So they began to pack up all the items they would need for the men. The following day, just as the O’Donnell men and Shive’s small band were about to set out for Rathnamagh in the south east, a messenger came storming up to the convent gates.
Kenneth let him in through the gates and took away his weapons, while Shive, Oran and Maolmordha read the letter anxiously.
“It’s from my cousin Mahon. He says Muireadach has made a surprise attack and is punching through our lands and into Ruairi’s territory. He wants me to come and help, with another force from the rest of our estate, and the men from Tiernan’s smaller castle at Tulrahan and all the villages in the east.”
“We must go,” said Oran, moving towards the stable.
Shive stayed him with her hand. “You're forgetting, Oran, Maolmordha still has a say in where we go and what we do. In any case, I’m beginning to wonder what good it would do to head south now.”
Maolmordha looked at her and then glanced away. “I’ll let you go to your husband now, with no ransom, free and clear, if that’s what you're worried about.”
“It's a kind offer, but I still need to have an answer from you now. I know you’re willing to live peacefully on our lands and farm, but will you help me fight Muireadach?”
Oran argued, “We can use them, Shive, of course, but are you sure we can trust them?”
Shive looked from one man to the next, and they all nodded.
Then she turned to Oran and said, “Trust is something we know very little of, yet I think we can use it to our advantage here, especially where you’re concerned, Oran.”
“Me? What have I got to do with this?” he exclaimed.
“I have a plan, but I need your help above all. Instead of us charging down to the south immediately, I think we need to hit Muireadach where it will hurt most. Hit him where all of his reinforcements come from. We need to go north to Bothandun.”
“Shive, are you mad? You’ve seen the place for yourself. There isn’t a more heavily fortified castle in all of this region apart from Tiernan’s at Castlegarren. We have only a handful of men, nowhere near as many as would be needed to take the place, or even lay siege to it if that's what you're thinking. It would be suicide!” Oran protested hotly.
“Not if you and Maolmordha got us through the gates.”
Maolmordha and Oran stared at her blankly.
“What do you have in mind?” Maolmordha asked at last. “I’m willing to listen to anything that you think might help you, Shive.”
“The O’Rourkes all know and trust Oran. Oran tells them that he was responsible for meeting the O’Donnells off the ships from Scotland, and he has orders form Muireadach to shelter and feed them. We all go in clad like Scots. Once we’re in the castle, we attack.”
“Why should they believe us?” Maolmordha asked.
“Oran can forge a copy of Muireadach’s seal. They shouldn’t have any idea that he was the one who helped me escape.”
“But Oran says the place is heavily fortified,” Padraig said. “How can we defeat so many?”
“We attack them in the night, of course. Think about it. If we succeed, we'll have cut off Muireadach’s access to fresh troops, food, supplies, and weapons. We can head south with all his supplies for ourselves, and help Ruairi and Tiernan.”
Oran pondered over Shive’s plan and looked at Maolmordha.
“I'm willing to try if you are.”
“I am as well, old man. Let’s get the horses and be on our way.”
Shive smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Maolmordha. Thank you, Oran,” she said as she hugged each of the men in turn.
Maolmordha kissed her soundly for all his men to see, and then ordered the nuns to bring food and wine.
“How far is it to Bothandun?” he asked Shive as they waited for the men to gather.
“Two days, or a day and a night if we press hard.”
“Right. Every man take two days’ worth of provisions. Let's go now,” he commanded.
Leaving the wounded in charge of the nuns and boys, Shive took leave of her friends, and marched through the forest by Maolmordha’s side. He couldn’t help but fail to be impressed by her stamina and endurance as they set out on the two day march to O’Rourkes’ main castle. She never once lagged behind or complained, and she ate the rough food they all shared out as though she were a peasant rather than gently reared. Even the march didn’t seem to trouble her, though Maolmordha was sure her leg must still have been giving her problems.
But as Shive had quite wisely argued, turning up on horseback at Bothandun would have seemed quite suspicious, and she wanted to make sure they got into the castle and were able to take the O’Rourkes completely by surprise. They slept under the stars for a few hours that night, wrapped up in blankets against the bitter cold. Shive was first up the next morning and prodded Maolmordha with her toe to get him up early, so eager was she to be on her way.
Shive had doubts about her plan, and wondered if they would even get pass the first obstacle. The castle was so closely guarded that they kept Oran waiting at the gate for what seemed an interminable amount of time before finally letting them in. It was only when the master of the guard was summoned to ask his opinion on the matter of the Scottish mercenaries that Oran was welcomed with open arms.
“Well, well, Oran, old friend! We had wondered if you’d met with some terrible fate the way those other two men did when that bitch Shive MacDermot escaped from here all those weeks ago. I’m glad you’re well, Oran, and have been with our helpers all this time,” said Kevin, showing his black stumps as he grinned.
