THE COLONEL OF CONNAUGHT.
It was about an hour from noon, a hot sun burning in a blue sky, when
Grace O’Malley signified from _The Grey Wolf_ that she was about to
land, and that it was her desire that I should accompany her, but that
I should go on shore before her, to make sure that she would not be
detained at the gate. Having made a suitable response to my mistress,
I gave command to the rowers and the helmsman of _The Cross of Blood_,
and the galley slowly drew up alongside the wall of the harbour, beside
the gate by which an entrance is made into the “Street of the Key,” as
it is called.
Perhaps it was the fierce heat which indisposed to exertion of any
sort, but the place was strangely quiet and still. Two or three
soldiers, with steel morions on their heads and corselets of iron about
their bodies, gazed at us with indolent curiosity from the towers and
parapets that looked across the bay.
At the gate itself were an officer and his guard, lounging about
listlessly enough in the sunshine, and taking apparently but a
little languid interest in our movements. A few sailors of different
nationalities, among whom the swarthy Spaniards predominated, and some
of the country fisher folkk, walked about the quay. Not far from us
_The Lass of Carrick_ was discharging her cargo; below us a fishing
smack, with its one great sail set, was being rowed out to sea.
As my galley approached within a few feet of the quay, I heard a
whistle, or what seemed a whistle. Indeed, so swift and shrill did
the sound bite into the air, that it was as if someone standing close
beside me were trying in this fashion, very peremptorily, to excite
my attention. At the same time, or, mayhap, a little sooner or a
little later--the whole thing, it appeared to me, came together on the
instant, as it were--I felt the rush and the wind made by an arrow or
a bolt as it flew past my face. Then the crick-crack of the barb, as
it smashed and splintered the wood of the bulwark behind me, followed
immediately afterwards. Involuntarily, I put up my hand to my cheek.
Death had passed close to me, had almost struck me. Yet, hardly
realising what had happened, I stood rooted to the spot. A queer,
quaking sob burst from me--the surprise was so sudden, so complete.
My first thought was that the arrow had been intended for me, but I
had escaped it by the breadth of a hair, and no more. I was untouched.
Momentarily I expected other arrows; but none came. I asked myself what
was the meaning of the solitary arrow. At first sight it appeared as
if we were about to be dealt with treacherously--that we were being
beguiled to our destruction. Evidently, that was the mind of my men in
the matter, for they had made a quick and terrible outcry that we were
betrayed when they marked the flight of the quivering shaft.
Holding up my hand for silence, but bidding them take their weapons as
quietly and calmly as they could, I waited for what might next befall.
Ordering the oarsmen to cease rowing, the galley lay motionless on the
water. Looking anxiously up at the parapet, and then at the gate, I
could perceive no unusual commotion among the soldiers, nor could I
see a bowman amongst them. It appeared doubtful if they had observed
that anything out of the ordinary had taken place, and, certainly, they
acted as if they had not. It plainly was no affair of theirs--that was
sure, for they were not more on the alert than before.
Whence, then, had come the arrow, and for what purpose, if not one of
death?
My second thought showed me clearly that, had the mysterious archer
intended to kill me, there would have been nothing easier, for,
standing as I did on the poop, I was the best mark in the world; nor
would he have required any marvellous expertness in his art to have
made an end of me. So, as everything about us now seemed favourable and
fair for us, I next turned my regard to the arrow itself, which was
fast in one of the beams of the galley.
Now for the first time I noticed that it had been shot into the ship
in such a way that it was nearly or altogether hidden by the shape of
the vessel from being seen by those on shore; and I bethought me that
it must have been sped without hostile intent, but, on the contrary,
conveyed some message of warning which it would be well not to neglect.
Wrenching forth the missile with an effort from the beam, I examined
it carefully, and found, as I had begun to anticipate, a message; for
roughly inscribed upon it was the word “Beware!”
With the dark, foreboding saying of the Wise Man still ringing in
my ears, it was not likely that I should overlook any measure of
precaution that was in my power, but the safe-conduct of the Governor
of Connaught had given me a feeling of security--which was, perhaps,
not justified. Thus it was that I could not but suspect that the
message of the arrow was meant to prevent me from putting trust
overmuch in Sir Nicholas--a man whom I had not yet seen.
Instead, therefore, of taking with me only six spearmen, as I had
purposed, as part of Grace O’Malley’s bodyguard, I doubled the number.
Besides these there also landed three gentlemen of her household,
chiefs from the islands, men of proved courage, to whom the use of
the sword was as much a part of themselves as the breath they drew. I
had already sent ashore early in the morning a trusty steward, with
instructions to procure two horses for my mistress and Eva O’Malley,
and he now, as we made fast to the quay, came forth from the gate with
two splendid barbs, each attended, as is usual in Ireland, by its own
swift-footed horse-boy.
While our landing was proceeding I could not help wondering who it was
that had sped the arrow, and why he had chosen this way of conveying
his warning. Manifestly he was one who was afraid, and desired to keep
in the background, for reasons that commended themselves sufficiently
to him. Rapidly thinking over the affair, I came to the conclusion
that our friend could be none other than Richard Burke, the MacWilliam
of whom I have already spoken, and who, I had some reason to guess,
cherished a tenderness for Grace O’Malley.
