Behind the Walls

by Nicola Pierce

  So, all they did was stand there and watch as that pitiful group got closer and closer. It was a horrible sight. A crowd of maybe two thousand strong, men, women and children, all shivering as they walked, heads bowed in shame at their nakedness and bowed in defeat under the lashes of the cruel wind and rain. Daniel gaped in bewilderment. How had so many people managed to lose their clothes?

  Here and there he thought he recognised a face, but it was difficult to be sure. Their nakedness obscured vague recollections about having either seen them in church in St Columb’s or going about their business around the market stalls in the Diamond.

  The women and children were crying, while the men looked desperate and useless. Nobody said a word as the crowd approached the gate. The people of Derry looked as uncomfortable as the newcomers.

  One man, who walked in front, called out in a hoarse voice, ‘Don’t let us in!’

  This was unexpected. Indeed, some of those on the cityside were moved to shout out, ‘What do you mean? Why are you here?’

  A young child, watching from the walls, could be clearly heard asking the obvious question, ‘Where are their clothes, Mama?’

  The man spoke again, ‘Lieutenant-General de Rosen had us stripped and brought here so that you’d pity us enough to bring us in.’

  Accordingly, a sudden cry went out from the residents, ‘Let them in. Open the gates!’

  At that moment, Adam was relieved to see newly appointed Governor Walker make his way through to the gate. He raised an arm for silence as he stood in front of it. Adam stood by, ready to show his support for the reverend, should he require it.

  Governor Walker gave a sombre nod to the people outside the gate before turning back to his own. ‘We can’t allow these poor souls in because it is part of Lieutenant-General de Rosen’s plan that we bring them in, divide our remaining food with them and be left with nothing at all in no time.’

  Naturally there were those listeners who understood what he was saying, while the more sensitive individuals could not believe their ears, that the church leader was refusing shelter to their neighbours and relatives.

  Seeing the disgusted expressions on some of the faces, Adam took a deep breath and moved to stand beside Reverend Walker. He deliberately kept his back to the outsiders because he did not want to see their misery up close in case he faltered in his belief that they had to be kept at bay. He did his best to deafen his ears against the sound of sobbing and hacking coughs while he said loudly, ‘Reverend Walker is right. The Frenchman is trying to trick all of us. This is just a bluff!’

  To his mortification he heard a voice behind him say, ‘How can that fellow be so unfeeling? Isn’t it well for him in his coat and boots?’

  Adam called back to the man, who seemed to be the spokesperson for the shivering crowd, ‘I am so sorry for your trouble; I truly am!’

  The man believed him. ‘You haven’t inflicted this upon us.’ His voice shook with the cold, and it was with an apologetic look that he wrapped his arms around his middle. ‘No, this is not your fault, sir. If Derry falls we all fall.’

  Adam and Reverend Walker exchanged a glance as they tried to gauge the response of the city’s population. They needn’t have worried. Adam had hit a nerve when he said the Frenchman was trying to trick them. He could see the realisation in their faces and he felt only scorn for Lieutenant-General de Rosen. Who did he take them for? Did he not realise that his shameful plan would only make them more determined than ever? What an awful man to put these innocents through such barbaric treatment.

  Now, what? These two words surged from the pit of Adam’s being. Now, what? Are we to stand here gaping at one another?

  However, Governor Walker was already one step ahead of him. He fired out an order. ‘Gather the Jacobite prisoners together and bring them to where they can be seen, to the double bastion between Bishop’s and Butchers’ Gate.’ The governor paused – for effect, no doubt – before adding, ‘and put up the gallows.’

  He gave Adam a questioning look, one that Adam replied to by nodding his head in agreement. De Rosen had left them with no choice.

  The prisoners numbered twenty and had been taken alive during the various skirmishes led by Adam. They were allowed to live because, in a siege situation, it is wise to have hostages for such moments as these.

