Behind the Walls (10 page)

Chapter Fifteen

K
ing James wondered if the atrocious weather was in league with his French advisors in not wanting him to reach his destination. Drops of rain cascaded down his large nose, but he paid no heed to them. From beneath his wide-brimmed hat, a glorious wig, dark in colour, full of bounce and ringlets, generously framed a long pale face that was no longer young. King James had never been handsome but that, one would assume, is not important when one is king.

And surely he deserved to be king if only for the fact he had to put so much effort into being one. He had received a rapturous welcome in Dublin, where the people – indeed,
his
people – lined the streets to cheer him on. These loyal subjects made him feel like a true king, something he hadn’t felt for a while.

On the wet and windy journey north, James had had plenty of time to think. He had lost the love and respect of his two daughters. Goodness knows how many enemies he had in England, but still, he was here for the sake of his baby son. This precious infant ensured there would be
a Catholic on the throne of England for many years to come.
He’s my chance to start over again. I owe it to him!

The king’s plan was a simple one, as the best ones normally are. The difficulties with Derry did not worry him unduly. In truth he was confident that once the Protestants, Presbyterians, and whoever else was behind the stand-off, saw him that they would appreciate the respect he was showing them, by presenting himself in person. He wasn’t entirely sure what would happen next but he daydreamed of being shown around the city and meeting its now cheering inhabitants. Of course he would show them how gracious he was, that he could forgive them all for their recent transgressions.

Perhaps the city needed money for new buildings and roads. He determined to give serious consideration to whatever they asked of him, as their king. Perhaps he would throw a banquet; yes, why not, to prove there were no hard feelings. Who could resist a king who was willing to dine and sleep among them? He would befriend the poor, just as Jesus did in Jerusalem.

Really, his French advisors worried too much. It was understandable; they’re French after all, and foreign to these lands.
But these people are mine, it is only natural that I understand how best to deal with them.
James nodded his agreement to the thoughts in his head.

The Count of Avaux, his chief advisor, was appalled at
the idea of a king journeying all the way to an obstinate and sulky city. Rubbing his hands together as if he were washing them, he pleaded, ‘Sire, I fear this is beneath you. You are submitting yourself to an ungrateful population but it is they who should be submitting to you.’

King James smiled patiently at the little man whose constant expression was a heavy frown as if he was always perplexed by the world he lived in. ‘There, there, Avaux, you must trust me. A true king knows when to bend and when to stand strong. Some peoples just need a little more care than others.’

The Frenchman looked gloomier than ever. His sodden moustache drooped, as did his mouth, as if he was displaying a double expression of woe. Always particular about his appearance, Avaux loathed the Irish weather for its dire treatment of his clothes.

His job was proving far more difficult than he had anticipated. He had been tasked by his own king, Louis XIV, to help James in his campaign to take back the English throne. However, it was frustrating when James behaved as if he knew more than anyone else. Furthermore, Avaux was in competition for the king’s ear. The Irish lieutenants were filling his head with nonsense, encouraging him to crawl on his knees to a city that Avaux had never even heard of before now.

As if the conversation was not going badly enough, the
king said, ‘You know, I actually admire these people. All they are doing is standing up for themselves and their religion.’

‘
Mon dieu!
’ Avaux muttered beneath his breath.

When they were a couple of miles from the city, King James was told Derry was preparing to surrender. Ah, this must be the sign he had prayed for.
Yes
, he thought,
a banquet is the perfect way to portray myself as a noble monarch and allow the people to benefit too
. The businessmen – the butchers, the shopkeepers, the taverns – would surely appreciate supplying their wares for a generous price.

‘Your Majesty, there is the city before us.’

James was intrigued to see at last this place he had heard so much about. In fact, he could hardly believe he was here. The walls were mighty and impressive. Of course it was nowhere near as big and grand as Paris and London; still this was a city, or a fortress to be reckoned with. He could appreciate that, even at this distance.

His advisors moved up to ride alongside him. ‘My lord, what do you wish to do now?’

King James was perplexed. ‘Why, I want to go there immediately. What else would you have me do?’

There was a tense silence until Avaux said, ‘Your Majesty, might I suggest we make camp at the next town so that you can rest? We can send word that you will visit tomorrow morning.’

Nobody was the least bit surprised when James drew himself up and declared, ‘Nonsense! I want to go now!’

There was a collective bowing of heads accompanied by a morose chorus of ‘Yes, Your Majesty!’

Meanwhile, the French lieutenant-general, de Rosen, had been ordered to take his men to within a mile of the Ship Quay Gate. Didn’t anybody alert him and his company to the fact that Colonel Richard Hamilton had promised to keep
all
other Jacobite regiments four miles from the gates? It didn’t seem so, although it may have made no difference to the haughty and impatient Lieutenant-General de Rosen. He was one of the most senior of the French officers to accompany King James from King Louis’s majestic castle in Versailles, and he much preferred to be feared than respected. It is doubtful that Lieutenant-General de Rosen would have adhered to the ‘four miles from the wall’ agreement had he known about it.

All in all, this was a serious error, whoever was to blame for it. The people of Derry had allowed Lieutenant-Colonel Lundy and his men inside the walls because they had been promised that
no
other troops would approach any of the gates. It seemed that King James and his men had reached their destination without informing or communicating their whereabouts to Colonel Hamilton.

Oblivious to all this, King James innocently urged his horse to the south-west of the city, towards Bishop’s Gate,
closely followed by his trumpeter, advisors and secretary. His presence was causing quite a stir amongst the guards on the walls and around the gate, but he hadn’t expected anything less. The sight of an actual king was surely a thrilling one for ordinary people so far from London.

