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Authors: Bertrice Small

BOOK: Besieged
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With a shriek Maeve arose to cradle her mother’s lifeless body. “You Protestant devil,” she screamed at him. “How could you? I shall tell our Da what you have done, William Devers! I hope he kills you himself!” Sobbing she held Molly’s body against her chest.
His face expressionless, William raised his pistol once again and shot his half-sister through her head. Maeve’s body jerked once, and then she fell over her mother’s still form. Then his icy eyes turned to Aine who cowered in the corner near the fireplace. An unholy light lit William’s face. Reaching out he pulled Aine up. “Now here’s a pretty little wench, and every bit the whore her mother was, I’ll wager. Let’s take her upstairs, and have her entertain us. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, wench?” Reaching out William ripped Aine’s bodice open, and fondled her little breasts.
The girl looked at him with shocked blue eyes. “You’re my brother,” she said weakly. She was shaking all over.
William slapped Aine hard, and she cried out surprised. “You cannot claim kinship with me, wench. You’re a common whore’s brat, and, now, up the stairs with you! You’ll ply your mother’s trade this night before I kill you. What’s one more dead Catholic bitch more or less. By morning Lisnaskea will be free of your kind.” He dragged Aine from the parlor, turning to invite his companions along. “Come on, lads. She looks like a tasty morsel, and we’ll all have at her.”
Not all the men followed William. Most drifted from Molly Fitzgerald’s house silently, not even daring to look at her body and that of young Maeve as they went. They had only wanted Lisnaskea to to be a wholly Protestant town. They hadn’t wanted murder, and rape. Yet in the hour since Reverend Dundas had exorted them to follow William Devers, and cleanse Lisnaskea of the Catholics, they had seen death too many times to be able to cry their innocence any longer. They felt guilty, and their guilt made them only angrier at their Catholic neighbors. Then they heard a terrible screaming, peal after peal of pure terror crying out from the upper floor of Molly Fitzgerald’s house. They heard unholy laughter, and the shouts of encouragement from those who had remained behind to violate the young girl. Many had daughters Aine’s age. The men hurried off into the darkness to escape the sound.
Then a young lad ran from out of the darkness shouting, “The dirty Papists have fired the church, and locked Reverend Dundas and his family inside. Our women can’t get the doors open!”
“Go on,” Robert Morgan told his companions. “I’ll fetch Master William, and the others.”
And then Molly Fitzgerald’s house was silent again. The door, hanging from its hinges, swung open. From her hiding place old Biddy crept forth, tears streaming down her worn face. Her old legs shaking she climbed the stairs, and sought Aine. She found the young girl, stripped naked, and spread open on her mother’s bed. Her throat had been cut from ear to ear. Her blue eyes were open, and filled with utter terror. Her sweet little face was already showing signs of bruising, and her milky thighs were smeared with blood, evidence of her violation. Biddy gently closed Aine’s sightless eyes, and drew a coverlet over her although she was certainly past all modesty now.
The old servant wiped her eyes once more with her apron, and then a look of grim determination crossed her face. Looking down on young Aine, whom she had helped to birth, Biddy crossed herself and said a prayer. Then she descended the elegant small staircase of the house, reentering the parlor. She prayed again over the bodies of her mistress and Maeve. Then she departed the house through the rear entry and went to the stables. Biddy was deathly afraid of horses, but she bravely saddled Aine’s fat pony, heaving her wiry frame into the saddle and riding off, away from the town, and into the darkness.
She knew the way for she had spent her entire life in this region. She was not of Lisnaskea, but a Maguire’s Ford woman. Slowly, carefully, she guided the pony as it picked its way through the darkness on the rocky path toward safety. The night was only just beginning to give way to the day when she finally made her way into the village of Maguire’s Ford, and across the small drawbridge of Erne Rock Castle. She practically fell into the arms of the young gatekeeper.
“Fetch the Maguire,” she wheezed at him, shaking the lad off. “I can stand.
Get the Maguire!
There’s murder about!”
Rory Maguire came from his gatehouse, half-dressed, but struck by the gatekeeper’s urgency. He recognized Biddy immediately.
She didn’t wait for him to ask. “There’s murder at Lisnaskea! My lord himself was with us last evening when it began. I don’t know where he is now. William Devers shot my mistress, and young Maeve. They are dead. What he did to our wee Aine I am too ashamed to say. She is dead now too, for which I thank a merciful God.”
