A SURPRISE.
As I stepped from the boat on to the face of the rock, which forms a
natural quay on one side of the small harbour on the sea-front of the
castle, both Grace and Eva O’Malley, who had seen me coming across the
waters, met me and asked how I fared.
I was not so spent with the travail of my wearisome journey as not to
be conscious of a novel sort of shyness on the part of my dear, who
seemed rather to hang back behind her foster-sister, and not to be so
open and outspoken with me as formerly. With some bitterness of soul I
attributed this change of manner to her thoughts being engrossed with
de Vilela--so little was I able to read the maid’s mind.
But it was no fitting time for either the softness or the hardness of
love, and my first care was to relate all that had chanced since I had
seen them last.
Great was their astonishment at the way in which Sabina Lynch came
again into the tale of our fortunes, and I could see, from a certain
fierceness with which Grace O’Malley alluded to her, that a heavy
reckoning was being laid up against her by my mistress. Eva, however,
appeared to be more struck by the hopelessness of Sabina Lynch’s
affection for Richard Burke, and found it in her heart to pity her.
When I gave Richard Burke’s message to Grace O’Malley, she rejoiced
exceedingly thereat, and from that moment--at least, so it seems to me
looking backward to those days--she began to esteem him more highly
than heretofore, and to cherish some feeling of tenderness for him,
her enmity against Sabina Lynch, though she would not acknowledge that
there could be any rivalry between them, helping, perhaps, thereto not
a little.
And it appeared to me as a thing curious in itself, and not readily
explained, except by saying that my mistress was not free from
weakness, that she should have shown a compassion, as she had done when
she had spoken to me some time before of de Vilela, for the hapless
love of a man, and had nothing of the kind for Sabina Lynch.
Whatever were her thoughts on these matters, what she said afforded no
indication of them, for, so soon as she had heard that the MacWilliam
purposed to bring over from the country of the Lower Burkes, as they
were called, to distinguish them from the Burkes of Clanrickarde, his
gallowglasses to her aid against the English, she at once proceeded to
count up how many swords and spears were at his command. Moreover, she
regarded, she said, his rising against the Governor as a splendid and
sure sign of what would shortly take place over the whole of Ireland.
Continuing the tale of my adventures, I related the conversation I
had overheard in the case of the mysterious Whispering Rocks, and my
mistress ordered that when the men, whose council of treachery I had
become acquainted with in so strange a way, made their appearance,
they should forthwith be admitted into the castle, as if we had had no
knowledge of their intended perfidy, and that they should not be dealt
with as traitors until she deemed that time was ripe for it.
And now, having been thus forewarned of what was in store for her on
the part of Sir Nicholas, Grace O’Malley immediately set about placing
the castle in a position of secure defence. To this end, several pieces
of the ordnance which had been taken from the captured galleons of
the wine fleet, and which had been put on board _The Grey Wolf_ and
_The Winged Horse_, now at Clare Island, were brought across Clew
Bay, and mounted on the walls and towers of Carrickahooley, while
the gates and the other more vulnerable parts of its fortifications
were strengthened. In all these matters we were much assisted by Don
Francisco, who had had a large experience of sieges, and was familiar
with the onfalls and the outfalls and the other incidents of such
warfare. The Spaniard and I therefore were together more than we had
ever been before, and towards me he carried himself like the courteous
and knightly man he was, while I strove to pattern myself upon him.
That he loved Eva O’Malley I was in no doubt. Indeed, when he assured
me, as he frequently did, how glad he was that he had not been able
to leave the castle as he had intended doing, and how well pleased he
was to have an opportunity of espousing our quarrel with the English, I
understood that it was a delight to him to be near her in this our time
of peril, for was not that what I also told myself continually?
That he bore a hatred towards England was true, but his love for Eva,
as he was to prove, was something far greater than his hatred of the
English. Yet already, though I knew it not then, he must have been well
aware that she was not for him. But no sign of grief or disappointment
did he allow to appear, albeit, always grave, as is the Spanish manner,
he seemed still graver before the assault began--and this, when I
observed it, I took to mean that he considered our situation was such
as called for seriousness.
Whilst our preparations to repel the English were being made, some days
elapsed, and, on the fifth of them, Calvagh O’Halloran brought _The
Cross of Blood_ into port at Clare Island, where to his great relief,
not knowing what had been my fate in Galway, he was told that I was
before him at Carrickahooley.