  Reverend Walker called for paper and ink and, using the wall itself, began a letter to the enemy. The reverend fought to keep a tight rein on his emotions yet could not help confessing to Adam, ‘I would love to take the opportunity to name them as servants of the Devil, himself. I mean, how else to explain this monstrosity.’ He sighed heavily. ‘But I suppose I have to be polite and professional.’

  Not knowing how to respond to this, Adam stared at the governor’s letter. He could not have guessed that it was his personal show of support that boosted the reverend’s confidence. Quite honestly, Governor Walker seemed to be relishing his role as the one who knew exactly what to do.

  He wrote large, adding twists and curls to letters that did not require them. He read his letter aloud, ‘To Whom It May Concern …’ To Adam, he said, ‘After all, there are so many of them over there now and who is to know who exactly is in charge? Is it the French, the Irish or the English?’

  Adam merely shrugged at this, concerned that there was a little too much casual conversation on display in front of the downtrodden crowd who had nothing to do except watch the governor and the young colonel. How he wished that they would move away to where he didn’t feel their sorrowful eyes upon him.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ The reverend had thought of something else to write and scribbled hard against the wall. He said to Adam, ‘I’m a God-fearing man, as you know, and I’ve explained that we will hang our prisoners if these refugees are not allowed home. But I’ve added that we’ll allow their priests in to prepare them for death. It shows them that we’re serious.’

  Adam was impressed but would not admit it to the reverend who seemed to be waiting to be complimented on his wonderful idea. As much as this sort of peacock behaviour grated on him, Adam did envy the reverend for the enormous sense of belief he had in himself.

  A messenger was despatched to the Jacobite camp. Now, there was nothing to do except wait.

  The people of Derry moved away from the walls but did so slowly in the hope that the ones on the other side wouldn’t feel abandoned. Even more rain fell. Adam had hoped that the weather might take pity on the naked crowd and allow the sun to warm them, but no such luck.

  He was unsure what to do himself as the good reverend made for the cathedral, in order to pray, he said, for a timely solution to the matter in hand. For a second or two, Adam considered following him, putting space and the walls of St Columb’s between him and the poor unfortunates milling about. However, he was his father’s son and, therefore, not surprised when his legs refused to take him away from the wall. Instead, he found himself calling down to the spokesman and asking his name.

  ‘Samuel Clebourne,’ the man said, adding, ‘I’m a school teacher.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Samuel,’ said Adam. ‘I’m Adam Murray.’

  Samuel smiled. ‘Yes, I know who you are, Colonel Murray. We all do. You’re the one who is going to save us.’

  Adam was stunned by the teacher’s words which had been spoken with absolute conviction. Doing his best to mask his confusion and come up with some sort of response, Adam couldn’t help noticing quite a few heads bobbing up and down in agreement. He tried, ‘I don’t … that is, I don’t know. I’m not sure …’ Adam felt dizzy.

  Using his shoulder to flick the raindrops from his nose, Samuel said, ‘In the years to come people might well wonder what this was all about.’

  As casually as he could, Adam leant the top half of his body against the wall, hoping that it merely looked as if he was interested in what Samuel was saying and not that he feared he was about to fall down at any moment.

  ‘Not just this,’ Samuel was saying, gesturing at himself
and his soaked neighbours. ‘I mean, all of it. Keeping the gates closed when it would be so much easier to let the Jacobites in, especially after James assured us he wouldn’t punish anyone.’

  Adam couldn’t help himself; he whispered, ‘I cannot imagine that it will make much sense at all.’ It was the first time he had admitted this.

  Samuel shook his head dolefully. ‘No, probably not. But I generally find that the big things that really matter – things like love, duty and truth – don’t always make sense. In the end, you just do what you feel is right.’

  Samuel might have said more except he succumbed to a coughing fit, reminding himself and Adam of the horrible position he was in. Adam couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be naked in this weather, not knowing how long they would have to wait until they could go home again.

  They probably expect me to do something and here I am, just talking away like it’s an ordinary day and I’ve nothing better to be doing.

