Rugby Rebel (3 page)

M
R FINN had taught history for forty years at Castlerock, and he still helped out in his retirement. He was an old, great friend of Eoin’s grandfather and had been very kind to Eoin in his first year at the school.

He stood at the top of the classroom where the boys were abuzz with the novelty of getting out of school for a few precious hours.

‘OK, boys, settle down for a minute,’ he started. ‘I just want to tell you about the place we are visiting today. It’s the famous old prison where the 1916 rebel leaders were executed, and you will see and hear a lot of interesting things about Irish history when you are there. I want you all on your best behaviour and to remember you are representing Castlerock.

‘We will be leaving in the coach in ten minutes and it should take us no more than half an hour to get there. If anyone wants to use the bathroom, go now. And if any one of the rest of you has any questions, please ask them now.’

None of the boys were in a hurry to find out any more about Kilmainham Jail than was strictly necessary, so Mr Finn decided to fire a question back at them.

‘OK, then, can anyone tell me which schools rugby player was executed in another prison on the north side of Dublin?’

He stared down at row after row of blank faces.

‘A hint: he played for Belvedere.’

Still nothing.

‘OK, one last hint, he had a famous song written about him.’

‘Eh, was it Jesse James?’ asked Pearse Hickey.

‘No,’ sighed Mr Finn. ‘Although he wasn’t executed in Kilmainham, I’m sure the tour guide could tell you all about this man if you tell him how interested you all are in rugby. Listen carefully, because you’ll be studying this period for your exams next year.’

The bus ride across the city was slower than Mr Finn had expected. The traffic clogged up the streets and Eoin watched as cyclists, and even pedestrians, went sailing past.

They eventually reached the old prison, which hadn’t held anyone since 1924. Its grey, grimy stone walls were anything but welcoming, and the carving over the main door of five snakes bound in chains signalled its old role
as a place where wrong-doers would be locked out of the public’s way.

Eoin’s interest in history had been stoked by his contest win the previous year and he knew all about the decade of rebellion and bloodshed that led up to Irish independence. He had read about the 1916 Rising and was intrigued that they would be visiting where they rebels met their deaths.

The old prison was even less inviting inside than it had been on the outside, and the boys were glad they had worn their coats. The guide warned them to watch their step as the flagstones on the floor were uneven in places.

He also told them that Kilmainham was designed as a more modern, humane prison than the others at the time it was built, but Eoin couldn’t imagine what they were thinking by installing such big barred windows. They might have allowed in more air and light, but they also let in more wind and rain, and there was a lot of that in Dublin.

‘Grim place, isn’t it?’ said Dylan, staring at his feet.

‘Yeah,’ replied Eoin. ‘I’d hate to spend even one night here.’

Dylan looked up at him. ‘Yeah, can you imagine spending a few years locked up?’

Eoin looked at his pal and realised just what he was thinking; Dylan’s father was in prison for serious crimes, one of which was the kidnap of Eoin and Caoimhe, Dylan’s sister, at the previous year’s schools’ cup final.

‘I’m sure modern prisons are a bit more comfortable. But I suppose losing your freedom must be terrible,’ replied Eoin.

The boys followed at the back of the tour party, listening to tales of the prison’s past. The tour finished outside in what the guide called the Stone Breakers’ Yard. Surrounded by high, stone walls, in one corner stood a small, black cross. The guide led the boys over towards it, but kept a respectful distance.

‘This is where the executions took place. In one week in May 1916, two or three each day, fourteen men were led here and shot.’ He explained how one, James Connolly, had to be propped up in a chair due to his c and illness. And he explained how these weren’t the only men whose lives had ended there.

Standing in the cold prison yard as the guide spoke to them really brought the history alive for the boys – Eoin felt he could almost imagine how it would have felt to stand, waiting for the firing squad … they looked at each other nervously.

‘Capital punishment – the death penalty – was the
sentence for many crimes two hundred years ago, but we don’t execute people any more in this country. During the various rebellions this was where many men spent their last night on earth, from the Fenians, to the War of Independence to the Civil War,’ he told them.

‘These boys play rugby in school,’ Mr Finn told the guide. ‘Could you tell them about another rugby player who was executed in those years, just a few miles up the road?’

‘Of course, and I presume you mean Kevin Barry?’ he replied. ‘Kevin Barry was a medical student at UCD who took part in a raid on a bread van bringing supplies to the British Army in 1920. It went wrong and he was caught and executed in the gallows room in Mountjoy Jail.

‘The most famous picture of him is of him wearing a rugby shirt – he went to Belvedere College.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Mr Finn. ‘That was a most informative tour and I’m sure it has stirred up even more interest in our history among the boys.’

The boys were quiet as they left – even Dylan wasn’t chatting and jumping about; Irish history suddenly felt very recent and real to them all.

M
R Carey came to the common room to tell Eoin that he had been picked on the replacements bench for the JCT’s first friendly on Wednesday.

‘We have to put in our panel of thirty-five with the Leinster branch next week and I’d like to be sure you are up to this,’ he told him.

‘Thank you, sir,’ replied Eoin, still not sure whether he wanted to be part of the Junior Cup team at all.

Devin noticed the conversation and came over just as Mr Carey was leaving. He suggested to Eoin that they go out for a jog.

The pair ambled around the rugby pitch at a gentle pace, chatting about the games ahead and the great hopes Castlerock had for this year’s Js.

‘We haven’t won it for years but this team has done well coming up and our main rivals, St Benedict’s, have lost their two best players – emigrated to Australia, would you believe?’

