The Sword of the Banshee (13 page)

There was a fair that day in Kenmare, and the town was filled with music, vendors, and entertainment. Townspeople and country folk alike were shoulder to shoulder in the narrow streets, talking and laughing, consuming spirits, and watching the street entertainers.  Booths were set up for craftsman to display their wares, filled with earthenware pottery and richly woven woolen garments. Farmers sold their produce and poultry, soliciting their cheeses and butter as well. Musicians played fiddles, tin whistles, and bagpipes.

India stopped the muffin man as he wound through the streets with a bread board strapped over his shoulders. She smiled with pleasure deciding which muffin to purchase.

Early for the meeting, India strolled along contentedly eating her baked good. She stopped to watch a juggler and his dog balance balls and plates, spinning and tossing them deftly back and forth. After that there was a contortionist. The man stood on a table and bent his body in ways unimaginable, back and forth, over and under. He seemed to have no bones, and India marveled at his amazing abilities.

Halfway through the act, the lithe young man stopped his show and looked directly at India. He smiled, pulled off his cap and swept down into a low bow. The crowd turned and looked at her. There were murmurs and then applause. Taken aback, India looked around. All eyes were on her. They had recognized her. Embarrassed, she smiled slightly and nodded her head once in acknowledgment

Taking her leave immediately, India turned to go and the crowd parted in deference.

As she passed, she heard them saying, “Thank you, Lady Fitzpatrick,” and “God bless you, Lady Fitzpatrick.” Several people even touched her garment.

Usually, so poised and dignified, India was clearly flustered. Although she knew the popularity of the rebellion was widespread, she had no idea that people knew her by sight.

She heard someone say, “It is your flaxen hair and those eyes--”

India turned around. It was the voice of Cian O’Donnell. He was smiling mischievously and said, “For shame. You were indiscreet today. I must get you to a safe place.”

He gave her his cloak and pulled the hood up as he led her down an alley.  They weaved in and out of the streets until Cian was satisfied they were not being followed.

At last, they entered the public house where the meeting was being held. The men all stood up when India walked in.

“Thank you, gentleman,” she said, hanging Cian’s cloak on a peg. She swept crumbs off her gown and said, “Please sit down, and let’s begin.”

The first order of business was a discussion on the seats left vacant by McGrath and Kinsella. They had spoken for only a few moments when the tavern door opened, and Colm entered in his chair being pushed by Aengus Kildare.

The room fell quiet. Everyone was stunned. India stared at Colm. She was speechless, and Cian shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Colm wore his white wig, and was dressed in a dark waistcoat and breeches. He gestured for Kildare to wheel him to the head of the table by India. “Let me begin,” announced Colm, “by thanking all of you for keeping the rebellion alive in my absence.”

Still there was silence. India’s heart was pounding, and her face was flushed.

“Special thanks go to my wife. She toiled continuously for the cause and now can rest. She has kept me up to date on everything.”

Colm reached over and took her hand murmuring, “My darling, your job here is done. This is no place for a woman.”

India blinked, not comprehending what he was saying. Then her lips parted, and she looked around, confused. At last she stood up, her chair scraping loudly on the floor and swept from the room.

Colm looked from one to the other, his head held high, and a challenging look on his face. He said, “I understand that tonight we will be appointing new officers. Without my approval, some months ago, Aengus Kildare was relieved of his post as head of intelligence. I am reinstating him tonight.”

Kildare smiled smugly.

“The little weasel,” Cian mumbled.

Colm heard the remark and stated, “And you Mr. O’Donnell will be relieved of yours.”

Cian had raised his tankard to drink but stopped in midair. He put his drink down slowly and stood up. Towering over Colm, he burned a look into the pompous autocrat. He turned to his compatriots and said, “Gentlemen, the rebellion is doomed.”

Slamming the door as he left the room, Cian scanned the busy square for India. She was nowhere to be found so he set out after her. He knew that she had left her horse at the O’Fallon cottage.

He walked briskly down the streets of Kenmare, grumbling and longing to smash Fitzpatrick’s face. Everything they had struggled for would be lost in a matter of days. He would now have to return to his clan in Ulster and share the news. The O’Donnells were one of the most powerful clans in all of Ireland, and without their support, other clans in Ulster would withdraw as well. The rebellion was over.

Cian found India outside of town standing on a hill not far from the cottage. She had dismounted and was holding the reins looking over the valley at the sunset. The light cast a golden glow on her hair which was blowing in the breeze. She looked almost angelic to him, but when she turned to look her eyes were as hard and cold as blue ice.

He searched her face a moment then said, “It is over for us.”

India said nothing, turning back to watch the donkey carts in the distance, winding their way home after a day at the fair.
It was over. Everything she had hoped for Ireland was over.

After years of trying to think the best of her husband, India finally admitted that personal ambition was Colm’s only motivation. With him in a position of leadership, Irish freedom was doomed. It was only a matter of time before he would be goaded into formal warfare with the British, and the Irish would fail miserably. She knew now that Ireland would not find freedom in her lifetime, and it was a bitter disappointment for her. She turned to her horse, ready to mount.

Suddenly, Cian realized he would never see India again. His heart started to pound, and he panicked pulling her into his arms. “No!” he said urgently. “You and I will not let it be over. We will strike out on our own. They will follow us. I know they will. There is still a chance.”

India’s eyes softened. For a moment she was bewitched into believing it could happen. The desire in Cian confused her, as well as his warm embrace.
Maybe we could do it. Together, maybe there still was a chance.

He pressed his lips onto hers, running his hands frantically over her hair. She dropped her reserve and allowed herself one last moment of freedom. Her passion mounted, and she returned his kisses.