“So it’s finally come,” Rory Maguire said, almost to himself. Then he took the old woman by the arm. “Come into the hall, Biddy. I must fetch the duke and his wife. You must tell them what happened.”
“And what will they do, these Protestants, to avenge my poor mistress and her daughters?” Biddy demanded angrily. “ ’Twas their kind who killed them, and God knows how many others in Lisnaskea!”
“Nay,” he told her quietly as he led her into the castle. “Not all Protestants, like Catholics, are the same, Biddy. That is why I have been able to remain here all these years with our own folk. That is why Maguire’s Ford is a place of peace. Lady Jasmine is a good woman who holds no prejudice against any faith. I will admit that in that she is rare, but it is she who possesses Maguire’s Ford, and her will has ruled us peacefully for a long time. Remember, her own dear daughter, born here in this castle, is wed to Kieran Devers. She knew your mistress, and her children. She will be horrified by your tale.”
They were in the hall now, and Rory sent a servant for the duchess and her husband. They came almost immediately, James Leslie helping his wife who was now very full with their child.
“What has happened?” Jasmine asked, sitting heavily.
“This is Biddy, Molly Fitzgerald’s serving woman,” Rory said. “I’ll let her tell you her tale, my lady, but be warned. ’Tis a terrible one.”
The Leslies listened with growing horror as the old lady spoke of the terror, the violence, the murder, and the rape that had occurred the previous evening in Lisnaskea. “I am ashamed that I hid, that I could not aid my mistress and those two sweet lasses I helped to raise,” Biddy wept as she came to the end of her tale, “but I knew that someone had to remain alive to tell the world of William Devers’s perfidy.”
“You did exactly the right thing,” Jasmine said, rising to embrace Biddy. “Without you we would never have known, but I am concerned for Sir Shane. You say he left the house when he heard the uproar begin, and you saw him not again? What could have happened to him?”
“He has probably been murdered by the English bitch’s offspring,” Kieran Devers said coming into the hall, for the same servant who had gone to fetch the Leslies had gone to find their son-in-law as well.
“Surely not!” Jasmine cried.
“William was never particularly patient when he wanted something badly,” Kieran said. “If he would kill poor Molly, and our half-sisters, why not our father? My stepmother has now gotten almost everything she ever wanted. What use has she for Da now? She has his home, and his lands. The girls are gone. She has managed to drive me off, and married her son to the girl she wanted for a daughter-in-law. I’m quite certain it is she behind this trouble in Lisnaskea, but I want to know what happened to my father before I kill William Devers.”
“There will be nae further killing,” James Leslie said sternly “I’ll nae hae Fortune the wife of a convicted felon, and convicted and hanged ye’ll be, Kieran, if you kill yer brother, no matter what he’s done.”
“He’ll go free then, my lord,” Kieran replied. “No court in Ulster will accept the word of a Catholic, let alone a Catholic serving woman, against the word of a Protestant gentleman.”
“Be patient, laddie. There are ways, and in time ye’ll hae yer revenge, but for now we must find out if yer da is alive. We’ll ride to Mallow Court this day, you and I.”
“Nay, Jemmie,” Jasmine cried. “I do not trust the Deverses now to allow you and Kieran to come and go in safety.”
“I must go,”
James said firmly. “If I dinna, darling Jasmine, the same evil that infected the people of Lisnaskea could infect the people of Maguire’s Ford. Do you want that to happen?”
Jasmine Leslie pressed her lips together in frustration. She knew her husband was right, and yet she had suddenly been overcome by a sense of foreboding. It wasn’t that she thought Jemmie or Kieran would be killed, for she didn’t; but she could sense the wickedness in the air about them, and for the first time since Rowan Lindley had been killed here, she was uncomfortable at Erne Rock. She looked to Rory Maguire. “Will they be safe?” she asked him.
“Aye, but he can’t take a large party with him, m’lady. That would be considered a harassment in this tense situation. A few of your own clansmen, my lord, as you would normally travel.”
The duke of Glenkirk nodded in agreement.
“You must go with him,” Jasmine said.