And right mightily glad was I to think that one so strong and brave
was in Galway at this time. So great was his fortitude and tenacity
of purpose that he was quite commonly spoken of as Richard the Iron,
and never in the day of adversity was there a stouter heart or a more
vigorous arm than his.
But why had he taken--or caused to be taken, as was most probable--this
extraordinary method of apprising me of immediate danger, for that and
no less I concluded was the meaning of that one word, “Beware”? The
future was to show, and that soon enough.
To lay _The Grey Wolf_ alongside of _The Cross of Blood_ was the work
of a few minutes, and soon the two ladies were mounted upon their
horses, but not before I had told Grace O’Malley of the incident of the
arrow, and asked if she had any further commands to give.
Now, my mistress was possessed of that high and proud sort of spirit
upon which the hint of danger acts as fuel to fire or spur to steed.
So she did but cast her eyes over the men I had picked out, and,
selecting a similar number from her own ship, said that her purpose was
unchanged.
“Tell the officer on guard at the gate,” said she, “that I go to confer
with the Governor, Sir Nicholas Malby, on affairs of state.”
The captain of the gate appeared to be somewhat dazed with the size
of our company, which numbered more than thirty swords, spears, and
battle-axes, and he arranged his men in a line as we advanced. Saluting
my mistresses with grave punctilio, he informed us that Sir Nicholas
was lodged at the house of the Mayor of Galway, where for the time he
held his court. But, he said, as he stood resting the point of his
drawn sword upon the ground, orders had been given to admit into the
town only the lady Grace O’Malley, her women, and not more than a few
of her people.
When I protested against this, he replied that the Governor was very
strict; and as for himself, he was merely a soldier whose duty was to
do what he was bid.
My mistress, as he spoke, flashed on me a glance of quick intelligence;
then she turned with a brilliant, compelling smile to the officer.
“Sir,” cried she with animation, looking with her dark, lovely eyes
into the eyes of the Englishman, “you speak as a soldier should. But
here”--and she waved her hand round her company--”are not more than a
few of my people, as it were. You think that we be too many? Nay, sir,
’tis not so. Is it not fitting to do as much honour as I can to the
Governor? And the more of us the greater the honour done him?”
And she smiled again upon the officer, who was a young man and
a gallant, to his undoing. While they were thus engaged in
parleying--they conversed for some time, but what further was said I
did not hear--we had pressed within the gate and filled up part of
the street beyond. Having gained this position, I had no thought of
retreating. The captain, noting our bearing, and partly won over by
Grace O’Malley’s woman’s wiles, partly making a virtue of necessity,
for we could easily have overpowered his men, again gravely saluted.
“Be it as you wish, lady,” he said; and so we passed on up the Street
of the Key.
It has been my lot to see of great cities not a few, but, though I had
scant reason to love the place, not many, I will say, that were finer
or more handsomely built than Galway was in these days. She was now at
the very height of her prosperity, and laid claim to be second in the
kingdom to Dublin alone, and proudly vaunted her superiority over her
ancient rival Limerick.
As we marched up the Street of the Key, the ladies magnificently
attired in our midst, and presently entered the High Street, the tall
spires of the church of St. Nicholas of Myra--the patron saint of
mariners, who hath ever been most favourable to me--rose in front of
us; while the storehouses of the merchant princes of the city--the
Lynches, the Martins, the Blakes, the Kirwans, and others whose names
escape me--encompassed us with vast buildings of dressed stone on every
hand.
On all sides were signs of abundance and wealth. And small wonder; for
there was hardly a port of France or Spain--nay, of all Europe--whither
the ships of Galway did not go. Her traders, ever unsatisfied, had even
sailed out beyond the Spanish Main to the Indies.
But it must be remembered that Galway was not an Irish city, but an
English--where it was not Spanish. The strong walls and towers which
belted her in were not more for defence against an enemy who might
attack her from the sea, than against the Irishry who dwelt beyond her
gates. And keen and bitter as was the hatred between Englishman and
Spaniard, that between the Englishman of Galway and the Irishman, whose
home was in the country, was keener and more bitter still. The day was
not to close without a proof of this.
On we passed, making a brave show, with the sun overhead shining on our
arms and harness, while the townsmen stood and gaped, and the women
looked out at us from their windows and doors. On we passed until we
halted before the mansion of Stephen Lynch, the Mayor, reputed to be
the richest man in Galway. Here, in front of the house, there was a
guard, and I could see through the archway that the courtyard beyond
was full of soldiers.
After an exchange of greetings I was shown into an anteroom, and
thence sent word to Sir Nicholas that my mistress was without, and
waited his pleasure. After a slight delay, the Governor replied that
he was at meat, and that he would think it an excellent omen if my
mistress, her ladies and gentlemen, would honour him by their company.
Then, to my surprise, the Major himself appeared, helped, with much
ceremony, Grace and Eva O’Malley to alight, and invited then myself and
certain of our comrades of rank to enter, at the same time commanding
that our men should be most courteously entertained.