“I mistook the original meeting time and place up in the O’Dowds’ territory, and missed them. When one of the villagers told me that a force had landed, I managed to eventually catch up with them to the east of here,” Oran lied smoothly. “But it’s good to be home now. And since these men are as starved as myself, and are our guests, let’s have a feast tonight, eh? Muireadach did say we were to give the O’Donnells every courtesy,” he hastened to add when the old soldier looked doubtful for a time.
“Aye, a feast it shall be, Oran.” The old man beamed, and scurried off to make preparations while Oran began to billet Maolmordha’s men all over the stone-built castle in twos and threes.
“We can always move our things into the other guard rooms,” some of the O’Rourke men suggested when they saw they would have to share their quarters with strangers.
“Nonsense, it will make the men feel more welcome if they have to share with you. They’ve come a long way at Muireadach’s invitation, and we're to make them feel right at home,” Oran said evenly, as he pushed past the men and showed Maolmordha’s comrades their accommodation.
Shive had to give Maolmordha’s men credit for playing their parts so well. There was nothing but smiles and friendliness on their parts. Maolmordha’s captains asked for a tour of the castle so as to survey the fortifications with an eye to helping defend Bothandun.
Fortunately, the castle only had three stories, and that included the lower cellarage area where Shive had been kept prisoner a few months previously. The outer walls were solid, with many murder holes placed at strategic points around the curtain walls. Shive was glad she would be defending Bothandun, rather than trying to capture it, she reflected as she took in everything she saw avidly, but with seeming nonchalance.
Shive knew hers was a bold plan. Even if it did succeed, they would have to hold their position and defend it from Muireadach once he discovered what she had done. They would also have to defend it from enemies within as well as without once the O’Rourke realised they had been tricked.
Maolmordha for his part stayed close to Shive the whole time, taking his cue from her, now dressed as a young Scottish lad in a tartan pair of trews. Shive and Maolmordha took the pallets Oran offered them in the largest of the soldiers’ barracks, along with Oran himself.
“I’m an old man so I’ll take the corner nearest the door, and nearest the privies,” Oran said
with a hearty laugh. “You, boy, you can have the bed by the window where the light shines in. Old people are light sleepers, but you’re the heaviest sleeper I’ve ever seen. And you, Maolmordha shall have pride of place, a new bed of rushes just here,” Oran added, putting it in the middle of the floor where there was large gap between the beds.
“Many thanks, Oran.”
Maolmordha surveyed the room carefully, counting the numbers of beds, so he would be sure to account for all the men in the room when they finally made their move that night.
Once Oran had seen to all the supposed sleeping arrangements, the O’Donnells and Shive’s small band went down to the feast in the great hall, where the Scotsmen positioned themselves on one side of each table. They claimed it would help them get to know the O’Rourke men, their new comrades, who would sit on the opposite sides of the tables.
“It's a custom of ours,” Maolmordha stated to the men in the room in a hearty voice after the first of the toasts had been drunk.
Shive had also given warning that the O’Donnells’ wine was to be watered, and so the pitchers descended down the row, with three men in charge of the watered jugs, while three others were to serve the undiluted wine to their companions across the table.
All the Scots were told to make as many toasts as they could, so that the O’Rourkes would become completely inebriated before the night was out.
The Scots and Shive managed the whole meal with a great deal of skill and diplomacy, Shive especially, fielding all the awkward questions in a professional way. They told everyone she was Maolmordha’s nephew out for a bit of excitement, and that back home his father was one of the most important war lords in their country. That helped to explain everyone’s particularly deferential attitude towards her at all time, which Shive felt uncomfortable with.
At one point when they were certain not to be overheard, Shive remarked to Maolmordha quietly, “They’re your men. I do wish they wouldn’t keep treating me like I was their leader.”
“You’ll have to get used to it, Shive. You're their leader now, and will be forever since we've agreed to stay and fight for you.”
“But I don’t want you to be second in command, Maolmordha. They’re your men.”
“But I’m all yours now as well, Shive, you know that,” Maolmordha whispered, gazing at her fondly.
Shive turned her head away to avoid his piercing gaze. “Maolmordha, I wish I had met you ten years ago. Then I could have loved you as more than just a brother. But with Tiernan--”
“I know, you don’t have to apologise again. All I can say it I look forward to the day I finally meet your husband. God help him if he isn’t worthy of you. But then, I can’t imagine any man who would be worthy of you, Shive, especially not myself.”
Shive smiled at him warmly and then looked up to see Oran gazing at them silently. Shive raised her eyebrows by way of enquiry. She noticed as she rose from the table that many of the O’Rourke men were leaning on each other’s shoulders, mouths agape, much the worse for drink.
Since the hour was indeed getting rather late, it was perfectly logical to suggest that it was about time they called it a night, which Maolmordha did as soon as Shive glanced at him and nodded.
