Kitabı oku: «Grace O'Malley. Machray Robert», sayfa 9
CHAPTER XIII.
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.
