Behind the Walls (3 page)

Chapter Four

A
few weeks after Mrs Sherrard had given birth to baby Alice, Robert arrived home in the early afternoon. Daniel was reading aloud to his father. They looked up, startled, as Robert burst through the door in a state. ‘Quick! Everyone is being summoned to the Markethouse.’

His mother had just managed to get Alice off to sleep and was much annoyed with the noise. ‘Hush! You’ll wake the baby.’

Robert, however, had no interest in sleeping babies. Why were his family just staring at him as if he were a dragon or some wild beast? He gulped a short breath and said, ‘You don’t understand. You must come
immediately
. The townsmen and church elders have called an emergency meeting.’

Daniel – good old Daniel – leapt from his stool and dropped the book on the table, ready to leave this very minute. Mr Sherrard was less eager to move for Robert’s approval. He needed more information. ‘What is this all about?’

His father’s flat tone made Robert want to push the furniture over. He had kept the front door open, assuming that his parents would be exiting the house as soon as he bid them to. Now he pointed to the neighbours passing by, men, women and children, on their way to the Diamond. Mr Sherrard glanced at the doorway and then back at his son whose impatience was growing. Nevertheless, Robert knew his father would not budge until he was provided with a good enough reason. It didn’t matter what anyone else was doing.

Actually, if Robert was honest with himself, this was a quality he admired in his father except that, right now, Robert had no time. Right now, his father’s stubbornness was only frustrating him. However, he was forced to give in and take the time to say, ‘A letter has been found. I’m not sure of the exact contents but it’s something about a Catholic army. That’s why they want everyone at the Markethouse. They’re going to read it out and decide then what to do about it.’

Daniel looked at his father; surely he was going to move now. To Robert’s immense relief, Mr Sherrard did get up
and straighten his clothes. ‘Alright, boys, let’s go then.’ This was followed by Mrs Sherrard declaring, ‘I’m coming too! Just let me get Alice.’

Robert longed to be back at the Markethouse, but it wouldn’t do to run off on his parents, now that he finally had their attention. Daniel stood at his brother’s hip in his eagerness to be part of whatever was consuming him.

Horace seemed ready to sacrifice his afternoon nap, but Daniel told him to stay where he was. ‘You’ll only get trampled on in the crowd.’ The dog pouted but knew there was no point in arguing. Nevertheless, he did sound out a few whimpers of protest that were completely ignored. Horace sighed and stared at the wall until it suddenly occurred to him that an empty house meant he could go upstairs and lie on the boys’ bed. This cheered him up in no time and he managed a husky woof of fond farewell when the family finally headed out the door.

The streets were thronged with people of all ages and class. Daniel could hear the word ‘letter’ reverberate throughout. It was a rather cool December afternoon. The sky threatened rain. Indeed that’s what Daniel felt hung heavy in the air, a threat, both from the sky above and from whatever they were about to hear.

Robert walked ahead of his parents, politely dipping his head as his friends and their parents greeted him. Daniel watched him with pride.
He knows just about everyone
. Mr
Sherrard gave the barest nod of his head, leaving his wife to do the smiling and hello-ing. He was not what one might call sociable. Daniel once heard him tell his mother that he had no real need for friends; he had enough with his family. His only social excursion was to the cathedral on Sundays. Even then, when the men gathered outside after the service, to talk business and politics, Mr Sherrard would only wish them a cordial good day as he passed them by.

At the Markethouse Alderman Tomkins was waiting to start. The letter was in his hand; he kept his head down as if he were re-reading it over and over again. His face was grave; whatever was in the letter was serious. A large semi-circle formed in front of him, thus allowing as many people as possible to see and hear him. A group of church leaders and elders stood in silence behind him. They watched the crowd with the same grave expression.

