Kings of the Boyne (7 page)

Jacques shifted on his stool. ‘But we have our poor in France too. Is it not worse that rich French people do not care about their own poor?’

‘Oh!’ cried Michael. ‘So, now we see your true colours.’

‘Colours?’ Jacques scrunched up his features. ‘I do not understand.’

Still stuck on an earlier point, Gerald snapped, ‘And your King Louis is only involved because he hates William of Orange, and for no grander reason than that.’

‘You lot, keep it down!’ yelled the barmaid. ‘No fighting in here or I’ll put you out.’

‘Sure. Why not?’ shrugged Jacques. ‘Louis wants to rule Europe so he uses James to beat William, and James uses Ireland to beat William, while William fights to remain king of all England. So what?’

Gerald’s face was white with rage. Why had he come into this awful tavern? He hadn’t wanted to. He knew his mother and Father Nicholas would be disappointed, not to mention his sister who would despise each and every one of these drunkards.

When he bade his family and tutor goodbye, he thought he knew exactly who he was, where he was coming from and what he was going to do. All he had ever heard from them all was how marvellous Ireland had been in the past.

For Father Nicholas the matter was simply explained: ‘The English have infested our landscape and heritage and the only way to deal with them is to flush them out. Do you understand what I am saying, child?’

And, of course, Gerald did understand because he had been brought up to view the world through the eyes of his family and the priest.

To be sure, things got complicated in his mind when he saw Derry’s skeletal citizens and soldiers guarding her walls, and he could not help wondering if they should not just leave the city to herself.

And hanging that girl and her friend … well, he still doubted the necessity of killing them.

But, here in Drogheda, it was easier to re-arm himself with Father Nicholas’s and his mother’s rage. Hadn’t he just walked along Scarlett Street, so called because it was soaked with the blood of those whom Oliver Cromwell had slaughtered in
his
God’s name?

Ireland was under attack once more, but this time he was here to fight for her.

Taking a deep breath, Gerard said, ‘James may well be using Ireland to get what he wants, but we, the Irish, are using him.’

His three companions considered this for a moment.

‘I accept that we are all here for different reasons and that some of those reasons might not be as … admirable … as others. But I know why I’m here. I want Ireland and her Catholics, which – yes – includes my family and me, to be free from tyranny.’

Jacques fidgeted at the word ‘admirable’ but did not contradict Gerald. However, he was not going to let the moment pass without attempting some sort of apology. ‘My
friends, perhaps the richest man is not the one sitting in a castle, counting his coins. Rather, it is the man who is free to choose his lot in life. Yes?’

Michael studied Gerald. Up to now the boy had not interested him. It was obvious that his own childhood had been vastly different from Gerald’s and presumably they had little in common. Yet he noted the fire in the boy’s eyes and wanted to believe – yes, Michael did – that there could be a better life for him and maybe for all of them sitting here. He said, ‘I don’t know much about riches or freedom but I can agree to fight for a better future.’

Joseph surprised everyone by asking, ‘Have any of you heard of Ireland’s “Sleeping Army”?’

They shook their heads, and Joseph explained, ‘There is a cave somewhere between Drogheda and Ardee containing an ancient army of Irish warriors that were put to sleep long ago by some sort of spell. In order to wake the soldiers, who neither belong to our world or the next, one must enter the cave and fire the loaded gun that sits in the middle of them. My father met a man who swore he found the cave. He saw the soldiers lying on the ground, their eyes closed, looking as near to death as any dead man. Then he saw the gun and, without thinking, picked it up and half-cocked it. Immediately, every single soldier sat up but their eyes remained closed. The man got such a fright that he
dropped the musket and left, leaving the gun half-cocked and the soldiers sitting halfway up.’

Joseph’s listeners waited for him to continue but he was finished. It was the longest speech he had ever made and it had exhausted him.

To make up for his rudeness earlier, Gerald smiled at Joseph and said, ‘Of course! The sleeping army could be like us and the man could be King James. All he has to do to waken our army is to fire a single shot and leave the rest to us.’

