The House Where It Happened

by Devlin, Martina

  My grandfather, Donal Magee, returned to Islandmagee when he was a grown man. His land was taken by then, and others lived in his family’s house. But he settled as close to his father’s land as he could, down Carnspindle way, using the name Donald Hill to fit in. His heart remained a Magee’s heart, while the blood running through his veins was Magee blood. And he told the tale to his childer, making them promise to pass it on to theirs. “Keep the story alive,” he said. “Memory cheats death.”

  My grandfather was not free to claim his name, no more than I am. But I spoke it then, sitting in the kitchen with Jamesey heavy on my lap. Out loud, I said it.

  “Ellen Magee is my name. I am a Magee of Islandmagee. Do you hear me, Hamilton Lock? I’m Ellen Magee an’ I’m comin’ after you.”

  Tick-tock, went the landing clock.

  Wound tight as a bowstring, I listened.

  Tick-tock.

  “Were you callin’ me, lassie?” Noah’s arrival was noiseless in his stockings.

  I started, and the young master grumbled in his sleep. “Talkin’ to myself, Noah. Tryin’ to ready myself to do somethin’ I’m dreadin’.” He raised his eyebrows, and I nodded towards the boy. “Hamilton Lock is up to no good where the childer are concerned. I believe he meant to have the lad turn the pistol on hisself, or his sister – or both.”

  Noah scratched his beard. “It does’n look good,” he allowed.

  “He has to be stopped. I’m goin’ to stop him.”

  “Oh aye. Where’s your army?”

  “I know what I have to do. It should a been done a long time ago. I’m goin’ to Lock’s Cave to find his skull an’ destroy it, once an’ for all.”

  He spat into the ashes. “That’ll be some handlin’.”

  “It has to be attempted. If I duck it, this wee fellow here will end up in a bed of clay before his next birthday. And then maybes it’ll be his sister’s turn.” My words were fiery, but my voice was far from steady. After all, Hamilton Lock was the ringleader of the crew that stamped out my kith and kin. Chances were, he could crush me as easily. In a rush, I begged, “Come with me, Noah. I won’t be able for this alone.”

  “My aul’ legs would’n carry me down the path to them caves.”

  “We could get the loan of a boat and go to them that way.”

  Still, he shook his head. “You must be off your bap, lassie. You might get witched yourself, or never come back. You’re on’y a servant in this house, when all’s said and done. Why put your neck in the noose? I keep me head down an’ mind me own business. That’s our way on Islandmagee. You’d do well to remember it.”

  “The childer are my business, Noah. I could be sittin’ here with a dead child in my arms instead of a live one, if he’d put his hands on thon pistol.”

  “Aye, I hear what you’re sayin’. None of this is the bairns’ fault.” He sucked the few teeth left in his head. “What will you do if you find the skull?”

  “I’m not sure. Bury it, I suppose – maybes stake it to the ground, the way the rest of him was staked.”

  “Getting’ a stake through a skull is no handy matter. You’re a strong lass, I’ll grant you that, but it’ll take some doin’. Forbye that, what if somebody comes along after you and takes out the stake? He’d be off again, bad as ever.”

  I hadn’t considered that, and it pulled me up short. But I wasn’t ready to give in. “There has to be a way of layin’ his ghost, Noah. I know the skull is the key to it.”

  He looked me over, taking my measure. “Here’s what I’ll do for you, Ellen Hill. I’ll tell you how to get rid of Lock’s skull, if you find it. If he does’n find you first. There’s some right big ifs in there. But supposin’ you do get your hands on it, I ken what you need to do. Smash it in. Take up a lump o’ rock and batter it in. Hamilton Lock’s head was the on’y bit of him left unbroken after he was killed. I doubt if there was a bone in his body still in one piece, but the head had har’ly a mark on it. I allus thought that odd, on account of what he done to his da’s skull.”

  “Did you see him die, Noah?”