Meanwhile, tidings were being brought us by bands and families of
kernes and peasants, fleeing before the enemy, that the English were
approaching. And, as they marched northwards through Connaught, the
days were red with blood and the nights with fire.
Everywhere their presence was marked by the smoke and flame of
homesteads wantonly burned, and by the slaughter of all who fell into
their hands, neither the old nor the decrepit, nor the nursing mother,
nor the tender maiden, nor the sucking child being left alive!
Among the despairing wretches who flocked to the castle for protection
it was impossible to single out the plotters, whose knavery they had
themselves unwittingly disclosed in the Whispering Rocks, for everyone
apparently was in the same evil case. A close watch, however, was kept
on all the men who came in, and who were retained within the walls to
help in the defence, while the women and children were conveyed to
Clare Island, where they would be in safety.
Don Francisco dropped a half hint that Eva might better be sent to
Clare Island until the fortune of battle had declared itself, but I
knew that this would seem to her to be of the nature of deserting us at
a time of crisis, and so the proposition was carried no further.
And all through the siege she moved a bright, winsome, and always
cheerful presence, generally attended by the Wise Man, Teige O’Toole,
who constituted himself her body-servant, and who, during this period,
uttered no prophecies of evil, but cheered and sustained us with the
certainty of victory.
At length, on the tenth day after my return to Carrickahooley, our
spies came in from their lairs in the forests and hills with the news
that the English army was camped two leagues away, and that it appeared
to be the intention of its leaders to spend the night there. The spies
described the army as an immense host, there being more than three
hundred well-armed soldiers, besides a great swarm of the gallowglasses
of Sir Murrough O’Flaherty of Aughnanure, who himself had accompanied
the Governor.
When I inquired eagerly if Sir Nicholas had any ordnance, the spies
averred that they had seen none. And, whether the difficulty of
dragging heavy pieces through Connaught had been found insurmountable,
or, strong in numbers and relying on the terror inspired by the name of
the English, he had resolved to dispense with them altogether, I knew
not; but to my mind the absence of these engines of war more than made
up for his superiority over us in men.
Doubtless, his action in this respect was founded on the confidence he
entertained that we were about to be betrayed to him by the traitors
within the castle itself, nor could he dream that the galleries of the
Whispering Rocks had given up his secrets to me.
All that night the guard, of which I was in command, stood to their
arms upon the battlements; but there was not a sound save such as ever
comes from the sleeping earth or the never-sleeping sea. The morning
dawned still and fair, and the sun rose out of the world, tinting with
a fresh bloom the slopes of the distant hills now purpling with the
bursting heather, and changing the thin, vaporous mist that lay over
land and water below them, into one great gleaming sheen of silver.
All that night, too, our spies lay concealed in the woods, and noted
every movement within the English camp; and now, as the day advanced,
they came in to report that Sir Nicholas was marching down to the
seashore. By noon he had established himself in and about the Abbey of
Burrishoole, no regard being had to the sacredness of the building.
And here he halted for the rest of the day, probably being greatly
surprised that we had not so far offered any resistance to his approach.
Now this ancient religious house stands on a rocky height looking
across the small bay that is next to that on the edge of which the
castle is built, and therefore the distance between the enemy and
ourselves was so inconsiderable that it behoved us to be constantly on
the alert.
In the evening, then, when the night-watch was posted on the walls and
about the gate, I doubled the number of the guard, choosing such men,
and those chiefly from my own crew of _The Cross of Blood_, as were of
proved endurance and courage.
De Vilela had proffered his services, as my second in command, and
I had given him charge of a picked company whose station was beside
the gate of the drawbridge--that is, the gate on the landward side of
Carrickahooley.
Grace O’Malley herself saw that everything was disposed according to
her mind before she withdrew to the apartments of the women in the
main tower. But well did I know that it was not to sleep that she had
gone. She had now attired herself in the mantle, leather-quilted jack,
and armour of an Irish gentleman, and her eyes were full of the fierce
light of battle; but, deeming it likely to increase the confidence of
her people if they saw her retire according to her usual custom, she
had left us to ourselves.
