Fugitives! (11 page)

She sat back with her eyes closed, suspended between the rippling flow of the harp and the clear voice of the singer. There were many verses.

What! Sinéad sat up, startled:
Cwimson?
It couldn’t be …

Red, not wed!
she nearly shouted. Her eyes opened and there he was, coming towards her, gazing at her with that watery expression she hated. How could God have given such a perfect voice to a creep like that? It was more than she could bear. In a second she
was on her feet and blundering for the door, first to sniggers, then to cheers as she thrust the guard at the door to one side and fled up stairs to … to throw herself over the battlements … indeed, why not?

CHAPTER 10

Penalties and a Proposal

ames woke the following morning to a feeling of unease. Sir Arthur had spoken to him roughly the night before: ‘Tell your Father I want the officers of the household assembled in your great hall at seven without fail.’ James had hesitated – surely it was for Father to issue orders in his own castle? But the general had snapped: ‘Don’t just stand there, boy. Go!’ The incident had been turning over in his mind, keeping him awake. Now he had overslept.

His next shock came when he entered the great hall and saw pikemen – English pikemen – lining the walls.
I suppose Father’s asked them in
, he wondered as he stretched to see over the heads of the assembly to Father’s seat at the top of the table. There, to his astonishment, sitting in Father’s chair, under Father’s canopy, was Sir Arthur Chichester.

He felt Sinéad’s hand on his elbow. ‘How dare he!’ she whispered, loud enough to turn a few heads. ‘That’s Father’s chair! No one, but no one, is allowed to sit in it.’ Her indignation ran as a
vibration into his arm.

Then came Dr Fenton’s voice close beside them. ‘Oh but you’re wrong, child. You see, because Sir Arthur represents King James he has precedence over everyone! But I should be at your father’s side, he may need my advice,’ and at that he was gone, oiling himself through the crowd.

‘Look at him, he’s loving this,’ Sinéad hissed. ‘He’s all cock-a-hoop!’

James snapped back: ‘Shh … Fenton’s all right. But I should be up there too.’ He began to thrust himself forward.
So
…
Sir Arthur represents the king; now we will see justice
. He straightened his shoulders, but still a chill ran through him.

Sir Arthur was standing now, a scroll in his hand. Gone were the courtesies and fine phrases, and his voice had a rasp to it that would have cut through stone.

‘You, Sir Malachy, are called to account for the non-payment of rent and for your part in rebellion against the Crown.’

No mention of hiding Hugh O’Neill, that’s a relief
, thought James.

Now Sir Arthur was reading from legal documents and agreements that James couldn’t pretend to understand. Several times, Fenton raised minor objections on Father’s side, but these were instantly shot down. Finally Sir Arthur’s voice rose to an even sharper edge.

‘Here is my judgement. You, Sir Malachy de Cashel, will provide one hundred beef cattle from your herds immediately.’

A hundred cattle!
James’s mind leapt in a rapid calculation:
that would ruin us!
But that was not all.

‘Furthermore, due to the itinerant nature of your neighbour,
Hugh O’Neill, you are required, on His Majesty’s behalf, to negotiate with the said Hugh O’Neill or his tenants for the immediate supply of three hundred beef cattle, to be delivered to the Pale within a period of one month from this day.’

There was a stunned silence. Sir Arthur let the scroll snap shut in his hand. An angry murmur rose from the castle people gathered in the hall. The English officers moved closer to Sir Arthur; experienced swordsmen all, they were an effective bodyguard. The pike men lining the walls, who had been standing at ease, now half-lowered their pikes to stand at the ready. If there was any trouble, the entire household would be surrounded by a stickle of steel.

That’s not fair
and
why us?
thought James, as he watched Father step forward, wincing with pain from his wound.

Father stood square and firm in front of the English general, his voice filling the room as it had rung out over more than one battlefield, and James felt pride swelling inside him.

‘In acknowledgement of King James’s pardon, I accept the fine of one hundred beef cattle. It will take some weeks to gather the number you demand, but they will be delivered to you in person within the month. With respect to rents and demands against Sir Hugh O’Neill, I have no authority to volunteer cattle from his tenants.’

‘Then, Sir Malachy, I suggest you go back to the habits of your former allies and acquire the cattle involuntarily.’

There was another stunned silence. Sinéad pinched James’s arm. ‘He means steal them, James,’ she whispered, ‘just to turn Uncle Hugh against us. It’s divide and rule – turn friends against
each other. He doesn’t want the beef; he just wants war between us!’

Father was speaking. ‘I am no longer able to ride in active service, nor am I prepared to become a cattle raider, under any man’s orders.’

Sir Arthur merely tightened his scroll; an icy smile hovered on his lips. ‘In that case, Sir Malachy, I will require security. I have a fancy that your son, James, would benefit from exposure to our English ways, and I will be happy to take him as security until such time as you can supply the three hundred beeves.’

James was flabbergasted.
I served that man at table last night! Why take me? I’ve done nothing.
He made to step forward, but Sinéad held him back while Father spoke.