“My God, it was some feast!” The old sergeant at arms beamed. “Can barely stand the watch, that’s what a good time I’ve had!”
Oran offered quickly, “I’ll get some of the new boys to help stand the watch. They’re fine. Must be all the whiskey they drink up in Scotland that gives them a strong head. I can’t stand up another minute.”
Oran helped his old comrade Kevin to his bed first, then headed up to the second story room he had planned for them to stay in.
Maolmordha indicated for several of his men to go up onto the battlements to keep guard, and commanded the rest of his men to bed. They too were making a good job of pretending to be drunk, but Shive could see that they were all alert for the night’s business at hand.
Shive went to her own bed and lay down. Several hours passed as they waited to be certain that everyone was in bed and asleep. Shive struggled to stay awake, ever on the alert for Oran’s prearranged signal, an owl hoot from outside in the courtyard.
At last, Shive heard the sound, and tensed, waiting to see if anyone awakened. Then she moved out of her bed slowly and stealthily, with her dagger drawn. The lengths of rope for tying up the prisoner were wrapped around her waist under her tunic, and she had no difficulty in gagging and trussing up the men on either side of her.
One of Maolmordha’s unsuspecting victims put up a small struggle, but rather than waking the whole group, he caused one man to grumble, “You and your nightmares, Martin,” before turning over onto his other side and beginning to snore again.
Within seconds the whole room had settled down to sleep once more. Shive and Maolmordha soon had the entire room subdued. Shive moved out into the corridor to see how the rest of their men had fared. She could faintly hear the clashing of weapons in the room about three doors away from her own, and ran in to help. She managed to truss up the rest of the men who were lying in bed stunned, and then wielded her own sword to help put an end to the fighting.
No sooner had she finished in that room than a huge burly man came out shaking one of Maolmordha’s youngest men by the throat as though he were a tiny puppy.
“What’s going on here!” she demanded gruffly as Maolmordha came running in to help.
“I think he was trying to rob me, lad,” the drunken man grumbled as he tottered unsteadily out of the room.
Maolmordha wasted no time. He punched the giant in the jaw and caught him before he keeled over like a felled tree. He tied the man up quickly, while Shive ran outside to see if any other disturbances had occurred.
All was silent and still. Padraig came out of one of the rooms at the far end of the corridor to tell Shive that the rest of the stronghold was secured.
“Should we leave them where they are until morning, or take them down in the cellars now?” Padraig asked quietly.
“They’re so drunk they will offer a lot less resistance now. In any case, the sooner we had down south to assist Tiernan, the better. Move the O’Rourkes now,” Shive commanded.
She headed for the kitchen to get provisions organized for the men travelling with her, and some extra in case Tiernan’s army and her own had not fared well.
Maolmordha supervised the moving of the drunken men, who put up very little resistance, and in some cases never even awakened. A few men protested at their capture, and called the Scots every foul name they could think of. Once they were safely in the cellar and the ladders were pulled up, there was little they could do other than go back to sleep in the dark dank hole Shive had lived in for nearly a month.
After organizing the provisions onto carts, Shive went to look at the O’Rourke arsenal. She again gave orders for the men to arm themselves, and also handed out weapons to the small band of fifty or so men who were to be left behind to keep the castle and look after the prisoners.
Then she organised horses. “There aren’t enough here for everyone, but if we double up, and take turns walking and riding, we'll reach Tiernan’s forces in about four days, maybe less.”
“Do you not think you should stay here, Shive? You must be exhausted from all this travelling. Besides, you might have better luck finding your son and being reunited with him up here in the north,” Oran suggested.
Though Shive was tempted, and couldn’t wait to see little Fiachra again, she fought back the impulse to accept his advice, and shook her head.
“No, I have to go south to see for myself what's happening. And to see my husband again. As for my son, I'm sure he is safe with his aunt Claire. I would feel it in my bones if something had happened to him. So no arguments. I’m going with you. Tiernan and Ruairi need me.”
Chapter Forty
By dawn, all of Shive's arrangements for heading south to join up with her husband's forces had been completed. Shive and Oran were just abo
ut to set off at the head of the troop when a messenger came riding up to the gates of the castle.
Oran took the message through the grate in the door, and read it aloud to Shive, who hid below the grille.
“Muireadach is asking for reinforcements with food and weapons to go to him immediately. He is engaging our joint army at Lissatava, and they need help urgently.”
Shive bit her lower lip, and then asked Oran in a whisper, “Would you and Maolmordha be willing to use our ruse one more time?”
“What do you mean?”
“You could appear as the reinforcements, fresh troops from Scotland. Knowing Muireadach, he'll be delighted. With any luck he might put you in the most prominent part of the field, the center. When the fighting starts, make the fighting look convincing for about five minutes, before turning on them.”
The Hart and the Harp Page 38