“He canna,” James Leslie replied. “He’s the Maguire no matter the fact you legally possess this land, darling Jasmine. ’Twould be thought a provocation for the Maguire to ride into Lisnaskea after such a massacre. I want Rory here in the event there is any attempt to start difficulties here as there. This sort of trouble is like a canker that grows, and becomes more poisonous wi every passing hour.”
“What has happened?”
Fortune came into the hall, her hair flying. “Rois says the Protestants have murdered all the Catholics in Lisnaskea. That they’re coming here to kill us all!”
“Jesu!” Maguire swore. “It’s started already. I had best get the rest of my clothes on, and calm the village before all hell breaks loose.” He turned to Jasmine. “With your permission, of course, my lady.” He bowed to her.
“Go,” Jasmine said, “and you two also,” she told her husband and her son-in-law. “Fortune, come with me, and I will tell you everything. Biddy, I’ll want you to remain here in the castle with us for your own safety’s sake. Adali will see you are fed, and a warm place is found for you to sleep. You must be exhausted after your ride.”
“Thank ye, my lady,” Biddy replied. Then she turned to Maguire. “You were right, laddie. All Protestants aren’t bad,” she said.
Chapter
12
T
he duke of Glenkirk and his son-in-law rode into Mallow Court. Dismounting, they entered the house to be greeted by Lady Jane.
“How dare you enter this house after what your filthy Papist brethren did to my husband!” she screeched at her stepson.
The duke put a warning hand on Kieran, and said, “We have only just learned of the troubles in Lisnaskea last night, and came as quickly as we could to see if Sir Shane was all right, madame.”
“He lies abed, barely alive,” she snapped. “His whore tried to murder him, but William managed to save his father.”
“Indeed,” the duke remarked. “We should like to see Sir Shane, madame. You will understand that Kieran is deeply concerned for his father. We had heard a very different story of the happenings in Lisnaskea.”
“My husband is too ill to be disturbed,” Jane Devers said loftily. “Come back another time, my lord.”
James Leslie looked about him. There was no one else in the hall, and he knew the Devers household had no men-at-arms. “Madame, as I have told you, ’tis another tale I have heard. We will see Sir Shane now, so that I may ascertain he is indeed alive. How dare you refuse my request! You will either take us to him, or I shall have my clansmen search the house until he is found,” the duke told her half-angrily.
Jane Devers wanted nothing more than to send the two men before her packing, but the duke was a man of authority. She dared not, even if William had said his father was not to be disturbed. She had not seen her husband since their son had brought him home, and William held the key to Shane’s bedchamber. “My son has locked his father in for his own safety,” she told the duke. “I do not have the key to his room, my lord, and William is not here right now.”
“Show me where Sir Shane is confined,” the duke commanded her. “We will break the door down, madame. Such treatment of your husband is outrageous, and I am astounded that you would have allowed such a thing. You are mistress here, are you not?”
Flushed with irritation Jane Devers led the way to her husband’s bedchamber. She was surprised that her stepson had been so silent in all of this. William had warned her that he would come tearing into Mallow Court with some wild tale, yet Kieran had said nothing. Still, his silence and his angry eyes made her more than aware of his fury. She stopped before her husband’s rooms. “He is in there,” she said.
Without a word Kieran Devers put his shoulder to the door, and after a minute or more, it sprang open. He and the duke hurried into the room. There they found Sir Shane Devers, bound hand and foot, a gag tied about his mouth, upon his bed. Swiftly they loosed the gag and his bonds, and helped him to sit up. There was a nasty bruise upon his temple, and a small crusting of blood at the back of his head.
“Da!” Kieran embraced his parent.
“He killed Molly!”
Sir Shane said “He told me himself, the young devil. And my lasses too, God curse him!”
“We know,” Kieran replied grimly. “Biddy hid herself, and afterward came to Erne Rock to tell us, Da.”
“He tried to kill me too,” Sir Shane declared, “and he might have done so had you not come to seek me out, my lord. I thank you.”
“What are you saying?”
Jane Devers quavered. “How can you accuse our boy of such a terrible act as patricide?”
“Your son,
madame,” Sir Shane said coldly, “coldly murdered the woman I love, along with our two daughters, his half-sisters. He attacked me, and then when he found I had not died so he might blame my death upon the hapless Catholics of Lisnaskea, he brought me home, trussed up like a Christmas goose, and told me quite plainly he intended killing me so he might have his inheritance sooner than later. He is a viper,
your son,
and I will drive him from my home as soon as I can.”