T
he campfire spat and spluttered as Daniel prodded the potatoes in the pot. Henry Campsie sat nearby, cleaning his musket. Against Daniel’s wishes, Robert had just told his friend all about the widow. His response was typical. ‘Are you sure that she was a woman?’

Daniel refused to acknowledge such a stupid question but Robert was immediately intrigued. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You said she was huge, was wearing trousers and had a bit of a Scottish accent,’ said Henry.

When Robert nodded, Henry produced his own theory. ‘Maybe she was actually a Jacobite soldier … you know, one of those Scottish giants, the Redshanks.’

Back in 1688, the Redshanks were the first Catholic soldiers to arrive at Derry’s walls and demand to be allowed into the city. They hailed from Scotland, wore red coats and
were handpicked for their height – a man had to be at least six foot tall to join them.

‘Oh, my God!’ exclaimed Robert. ‘Did you hear that, Daniel? Why didn’t we think of that?’

Daniel was astounded. Ignoring the usual smirk on Henry Camspie’s face, he asked his brother, ‘Are you serious?’

Robert was determined that Daniel’s dislike for Henry should not cloud the issue. ‘Come on, Dan. He has a point. How can it be that the tallest woman we have ever met also happens to be wearing trousers and a pair of man’s boots?’

‘We both heard her speak, and she didn’t sound like any man I know.’

‘True,’ agreed Robert. ‘But she only spoke quietly, remember? She kept her voice low so she could have been disguising her true self.’

‘Or
his
true self,’ added Henry with a wink.

Robert was furious at himself. What a mistake to make. Noticing his brother’s eyes on him, he asked him, ‘What were we thinking? Why didn’t we check?’

‘Because …’ said Daniel in an exasperated tone, ‘we both knew she was a woman. Because we were there, while Henry was not.’

‘But we should have checked at least,’ said Robert, already thinking how this might look to the likes of Reverend
Walker and King William himself.

‘Checked how?’ asked Daniel. His grip so tightened around the wooden spoon that he felt his fingers cramp. He stirred the hot water in a poor attempt to release the tension from his hand.

‘You’re the doctor,’ said Henry, laughing. ‘How do you think?’

Even Robert flinched at this, but he would not hush his friend. Instead, he looked at his brother in the hope that he might have something useful to say.

Realising that his big brother was in a real fix, Daniel followed his usual urge to help him out. ‘Robert, she had six children and the ones that spoke called her “Mama”.’

‘Yes!’ Robert slapped his thigh. ‘Exactly! Six children. That’s right. We met them all, so we did.’

He looked at Henry waiting to receive his blessing, or something like that. However, his friend just slowly shook his head from side to side as if he could scarcely believe his ears. ‘Oh, I see. Well, of course. I mean, children never ever lie to save their father’s life.’

‘You fool!’ snapped Daniel.

Henry put his musket on the ground and gave Daniel a peculiar look, asking him, ‘Just who do you think you’re talking to?’

Daniel flung the spoon into the boiling water, causing
it to splash a little, the water burning his hand. ‘What kind of man – and a soldier at that – would pretend to be a woman?’

‘Steady on, Daniel,’ said Robert. Not for the first time he wondered where his little brother had gone. Where was the boy who only wanted to be liked and would not have picked a fight with anybody?

‘You always take his side, Robert! How can you be persuaded she was a man by someone who wasn’t even there?’

Henry stood up; he had something to say and it felt appropriate to get to his feet. His father had been mayor of Derry and someday Henry hoped to be mayor himself. With that in mind, he practised his oratory skills whenever the opportunity arose. His father had always warned him against losing an argument through bad temper so he smoothed himself down and put his thoughts in order.

And then he began. ‘Look, you two, we are in the middle of a war or soon will be. Nothing is as it seems in times of war. Daniel, you ask what type of man would pretend to be a woman and the answer is a desperate one.’

Robert nodded absentmindedly, while Daniel just stared, successfully hiding the fact that in the farthest corner of his mind he was starting to question Mrs Watson himself.

