by L. E. Waters
The thought of her being big next to the giant is laughable. “You’re related to her? I never knew you even had a sister, and a horse thief, at that. You never thought to mention that?”
“Well, Síofra told me not to, and what she says, I do.” He smiles and lowers his voice. “She’s in league with the fairies, you know.”
Síofra gives a bewitching smile.
Cahir pushes through us all and sits by the fire. Kelly takes the cork out of the jug they’re drinking from and pours him a cup, which he accepts with a nod of thanks. We all sit, and Cahir says, “So, let’s get down to business. Where are we going to get our hands on some first-rate horses?”
I reply, “If it’s horses you want, I have an idea.”
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We blow the signal to gather, and everyone shows within thirty minutes with their recruits in tow. I give a count and whistle at the total of twenty-nine men, but realize I’m missing one of my leaders.
“Hogan, have you seen Art?” I ask.
“Nope, haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
Would he actually disband because of our fight?
I try to shake it off so I can focus on the task at hand. “Everyone fill your pockets with shot, each take a musket, pistol, and sword. Remember all we’ve taught you and keep your ears perked for my commands.”
They nod anxiously, and Kelly yells with his sword held high and grey-blue eyes sparkling, “Well, let’s go, then!”
Cahir’s riding next to me and asks, “Where we headed, then?”
“I got the hard word that there’s a militia setting up their fortification in Banbridge. Their defenses are down, and it’s a good time to take what we want.”
“You’re going after the militia?”
“I think I’m addicted to it,” I reply with a grin.
I shush my men and have them walk their horses to keep the noise down. We come upon the half-built fort at the time of the changing of the guards. I get to see without even sneaking up how many sentries we have to worry about. One man guards each entrance to the stables. I go back to tell my men and pick twelve of my best to go gag and bind each man. “The trick here is to walk slowly and silently behind him while one man puts the muzzle to his head. The other silences him so as not to alert the others. Once you’ve got your man down, I want one man to make a single owl hoot. When I hear six hoots, I’ll bring nineteen more men down to get the horses. The rest of you will stay and hold our horses and fire from here if we get any attention.”
With the sound of a shadow, the twelve men move down upon the stables. I hear the first hoot, and the five follow closely. I motion for the next group to follow me down just as quietly, and we find eighteen horses within. They each take one while Cahir and I follow with our muskets raised behind them. When we reach the safety of the woods, I look at Kelly, who has blood streaming from his nose.
“What happened to you?”
“Our sentry put up a little fight, gave me a nasty wipe, and broke my nose, he did,” Kelly says, trying to feel the bones.
We take to the main road, and our herd leaves a cloud of dust behind. Cahir rides up beside me and says as he takes the lead, “We’re headed to the fair at Ballybay.”
’Tis Strong John who notices the patrol gaining on us from behind, and I know they can overtake us since we’re hampered by the extra horses.
I scream, “Halt!” They slide to an abrupt stop. “Form a semicircle!” The men file into place with the quickness of trained militia. “Wait until my command to shoot!” I put my horse in the center and hold my breath as the patrol stops, aware of our unexpected formation.
“Surrender and no one will get hurt!” their commander yells.
“No! No surrender! We’re all prepared to fight to the end!” I move Ghost forward a bit and say, “You’re outmanned and outgunned two to one! Surrender to us!”
Their commander steps his horse over to another officer, and he comes forward under a white flag.
I turn to my men. “Be ready if this is a trap.” Ghost prances out to meet him halfway.
“You have the upper hand here, there is no doubt. If you give every one of those stolen horses back, then we will have no bloodshed here tonight.”
“I can agree to giving you back all the horses.” His face widens in a smug grin as I say this. “At a guinea a piece, that is.”
His face falls, and anger distorts his features. “You’re selling the militia back its own horses?”
“Yes, and if that’s not agreeable, I will shoot dead every member of your patrol.” I keep my face still.
He looks at my well-disciplined men and juts his chin out. “A guinea per horse, agreed.”
“And I want your patrol to retire a thousand yards with no threat of reprisal.”
He takes in a deep breath, puffing out his chest. “You drive a hard bargain, outlaw, but agreed.” He walks his horse over and counts out eighteen guineas from his purse. We have nine unarmed men bring the horses to my position, as he has nine come to take the horses.
“You’ll hang someday, O’Hanlon, and you’ll see my face in the crowd.”
“Something to look forward to, then, Commander.”
I canter back to my men. We wait until they fall back, and we take to the woods and celebrate into the night.
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The next morning, I go back to our farm, anticipating Muirin running out the door to see me as I come down the hill, only to be surprised to see Art’s horse in one of the paddocks. When I open the door, they’re laughing together as she’s making supper and he’s sitting by the fire.
“Good to see you, Redmond,” he says.
Muirin comes running to me with her hands covered in flour and gives me a tight hug. “You were gone for three days! Thank God Art came to check in on me.”
I glance over to him, and he gives me a little grin. “Art, so this is where you were last night. You mustn’t have heard the call?”
“’Twas a call last night? No we didn’t hear a thing, did we, Muirin?”