When it was judged that the community at large was before him, Alderman Tomkins raised a hand, signifying that the chatter must cease because he was about to unveil the reason for the meeting. A great deal of shushing and hushing ensued with some individuals bent on shushing more people than anyone else. The volume of their shushing made the younger children giggle. They thought they were witnessing a new game and some even joined in, roaring ‘HUSH’ in delight until their red-faced mothers
swiped at them in embarrassment.

Finally there was silence. The crowd waited for the alderman to begin, but the good man, relishing the attention, would not be rushed into speaking. As he perused the sheet in his hand, one more time, his index finger pushed against his lips, one cheeky five-year-old demanded of his mother, ‘What are we waiting for, Mama?’

Pretending not to hear the question, Alderman Tomkins was set to stand there a little while longer but a short ‘ahem!’ from one of his colleagues had the desired effect.

He peered at the faces in front of him as if it had only just now come to his attention that hundreds of people were impatiently waiting to hear him speak. ‘Yes, yes!’ he said, stretching out the page in his hand. ‘We, that is, my esteemed colleagues and I, have brought you here today because a matter of the utmost importance has come to our attention.’ He paused, feeling a break was appropriate here. This time the silence was broken by the mother of the five-year-old, who was already weary of waiting. ‘But what is it? What’s happening?’

Alderman Tomkins sniffed in his most pompous manner, ‘In fact, madam, I am about to read it if you would be so kind as to allow me to continue.’ Someone somewhere groaned. ‘Before I read this,’ he said, holding up the sheet, ‘I should tell you that this is a copy of a letter that was found on a street in Comber, County Down. The writer
does not provide his name but it is addressed to a Lord Mount Alexander.’

At this point one of the church leaders, Reverend James Gordon, a Presbyterian minister, longed to take the letter himself and read it out. All of this time-wasting was, in his opinion, absolutely scurrilous. He gave another brief cough, hoping to accelerate the proceedings. However, it wasn’t necessary. At long last Alderman Tomkins opened his mouth and read out the following words:

‘Good my lord, I have written to you to let you know that all our Irishmen through Ireland is sworn that on the ninth day of this month they are to fall on to kill and murder (every Protestant) man, wife and child.’

The letter was longer than that but nobody wanted to hear anything else after that awful first line. A gasp rapidly became a roar as the alderman’s audience quickly digested its meaning. Daniel saw his mother take his father’s arm and, instinctively, he moved closer too. All around them panic was fluttering. One man called out, ‘What are you saying? What are you telling us?’

Alderman Tomkins raised his hands to try to settle the crowd while saying, ‘Surely the meaning is obvious – the Irish supporters of King James want to wipe us out!’ He pleaded with them for confirmation. ‘Wouldn’t you agree? That much seems to be clear from what I have read.’

The next question to surface was chanted from the back
of the crowd. ‘What is today’s date?’

Reverend Gordon felt obliged to step forward and answer, ‘The seventh of December.’

A few women screamed.

Daniel heard his father mutter, ‘Ridiculous!’ Mr Sherrard freed his arm from his wife’s grasp and moved forward. Robert looked surprised but followed him.

‘Could it not be a hoax?’ Mr Sherrard called out. ‘Is it not strange that the letter is unsigned?’

Some of his neighbours nodded gratefully; this was a much more attractive explanation. Others, like Henry’s father, Mayor Campsie, refused to be comforted. Instead, he offered his own theory. ‘Perhaps the writer is protecting his own skin. He might well be a Catholic who is risking his life to pass on this warning to his Protestant friend. He could hardly provide his name then.’

The community took a moment to consider this, allowing Mayor Campsie to underline his point. ‘Either way, do we really have the luxury of not accepting this as a real threat? It’s only us and Enniskillen that are the two main Protestant garrison cities, and that scoundrel Richard Talbot wants us to support his Catholic king … or else!’

From the moment of his appointment by King James, Lord Lieutenant Talbot had made his presence, that is, his religion, felt. His changes were many and made fast. He rid the Irish army of Protestant soldiers and ousted
well-to-do Protestants from the best of the government jobs. Catholics poured in from everywhere to fill up the vacancies.