Henry continued, ‘James and his army are desperate men; they have to be. They lost in Derry, and now King William
has arrived with a bigger army than their own. Imagine it, Jacobite soldiers hiding out so that they don’t have to fight to the death … doing whatever is necessary to save their skins.’

He paused here, to allow his words to sink in. It was a trick he had learned from watching his father presenting unpopular proposals to fellow councillors.

‘Look, as Daniel has pointed out, I wasn’t there, but maybe that makes it easier for me to query her story. You two were after the horses and had enough to do to make sure you got them. So, you come back and describe her to me and I can jump to conclusions because I wasn’t there and therefore can’t be distracted by the children or her voice, or whatever else. Do you see what I mean?

Robert nodded yes while Daniel stabbed a potato with a knife.

‘All right,’ said Robert. ‘So, what do we do now?

Daniel looked at him warily. ‘What do you mean what do we do? We got the horses, didn’t we?’

Robert ignored him and waited for Henry to answer his question.

Henry scrunched up his features as if deep in thought, but Daniel felt that the would-be politician had known all along what he was going to propose. ‘Well, if you ask me, the only thing we can do is get proof of her identity.’

Robert understood him immediately. ‘You mean we should return to the house to check if she is truly a woman or a Jacobite soldier in disguise?’

‘Well, yes,’ said Henry. ‘There’s no other way, is there? You have to get inside the house and look for a red coat or something like that.’

‘That’s settled then,’ said Robert, as he dusted himself down and prepared to take his leave. ‘It’s all right, Daniel, you stay here. I’ll do it.’

‘Wait,’ said Daniel.

He wasn’t sure how he felt or what he believed but he wished to spare the Watson children any unnecessary upset. He felt he owed Marian and her siblings that much. He sighed heavily and said, ‘You lost your temper with her. She’ll let me into the house quicker than she’d let you. I’ll go.’

Henry blocked his way. ‘Take your gun with you. If she’s a Jacobite you need to arrest him … or kill him if he resists.’

Robert was suddenly unsure. ‘I should come with you, Daniel.’

Thinking fast, Daniel told his brother, ‘No, we need to hide this from Reverend Walker and everyone else in case it’s nothing. If it is as Henry believes, then I’ll come straight back for you and Henry.’

S
ometimes when Daniel was alone he imagined that his dog, Horace, was with him.

Indeed, there were times when he found himself on a street in Derry looking around to confirm that his pet had not come back from the dead, because he thought that he'd heard the familiar pattering of four scruffy paws against the cobbled stones.

How Horace would have loved this
, thought Daniel as he retraced his steps down the long country road, hoping he could remember where the widow's cottage was. It was not difficult to picture Horace scampering in and out of the puddles, barking loudly in great excitement.

Maybe he would tell the widow about Horace to show her that she wasn't the only one to lose an animal in the name of King William. Or he could ask her advice on
cooking potatoes. Different scenarios were conjured up as he prepared for his mission. He needed to come up with something special in order to be invited into her home.

A part of him wanted to curse Henry, but what if he was right? She
was
strange to look at, what with her immense tallness and the fact she was wearing men's clothing along with those mucky boots. Plus what Robert said was true; she did keep her voice low even when she was angry about losing her horses. Any other woman would have cried and made a terrific scene.

He found the field and the cottage and made his way to it, wondering if he should have let Robert come with him. What if she was a Jacobite who felt she had been rumbled and was waiting for him to come back to arrest her? She could be hiding at the window, a loaded musket in her hand, watching his lonely approach.
Well
, he thought,
I'm hardly going to turn back now
. There was nothing for it but to keep up a steady pace until he reached the front door.

As he approached the cottage, he heard sobbing inside and had no time to consider how this might affect his visit. He knocked and placed his musket in the crook of his arm … just in case. Suddenly nervous, Daniel asked God to protect him as the door was slowly opened just enough to allow Marian to use one eye to identify him.

She had to raise her voice above the noise of the crying
and wailing to ask him what he wanted. She looked scared and upset.

‘I'm looking for your mother. Can I talk to her?'

‘No. She's not here!'

Inside he could hear little voices crying, ‘Mama!' and ‘Where's Mama?'