“Art came by yesterday looking for you, and I begged him to stay for supper since I didn’t want to have another supper by myself.”
“What about my Ma and Da? They’re only three houses away.”
“I went to them the first two nights, and I thought you were coming home anyway.”
“Well, we could have used you, Art, but we managed all right.” I go and sit in the smaller chair by the fire.
“Oh, tell us all about it, Redmond, while I finish this soup.”
She’s so rattled by my story, I forget all about the anger I feel for Art. After supper, I realize my worries are foolish, and I thank Art for looking after her for me. He leaves soon after.
It becomes a strange agreement, but whenever I have to go on the road or travel to talk to my spies, Art will come and stay with Muirin. It makes it easier for me to leave, and I do feel more comfortable knowing someone is there to protect her. I try not to think too hard about what his reasons are for doing it; I just push it from my mind.
I walk into the tavern and say, “Sean, how you been?”
“Where’ve you been, Redmond? Better than three months since I’ve last seen you. And what’s this I hear about you being married?”
“Sure it’s all true and ’tis the reason why I haven’t been here for long.”
He chuckles. “Well, good to see you back, but I have some good news and some bad news. Your man Alister came a week ago and wanted me to tell you that the mercenaries were being recalled.”
“That’s great news, Sean. Not one of my men was caught.”
“Sure, but here’s the bad news. St. John and three of the other bigwigs around Armagh are putting in their own money into tracking you down.”
I scoff. “St. John can buy a whole army and they’ll never get their hands on me.”
“Alister says it’s like some kind of game to St. John, like you
’re one of his game animals. He’s telling folks all around here how he and his son are going out every night searching these woods for you, and they won’t stop until they smoke you out.”
“Well, what can I do about that?”
He clears his throat and lowers his voice, even though we’re alone at the bar. “Maybe you just might want to get the hunter before the hunter gets you.”
I sigh. “I’ve had my chance before, but it might come down to that. Thanks for the information, Seany.” I hand him two pouches.
“One’s for you and the other’s for Alister, if you see him first. Actually, I should give you another to have on hand so when he comes to you, you can give him something from me.”
“Thank you, Redmond, but the other bad news I have to tell you is that they’ve put a bounty on your head: thirty pounds for you and twenty for each of your men.”
“Well,” I say as I walk out, “then I just have to be sure to give everyone I know more than that so there’s no incentive.”
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No one’s in the main cave this time of the day. I blow the whistle ten long times and then again five minutes later. Strong John, Ned, and Liddy are there first, followed by Kelly, Cahir, and Síofra, and Galloping Hogan comes last.
“I guess this is our turnout.” I look around. “I just got news that the mercenaries are gone.”
Liddy gives a sharp-pitched whistle in celebration.
“But,” I pause. “There’s word St. John’s wagging his new-citizen tongue all around Armagh that he and his son are going on the hunt for me and my followers.”
“Let him come, then,” Kelly retorts with his dazzling smile.
“Well, Sean had a pretty good idea. He thinks we should go after him first.”
Everyone’s waiting for me to continue.
“I’ve been thinking, it’s never good to go shooting a well-to-do Englishman, unless you want the whole army of Ulster at your door. Then it came to me; we go ransom the boy. He can’t be but nineteen or so now. How hard would it be for us eight to go nab him?”
Cahir says, “Strong John alone could go and pick him up over his head and carry him home.”
“So we go watch the house. If he comes out to go anywhere, we get him. We bring him back here and send a message to St. John that he better leave us alone.”
“It’s worth a try, and there’s no jug here anyway,” Strong John says.
We ride to the base of Tandragee castle and wait for a rider to come down the path. We must’ve waited over an hour.
“I don’t think he’s coming,” Ned says.
Suddenly we hear the cacophony of hounds being released. Panic sweeps all of our faces when we think they might be headed our way, so we take off deeper into the woods. We watch the hounds pass with three riders dressed up for a hunt behind them.
“Let’s follow them. They’re sure to break up in the fields, and that would be a perfect time to take him,” I say.
We follow St. John and his group to a clearing as the two other riders go to their left with the hounds. “Where are you going, William?” one of the riders calls over the noise.
“I’m after fowl today.” He turns his horse away.
We have to stay deep in the cover of the brush to wait for the perfect time to pounce. We watch, as he doesn’t seem to be hunting for anything. As soon as his father’s out of sight, he puts away his gun and just rides around the perimeter of the field. He then stands daydreaming, staring out on the field. I turn to Cahir, who looks impatient, and shrug. Finally, our chance comes when he decides to go for a jaunt in the woods. We all close in on every side. When he spies us, he screams, “Outlaws!” at the top of his lungs.
His horse is fast and sure-footed and keeps pushing into Ghost as I try to get hold of him or his reins. He fumbles to get his musket out from his saddlebag, but Strong John swats away with his long arm and flings it behind us.
“Outlaws!” he yells again.
Finally, Hogan races up on his dainty horse and does a quick spinning motion right in front of the boy’s horse, forcing it to stop before colliding. He screams one last time before I can shove a rag in his mouth, but in the shuffle, a shot rings out, and we all look up to see two hunters. One’s loading his gun again quickly, while the other keeps his muzzle directed at me.