I was leaning upon the edge of the parapet, gazing into the deepening
darkness of the night, and musing on many things, when one of my
officers came up, and informed me that among those who had fled to us
for refuge from the English were certain kernes who passionately begged
to be permitted to share the night-watch, being consumed with zeal
against the enemy.
Knowing the treachery that was contemplated, Grace O’Malley had had all
the refugees confined during the previous night within the buildings of
the castle, and not suffered to go abroad except in the daytime, and
now when I heard the request I felt a certainty that the men who made
it could be no other than those whose voices I had overheard, and who
were the traitors in the pay of the Governor.
As it was above all things necessary they should have no suspicion that
we had any knowledge of their purpose, I gave my officer an answer in
an offhand manner, saying I would see these kernes in a little while,
and, if I found them likely to make good soldiers, might add them to
the guard.
Debating with myself whether I should at once go and tell my mistress
what I thought, and also, if I was correct in my surmise, what was the
best way in which to proceed, so that the discomfiture of these men
might be complete, the night grew apace, and still I had come to no
decision.
Suddenly, a slight, scarcely-seen motion--so slight, so scarcely-seen
that it might have been caused by the vagrant breath of a passing
breeze, only there was a perfect calm--seemed to the keenness of my
sea-trained vision to make itself felt by a sort of tremulousness in
that breadth of shadow that lay opposite me under the cold gleam of the
stars, which I knew to be the side of the hill on which was the abbey.
Sounds, too, there came, but so faintly that I could not disentangle
them from the ordinary voices of the night. Then, as I strained my eyes
and ears, both sound and motion faded away as in a dream. I waited and
watched for some minutes, but all was as silent as death.
Thinking I might have been mistaken, I went down from the battlements,
and calling to the officer who had spoken of the wish of the refugee
kernes, I bade him bring them to me in a chamber that served as a
guard-room.
As I entered, a solitary wolf-call came howling through the air, and
then, as the kernes came in, there was a second.
The first wolf-call had startled me, for surely, with such a host near
us, it was a strange thing for a wolf to be thus close at hand; but
when I heard the second one there was no doubt left in my mind. These
calls were no other than the calls of human wolves signalling each
other.
So, bidding the men to be kept in the guard-room till I returned, I
went to the gate, and told de Vilela that I conjectured the enemy was
stealing upon us in the darkness to take us by surprise, expecting
that their allies within our walls would have so contrived as to make
the way easy for them, and I said I thought I could now put my hand on
these very men.
When I saw the kernes again, they affirmed that they were three men of
the O’Flahertys of Ballanahinch, between whom and the O’Malleys there
was a friendship of long-standing. Now, between these O’Flahertys and
the O’Flahertys of Aughnanure there was a desperate family feud, and
their tale was not lacking in plausibleness. They appeared to be very
eager to be employed against the enemy, and implored to be sent to help
to guard the gate, which was the weakest part of our defences.
I replied that it was for me, and not for them, to say where they
should be put, but that their prayer would be granted. As for the
gate being the weakest part of our defences, how could they say that?
Whereupon they were silent. However, I had now determined what I was
to do, so I bade them begone to the company of de Vilela, who had no
difficulty in understanding that they were the knaves of whom I had
spoken to him.
A short time afterwards I saw the Spaniard, and communicated to him
my plan, which was that he was to appear to give the kernes every
opportunity of carrying out their designs, but, without seeming to do
so, was not to lose sight of them for one moment, and that thus he
would probably be in a position to defeat their intent.
To speak the truth, I did not see how I could act in any other manner,
yet I was very uneasy, and, as the event showed, not without reason.
For I had been no more than back again at my place in the black corner
of the parapet, when I heard a loud shouting at that angle of the wall
next the sea, and the sound of blows. Running thither, I saw the dark
forms of men climbing from ladders to the top of the wall, and the pale
glitter of steel striking steel.
In an instant the whole castle rang with the cries of the alarmed
guard, as they hurried from all sides to the point of attack, and
torches blazed out from the tower. The glare from these lights fell
weirdly on the forms of our people as they pressed on to mount the
parapet, yelling with lusty throats the war-cry of the O’Malleys. I
stopped and looked down on them, and as the dancing torches flew their
flags of red and orange flame, now this way, now that, I noticed among
the crowd the faces of two of the kernes whom I had sent to de Vilela.
