Behind the Walls (2 page)

Chapter Two

O
ver the coming weeks changes tiptoed into the city. When Daniel accompanied Horace on his meanderings he saw more and more new faces, whole families with their belongings squashed up on carts, coming in from the hinterland beyond Derry’s walls.

One day he, Horace and his father were walking by Bishop’s Gate when they spied a young man on a tall, white horse who seemed to be escorting one such family into the city. Mr Sherrard hailed him, ‘Why it’s Adam Murray! Good day to you!’

The dark haired man, who wore a wide brimmed hat and a long frock coat, turned and smiled warmly, taking the time to nod graciously at Daniel. He addressed the family of refugees, ‘If you follow this street around to the right, the lady of the third house said she could take you.’

The woman had a baby in her arms; two more children – boys no more than four or five years of age – were tugging at her skirts, wanting something or other. Their father stretched up his arm and shook Adam by the hand. ‘Thanks for your help, Mr Murray.’

Adam rushed to assure him that there was no need for thanks. ‘Don’t worry. Your family will be safe here.’

The Sherrards waited for the family to leave before approaching. Daniel kept a firm grip on Horace, to prevent him from getting any ideas. Adam jumped down from his horse and embraced Mr Sherrard who asked, ‘Is your father here too? I’ve not seen him in such a long time.’

Adam shook his head and grinned. ‘You know how stubborn he is. I tried to get him to move into the city, even for a month or two, but he won’t hear of it.’

Mr Sherrard exclaimed, ‘So have you now set up home here in Derry?’

Adam shrugged. ‘Ach, I’m here and there.’ Giving Daniel a sidelong glance, he added, ‘Actually, I’m looking to set up a regiment of like-minded souls who are prepared to fight a Catholic army, should it be necessary.’

Daniel stared openly at him. This was thrilling talk indeed.

Adam’s horse, a shade of smudged white, nudged the boy in the shoulder, pushing him forward. Neither his father nor Adam took any notice of this as they discussed the latest stories that were spreading through the neighbourhood.

Mr Sherrard asked, ‘You think they’re coming for us?’

Adam glanced around them before saying, ‘Yes, I suppose I do.’

Daniel’s father wasn’t prone to exaggeration or undue
excitement. He put a hand on Adam’s arm. ‘You know, a Catholic regiment does not have to mean terror. A city this size, this busy, needs her guards to keep order.’

Adam silently refused to agree with the first part and as to the second he offered, ‘But we have soldiers. There are plenty of men here who want to protect everything that Derry stands for.’

Daniel watched the two men stare at one another before his father sighed, quickly following it up with a tight smile. ‘Well, in any case, it’s good to see you, Adam. Tell your father I was asking for him.’

The younger man returned the smile, though his was easier. ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll tell him.’

The horse only stopped butting Daniel when his master was back in the saddle again. Horace began to strain beneath his grip; the dog sensed that four legs were about to leap forward and he wanted to be free to play with them. One look from Mr Sherrard, however, put an end to that plan. Horace stood meekly beside his family and watched the horse take off, making no attempt to chase it.

There was a strange expression on Mr Sherrard’s face. Daniel thought his father looked disappointed. Maybe he hadn’t wanted the conversation to end so soon, or end how it had.

‘Father,’ ventured Daniel, ‘is there going to be fighting? Are we in danger?’ These ideas had only occurred to him
as soon as he opened his mouth. His father didn’t answer immediately. Daniel wanted him to know that he could take it, whatever his father was toying with not saying. ‘I see all these people moving into the city. They’re afraid, aren’t they?’

Mr Sherrard gestured that they should continue walking. ‘I don’t know, son, and that’s the truth. There’s no point in my making up something for you because I just don’t know what’s going to happen.’

Later that same day, Robert Sherrard was much more forthcoming when Daniel asked him the same question. ‘Something has to happen and soon!’

Daniel waited patiently for further explanation. His brother was preparing to join his friends at the wall. Working in shifts, they were helping to keep look-out for any sign of trouble, both inside and outside the city.

‘Look, Dan, William isn’t going to back down. Any decent Englishman wants that old Papist off the throne and William is the one to do it.’ Robert had little of his father’s discretion.

Daniel nodded to show he was listening hard. ‘But, what does that mean for us … exactly?’

His brother challenged him. ‘Come on, what do you think it means?’

Daniel quickly ran through all the bits of information he had collected, glad for the opportunity to have his brother’s ear. ‘Um …’ he hedged. ‘If William takes over
from James – which is what we want him to do?’ Here he looked at Robert to check he was correct in his assessment thus far.

Robert was pushed for time and decided to shorten the lesson. ‘Yes, it’s what
we
want here in Derry but down in Dublin, James’s friend, the lord lieutenant, Richard Talbot, is far from happy. He will surely rustle up a Catholic army to take over this garrison which, as he knows, fully supports a Protestant king taking back the throne. Actually …’ Robert pushed in the last of the buttons on his tunic, ‘that’s probably what he’s doing this very minute. And then they’ll be coming for us.’