All this display of friendliness was so different from what I had
expected that I knew not what to think. Afterwards I learned that Sir
Nicholas had been informed of our numbers, and that this had led him
to change the plan that he had originally formed--which I understood
was that Grace O’Malley was to have been at once seized and held as a
prisoner until he had determined what was to be done in her case--and
this notwithstanding the safe-conduct he had given.
Separated as I was by some distance at table from my mistresses, I
could not hear the conversation between them and the Governor, who
talked to them in a certain bluff, soldier-like fashion. Amongst others
present were Sir Murrough O’Flaherty of Aughnanure, Richard Burke of
Mayo, and other of the chiefs of Connaught who were known to us. But
all my attention was taken up in watching, as carefully as I could, Sir
Nicholas Malby, the Governor.
There was no possibility of mistaking him for anything but what he
was--the successful soldier of fortune. He had the port of one used to
command, and there was a rough dignity about him that became him well.
His face was scarred and weather-beaten, and I had heard that he had
seen hard service, both in the Low Countries and in Spain. He did not
come, I had been told, of any noble or considerable family. His sole
possession had been his sword, and he had rather hewn than carved out
his path in the world with it.
I at once recognised in him a shrewd and capable man, who would not
let many things stand in his way. Here was one, I knew, to be reckoned
with. Myself a man who both gave, and therefore expected to receive,
heavy blows; he was another of the same sort, and I felt a certain
respect for him.
There was told a curious tale of the way in which he had become a
soldier--and ’fore God, it is not for me to say I think the worse of
him for it! It is never a custom of mine to set down anything I hear to
anyone’s despite, yet in this instance the story helps show the nature
of the man.
In his youth, which was mean and poverty-stricken, he had been
arrested, convicted, and condemned to death for coining--so ’tis said,
and I understand this to be the truth. In some manner or other--I know
not how--he had made interest with one of the great nobles at the
English court, and was released on condition that he would enter the
nobleman’s service as a soldier, and proceed to the war then being
waged against the Emperor. And this he did, acquitting himself so
much to the satisfaction of his superiors, that he was soon placed in
command of a body of mercenaries, and displayed no little valour at
their head.
Later, he had come over to Ireland under Sir Henry Sydney, who esteemed
him so highly, owing to the manner in which he had fought against the
O’Neils of Ulster, that, when Sir Henry was Lord Deputy of Ireland for
the first time, he had advanced him from post to post, until he was now
Governor, or “Colonel of Connaught,” as his title was.
One thing we had heard, and that was, like all the rest of the English,
he was very greedy for money, and that his ears readily listened to an
argument that was backed up with gold. Therefore had we brought with us
rich presents for the Governor, which were duly delivered to him when
dinner was finished.
Such, then, was Sir Nicholas Malby, upon whom the fortunes of my
mistress so much depended. I perceived that she was studying him with
no less intentness than myself, but that she hid this under a gay and
sparkling demeanour.
When the meal was over, Sir Nicholas said that he desired to talk with
her alone, and they withdrew together to another room. Whereupon Sir
Murrough O’Flaherty and the other gentlemen of the Irish, gathered
around me, plying me with many questions, to all of which I returned
evasive replies, feeling in truth exceedingly anxious, and wishing
nothing so much as to be on board my galley again with my mistresses
safe in theirs. Nor did I have an opportunity--as I desired--to speak
privately to Richard Burke.
It was about the middle of the afternoon when Grace O’Malley sent
for me and presented me to Sir Nicholas, telling him that I was her
foster-brother, and that I was pledged to her service. The Governor
scanned me narrowly up and down, then suddenly put forth his hand and
grasped mine with a grip of steel. I fancied, and herein I was right,
as events subsequently proved, that he had something of the same
feeling in regard to me as that I had experienced for himself.
“I have but one desire,” said he, when he had talked for some time,
“and that is, the establishment of the Queen’s peace in Connaught.”
And he laid his hand heavily on my own. I bowed, but answered not,
thinking in my mind that silence was best, for what had we to do with
the Queen’s peace; we, who were the free rovers of the sea?
Then it appeared that Grace O’Malley had been asked by the Mayor to be
his guest for awhile, and that she had accepted his invitation. So I
now learned that my mistresses were not to return to the ships at once,
but were to take up their abode in the mansion of the Lynches along
with the Governor.
I was none too well pleased with this arrangement, remembering
the message of the arrow, but dissembled my fears and suspicions,
particularly when I was informed that no objection was made to her
keeping her guard. I further gathered from her air that she was not
ill-content with the result of her interview with Sir Nicholas, and
that all seemed to be going as she wished.
Anon the Mayor entered, bringing with him his daughter Sabina, a dark,
handsome woman of twenty summers, who was to be the hostess of my
mistresses, for her mother was dead. And with her in this fair seeming
entered also the shadow of Destiny--a shadow not to be lifted for many
a day.
It was never given to me to read the hearts of women, nor to comprehend
their ways, but, being but a man, I looked upon this woman with
pleasure, little dreaming what evil she was to work upon us. Here
was one, had I but known it, far more to be feared than the bluff,
determined soldier who was Colonel of Connaught.