‘No, sir! You cannot have my son. For all that he is only twelve years old, I need him here; I need his legs. Also, I have known grown men who have enjoyed your “hospitality” in Dublin Castle and I will not expose James, or any one of mine, to that humility.’

A murmur of supporting rage grew in the room. The armourer, who was standing beside James, put an arm like a tree trunk across his shoulders. ‘Over my dead body, son,’ his voice rumbled.

Then, unexpectedly, there was disturbance among Sir Arthur’s entourage. Something was afoot. Plumed hats bobbed; there was an incongruous giggle. Sir Arthur glared at his officers. Then one of them went forward and whispered at length in his ear. The look of thunder changed to one of thought.

Sir Arthur turned to Sir Malachy. ‘This is irregular, but I believe it is a sincere offer. One of my officers has a proposal to put to you.’ He turned and announced: ‘Sir Geoffrey Bonmann!’

The young officer stepped forward. ‘Sir Malachy,’ he began,
‘duwing the time I have been your guest here, I have formed an attachment to your daughter, Jane, and ask you for her hand in mawiage. Because of her youth, I cwave your permission to take her now, and give her into to the care of my mother until she comes to be of mawiageable age. Sir Arthur is prepared to accept this awangement in lieu of taking your son as a hostage.’

There was an audible gasp throughout the hall. The armourer, now including Sinéad in his grip, squeezed her so tight that she had no air left for protest.

James’s mind was in a whirl. He can’t … he mustn’t … he won’t.
Sinéad hates that man! Does Father know this? Does he know Bonmann’s a creep who can’t even ride a horse?

But Chichester was speaking. ‘Well, Sir Malachy, what do you say? Your daughter married to a man of rank and wealth, so well connected that even I could not hang you? My price is your co-operation in bringing Hugh O’Neill to heel. Well?’

Could it be a good thing?
James wondered.
Sinéad, well-married to save the whole family? Lots of girls have to marry men they don’t like. She would have fine clothes, horses
… But that was as far as he got. He looked across and saw her. He had never seen her so stricken, her face so white, so terrified that he hardly recognised it. She was staring at Father, wide-eyed.
She is my sister!
James suddenly realised, as if he had never thought about it before, and at that his sense of honour burst through.

Hardly believing his own courage, he stepped forward, and, standing as high as he could, he called out, ‘Your lordship!’ People stepped back to clear his view to the chair. ‘As you know, I am James, the son of your host. I will go out among the tenants of
Hugh O’Neill, as you command, and will bring back, by whatever means, the three hundred beef cattle you say are due to King James. In return I ask just one thing, and that is that my sister be allowed to decide for herself whom she is to marry.’

There was a mixed murmur: disapproval, surprise, admiration?

Well, I’ve done it!
James thought. Heads turned towards Father, who was looking at his son as if he had never seen him before. However, his reply wasn’t quite what James expected.

‘Your Lordship,’ said Sir Malachy, ‘I honour the proposal made by Sir Geoffrey Bonmann for my daughter’s hand in marriage, but I require that she be allowed to remain with her mother here in the castle until she is of marriageable age. With regard to the cattle due to you from Hugh O’Neill, my son is too young and inexperienced to lead the expedition he has just proposed, but I personally undertake to obtain the number of beasts you demand and will deliver them to you before autumn is advanced.’

For a moment it looked as if Chichester would reject Father’s proposal, but then, gathering his dignity, he said, ‘Agreed’, and he turned as if to go.

But Father had raised his hand. ‘One moment, your lordship. One of my household is leaving my employ and I would be grateful if you could see him safely back inside the Pale.’

‘Well, he’d better be quick then!’ and barking out the order for his march, Chichester led his men from the room.

What was that about?
wondered James as the room cleared.

Then Father turned to Dr Fenton, who was busily gathering papers together. ‘Dr Fenton, your master is waiting.’ Dr Fenton’s jaw dropped. ‘No need to look surprised!’ Father said. ‘I have ample
evidence of your spying for the Lord Deputy, but as you have given me and my children good service, I am paying your wages, as agreed.’ He handed Dr Fenton a plump purse. ‘I will send your books after you, but go! Go, before I think of your treachery again.’

Dr Fenton passed James without raising his eyes. James’s hand rose as if to delay him, but then he dropped it.
So
…
Sinéad was right.
The ground seemed to crumble beneath James’s feet.

‘Have they gone?’ Sinéad asked. ‘Really gone, and without me?’

‘Yes, they’ve gone.’

‘Thank you, James, for trying.’ She turned to go, but Father, who had sunk back gratefully into his own chair, cleared his throat. ‘Daughter, come to me, please. We have things to discuss.’

In his private place in the undercroft, James went over the events of the past two days again and again. He felt nothing but scorn for Fenton, but spies are a necessary evil. When all was said and done, Chichester had been harsh, but fair – hadn’t he? The real cause of their trouble was not Chichester, but Hugh O’Neill. Was Chichester sending Fenton into their castle to spy on them any worse than O’Neill planting Fion in their family?

I’ll wring every beast I can out of them!
he swore. He’d go and tell Sinéad of his plans.