  He was relieved to have his attention diverted by his guards and the Jacobite prisoners. No doubt Samuel meant well, but on this wet Tuesday afternoon the responsibility and expectation that Adam felt was too heavy for his thin shoulders.

  Nodding a curt salute to Samuel, who had managed to catch his breath and stop coughing, Adam followed the others to the bastion while his thoughts crashed about inside his head. He was pleased at the shock and bafflement on the Jacobite prisoners’ faces on seeing the vast crowd of freezing men, women and children huddled in front of the city walls. One of the more senior officers didn’t have any qualms about voicing his surprise, ‘What on earth is going on? Why are they naked?’

  Adam answered him, ‘They are our Protestant neighbours. Your Lieutenant-General de Rosen rounded them up from nearby villages, stripped them and marched them here in the belief that we’d have to take them in, all these extra mouths, to finish the last of our food but …’ Here, Adam experienced a surge of pride. ‘But they won’t come in.’

  The officer scowled. ‘That fool, de Rosen! King James will have his head for this!’ The man went on to study the crowd and muttered, ‘No, this isn’t right at all!’

  Adam shrugged and said, ‘You should know that we have sent a message threatening to hang all of you if these people are not sent home.’

  The prisoners glanced at one another and then out beyond to their fellow soldiers in the distance. Not one of them showed the slightest hint of fear.

  ‘Governor Walker has asked for your priests to come over. They’ll be allowed to see you and make the necessary preparations.’

  The officer made no comment on this; he was more concerned about something else. He said, ‘We are soldiers of King James.’ He was obliged to ignore the rude sounds of grunting and spitting from the large crowd of onlookers in order to continue. ‘What I mean is, we should die by the pistol not be hung like common criminals.’

  ‘Or,’ offered Adam, ‘Lieutenant-General de Rosen could allow these people go free and you and your men can go back to jail?’

  The officer conceded, ‘Well, yes, that would be the best outcome. No denying that.’

  For those few minutes Adam and the Jacobite officer could have been any men, any place in the world – two acquaintances gadding about the day’s work. Instead, they were on the walls of Derry, a Jacobite and a Williamite, drenched from the rain and yearning for a hot dinner that wasn’t to be had. They looked out at the hill across from them, each thinking the same thing. Where, in God’s name, is this going to end?

  Neither Lieutenant-General de Rosen nor his Irish counterpart Colonel Hamilton were impressed by Derry’s threat to hang the prisoners. This was war after all and the death of soldiers was only to be expected.

  Governor Walker scoffed at the fact that not one priest had turned up to administer the last rites to the Jacobites. He had them write to their immediate superior, Colonel Hamilton, not to plead for their lives – they were happy to give their lives for King James – but that they didn’t want to die like common criminals. They wrote:

  Driving the prisoners to the wall has enraged the garrison. We are to be killed unless they are withdrawn immediately. We should die with our swords in our hands. We beg you to speak on our behalf to Marshal de Rosen.

  Like his king, Colonel Hamilton was known for his dislike of killing civilians. However, his reply was a short note stating that the naked Protestants had only themselves to blame. They should have begged Derry to take them in. Meanwhile, the only comfort he offered his own men was that their deaths would be avenged, which was truly no comfort at all.

  In other words, everyone was at a standstill for the rest of that miserable day. Nobody was to sleep much as darkness fell. Of course it rained and the wind howled throughout the night.

  Adam tossed and turned, wondering how many of the crowd would be dead before the morning. He swore he could hear their moans beneath the wind, and the hopelessness of it all burned in his empty stomach. What kind of men make hundreds and hundreds of ordinary folk spend a night out in that without a blessed stitch between them?

  There had been an attempt to scrounge some food to smuggle out to the desperate crowd, but there really wasn’t much to give. Also, Adam knew that refusing their fellow Protestants entry into the city hadn’t been a popular decision but it was a necessary one for Derry’s sake.