“You have been injured, dearest,” Jane Devers said, reaching out to touch the bruise on her husband’s temple. “You have surely misunderstood our William. He would never harm you, Shane.”
He pulled away from her hand. “Madame, I am not so injured that I could not understand
your son
when he boasted of how he had shot Molly Fitzgerald and our two daughters. Maeve was seventeen, and our wee Aine just fourteen, madame. They were to go with Kieran and his wife to England, and then the New World next year. We knew they had no future in Ulster. What harm did any of them ever do to William that he would murder them with such icy disdain? Innocent lasses, madame! I rue the day I ever wed you, and brought you into my house, Jane! I regret the son I fathered on your passionless body. He is a monster!”
“He is not!” she defended her son. “If he killed that woman he did it to protect my honor. That you would take a mistress was bad enough, but a Catholic mistress? And those two brats you fathered on her brought me nothing but shame, flaunting themselves about the village. I was pitied for your follies, and had it not been for the kindness of the Reverend Mr. Dundas, I should have been a laughingstock in Lisnaskea. Now poor James is dead along with his wife and children thanks to your bloody murdering Papists!”
“It was Dundas who encouraged the mayhem last night, and at your bidding using your son as a cat’s paw, I have not a doubt,” Kieran Devers said. “Willy is not that clever, madame, but he is certainly vicious enough given the proper encouragement. I imagine both you and his wife fostered his baser nature. What in the name of God did you hope to gain by your mischief?”
“I will have no Catholics in the vicinity tainting my children,” William Devers said, suddenly entering the room. “My wife is with child, and it was past time these Papists were driven from our lands.” His cold blue gaze swept them all. “Ah, Da, I see you are up now.”
“You’re no son of mine,” Shane Devers replied angrily. “I want you gone from this house today!”
“What?” William mocked. “You would send me from my birthplace? And what of my little wife, ripening with your first grandchild, Da?”
“Take her with you, and this bitch who bore you as well,” Shane Devers said furiously, his color now high with his choler. “I’ll not have the man who shot my Molly and our girls in this house even one more night!” Shane Devers then hit his son a mighty blow that staggered him, and sent him to the floor.
Surprised, William struggled to his feet, aided by his mother. “I only shot your whore and her eldest brat,” he said cruelly. “The other one, the littlest, I had on her back. How she struggled and screamed when I savaged her maidenhead. I meant to give her to my men to enjoy as well, but then came the word the church was afire with poor old Dundas in it. I cut her throat. I wonder if she was as lusty a fuck as her mother, your whore?” He smiled at his father.
Shane Devers stared hard at his younger son.
“You raped your half-sister?”
he said, horrified. “Aine was but a child.”
“She had nice little tits,” William replied. “Besides, I count her no kin of mine, Da. Surely your whore could not be certain which of her lovers fathered her children.” He smiled again.
Shane Devers heard the mighty thundering of his heart in his ears. His temples throbbed fiercely. The world was red before his eyes, and then he felt a violent sharp pain slam inside of his head. With a cry he fell to the floor. He knew he was dying. His eyes desperately sought his eldest son. His breath was coming in shallow, short pants. He struggled to speak a final time.
“Forgive me, Kieran,”
he rasped, and then he died with his last heroic effort.
There was a long silence, and then William Devers said, “Well, that is that, is it not? Get out of my house, Kieran, and do not come back ever again. Be warned. I have taken care of the Catholics in Lisnaskea. I shall come to Maguire’s Ford next.”
James Leslie caught the young man by his shirt front. “Ye be warned, William Devers, put one foot, ye or yer minions, on land belonging to my wife, and ye’ll be driven off wi nae mercy. I canna prevent ye from causing trouble here, but ye’ll cause nae difficulties in Maguire’s Ford. Trust me, laddie, ye dinna want Jemmie Leslie for yer enemy. I hae only just hae word from my cousin, King Charles, that he hae approved the transfer of the properties belonging to my wife to my two sons, Adam and Duncan Leslie. Yer a fool if ye think ye can rob my lads of their lands. I’d happily use that as an excuse to kill ye for what ye did to Mistress Fitzgerald, her lasses, and yer own da. Yer responsible for the death of Shane Devers,
Sir William.