“Release my son or I’ll shoot, and be sure, I won’t miss.” St. John’s dull, empty eyes are set on me above his musket. I see his face for the first time in my life, and ’tis all pinched together in the center with fish-like thick lips.
“If you fire a shot off, I’ll still have time to send this bullet into his head.” I show St. John the pistol held against William’s temple.
“Let go of my son, and I will bring you set in, unharmed.”
“What, so we can hang in good health?” I shout.
“Hang the harpers wherever found.” He sneers.
The insulting dig enrages Strong John, and in one quick action, he unloads his musket and hits St. John’s companion in the chest.
Síofra shrieks, “No, John!”
John draws his sword and yells, “Pog me thoin!” and runs at St. John, who shoots him in the center of his forehead. St. John immediately turns his horse to flee. Everyone but me takes their weapons out and releases a volley after him. One bullet hits St. John in the arm, but he keeps riding.
Síofra rushes to John, but we all know what a shot to the forehead does. His massive form’s spread out in the leaves; his sword lays by his side. Fallen Goliath under a river of Síofra’s tears.
She touches a scar over his eye and says through her pain, “He got this saving me.” She sucks in her sniffles to continue, “I was just a girl when I tried to take my first horse. I snuck into a planter’s stables and was almost home free when I heard a hammer click. Before I could turn around, something hit me as I heard a shot go out. Whatever hit me took the blunderbuss from the man and hit him hard over the head with it. I heard John’s voice, still hear it, ‘Síofra, are you hurt?’ So full of worry. He put me on the horse and rode us away back to the woods. ’Twas not until we stopped and he turned that I saw he was holding his head. The blood was pouring down his left side. Never once complained or held it against me.” She broke into tears again. “He loved me that much.”
I hear some of the men tearing up too and decide not to embarrass them by looking at them.
“God be with him,” I say, and they all echo the sacred prayer.
I bind William’s hands behind his back and tie his waist to his saddle. After securing him, all seven of us lift John up over his saddle. Síofra insists she lead his horse home. We follow behind her, in somber procession, as the light leaves the sky.
Chapter 14
Although we wanted to mourn Strong John’s loss, we’re left with a hostage to deal with. Cahir takes Síofra and John’s body home. The rest of the men come along with me. We blindfold William and take him back to the main cave. I tell the hostage to sit, and he tries awkwardly to get to the ground with his hands tied behind his back. He sits there, against the wall of the cave, slumped over, blind and gagged—truly a pathetic sight.
I turn to Ned. “Go find someone you trust to send a message to St. John. We want £100 for safe delivery of his son, or we shoot him by the end of the week.”
The prisoner overhears me, and as soon as I remove his gag, he says, “He’ll never pay that, you know.”
“Quiet now or I’ll be forced to plug you back up.”
I walk out the cave to clear my head, but I feel guilty to leave the boy in such a painful position, no matter how angry I am at how the day turned out. I go in, untie his hands, and retie them in front of him loosely so the ropes don’t chafe, and I remove his blindfold.
“Now don’t be getting any grand ideas of escape. I have a man at this cave entrance at all times. If he sees so much as the tip of your shoe, he’ll shoot.”
I purposely avoid looking into his eyes, since I know what
might befall him. I try to imagine him like some animal slated for slaughter. I walk back out and tell Kelly to take the first shift as guard. I want Bawn to sit with the prisoner and make sure he doesn’t go into the other weapon rooms. I rest with my men at the fire, and we cook supper in silence in respect for Strong John.
Seeing there’s some stew left, I bring a plate of it in to the hostage with a bowl of water. He takes the fork hungrily, tries to scoop up some on the plate, and brings it up to his mouth, but since his hands are tied, it ends up falling off the fork and spilling down his chest.
“I can’t watch this. You’re like a baby.” I take the fork from his hands, scoop up a full fork, and go to stuff it into his mouth. He doesn’t open at first. So I say, “Fine by me if you starve.”
Then I put the fork and plate down to see him open his mouth wide like a wee bird. I shovel the food in quickly so I won’t have to do the silly thing much longer. I bring a bowl up after for him to get a drink, but it ends up spilling out the side of his mouth and down his shirt.
“Thank you,” he says softly.
“No thanks needed. I have to make sure you don’t die before I hand you over.”
“I tell you, he won’t be paying your ransom.”
“Well, we’ll wait and see, won’t we?” I turn to Bawn. “Can you take the night shift as well?”
“Sure thing, but what’ll I do when he has to make water or the other?” Bawn’s eyes flip up immaturely.
“You’ll have to bring him outside, then.”
“But I’ll have to untie him so he can, you know, use his hands.”
“Right, I see, so untie him and keep a gun at his head.”
“I’ll have to stand right there and watch him?”
“Jesus, Bawn! No, you can let him go shite all over the countryside, and we’ll see if he comes back! Of course, you’ll have to watch him! I don’t know, sing a song or something to keep your mind away from it.”
