He led the horse forward, loosened the saddle girth then tied the reins to a post. “You’ll have to make do like that until tomorrow, old chap.” He slapped the horse's side, then turned to me. “This way.”

  The building that loomed out of the darkness looked like an old abbey, grim, windowless, made of rough stone. No welcoming lights shone from the windows. In fact, there were no lights to be seen, only the sigh of wind through dead bracken and bare branches. I shivered in the cold.

  “What is this place?” I asked.

  “It's an old chapel, no longer used.”

  “Why here?”

  “Because nobody will find us, and it's an easy ride to the ocean from here.”

  He stumbled ahead of me to a side porch and turned a big iron knob on the door. It swung open with a creak. I followed him inside. It was pitch dark and smelled very old, musty, moldy, damp, and not at all appealing.

  “I don’t like it here,” I said. “It has a bad feeling to it. Are you sure it's a chapel?”

  “Decommissioned since the time of Henry VIII. And you’re right about the bad feeling. I believe the Hell-Fire Club used to meet here a hundred years ago.”

  “Then for God's sake, let's go somewhere else.”

  I was truly shivering now.

  Cullen turned to face me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “My dear girl, perhaps you don’t realize, but all of Ireland will be out looking for us tonight and they’ll have orders to shoot to kill. There are no other places where we can rest safely until the time to meet the boat.”

  “Then why is this one so safe?”

  “Because it is on the Hyde-Borne's estate, and, as we know, Lord and Lady Ashburton are with their retinue in Dublin. That's why it's fine to leave Lord Ashburton's horse here. They’ll know where to find him. Now let's find a dry corner and maybe something to lie on.”

  We blundered around, bumping into tables and benches, arranging several of the latter into a platform we could lie on.

  “I wish we’d find some kind of light,” I groaned as my shin met a bench for the tenth time.

  “We couldn’t risk using it if we did. We’re on a hilltop here. A light shining out from a disused chapel would certainly be noticed. And seeing that it has associations with the Hell-Fire Club, rumors would fly.”

  “I’m cold and hungry and scared,” I said, then felt terrible about saying it. At least I didn’t have a bullet wound in my side. “If we had light I could maybe redress that wound.”

  “The moon will be up later, if it doesn’t cloud over,” he said.

  I spread my cloak on the benches.

  “Go ahead and lie down,” I said. “I’ll keep watch.”

  “A lot of good you’d do, keeping watch.” Cullen managed a chuckle that turned to a cough. “Come and lie here beside me.”

  “The last time a man said that to me, it brought me nothing but trouble,” I said, and he laughed.

  “My dear, I promise you you’re quite safe. I am in no fit state to do anything more than sleep, although on any other occasion I must admit that you would not have been safe from my impulses.” He took my hand. “Come on, Molly. I’m cold and I’m hurting. I need your warmth beside me.”

  He groaned again as he tried to lie down. I helped him to get comfortable then I lay beside him and put my arm over him. He did feel very cold. I suppose we must have drifted to sleep because when I awoke the moon was shining in through a high window. Cullen's breathing sounded ragged. I got up and tucked the cloak around him. He opened his eyes.

  “Are you still in pain?” I asked.

  He nodded. “It hurts like the devil to breathe.”

  “If you come into the moonlight perhaps I can do something for you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think there's anything you can do for me, except stay close to me. I need to feel you’re here.”

  “I’m here,
” I said. I lay back beside him, and wrapped my arm over him again. “It won’t be long now. We’ll get down to that boat, and then they’ll be able to remove that bullet and all will be fine.”

  “Molly,” he said quietly, “I want you to listen to me. You’re to leave here as soon as it's light enough to see the way. When you look out toward the east you’ll see the little harbor down below. It's not used much any more, since they built the big port at Kingstown. Make your way straight down the hill to it. There will be a rowing boat with something green showing, a green hat or even a green handkerchief in the rower's pocket. He’ll ask you if you’d like a trip out to the island, and you’ll say yes. If he doesn’t ask, don’t go with him. It might be another trap. Hopefully our boat will have waited out the night on the far side of Dalkey Island.”

  “Why are you telling me all this? We’ll be going together.”

  “I’m not sure that I’ll make it,” he said quietly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, of course you’re going to make it.”

  “I’ve lost a lot of blood, Molly. I’m awfully weak. And every breath feels as if I’m on fire.”

  I bent toward him and rested my cheek against his. “Just hang on, Cullen. Not much longer. You can’t give up now, after all you’ve been through.”

  “I know. A stupid waste, isn’t it? I had such grand ideas, Molly. Such splendid plans. An Irish Republic, ruling ourselves with dignity. Was that too much to ask?”

  “Of course not. It will happen, Cullen.”

  “I wish I could believe it.” He sighed. “The important thing now is that you save yourself. You’re young. You deserve a happy life.”

  “I’m not going without you. I’ll get you on that horse somehow, and we’ll make it to the boat if it's the last thing I do.”

  “Dear Molly,” he said, and lifted his hand to stroke my hair. “If things had been different—” He let the rest of the sentence hang. “That young man you have waiting for you at home...”

  “Yes?”

  “Treasure him, Molly. Don’t let him out of your sight. If only I’d been sensible and not given up all hope of happiness for this stupid dream—for nothing.”