Daniel imagined Henry whispering to him that this was all part of an elaborate act to make him leave.

Marian wiped the tears from her eyes and blurted out, ‘It's all your fault!'

‘What do you mean? Where is she?'

Wait a minute
, thought Daniel.
No, she couldn't be
.

Samuel appeared beside Marian and, on seeing Daniel, bawled at him, ‘You took our horses. I hate you!'

Daniel ignored him and asked once more, ‘Marian, please tell me where your mother is.'

For an answer, the girl stepped away from the door, bringing her brother with her. Daniel pushed the door open. Inside was smoky from the small fire that barely thrived in the grate. Apart from the baby, who was stretched out on his belly on the grubby floor, the rest of the children were seated at a small, square table, seemingly competing with one another to see who could cry the loudest. Samuel took his place beside them and scowled at the young soldier.

Marian sounded weary as she told him what he wanted
to know. ‘She's gone to get our horses back.'

Daniel had not really believed the widow when she'd said as much to him. What on earth was she thinking? Foolishly he asked the girl, ‘Are you sure that's where she went? Absolutely sure?'

Marian nodded her head. ‘I tried to stop her. We all did.'

Georgie, the baby, seemed to recognise Daniel from earlier and babbled some form of greeting before launching himself in his direction. Daniel tried to think. The whole thing was ridiculous. Suddenly, it occurred to him that when his brother and Henry heard about the woman's disappearance they might well be convinced that this was the proof they were looking for, that Mrs Watson was actually a murderous Jacobite spy who was now, thanks to the Sherrards, in hot pursuit of their king. He imagined Robert's embarrassment at having allowed her to escape.

‘We begged her not to go. Even our neighbours told her it was too dangerous.'

Daniel felt something tugging at his leg and looked down. Georgie was staring up at him expectantly. Without thinking he bent down and lifted the baby into his arms.

Samuel shouted, ‘NO! You can't take our Georgie. Tell him, Marian.'

Fortunately his sister realised that little Georgie was not about to be whisked off to help King William on his
campaign. ‘Oh be quiet, Samuel Watson. He's not taking Georgie anywhere.'

Daniel felt obliged to add his own assurances. ‘It's just that I miss my own sister, Alice, she's about Georgie's age. But I can put him back down on the floor, if you prefer?'

Samuel shrugged and announced, ‘I'm hungry!'

There was a chorus of ‘Me too! Me too!'

Daniel felt sorry for the harassed girl who muttered, ‘I'm doing my best!'

‘Of course you are. Do you have food for them? I can go and shoot a rabbit; there are plenty of them around.'

‘No,' said Marian. ‘Mother left us plenty. I have some rabbit left over from yesterday with potatoes boiling in the big pot. I was about to check them.'

Marian was rather shocked when the soldier suggested that he'd take a look at them to see if they were ready. He explained, ‘I do most of the cooking for our group in the camp.'

The meat was soft enough, while the overcooked potatoes were starting to break apart. Marian placed six bowls on the table and took Georgie from Daniel so that he could carry the pot over and begin ladling up the steaming food.

‘Will Georgie eat the meat?' asked Daniel.

Marian shook her head. ‘No, he hasn't the teeth to chew but I'll mash up some potato with milk for him; he likes that.'

Georgie began pointing at his bowl and bellowing something that might have meant, ‘Please hurry up, I'm simply starving!'

‘Let me do his potato,' said Daniel. ‘You just eat your dinner.'

Grateful to have someone else be in charge, Marian handed the baby back to Daniel and sat down to eat.

Daniel mashed up the already mushy potato for Georgie and, taking the last stool, he folded the baby into his lap and began to spoon-feed him, being careful to blow hard on the potato first to cool it down.

The children ignored him and he was glad that all the crying had stopped. Briefly he worried that their mother might have a change of heart and suddenly appear in the doorway. What would she make of him sitting at her table as if he was one of her family?

‘So,' said Daniel, ‘you said your neighbours told your mother not to go. How did they know?'

Marian replied, ‘She went to all of them whose horses had been taken and tried to get them to come with her.'