Daniel hid his panic, or so he thought.

As Robert made to leave, he punched Daniel in the arm. ‘Don’t worry! This city can hold her own against James, Richard Talbot and whoever else comes looking for trouble.’

Daniel couldn’t stop himself from asking, ‘Are you sure?’

Robert merely winked as he slammed the door behind him.

Horace looked at Daniel expectantly: weren’t they going out too? Just then, Mrs Sherrard, her hands covered in flour, called out, ‘Stay right where you are, Daniel Sherrard. I need water fetched from the well.’

Daniel made a face that only his pet could see. ‘Yes, Ma’am!’

Robert smirked in the darkness as he heard his mother’s shrill voice. These days he was much too busy for household chores. How different his life was now. A few months ago his most pressing concern was to kiss as many girls as he could. Meanwhile, his father wanted him to study something, anything really. However, Robert did not feel that his future was paved between the pages of text books. He would leave those to his baby brother. Mr Sherrard was a hardworking physician who naturally expected one of his sons to take up his profession. It was unfortunate that his eldest son displayed little interest for dealing with sick people. But Robert wanted something different, something more than his father had done. He just hadn’t quite worked out what it would be. His mother seemed equally put out that he showed no inclination to become a pastor. Robert was bewildered that she ever imagined he’d want to do that. Church talk was best left to those who liked the sound of their own voice.

The house seemed to have shrunk as his parents’ expectations of him poured out into every room until, some evenings, he felt unable to breathe. It was like the walls were pressing against his chest.

But, now! Well, now things were happening beyond his parents’ control. Exciting things! Freedom beckoned. That’s how he felt anyway, though he couldn’t explain why. Maybe he just sensed that a change was coming and
that was surely better than nothing at all.

He knocked on the Campsies’ door. Henry, his best friend, opened it, his coat on, ready to leave immediately. The two friends fell into step together. From a distance they looked alike, the same height and slenderness, the only difference being that Henry was broader in the shoulders which made him seem older and more capable somehow. He was also more dramatic in style, from the way he flicked dust from his coat to how he walked, ready for whatever was around the corner. ‘Any news?’ asked Henry.

Robert turned his head to spit. ‘Not really, other than my father bumping into Adam Murray earlier. He says he’s recruiting fellows to patrol the fields beyond the walls.’

Henry was intrigued. ‘Really? Are you going to join him?’

Robert refused to commit himself, knowing that his parents would have something to say. ‘Maybe … I’m just waiting to see what’s going to happen.’

Henry pretended to believe that the decision was completely Robert’s to make. ‘Yes, me too!’

The only light in the long, narrow street came from the candles in some of the windows, throwing flickering shadows before and after them. As they passed one murky alleyway the sounds of a fierce battle didn’t distract them from their walk. There was a lot of scrambling and
scraping of feet accompanied by high pitched shrieks of rage. ‘Rats!’ said Henry cheerfully. ‘I saw one yesterday and I swear it was almost as big as your dog.’ Robert didn’t believe him.

A cat bawled nearby followed by a few seconds of startling silence until it was answered by a second cat. Some sort of challenge had been thrown down: one animal warily announcing the boundaries of its territory to the other, a rude intruder. Suddenly, the air was punctured by a flurry of barks. If there was to be any fight over boundaries, the dogs insisted on being involved.

On any other night Robert might not have noticed any of this. Fighting rats, quarrelling cats and enraged dogs were the most ordinary and least important sounds of any city. Tonight, though, things were different. Robert sighed and said, ‘It’s almost like they sense that something is about to happen.’

Henry was puzzled. ‘Huh?’

Robert flicked his wrist, gesturing at the assorted chorus on the night air. ‘All this noise?’

Henry thought for a moment and then shrugged.

Robert confided in him, ‘You know there is a little part of me that longs for something to happen, something big too.’ When Henry said nothing to this Robert added, ‘I mean … I hope, that is, I want to be able to do something important. Ach! I’m not explaining myself properly.’

Henry did his best to understand. ‘You want to do something special or heroic?’ That didn’t sound right either.

Robert tried again. ‘Do you believe or do you even want a future beyond these walls?’

Henry was not an imaginative sort of person nor did he spend time wondering about the future. What was the point in that? He accepted that his life was going to be more or less like his father’s. He hoped that one day, he too would be Mayor of Derry. Mr Campsie was an important man in the city. Why wouldn’t his son want to be just like him? ‘You think too much!’ were Henry’s final words on the subject.

Robert wasn’t prepared to allow him the last word. ‘No, it’s not that. I just get bored sometimes. A bit of excitement is surely not too much to ask for.’