His companions looked nervous. Ordinarily, this might have annoyed him. Today, however, was different. Today they would provide a sharp contrast to his own relaxed features. The people of Derry should see that he did not display any doubt about his reception.

The rain got heavier while James waited for Derry to make her move. He expected that whoever was in charge would present themselves and unlock the gate to him. Where was Lord Lieutenant Talbot’s man, Lundy? He waited and waited.

Nothing happened, except that a crowd of soldiers and people seemed to be gathering on the other side of the gate.

There was only one thing to do and he knew better than to ask Avaux’s opinion at this point. The truth was he needed this city; he needed this island in its entirety in order to strengthen his quest for the whole of England. So, this would be where he’d make his mark and whatever he had to do would be worth it. Tipping his horse gently, he gestured for his trumpeter to accompany him. They went right up to the gate, watched by the rest of the party and battalion.

A voice roared out, ‘Halt! Who goes there?’

At last
, thought King James,
someone to engage with
. Aloud he said, ‘I wish to speak with your governor, Lieutenant-Colonel Lundy.’

The trumpeter, a young lad of nineteen years or so, would not allow his king to humble himself further. He called out, ‘His Majesty, King James, wishes to enter your city!’

‘Huh!’ said one of the guards, ‘Robert Lundy is no leader of ours!’

The trumpeter was at a loss. The status of Lundy was not the most pressing matter. Wishing that one of the French advisors would join them, the trumpeter tried again. ‘Can one of your other leaders come to the gate, then? His Majesty is tired from his journey.’

A fierce whispered conversation followed. King James stared ahead, trying to hide his bewilderment. Eventually the answer was given. ‘No! They’re in the council’s chamber and can’t be disturbed.’

Behind the walls there was quite a fuss. Henry Campsie was slow to believe that King James was outside. ‘Are you sure it’s him?’

James Morrison winked. ‘See for yourself. He’s not wearing a crown but he’s dressed like a king and his trumpeter says it’s him.’

Robert Sherrard asked, ‘Should we fetch the churchmen?’

Henry shook his head. ‘Absolutely not. From what I
hear they’ll surrender to him. I’ll wager that’s what they’re meeting about now.’ Henry paused to think. ‘No, we’ll handle this ourselves.’

Robert was surprised. ‘What? Are you going to go and talk to him? I’ll come with you; I’ve never seen a king before.’

Henry snapped, ‘What king? It’s not William of Orange out there, is it?’

Daniel wanted to box Henry’s ears when he saw the embarrassment on his brother’s face. He couldn’t help himself; he glanced around hoping to see one of the aldermen or Reverend Walker, or even Lieutenant-Colonel Lundy. He felt the situation required one of the elders, even an unpopular one such as Lundy. There was something about the redness of Henry’s cheeks and the feverish look in his eyes that made Daniel uneasy. Unfortunately all he could see were guards and young lads like himself, and, of course, the curious who began to throng the gate, wanting to see James in the flesh, as it were. What a spectacle!

Then, to Daniel’s immense relief, Henry also cast about for a second opinion. ‘Where’s Adam Murray?’ he asked.

The group brightened up at the mention of Adam’s name.
Yes, Adam Murray! He’ll know what to do!

Perhaps it was inevitable that a popularity contest had been brewing between Lieutenant-Colonel Robert Lundy and the local farmer turned soldier Adam Murray.
Unfortunately for the former it was no contest at all. Adam inspired confidence with his fierce resistance to the Jacobite cause. He was not troubled by doubts as to whose side he was on. He was a Derry Protestant and that was that. Nobody was paying him to be there or expecting him to behave in a certain manner. As far as Adam was concerned, the only person he had to answer to was God and – maybe, also – Gabriel, his father.

James Morrison, who had climbed up on top of St Columb’s Cathedral’s tower, the highest point in Derry, shouted down, ‘I think I can see him – I can definitely see a white horse!’

There was a sudden flurry of ‘Where? Where is he?’ But James only spoke to Henry. ‘Pennyburn Mill! I’m sure it’s him!’

Of course it was Adam, riding for his life and the life of the city.

Pennyburn Mill was a mile north of the city. Adam had pushed Pegasus hard for the first three miles and then on seeing the fresh armies around Derry knew he was too late.

‘DAMN HIM!’

Adam shouted this out to the plains between them. He braced himself to watch. Would they let the Papist in? It was all over if they did. Like James himself, Adam waited and waited, peering hard over Pegasus’s head.
But nothing happened. Nothing at all. The different sections of the king’s army made no movement, so they must not have been allowed entry to the city.

Filling with a renewed hope that common sense had prevailed, even in the face of this infamous royal visitor, Adam turned Pegasus. He needed his army or even just some of them. Lundy must have lost Derry! This jubilant thought propelled him to keep going and keep calm. It wouldn’t do to lose his head now. There was still time but he would have to think and act quickly. Now it was a race between him and those inside the city who wanted to surrender it.

In the city, most of the boys climbed the walls, impatient to see Adam Murray on his white horse. Daniel sent a prayer to Heaven above,
Oh let him come now
!

‘Where’s he going?’ asked Robert as they watched the horse and rider turn away.

Henry grasped the situation immediately. ‘I bet he’s gone to fetch his men. We need to hold James here until he returns.’

Daniel asked, ‘But what if Robert Lundy or some of the others arrive?’

Henry shrugged. ‘They won’t come if they don’t know that James is here!’

Daniel wasn’t convinced. He gestured to the crowd below. ‘What about them?’

Henry smiled. ‘None of that lot want to surrender and, even if they did, none of them would be allowed to interrupt a council meeting!’ Henry was adamant about that.

Outside the city gates a voice called, ‘Your Excellency!’