Fugitives! (16 page)

‘He claims we’re harbouring Hugh O’Neill, sir.’

‘Well, we’re not!’

‘He says the king is calling O’Neill to London over his land dispute with O’Cahan.’

‘Land dispute, be damned! The king wants to cut off his head! First Chichester, and now this Bonmann chap – do they think I run a hotel for the O’Neill clan here?’ James was about to comment on that, but bit it off. His father went on. ‘Tell him that O’Neill’s in the garderobe at the moment and can’t be disturbed …’ but then he sighed, ‘No … no … I’d better see him. Clear the guard room. I’ll talk to him there in private. You wait outside.’

James stood on guard with his back to the door, straining to hear what was being said inside. It was frustrating; he could hear Father quite clearly, but Bonmann’s lisping tones came as a whisper. He barely heard Bonmann’s accusation about O’Neill and grinned at Father’s angry denials, but now they were talking cattle.

Father’s voice rose. ‘Those cattle are due to Sir Arthur Chichester, not to you, sir!’ James strained to hear how Bonmann replied, but all he heard was Father’s angry response. ‘Don’t give me that legal clap-trap! Damn you to hell,’ Father roared, ‘you thieving, land-grabbing upstart. You will NOT take my castle, NOR my land, by any legal dodge or thievery. Get out of here and get off my land – even better, get out of Ireland or I will get Hugh O’Neill to beat the lard out of you.’ Then Father switched to Irish, using words that James had only heard from the cattlemen at cockfights.

When the door opened behind him, James nearly fell back into Bonmann’s arms, and found himself pushed disdainfully aside, as the man swept towards to the castle door.

Suddenly, the man stopped dead in his tracks. James looked past him, and gaped.

There stood Sinéad, dressed in Uncle Hugh’s gorgeous dress, standing like Queen Maeve, defying the man to pass. She held her ground, chin cocked, blocking his exit. James stepped forward, determined to protect her, but Sinéad needed no protection.

‘Sir,’ she said, loud enough for all to hear. ‘I am ready to come with you, here and now, and when old enough, to become your wife, on condition that you take your army now and leave our castle and our lands, and never return.’

The man stood as if struck, but it only lasted a second. Immediately the suave charm returned. Bonmann stepped forward and bent down to Sinéad’s level – to kiss her? – to sweep her up and carry her away? No, it was to whisper in her ear.

But James heard, and it was like a knife thrust between his ribs.

‘First your castle, then your lands, and then you, my sweetheart – then
you
will be the jewel in my crown!’

Bonmann stood up, but not quickly enough to avoid Sinéad’s stinging slap. Then he was off and down the steps to return to his army.

James’s first instinct was to lunge after the man and challenge him to fight; his second was to throw his arms around his sister, but she was like a firecracker and in no mood for hugs.

‘James!’ called his father from inside the guard room. ‘Come here, we have work to do.’

Sinéad’s fury carried her up the stairs without touching the walls. Once up, however, her fury deserted her. She fled to her room, closed the door and collapsed in a crumpled heap as her anger turned to shame.
I offered myself to that creep!
Her only satisfaction was her stinging palm.

She must have slept then because the next thing she heard was Fion’s voice coming urgently through the door.

‘Sinéad, you are to come. Your father’s called a family meeting.’

She looked down at her now hateful finery. ‘I must change. I’m in this stupid costume.’

‘No. Come as you are. Bonmann may attack at any minute. Find your mother and bring her to the guard room.’ Sinéad found Mother in the great hall marking out sleeping places for the families from the village.

‘Oh, my child, you’re not dressed up for Sir Geoffrey, are you?’ Mother asked. Sinéad didn’t trust her voice to reply, she just led Mother by the hand into the guard room.

Fion closed the door; he was one of the family here. They sat on the benches that lined the walls.

Father, looking drawn but grim, began: ‘You all realise that we are now under siege. A short time ago I had a visit from – it galls me to give him the title –
Sir
Geoffrey Bonmann. He has presented me with a list of false accusations and demands, none of which would stand up in a court of law. When I asked if he was here on Chichester’s business he was evasive, and I see no just reason for him being here.’

‘Father, I can!’ said Sinéad bitterly. ‘There is no reason, no plot – just greed. He told me himself, he wants our castle, then our lands, and I am to be thrown into the bargain.’

‘Oh, come now, child, how could you possibly know this? That’s nonsense!’

‘With respect, sir, it’s true!’ said James, rising like a fighting cock. ‘When Sir Bonmann left you, Sinéad blocked his way out there by the castle door, and said loud enough for me to hear that she would agree to be his bride if he would take his army away and never, ever come back. And this was his reply: “First your castle, then your lands, then
you
will be the jewel in my crown.”’

Father, stunned, turned to Sinéad. ‘You did this, Sinéad?
Dressed up and did it for us? I thought you didn’t like him?’

Her answer was a whisper. ‘I loathed him before, and I loathe him now!’

Father looked at her as if seeing his daughter for the first time. ‘Well then, I think we must keep this jewel for our own crown. We have enough food to hold off a siege for a good few weeks. I’ll get word out to Chichester. I’m sure he’ll put a stop to this man’s gallop–’

There was a knock on the door. Father nodded to James to answer it. There was a murmur of conversation. James stepped out for a moment. When he returned, his face looked drained.