  He glared, hands balled into fists, and for a moment I thought he meant to strike me. “Aye, I see’d it. I see’d enough to know Hamilton Lock was a man to have no truck wi’, whether livin’ or dead. But you’re a daughter of Eve. I daresay you’re as thran as all your breed. So if you’re bent on chasin’ off to the caves, bear in mind what I tould you. The skull cannae be left unbroken. There’s power in things that are whole.”

  Chapter 17

  Noah agreed to stay with Jamesey and Sarah while I went to Lock’s Cave. Luckily the tide was out, so I could reach the caves by foot. As I took candles and a flint from the drawer in the kitchen table, it occurred to me that I could stop by Frazer Bell’s house, and ask for his help. But I was afraid he might point out the drawbacks of my plan, and I would lose heart for going through with it. So I struck out for the Gobbins on my own.

  Picking my steps downhill from the cliffs, I tried to figure out why Bob Holmes’s search uncovered nothing. He said the skull must have been taken away by the coven, but I wasn’t certain the women were witches – let alone that they used the cave. In which case, it must still be there. I had no reason to believe I would find it when Holmes and his men had failed.

  But I had to give it a try.

  Once or twice, I stopped and looked behind, my nerves quivering. It felt as if somebody was following me. But I saw nobody. You’re jumpy, I told myself. Still, I couldn’t shake off the feeling. Even at the mouth of the cave, I paused, still with the sense of being watched. It added to my foreboding as I lit a candle, and stepped into the cave.

  Even in broad daylight, it was dim inside, though some weak light crept in from the seaward side. Still, I was prepared for darkness – it couldn’t be any worse than the gaol in Carrickfergus. What I wasn’t prepared for was my own voice, inside my head, making me doubt myself as soon as I was in the cave. “You’re in Hamilton Lock’s lair!” it jeered, and at once my teeth began to chatter. But I took hold of myself and advanced a couple of steps. I must have sent a loose stone flying, because an echo started up, bouncing off the cave’s walls and shooting back from all sides. I nearly turned back then, fancying it was the cave’s way of showing it knowed it had an intruder. Somehow, I summoned up the willpower to stay.

  I raised the candle high, and looked about. I had been in other caves beneath the Gobbins, but never Lock’s Cave – our mothers had us too well warned, as childer. At first sight, it wasn’t so different from the others, except it was taller. The ceiling reached up to a dome high above, like the bell-tower of a church. Its insides were jagged with rocks, and pools of water gathered on the floor. The cave was shaped like a triangle, one side open to the elements and its two walls meeting at a point deep inside the cliff. Shelves made of rock climbed these two walls.

  Where to start searching? I took another step forward, and turned on my ankle. Naturally, I put out my hand to steady myself. That was a mistake. It touched a wall, damp and slimy, the way you’d imagine a snail’s belly would feel. “Remember Jamesey huntin’ for his da’s pistol,” I braced myself. It helped me to squash the longing to turn tail and flee. “Now, Ellen, use your wits,” I muttered. Rather than dig willy-nilly, like the team led by Bob Holmes, I had to think about where the skull might be hidden. I kicked my foot against the ground, and wondered if it had even been buried, or whether it might have been put somewhere. Burial may not have fitted the purpose. After all, the floor of a cave that’s regularly flooded by seawater gets worn away.

  Peering right and left, I picked my way onward, trying not to slip on seaweed. All at once, a noise came roaring at me – from in front, behind, above. I was at the centre of a deafening ball of clamour. Shaking all over, I sank to my knees, dropping the candle in a pool of water. I clamped my arms over my head, but nothing could block out this ear-splitting sound. It was the din of men shouting and horses whinnying, screams piercing it all – shrieks that sounded as
if folk were being torn limb from limb.

  Heart hammering, too trapped by fear to think of running away, I gazed wildly about, trying to make out where the rumpus was coming from, but I could see barely anything without the candle. The taste of metal flooded my mouth, spilled over and tickled my chin. Cornered, I knelt there, waiting to be cut to ribbons under those thundering hooves. A sheet of ice travelled through me from tip to toe, my heartbeat slowed right down and missed some beats, my body grew rigid.