  Nevertheless, the physical appearance of the pathetic crowd, which was all too obvious, did provoke some jealousy amongst the hungry population. For instance, Adam had clearly heard one woman loudly proclaiming, ‘Them folk had their breakfast before they got here. Look at the plumpness of them! It’s plain to see they’ve not gone without food.’

  Adam had gritted his teeth and taken a deep breath. Food wasn’t the only thing in short supply at this stage: mercy and kindness were becoming scarce too. The worst of it was that Adam had found he could not ignore her words. To his mortification he had realised he agreed with her. They did look well-fed, though he knew that at least he and the rest of his fellow citizens still had their clothes. We’re all prisoners, no matter what side of the gate we’re on.

  As he lay sleepless on his mattress, his hunger assailed him again. ‘Oh my God!’ He said this aloud but it wasn’t a prayer. An idea had sprung out of the darkness of his mind. ‘We’re all prisoners? So be it!’

  He left his bed and made his way to the bastion wall in search of Reverend Walker and found him up by the Jacobite prisoners who all seemed in dire need of a wash. The churchman looked up at the young officer’s arrival. Adam greeted him. ‘I was just looking for you, sir. I’ve thought of something we can do with the group!’ He spoke quietly so that only the reverend could hear him.

  After the previous long, long evening, Governor Walker was open to ideas about anything at all. This waiting for something to happen was bad for his nerves. There had been no positive response to his letter yet, aside from Colonel Hamilton’s snippiness, which he had convinced himself was only a temporary response. Surely the man would not allow this situation to continue much longer. The governor found it hard to concentrate on much else as he waited, and hoped, to hear from Colonel Hamilton a second time.

  He stepped forward to meet Adam and they moved farther away from the Jacobite soldiers and their own guards.

  ‘Let’s make a secret exchange!’ Adam’s eyes shone as he spoke. ‘We sneak out some of our sickest people to join the crowd and take in some of their healthy men to boost our army.’

  Expecting to have to explain himself further, Adam opened his mouth to say more but there was no need. Governor Walker actually punched him in the arm, by way of thanks, and called the two Sherrard boys over, only telling them: ‘Colonel Murray needs your help. Do whatever he asks of you!’

  Adam’s first order was an easy one. ‘Follow me!’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Some of the older soldiers did not want to leave Derry. They had stood guard on the wall from the very beginning. It was up to Robert and Daniel to find them, wake them up if
necessary and tell them that Adam Murray needed them to go.

  Robert found the guard, who all those months ago had taken a chance and handed him the keys of the gate. He was in a bad way; his mouth was a curve of open sores and Robert wasn’t entirely sure that the man could see him because his eyes looked like they had been dipped in milk. Assuming that the man probably had gone blind, Robert felt free to take a step back from him. The guard’s breath was dreadful, and a second smell, that caused Robert’s own eyes to water, told him that the poor fellow was no longer in charge of his bodily functions. Yet, despite all this, the guard wanted to stay and fight.

  ‘But I can’t go now. It wouldn’t be right, I’m no coward!’

  Robert shook his head, forgetting about the man’s possible blindness. ‘It’s nothing to do with being a coward. Actually, it’s the opposite.’

  How many times more would he have to say this today?

  Adam wanted a hundred men at the very least. It was proving difficult to keep count, especially when men like this guard, who felt that Derry was expelling them as failures, required more than a few words of coaxing.

  The guard persisted. ‘Let some other man take my place. I can still hold my sword.’

  Robert doubted if the man could stand by himself, never mind swing a heavy sword. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Some other man will take your place.’ He paused to allow his listener to think about this. Then he said, ‘We’re going to switch you for one of the fellows outside the gate, a fresh fighter. They haven’t been starving like we have.’

  Tears rolled down the guard’s face as he accepted what Robert was saying.

  Robert bid himself to be kind. ‘There’s no need to feel shame. You have given your all and now you are being asked to go one step further. I warn you, what you are being asked to do is not easy.’

  At this the guard forgot his sadness and sat up a little straighter.