Try to place the blame on anyone else, and I’ll see the world knows the truth. For yer brother’s sake, for the sake of the Deverses’ good name, I’ll say nought for now. I will nae hold yer family responsible for the actions of one villain, for the Deverses hae always been an honorable family. Do ye understand me,
Sir William?”
He loosed his grip on his antagonist’s shirtfront, pushing him away with a sound of disgust.
William Devers’s cold eyes surveyed the duke, half-afraid. His glance flicked swiftly to his elder half-brother, but Kieran’s face was grief-stricken with their father’s death. He knelt by the body, tears streaming down his handsome face, his hand tenderly protective on his father’s head. Let him mourn the old man, William thought. He’s gone, and good riddance.
I am now master of Mallow Court.
The knowledge sent a frisson of pleasure down his spine, but then Kieran looked up at him. His gaze was filled with both anger and pity.
“Don’t look at me like that!” William almost screamed.
“God help you, Willy,” his elder sibling said wearily. “God help you. I’d not have this sin on my conscience for all the world.”
“Get out!”
Sir William Devers shouted at his half-brother.
“Get out, you filthy papist bastard!”
Kieran Devers arose from their father’s body and struck his brother a blow upon his elegant chin, knocking him to the floor. His stepmother screeched, and ran to her son.
“I’ll have the law on you, Kieran Devers,” she threatened.
“Oh, pray do, madame, and I shall tell them the truth of what happened last night in Lisnaskea. There are enough of your Protestants feeling burdened by their guilt who would gladly unload the onus of the horrors committed there on
your
son. Willy was never particularly popular for his arrogance would always overcome him when dealing with those good souls he considered his menials. The authorities may not believe the Catholics, although I suspect they would believe me, but they will certainly believe their own Protestant fellows. Remember, your precious son raped his fourteen-year-old half-sister before his companions, and then murdered her. ’Tis not a pretty picture, madame, especially as Aine Fitzgerald was known to be a decent lass. Many in the mob have daughters her age. Now, madame, I am going into your village to take the bodies of my half-sisters, and their mother, for burial. Should you, or that mongrel you bore my father attempt to stop me, I shall kill you. Is that quite understood, madame? Willy?” Kieran kicked his younger brother with his booted foot. “Do you understand me, laddie?”
Sir William Devers groaned weakly.
“Good!” Kieran said. Then he bowed to his stepmother. “Madame. I shall be at my father’s funeral. If you try to prevent it, you will live to regret it.” He turned and left the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he descended the staircase.
A sardonic smile touched James Leslie’s lips. This was a side of his son-in-law he had hitherto not seen. Kieran Devers was tougher than he had thought which boded to the good, for it would not be an easy life in the New World. Reaching out he aided William Devers to rise. Then he, too, bowed first to the mother, and then the son. “Good day, madame, Sir William,” he said, and departed them. He found his son-in-law outside awaiting him. “Do you think they will tell you when the funeral is to be, laddie?” he asked.
“They’ll try to keep it from me, but I have allies in the house who will keep me informed,” Kieran said stonily.
“I’ll ride wi ye into Lisnaskea to fetch the bodies of yer sisters and Mistress Fitzgerald,” the duke said.
“I’m grateful for the company, and the help,” came the reply.
They came into the village, and were shocked by the ruin they saw. Houses burned to the ground, half-burned, the church totally destroyed. The smell of death was everywhere, and yet the people were already rallying to rebuild. The Catholic families who remained alive had been gathered together in a cattle pen. James Leslie was appalled, and insisted they be set free at once.
“What the hell did ye intend doing wi them?” he demanded angrily.
“Sir William says they’re to be killed, my lord,” Robert Morgan, the village blacksmith, said.
The duke looked into the pen which contained mostly women, children, and old men. “Open the damned gate, let them gather what belongings they own that may have escaped the carnage, and allow them to leave Lisnaskea unharmed. Are ye such fools that ye truly believe God has smiled on yer murder and violence?”
“But my lord, they are papists. God doesn’t care about the papists,” the smithy reasoned.
“And who was after telling ye that?” the duke said scornfully. “For God’s sake, man, we worship the same God, albeit in different ways.”
“Their God is an idol, my lord, and not our true God,” came the reply. “Surely you understand that?”

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