Dark Rosaleen (36 page)

The mist was with them, the dense, heavy mist of the boglands. Its canopy covered the moors and gave them shelter all the way to Tipperary. When they had reached the outskirts of the little market town, the mist lifted and only then did they see the first of the morning sun. They thought it an omen.

The town square of Tipperary was deserted. Shopfronts had long been boarded up and the trees bordering the water troughs had been cut to pieces for firewood. Between the houses, in the narrow alleys that divided them, Coburn saw bodies huddled under sacking, asleep or maybe dead. Beyond the square, in what might once have been the main street, he saw a small stone church. It had no name-board. Perhaps that too had been used as winter fuel. They entered by the side door. It was empty. They sat and rested.

‘You want food? You'll find no food here. There's nothing here. Best you go.'

The priest was loud and abrupt. He came from behind a screen and faced them. He was large and ugly, unshaved, unwashed and fat when all men thereabouts were thin. Coburn stood as he approached.

‘We want directions, Father.'

‘To go where?'

‘St Olave's church. I'm told it is south of the town in the lee of the Galtee Mountains.'

‘That‘s the church of Father Kenyon.'

‘Yes! Father Kenyon.'

‘He's what they call the Patriot Priest. Why would you want to see him? What is it you're after?'

Coburn hesitated. He looked to Kate. He read her thoughts. Trust no one.

She said to the priest, ‘We would have him marry us.'

‘Indeed? Well I can do that and save you the journey. Do you have money?'

‘No!' said Coburn. ‘We have nothing. But we must find Father Kenyon.'

The fat priest came closer. They could smell the sweat of his body and the drink on his breath.

‘Are you from these parts? Do I know your face? And your woman?'

‘No, Father,' Coburn replied. ‘We are from Cashel.'

‘Cashel, is it? Then you must be new for I know most living souls there.'

‘We're on the move, looking for work.'

‘There's not a person who isn't. Yet you look well fed and you're not in rags. Who are you? Haven't I seen you before?'

‘It's Father Kenyon we're after. At St Olave's.'

‘Yes! So you said. I could send a rider to fetch him.'

‘No! That won't do. He knows we're coming. It would not be right to hurry him. I'm told his church is near Bansha Woods.'

‘Do you think I don't know?'

The priest walked some paces to the altar steps. He seemed impatient. He spoke without looking at them.

‘St Olave's is a good hour's walk away, if you walk fast, that is. From the square take the southern road towards Newtown. Beyond Brookville Bridge, you'll see a signpost to Rathkea. His church is a mile beyond that. Now leave me.'

‘Thank you for your help, Father. May I give Father Kenyon your regards?'

‘As you wish.'

‘And your name?'

‘Kennedy. Kennedy of Killaloe.'

The horses were resting and tethered. Their riders were standing by them, spooning from bowls of stirabout. Father Kenyon sat cross-legged on the low wall that encircled St Olave's. When he saw Coburn, he let out a great howl, ran fifty yards down the lane and collapsed in his arms. Then, gasping for breath, he grabbed Kate by her hands and swung her round in a circle, as a father does to a child.

‘God bless you both, but I thought you'd never make it. I should have had more faith. The O'Connor lads here have just come from Cashel. O'Brien got a message to their father. They've told me everything. They are here to look after you both.'

Coburn nodded to them. ‘Did they see William go?'

‘Yes! The military took him away and with a bit of respect, so they tell me.'

‘And the boys, the decoys? We saw the hussars after them. Did they get away?'

‘Two of them were dead when they found them.'

‘Two of O'Connor's boys. Killed because of me.'

‘They'd have wanted it no other way. The two of you are precious to us. They wouldn't have done it otherwise. Now, are you both hungry?'

He led them into the annexe of his little church and fed them soup.

‘Daniel, I really didn't think you'd get here, least of all in daylight. Did nobody see you?'

‘The mist was as thick as your soup, Father. If anyone was out there on the moors, we didn't see them and they never saw us.'

‘Then how did you find me? You've never been here before.'

‘We asked a priest in Tipperary.'

‘What priest?'

‘He said his name was Kennedy.'

‘Kennedy of Killaloe?'

‘That's the man.'

‘He knows you're here? By Christ, Daniel, you couldn't have chosen a worse one. Of all the people, you picked him.'

‘I picked nobody, Father. The town was near deserted. Is there a problem?'

‘Do you think he recognised you? Did he see Kate?'

‘He saw us both.'

‘He was suspicious,' Kate said. ‘He didn't want us to leave.'

Father Kenyon walked hurriedly from the room and shouted to the O'Connors.

‘Saddle up, boys, and hurry. Daniel and Kate are leaving now. They'll need horses, so two of you will have to stay.'

Coburn went after him. ‘Father, what is it? What's the trouble? Is it the priest?'