Daniel guessed what happened. ‘But nobody would go with her?'

‘No,' said Marian. ‘They told her to forget about it, that the horses were gone and that was that.'

Marian couldn't help looking proud as she continued,
‘Mama told them she wasn't scared and that she'd go to the king herself. Some of them laughed at her but they aren't nice people.'

Samuel nodded. ‘They never helped Mama when she was tired.'

‘I see,' said Daniel, feeling somewhat triumphant that Samuel was talking to him in a civil fashion.

‘Anyway,' said Marian, ‘Mama told us that she had to go to King William and make him listen to her.'

Samuel butted in, ‘I wanted to go with her but she wouldn't let me!'

The boy sounded upset which propelled Daniel to say, ‘Well, that's because you're the man of house. You're the oldest boy, aren't you? So, you have to look after everyone here.'

Samuel took a moment to see the truth in Daniel's words and rewarded him with a smile, albeit one that was covered in bits of potato, as he declared, ‘Yes. I am! I'm in charge!'

Typically, big sister Marian attempted to burst his bubble. ‘Samuel clung onto Mama to stop her from leaving. I did my best to hold them back but I had Georgie and they ran after her, crying all the way.'

One of the others, a girl of about four, quietly stated, ‘Mama kicked the wood away.'

Daniel looked to Marian for an explanation. She told
him, ‘There is a stream behind us and the only way to cross it is to walk along the plank of wood. When Mother saw Samuel and the others coming after her she kicked the plank away.'

‘She didn't want us,' said Samuel.

‘Oh, but she does want you!' said Daniel. He was surprised at how upset he felt on behalf of the children. ‘She didn't want to leave you but she needs to keep you safe and make sure that you have enough food. She'll be back before you know it.'

‘When is she coming home?' It was the little girl again.

‘What's your name?' asked Daniel.

‘Isabel Watson. I am four!'

‘What a lovely name!' gushed Daniel, stalling for time. ‘And who is that beside you?'

Isabel checked who was sitting next to her before making any introductions. ‘That's just Anna. She's three.'

There was just one more child to go. Daniel nodded at the littlest version of Marian who was too absorbed in her food to realise the attention she was receiving. Her potato was sliding around the bowl and it was proving quite a challenge to catch it with the spoon.

Isabel obliged. ‘That's Sarah but she can't talk. She's too small.'

Daniel held up his fist to count out the names: ‘So, there's
Marian, Samuel, Isabel, Anna, Sarah and baby Georgie. Did I get it right?

The thing about four-year-olds is once they want to know the answer to a question they are almost impossible to distract.

Isabel proved this superbly by repeating her question, ‘When is Mama coming home?'

Daniel looked at Marian to see if she knew the answer; however Marian was gazing at him waiting anxiously for his.

Well, he was not going to lie to them. He made some quick calculations in his head. If William was, let's say, three days ahead of them and the widow had only just started out, it might take her about five days to catch up with him. Although she might be faster since a massive army on the move could be slow and cumbersome. Then, she finds William – here, Daniel struggled to imagine her actually meeting the king but that had nothing to do with the question — so, she meets William and gets the horses and makes her way home. Of course, by now, she's on horseback which would speed up her return. Yet, that still meant …

‘I think that she'll be gone two weeks. It shouldn't be much more than that.'

He did his best to sound confident but poor Marian looked utterly distraught. The others, Daniel sensed, knew as much about the length of ‘weeks' as they did about the
stars in the sky. Marian bit her lip and did her best not to cry.

It was a desperate situation for the widow who was caught between leaving her young family alone but having to do so if she wanted to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table. Daniel was filled with sympathy.
What a horrible decision to have to make.

A loud explosion broke the silence in the room. Daniel then felt a fierce rumble in his lap followed by the sensation that someone was pouring something warm down his leg. A moment or two passed before the smell was suffocating. Daniel stared at the placid baby who was busying gnawing on his spoon and looking the picture of innocence.

‘Phew!' gasped Daniel. ‘Perhaps King William should have taken Georgie instead of the horses. He'd send any army running for cover!'

Marian smiled through her tears.