To make certain I looked again. There assuredly they were, pushing on,
and pointing to the place of assault, and shouting more loudly even
than their neighbours. I asked myself why they had left the guard at
the gate, and at once concluded that they must have slipped away in the
confusion, for de Vilela was not likely to have given them permission.
What was their object?
And where was the third man? I could only see two.
There they were--the two whom I now plainly discovered stepping
forward, apparently as keen for the fight as any of ourselves, making
straight for the parapet, and _helping to draw others along with them
away from the gate of the drawbridge_.
Was that it?
This thought came like the quick flashing of an inward light, and then
was succeeded by another.
If this were so, then it followed that the attack we were engaged in
repelling was a mere feint meant to deceive us, and that the real
assault would be made--probably at the gate--while our attention was
held elsewhere. In any case there were sufficient, as I conceived, of
our gallowglasses now upon the walls to beat back the enemy, and I
hastened toward the gate.
As I moved forward I was met by de Vilela and most of his company, and
when I stopped and asked him why he had quitted his post, he replied
that it was in obedience to a request from me which he had just
received. Now, I had sent no such request, and the fear which had
sprung up within me was at once confirmed, as it was evident that he
had been duped by a false message, the result being that the gate was
left nearly unprotected.
“Come with me,” I said, at the same time telling him quickly how the
matter stood, and of the dread that possessed me. Such of our men as I
encountered on the way I also bade turn about and follow me. Nor were
we a moment too soon.
Drawing nearer, we could hear the rattle and the clank of the heavy
chains of the drawbridge as it was being lowered, and the creaking of
the ponderous gate as it swung inwards on its heavy hinges. The flames
of torches blazing from the wide doorway of the main tower flashed upon
the steel jacks and the gauntlets of English soldiers, dim-flitting in
the half-gloom of the opening mouth of the gate.
The traitor had done his work and had done it well; yet it passes me,
even to this day, to understand how he had been able to accomplish his
end thus so swiftly and thoroughly.
“O’Malley! O’Malley!” I cried in a great voice that rang out far above
all the din and disorder of the night, so that it reached the ear of my
princess, who now came hurrying on along with some of the gentlemen of
her household and a body of swordsmen.
“O’Malley! O’Malley!”
Behind me the pure deep tones of my mistress’s cry mingled with the
hoarse, harsh accents of her people.
“O’Malley! O’Malley!”
Fierce and terrible beyond all power of words to express was the hardly
human cry.
With a couple of bounds I had reached our foes. The glimmer of a sword
passed by me, and I parried the point of a spear thrust at my breast.
Then I felt my knees gripped, and I tripped over upon the body of the
man who held me. As I stumbled, my weapon falling from my hand, I
caught a glimpse of de Vilela standing over me, his long sword playing
like lightning, holding the enemy in check.
There was a rush of feet, and across me and the man beneath me, as
across a wall, did the battle rage.
I had fallen with my whole weight upon the man who had seized my legs,
and I heard him gasp and sob and try for breath as he lay underneath.
As I felt along his form for his throat, I noticed that he wore no
armour, and my fingers became as steel when I realised that this was
no other, could be no other, than the traitor who had opened the gate.
Whoever or whatever he was, his secret died with him there, for I did
not relax my grasp upon his neck until I was well assured that I had
twisted and broken it.
And when in the morning we found the body amongst a heap of slain, it
was trampled out of all semblance of human shape, but not so as not to
show the sign of the broken neck.
How I managed to roll myself out of that press and coil I cannot tell,
but yet somehow I did it, and all the while I was strangely conscious
that de Vilela’s sword watched and warded over me, so that I escaped
with my life. This affair of mine took not so long in the doing as
in the telling of it, and when I had struggled to my feet he was in
front of me--”Santiago! Santiago!” on his lips, as that long sword of
his sang its songs of death. Plucking my battle-axe from my girdle I
stepped to his side.
And now about us were my mistress and her fiery swordsmen, mad with
rage and thirsting for blood. With wild screams we fell upon and fought
back the Englishmen, who stubbornly contested every foot of ground,
until we hurled them broken across the bridge, pursuing them for some
distance beyond the castle. Then, facing round, we attacked from the
rear those who had attempted to enter by scaling the walls; and perhaps
some escaped in the darkness, but of those who were seen by us not one
was spared.
So, favourably for us, our first fight with the English came to a
close.