‘Yes, Daniel, it's Kennedy. A hateful drunkard of a man and an informer. He will have guessed by now who you are and he'll already be on his way to the constabulary. They'll pay him well. Now quick! We have no time to talk. You must be off. The O'Connors will take you to Limerick. Keep yourselves safe there until you decide what to do next.'

‘We will stay there for a while and move on to Galway and Connemara.'

‘Do what you think is right,' said the priest. ‘But hurry off now. The O'Connors are waiting, the horses are ready.'

‘Come, Kate.' Coburn took her hand but she pulled it away.

‘Father.'

‘Yes, Kate.'

‘The Kennedy priest asked us why we were looking for you. I told him you would marry us. It was an excuse. I couldn't think of any other.'

‘It's as good as any and probably the best.'

‘Will you?'

‘Will I what?'

‘Marry us?'

‘Marry you?'

‘Yes! Here and now.'

Coburn stopped at the door. ‘Kate, are you mad? The military's on its way and you want us to be married?'

‘Exactly!'

‘But I haven't asked you.'

She ignored him.

‘Will you, Father?'

‘Doesn't Daniel have a say?'

‘Father, I am with his child and I will not carry a bastard across all of Ireland searching for a place to wean it.'

‘Daniel?'

‘Marry us, Father, and be quick with it.'

The fat Kennedy of Killaloe sat in his vestry, sipping whiskey from a jar and pondering on a face without a name. It was the face of a well-fed and clothed man looking for work, travelling with a fine-looking woman with a strong trim body and raven hair. Here they were in Tipperary asking after Father Kenyon, the outcast, scolded by his bishop. What was it they wanted of him? Who could they be, these strangers, looking for the Patriot Priest? Only then, as he asked himself that question, did he realise he had just met the leader of the Young Irelanders and his lady, known throughout all Ireland and beyond as the ‘Dark Rosaleen'.

He trotted as fast as his heavy body would carry him to the constabulary to report his discovery. The one policeman on duty then walked a mile to the small military depot on the Limerick road and within twenty minutes a column of forty foot soldiers from the 49th Regiment were fast-stepping their way to Bansha Woods and the church of St Olave's.

The hurried marriage that made Coburn and Kate one now threatened to separate them forever. As they waved Father Kenyon their goodbyes and trotted away in the company of the O'Connor brothers, the men of the 49th were already passing Brookville Bridge. Soon they would be in sight of the church.

O'Connor's horses heard them first, the tramping of military feet, the rhythm of marching men. The lead horse shook its head and tried to turn. Its rider reined it back. Then he too heard them.

‘Back, Mr Coburn, back,' he shouted. ‘It's the military already. Ride for the woods, we'll hold them here as best we can.'

The horsemen jumped from their saddles and ran either side of the lane for cover. They cocked their weapons and waited for the column to round the corner. Five men with flintlocks and a single blunderbuss about to face the advancing forty fusiliers armed with quick-loading rifles.

The O'Connor brothers waited until the first line of red tunics were only twenty yards from them and then opened fire. Five soldiers fell. But it would take another fifteen seconds for the brothers to recharge and reload their pistols. By the count of ten, three were already dead. For a full minute the fusiliers swept the undergrowth with so much fire that saplings were cut in two, tree bark flew like shrapnel, leaves and grass were scorched and began to smoulder. It was as if a vast scythe had cut it clean. When they were done, they dragged three perforated bodies onto the road and went further into the tree line, firing blindly as they hunted for the other two.

Coburn saw the brothers up along the ridge that bordered the woods. If they did not turn into the cover of the trees they would run straight into the soldiers and be shot on sight. He ran towards them up the slope, waving his arms. The brothers saw him, stopped and began their way down. Then there was a volley of shots and Coburn fell to the ground and did not move.

Kate and Father Kenyon came running from the church as the two brothers began dragging Coburn towards them.

‘Lift him onto my shoulder, Father,' Declan, the older one, shouted. ‘Help me with him into the trees. That was a stray shot, for sure they haven't seen us yet.'

Coburn was bleeding badly. Only the pressure of his body, heavy against that of the big man, helped stem the flow.

‘I know a place,' said Father Kenyon. ‘It is well inside the woods. Can you make it?'

‘I can and I will,' said the big man.

‘God give you strength.'

‘Where is it we're going?'

‘It's the ruins of an old church towards Slievenamuck.'

‘I know it.'

‘We will be safe there, I think,' said the priest.

‘We will be safe,' said the big man.

Declan was strong. No lesser man could have done it. With Coburn across his shoulders, he laboured for nearly an hour barging his way through the thick armour of Bansha Woods, unhindered by man for thousands of years. When finally they came to the ruins, he laid Coburn gently on the ground and, without resting, turned to go.

‘Will you not stay with us?' Kate asked.

‘No! We must go back. I think my brothers are dead but I must know for sure. I must tell our mother.'

‘Thank you, Declan, thank you,' said the priest. ‘And may God be with you both.'