Suddenly, she pushed away from him. “No Cian. It cannot happen. It is--” India hesitated then said, “Ireland must find her freedom elsewhere. It will not happen now.”

Cian saw her eyes return to their steely blue. He knew then that India had made up her mind. She reached up and tied her hair into place, mounting her horse. Saying nothing, he watched her ride off across the hills and out of his life.

Chapter 10

For the first few days, India was in a state of shock. She felt helpless and impotent being excluded from the fight for freedom. She had not only kept the rebellion alive in Colm’s absence but made it a huge success while expanding the operation until it included every clan and loyal Irishman in Europe and the New World. The repparees were fierce partisan fighters feared by the British and now strides were being made in the political arena as well. India sent several representatives to Parliament, but now Colm was taking over and changing everything.

Over the weeks, her dismay turned to anger and defiance. She had to know how the rebellion fared, and she began to meet with the repparees in secret. India played the part of the compliant wife making all of Colm’s meals, tasting them, composing speeches and completing correspondence with benefactors then she stole into town to meet with the repparees.

It was a dangerous business. Most of the repparees felt that Fitzpatrick would stop at nothing to further his own ambitions and hated him, but a few still remained loyal believing that his way was the only way. Several repparees, including Aengus Kildare swore undying allegiance to Colm, and these men were to be feared.

Initially, India merely listened to reports on the progress of the rebellion, satisfied to be informed, but as time went on, she felt compelled to advise the men on military strategy, a skill in which Colm was sadly lacking. They brought India’s ideas to the table without Colm’s knowledge, and it seemed to improve the raids. The rebellion thrived at first, but as Colm took a more authoritarian role in the organization, things began to change. He believed that he was the most capable man to represent the freedom fighters in Parliament, and he dismissed India’s agents.

“I fear for the cause, milady,” said Barry Gallagher one night at a clandestine meeting in County Mayo. “Lord Fitzpatrick is making concessions to the British to further his own interests and to forge lucrative friendships. He uses our blood to open doors for him in Dublin and London.”

The young man sat with India and six others in a cottage on Blacksod Bay. A single candle lit the room where quilts hung over the windows for security. India leaned on the table, listening to Barry with her fist to her lips. Her eyes spoke the outrage she felt. She took a breath and leaned back in her chair. The men watched her anxiously.

Finally, she spoke. “This man is my husband. I have taken a vow--” India stopped and she said carefully, “But my loyalty first and foremost is to Ireland.”

The men continued to stare at her. She bit her lip then said, “Barry, you will leave tonight for Ulster to fetch someone. We will take a new leader in the fight for freedom. It will be Cian O’Donnell.”

*           *            *

After the meeting, India slipped back to the manor through the woods. Although she knew Colm was gone, she was on edge. She did not want him to catch her out after dark. It would be impossible to explain. The wind was blowing hard off the ocean, and it whipped the trees back and forth over her head. It reminded India of All Hallows Eve when she had first witnessed the machinations of Colm Fitzpatrick at Cragmere Ruins. She chuckled bitterly as she walked.
So I have come full circle. I had been right to fear him that first night, and I know now that I should have listened to my intuition
.

India slipped into the manor undetected and climbed the stairs to her bed chamber on the third floor. It was a nicely appointed room overlooking the garden and ocean, but it had none of the charm of the previous manors. She slept fitfully, and when she awoke, she was stiff and groggy.

India had been worrying all night about Barry Gallagher. She was fond of the young man. He had known her from the beginning and been her most loyal supporter. She remembered the night at the manor when he brought her the package from her benefactor in the Colonies. It had been her first firearm. They were both getting started then, and because they had made the journey together, she felt close to him.

India washed, dressed and started down to breakfast, but when she tried to open her bed chamber door, it was locked. She yanked the knob several times calling for the servants. She was met with silence. She tried once more but to no avail. She knew then Colm knew everything and had locked her in her room. India
and
Ireland had both lost their struggle for freedom.

*           *            *

Barry Gallagher never made it to Ulster. Although he was an excellent swimmer, he mysteriously drowned crossing a river in County Mayo. One by one India’s followers were either banned from the rebellion or died under mysterious circumstances. The patriots never knew who informed on them. India was locked in her room for over two weeks, long enough for Colm to move the operation far across Ireland.

It was terrifying not knowing how long she might remain in confinement. For days she sat by the third story window planning escape routes that were impossible. The drop from the window would break her legs instantly. So India waited, completely at Colm’s mercy.  She ate very little and drank small amounts of the foul tasting tea his servants brought to her.  When one of Colm’s minions finally unlocked the door, India emerged thin and weak. Although she was no longer confined to her room, Colm posted a guard to watch her every movement around the estate. She was no longer allowed any freedoms.

“Please try to understand, my darling. You were a danger to yourself,” said Colm when he returned from Dublin one evening. “These men were using you to topple the rebellion. They were puppets of a faction in Parliament who is threatened by a free Ireland. You were merely a pawn in their game of chess.”

He rolled over in his wheelchair and took her hands. With a look of concern, he asked, “The servants say you are plagued by headaches. Is this true?”

India looked out the window at the manicured garden filled with topiary bushes.  She couldn’t even find the energy to hate Colm. She was sick and tired and felt detached from everything. She answered him with a shrug.

Now that Colm was back in power, life returned to the monotony she had endured when they were first married. She had breakfast with him each morning, then prepared his supper for him in the evening. In between those times, she went for walks. She walked for hours on end, as if in a trance. Her mind was devoid of thoughts. Sometimes she would wake up as if dreaming, unsure of her location or how she had gotten so far from home. It was as if she were a sleep walker.