Robert found himself agreeing with the mayor. What he said made perfect sense and didn’t it echo what his father had said himself only a few weeks ago?

Reverend Gordon spoke. ‘We believe that there is a Catholic army on its way to Derry.’

Someone shouted, ‘Evacuate the city!’

The reverend shook his head. ‘No, wait.’ He had more to say, but the noise was tremendous as people voiced their own concerns, no matter who else was speaking.

However, as his sons noted, once Mr Sherrard started to speak, the crowd quietened down to hear him. ‘Are we really to believe that there is going to be an all-out massacre? From what I hear of James, he is not a man to prompt unnecessary bloodshed.’

Mayor Campsie shook his head at this. ‘How can we be sure?’ Sensing that more than a few of his neighbours felt he was correct, he declared with pride, ‘I, for one, could never trust a man who gives up his father’s faith. An English king who chooses the Pope over his family and country? I’ll tell you what that it is, it’s an insult to all of us!’

This was an opinion that he had shared many times since James II took the throne. Daniel heard a whispered groan. ‘Oh don’t get him started or we’ll be here all day!’
His mother heard it too but hid her smile behind Alice’s head.

Alderman Tomkins did his best to take charge again. Clapping his hands, he said, ‘The question is, dear neighbours, do we allow the army in? They’re coming to take up residency here, like any army of the English king.’ Not many people were listening to him. He clapped his hands some more. ‘That’s why we’re here today, to decide what to do.’ The poor man looked hurt that so few were paying him attention.

It was the Anglican bishop of Derry, Dr Ezekiel Hopkins, who patted him on the arm. ‘I was afraid of this. Perhaps we should have a meeting with only the most prominent citizens.’

The alderman refused to agree or disagree with this, only pleading with the bishop, ‘But why don’t they listen? They should be demanding to hear what we think.’

Dr Hopkins said as quietly as he could, ‘That, my dear sir, is mostly a mob with a blind will of its own. But don’t give up yet, they just might come to their senses.’

Daniel felt bound to stick by his mother. He could see Robert and his father arguing with the people nearest him and longed to join them. However, he couldn’t leave her alone. She already looked bothered by the people pressing in around her, fearing that the baby would be distressed. As if she could read his mind – and she claimed that she
could – she said to him, ‘You stay right here!’

He widened his eyes. ‘Of course!’

She wasn’t fooled; she could see he wanted to follow his brother.

The two of them observed their neighbours, feeling slightly distant from the debating. Mrs Sherrard kissed the baby’s head. ‘Oh, I wish your father would come back to me. There’ll be no one answer that will please everyone.’

A man walked by them. Something in his manner made them watch him as he worked his way purposefully through the crowd until he reached the group of elders and churchmen. A circle was formed and heads were bowed as the man said his piece. Gradually the arguing between everyone came to halt. The man was a messenger sent by a Colonel George Phillips of Newtown Limavady. Whatever he said, it certainly caused something of a stir amongst his listeners.

A second alderman moved to the front and addressed the square. ‘Colonel Phillips has seen the army himself. And it is a Catholic army. His advice is to lock the city gates against them.’ There was probably no need for him to add, ‘He says we should prevent them from coming into Derry.’

There was a roar of ‘Hear! Hear!’ from some. Bishop Hopkins didn’t look too pleased. The noise threatened to escalate again. Waving his arms, and doing his best to hide
his irritation, he called out, ‘Let me just remind you – this army represents King James, the king of England.’ Despite the cool temperature, the bishop was obliged to wipe away sweat that was beading his forehead.

He continued, ‘As citizens of this city, we are servants to the throne.’ He waited for agreement to this and spied a few heads nodding. ‘Well?’ he asked. ‘Who are we to refuse entrance to the king’s army? Would that not be treason?’