They arrived at the section of the wall that they would be watching from, for the next six hours or so. Henry gave his friend a playful shove. ‘Be careful what you wish for, Robert Sherrard!’

Chapter Three

M
rs Sherrard’s day usually began before six in the morning. During the summer months she relished being the first one up in the house. Not even Horace had the energy to get under her feet until well after seven o’clock.

On a cold morning, such as this one, she had to fight the urge to go back to bed. The rain spluttered off the roof, camouflaging her own movements from her sleeping husband and sons. Had the day been warmer she would have waited for Daniel to get up and have him do the fire but she preferred to get it going now, as quickly as she could.
Brr! It’s a chilly one.
As soon as the flames began to stir, she wagged a finger at Horace in case he had any ideas about moving closer to the fireplace. He wasn’t stupid though. Horace knew that if he annoyed her too early it would result in his eviction outside onto the wet, dark streets.

In her head she had a list of chores to be done: things like repairing Mr Sherrard’s Sunday shirt; washing the boys’ underclothes; salting the fish she had bought yesterday; peeling the potatoes; boiling up the oats to make
porridge and the rye for Mr Sherrard’s beer. Except for eating her breakfast and dinner, she was looking at a full day of maybe fourteen hours or so.

Another woman, especially one in her condition, might have strained against the constant chain of chores but Mrs Sherrard didn’t. She believed that God meant his people to keep themselves busy, obedient and productive. She was never sick. As she herself said, ‘I simply wouldn’t have the time for it.’

When Daniel gets up he can empty the chamber pots. At least the rain will wash most of it away.

Unfortunately that meant that it would also wash her neighbours’ waste right past her door too. This is why she preferred that if it had to rain, it should come down in a raging torrent that had the strength to sweep everything off the paths.

In the tiny kitchen she checked how much water was in the bucket. She also checked if the mice had been at her bread. To her dismay their dots of droppings were everywhere. ‘Maybe we should get a cat!’ She had said the words to Horace without thinking. He stared back at her as if she had asked his opinion on the gravest of matters.

A sudden noise in the corner brought him to his feet. She left him to his work: to stand perfectly still until there was another noise, one too small for Mrs Sherrard’s ears. He crashed through whatever was in his way, snarling
ferociously until the rodent was upside down and swinging lifelessly between his grinning jaws.

Mrs Sherrard told him, ‘At least you get to eat meat every day. That’s more than most people have.’

Horace unashamedly ignored her as he gulped down his breakfast, crunching thread-like bones and spitting out hairs. He returned to where he had found the mouse. Any dog with his experience knew rightly that where there was one mouse, there was bound to be another.

Mrs Sherrard walked through the front of the house and opened the door for no particular reason at all. Horace, fearing that she meant to send him outside, crept under the table to play dead. She tipped herself over the threshold. Rain streaked her face and drops fell upon her hair, causing it to glisten in the candlelight. Without realising it, she was checking that all was as it should be. The thick walls loomed in the darkness. Of course they were still there.
Why wouldn’t they be?

‘My dear, what on earth are you doing?’ Mrs Sherrard’s husband’s expression was one of bafflement.

Flustered to have been caught out like this, his wife snapped at him, ‘Really, Edward, I do wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me!’

Closing the door smartly, she went to fetch some bread that the mice hadn’t touched along with a small glass of milk.

Mr Sherrard watched her, wishing he had waited before opening his mouth, particularly since he knew exactly what she had been doing. Sitting at the table, he said quietly, ‘It may all come to nothing.’

His wife busied herself cutting the bread. Mr Sherrard sipped his milk and the rain continued to fall. They were both thinking of the same thing, not that either of them were aware of this. No matter what was going to happen or not happen at all, the baby in her belly would be here very soon. That much was fact.

House by house, street by street, the city stirred to wakefulness as daylight strove to push its way through navy clouds that appeared to be puffed out with rain. They looked as if one could burst them open, only needing to reach up and prod them with something sharp like a knife or a scythe.

The walls gave nothing away. It was they who the wind battered on its travels from miles away. The wind whispered its secret to the birds, the trees and whoever would listen. It carried the sound of a thousand feet or a thousand more, marching north over virgin forest floor, through streams of the purest water and bogs full of ancient history. The land did its best to impede the approach but it wasn’t enough. Nothing could stop this coming; it was a storm and it was man-made.

A few short miles south-east of Derry, at Ling, eighty-nine-year-old
Gabriel Murray watched the horizon change from black to grey and felt the shift around him. Looking towards the walled city in the distance, he saw the clouds thicken and fold into one another. He had seen many things throughout his long life and had learned how to read signs that would never be written down. His few animals, a handful of cows and an aging horse, were uneasy. To be sure, they continued to graze but they constantly lifted their heads to glance here and there, pawing the ground as if to reassure themselves that it was still there beneath their feet. Gabriel nodded to himself:
it seems we’re all waiting for something.