‘Father, I’m afraid the situation has changed. Bonmann has brought up a cannon and it is now trained on the castle door.’

Father sat back with a grunt. ‘Without the door we don’t have enough men to hold the castle.’

Mother spoke. ‘Sir Malachy, can’t we just invite him in, show him that O’Neill is not hiding here, and tell him to take Chichester’s cattle and go away?’

‘The trouble is, my dear, that he won’t go. He’s an adventurer, a man without honour. He wants our castle and our lands for himself, and will stop at nothing to grab them. This is how the English are conquering Ireland, sowing our castles with English aristocracy, and our land with their peasants. After poor Desmond lost his war in Munster they planted his land with English settlers like seed-corn. We chased them out, and now they’re back again. Our only protection now is the law. If I can persuade him to put a cannon ball through the door in an unprovoked attack, we will at least have a case against him. Unfortunately, there’s a flaw to this proposal –
three flaws, to be precise.’

‘What, Sir Malachy? I don’t understand,’ said Mother.

‘The jewels in
our
crown, my dear. First there is Fion, nephew of Hugh O’Neill; if he’s caught we’ll be accused of harbouring the enemy and he’ll be handed over to Chichester as a very useful hostage. Then there is James, our son and heir, to be clapped in irons in Dublin Castle on some trumped-up charge to force me to drop my case against Bonmann. Then, last but not least, there is Sinéad. There are things called forced marriages, and I will not have that on my conscience. No, he has us over a barrel now. If I could spirit the three of you out of here I’d be free to negotiate.’

It was Fion who spoke next. ‘Sir, I will give myself up to him. I will say that you held me captive–’

But Sir Malachy stopped him. ‘No, boy, you won’t – but by God, we have nobler children here than there are men outside. James, you have something to say?’

‘Yes, sir. You may remember telling me years ago that there had once been a tunnel between the castle and the fairy fort?’

‘Yes, and I told you never to go there. Dangerous place, that’s why I scared you off. It’s not accessible, you know.’

‘I remember your tales, sir: ghosts, ghouls, and even the fairy folk themselves. I’m afraid I disobeyed you, sir. I explored the tunnels made by the ancients. One of them led me back towards the castle. It had collapsed, but I cleared it. It comes up into the undercroft.’

‘I should thrash you for disobedience, boy,’ said Father, ‘only that when I was a lad I was told never to go there – so, of course, I too disobeyed. The difference is that you have succeeded where I failed! Is the exit beyond the cordon of men?’

‘The far side is beyond the cordon, I believe. Anyway, the soldiers are Irish. They know a fairy fort when they see one and will avoid it.’

‘Well, you and Fion must get ready to leave at once. We may not have much time. Fion has an urgent job to do for his uncle and I suggest you help him with that. I will give you instructions on where to go after that. But the woods are no place for a wandering girl, Sinéad, so I’m afraid we’ll have to put you in the priest’s hole and hide you here.’

‘Cut it off, Kathleen!’ shouted Sinéad.

‘I can’t, missy – your beautiful hair!’

‘I said CUT IT OFF. Look, I’ll do it myself,’ and Sinéad seized the shears from Kathleen’s hands and hacked off a ragged lock.

‘Oh stop! You’ll kill yourself.’

‘Well, you do it so. Use the pudding bowl like you use on the boys. I want a boy’s cut, not some fancy girly job.’ Giggling with nervous laughter, Kathleen set to while Sinéad closed her eyes against the black silken carpet that was gathering about her feet. While Kathleen snipped, she issued more orders.

‘I want clothes, Kathleen, boy’s clothes, the older the better. Oh God, and I’ll need boots too.’

‘Will you be taking your new dress?’

‘Kathleen, you eejit, don’t you understand? I’m running
away
from the beastly
bonham
. It’s like eloping, but in reverse. The boys are coming too.’ And in case Kathleen might be worried for her own
safety, she told her that there would be no fight. It was just that Father wanted her and the boys out of the way. Fortunately, Kathleen was too taken up with her cutting to ask how they would leave. Eventually the maid stood back to admire her work, put her hand over her mouth and let out a snort of laughter.

‘Stop laughing, Kathleen! This is important. Now I need clothes – old ones, but get me clean ones, please!’

The shearing had taken place in the privacy of the guest room, one of the few rooms with a fireplace. While Kathleen went off to raid the boys’ chests for clothes, Sinéad went to the chimney, and, kneeling in the grate, felt the inside of the chimney above her for a smear of soot. She was more successful than she’d hoped. There was a whoosh and she staggered back, coated in black from head to foot. Choking, she rubbed diligently at it, blackening her face and hands. Kathleen came in with an armful of plundered clothes.

‘Holy smoke, will you look at the creature – my first black girl!’ she exclaimed, as she stripped off Sinéad’s shift and dropped it on the floor. ‘Try these …’ She stood back, still trying not to laugh while Sinéad tried on various well-worn, but, on the whole, clean garments. Later she would thank Kathleen in her heart for having forced her into clothes that seemed far too hot for the time of year. ‘If you’re going to be out at night, you’ll need wool next to the skin,’ she’d declared.