  I closed my eyes against the darkness, turning misty red now, but the redness was inside my head. And pictures were crashing through it.

  Men on horseback. Moonlight glancing off blades. Metal dipped in blood. Women and childer pushing, tumbling, desperate to escape. The Gobbins reached. Nowhere left to run. The soldiers press forward: laughing, cursing, out of control. Here and there, a child collapses. The flight has exhausted them. Or perhaps fear is making their legs give way. They are trampled or run through where they lie, death delivered casually. A few women kneel. “Mercy!” they cry. These women are bayoneted, their bodies tossed over the cliffs. Others look behind – and jump. One woman kisses her baby as she takes flight. Another grabs two wee ones by the hands and leaps with them. Skirts billow. Limbs flap in mid-air. Rocks poke through flesh. The foam turns red. Wails rise up to the heavens: a howling outburst of fright, panic, despair. An infant is found where its mother left it, pushed to the side, half-hidden by a bush. Hoping it might pass unnoticed in the confusion. A soldier picks it up. “Nits grow into lice,” he says, and throws it over the Gobbins. The child’s thin bleat sails back on the wind.

  And then silence. Even the beasts are still, while the men seem dazed by what they have done. A few go to the edge and gaze into the chaos below. Nobody says anything, until the soldier who spoke before tugs on his horse’s bridle, causing it to rear up. “May they rot in hell, along with all their seed and breed.” Horses snort, someone drinks from a bottle, burps, passes it on.

  And then the soldier cocks his head on the side and looks directly at me. “Another Magee,” he says. His smile lights up his face. “Why not join your sisters? They’re calling to you. Can’t you hear them?”

  I am pinned on the end of Hamilton Lock’s handsome, black eyes. His voice fills my head. Drowning out everything. It takes on a cozening quality.

  “Climb back up the cliff path, Ellen. Stand at the edge of the Gobbins – and jump. You know you want to.”

  He’s right. I do want to jump. I want to open my arms wide, and let myself be lifted by the winds of Islandmagee – flying away from all my cares. I’ll spread my wings and soar to freedom. I scramble to my feet. I’ll do it at once.

  “Ellen!” Another voice hooks me. I shake my head, trying to get rid of this rival voice. I prefer listening to the first one. “Ellen!” The word rushes here, there, and everywhere, booming. “Ellen-Ellen-Ellen! It’s me – Sarah.”

  I blinked. My head pounded, and I felt as if I was woken too soon. There was a sense of loss, as if a dream I wanted to keep dreaming was snatched from me. What was it? I strained my memory. At first, my mind was a blank, until in a flash I remembered. With the memory came bile, rising in my throat. Gagging, I leaned over, boking up my fear and the near-miss I had. Even after nothing was left in my stomach, I retched on, heaving out sour juices.

  When the dizziness passed, I became aware of Sarah patting my back. The relief was overpowering. Bless the wee lassie, she saved me from Hamilton Lock. Gasping, I wiped my hand along my mouth, the taste of terror of my lips still.

  “Who were you talking to, Ellen?”

  “Could’n you see him? A man on horseback?”

  “The candle went out. I was trying to catch up with you, and then I couldn’t see where you were. But I heard you saying you were going to fly. You said you couldn’t wait. You nearly knocked me down.”

  I reached out my hands, feeling for the top of her head. “You have to go home right away, Sarah. Take to your heels and run like the wind. This place is too dangerous for you. What are you doin’ here anyhow?”

  “I heard what you said to Noah, and I followed you. He’s been teaching me and Jamesey how to track animals. I’ve come to help.”

  I hugged her, proud of her bravery though she had to be frightened. It gave me heart.

  “Ach, Sarah darlin’, you’re the best of girls. But Noah’ll be half-mad with worry about you by now. You have to go home right away – and don’t look back. I’m afeared of somethin’ happenin’ to you here. Somethin’ I bain’t able to protect you from.”

  “We’ll protect each other, Ellen.”

  I sighed. Bless her heart, she was no match for Hamilton Lock. No more than I was, in truth.

  She went on, “I told Noah I was going to the Widow Patterson’s. I said Mama promised I’d keep her company. I know it’s wrong to tell lies. But please, Ellen, let me help. I want to. I know the bad man means to hurt Jamesey.”

  I wrestled with my judgment and lost. By rights, I shouldn’t listen to the child, but Hamilton Lock’s trick had come close to shipwrecking me. The temptation to have somebody beside me won out.

  “All right, chicken, you can stay for now. God alone knows what we might be gettin’ ourselves into, though, so you need to take a care and do everythin’ I say. Agreed?”

  “Agreed.”

  “If I tell you to run outside, do you promise you’ll do it at once? Without lookin’ back – no matter what you hear?”

  “I promise.”

  “And if anybody else speaks to you, pay them no heed. Listen only to me. Do you promise?”

  “You mean the bad man, don’t you? I promise.”

  “Good lass. Now, first things first. I have spare candles in my pocket – let’s get another one lit.” As soon as that was done, I fished out the dropped candle from the pool of water, and dried the wick as best I could. It might yet be needed. That done, I walked round the cave with the second candle, Sarah holding the edge of my skirt. We tried pushing at some large rocks, in case the skull might be lodged in a hole underneath, but we couldn’t move them. Besides, the bigger ones looked as if they had been pushed aside already. I could make out the tracks left from rolling them.

  “Shouldn’t we be digging?” asked Sarah.

  I studied the ground, clearly dug over lately by searchers. “I doubt if that’ll do much good.” Then it struck me a bairn might have more of a notion about hidey-holes than grown-ups. “Tell me, Sarah, where would you hide something in here?”

  Her eyes flicked round. “On one of the rock ledges, high up out of sight.”

  “But how would a body reach it?”

  “Climb up – it can’t be any harder than climbing the apple tree in the garden. Those bits that stick out give your fingers and toes somewhere to grip. Jamesey and me, we’re good at climbing.”

  “If I hold the candle up, do you think you could take a look?”

  She nodded.

  “We’ll take off your frock in case it catches on the rocks. You’ll do it handier in your drawers.”

  When she was ready I gave her a leg-up to the first ledge, and she was as nimble as a chimney sweep. At each rock-shelf she stopped and ran her hand along, without success. When the first wall was searched, we tried the second wall, again without luck.

  “Well done, you did your best,” I said. “Your best, your best!” mocked the echo.

  I was at a loss as to what to try next. Both of us were chilled and shivering, and Missie was worn out, between climbing and crawling. Disappointing though it was, I felt inclined to call it a day.

  I did one last sweep with the candle. Then something caught the corner of my eye, and I pushed further into the cave. Right at the back, where I thought the two walls met, there was an alcove with more ledges growing from the rock.

  “Do you feel able to try one last time?” I asked, and bless the bairn, she scaled up without a word of complaint.

  “There’s something here – I can’t see what it is,” s
he called back. “It feels like a hard ball. It’s very cold.”

  “Can you carry it down?”

  “I think I can hold it under my arm.” One-handed, she began to climb down.

  I held the candle above my head to light her way. “Take your time, Sarah. Make sure you feel something under your foot each time afore you let go.”

  Maybes it was all the shouting we were doing that caused them to loosen, or maybes it was no accident. But a shower of rocks from the cave’s ceiling rained down on the lassie, and she lost her grip. First to drop was the thing she held – I ducked as it bounced at my feet. She scrabbled to keep from falling, feet going every which way, but it was no good. Down she plunged. I rushed to catch her, or at least break her fall – losing this candle, too, in my headlong rush. Once again, we were in darkness. But at least I had her safe in my arms, flat on my back though I was.

  “Are you all right, Sarah?” I rubbed my head, banged off the ground.