‘Ronan’s really good,’ Eoin said, about the Js’ first-choice out-half.

‘Yeah, he is,’ said Devin, ‘but he’s an awful man for getting injured. He missed the Under 14s semi-final last year and we had to call up Paudie. He had a nightmare game and we were hammered.’

‘Is Paudie in the squad for this game?’

‘No, but I’d say we’ll be picking three guys who can play out-half or centre so he won’t be in the match-day 26, but he will be in the 35 we register with the branch. You should be ahead of him, so good luck if you get a run out.’

Two days later Eoin was standing around on the touchline, trying to keep warm, with just ten minutes left in the friendly. He had hoped he would get on at half-time, but it was Ronan’s first match of the season and he needed to get some game-time under his belt.

Eventually, Mr Carey called over to the group of replacements. ‘All right, you’re all going on. Seven or eight minutes left, let’s see what you can do.’

Eoin jogged on and took his position at out-half, the most important position on the team and from where all the big decisions are made. That fact came into his mind as he waited for play to resume.

Stay calm, just keep it simple
, he thought to himself as play resumed with a line-out.
Just concentrate on not making any mistakes.

The scrum-half, Paddy Buckley, flipped the ball back to Eoin, who ran three metres before being tackled and feeding it back neatly to the player following behind him. He sprang to his feet and got back in position as Castlerock’s forwards started getting a maul going upfield. The game might have been over as a contest – Castlerock were twenty points up – but the replacements all wanted to make their mark.

The maul collapsed just inside the 22 and the backs lined up, ready to go on the attack. Paddy burrowed into the pile of bodies and fished out the ball. He paused, checking left and right, before scarpering off through a gap towards the line. Just as he crossed he was held up, and Eoin moved smartly to take the ball as it came back to him. With one fluid movement he dropped to the ground, aimed for the tiny amount of the try line that he could see, and squeezed the ball onto it.

‘
Tweeeeeeeeep
,’ went the whistle, and the referee raised his arm vertically.

‘Nice one, Madden,’ said Paddy, as they hauled themselves out of the heap and got their feet. ‘You better kick it too,’ he grinned.

Devin came up alongside, and explained that Eoin was the best kicker left on the field, and that he would be taking the conversion. ‘Take it easy, it’s a handy one
but watch out for that wind,’ he said.

Eoin took his time teeing up the ball, picking a few strands of grass and tossing them in the air to help gauge the wind speed and direction. Devin was right, there was quite a gale blowing.

He stepped back to his mark, then ran towards the ball, aiming away to the right. Almost as soon as he had hit the ball it was snatched by the wind and dragged back across the face of the goal. Incredibly, it hit the left hand goalpost with a clatter, fell like a stone and bounced again off the crossbar. Eoin blew out his cheeks, encouraging the ball over the bar, and sure enough, down it tumbled as the touch judges raised their flags.

‘Ha! That was jammy,’ grinned Devin as Eoin ran back, slightly embarrassed. ‘Still, it worked!’

Eoin murmured ‘thanks’ as his team-mates chuckled their gratitude for his dramatic contribution, and he was relieved that the rest of the game passed without incident.

‘Good work, Madden,’ Mr Carey grunted, as he caught up with Eoin as he walked back to the accommodation block at the end of the game. ‘You do the simple things very well and that’s often forgotten by rugby players. I’ll be sending your name off as one of our 35-man panel tomorrow. Congratulations,
that doesn’t happen very often to second years in this school.’

B
ACK in the dorm, trouble was brewing. Rory’s smartphone had gone missing, and he was very angry.

‘The door was locked, and the only people who have keys are you three and the housemaster’s office. I’m going to go out for an hour and if it’s not on my bed by the time I get back then I’m going to the headmaster,’ he announced.

‘Hang on, Rory, you don’t think any of us took it, do you?’ asked Eoin.

‘I don’t know,’ said Rory, glowering at Eoin, Dylan and Alan in turn. ‘Did you?’

He stormed out the door and Eoin stood, shocked, staring at the other two.

‘That’s mad,’ he said. ‘Does he not trust us?’

‘Obviously not,’ said Dylan. ‘He probably thinks it was me because of my dad. He’s never liked me, anyway.’

‘Ah, stop that rubbish, Dyl. You had a few strops with him, but nothing serious. Sure aren’t you two the stars of the Under 14s this year? He’s just annoyed because it
cost so much – I think he spent all his birthday money on it,’ Eoin countered.

‘Well, I’m not hanging around here either,’ said Dylan, storming off up the corridor, leaving Eoin and Alan alone.

‘If you nicked it I won’t tell,’ Alan whispered, looking across at Eoin with a serious face which broke into a grin after three seconds.

‘I hope this gets sorted quickly,’ Eoin muttered. ‘This place won’t be much fun if it doesn’t turn up soon.’

Alan lay down on his bed and rooted around under his pillow. He sat up quickly, and threw the pillow aside.

‘My phone!’ he gasped.

Eoin stood up and walked across to Alan’s bed. ‘Is it missing too?’

Alan nodded.

‘OK, let’s have a good look around for it, it has to be here somewhere,’ Eoin suggested.

They took all the sheets and blankets off the bed. Eoin crawled under it and searched around underneath. Alan took everything out of his locker and cleaned out his wardrobe and all the suitcases he had brought.

Nothing.

Eoin stood up, brushing the dust and chips of varnish off his hands.

‘This is terrible,’ he said. ‘I don’t think Dylan took anything but he’s right that people will think that he did. I hope the phones turn up soon.’

‘I can’t stick around here,’ said Alan. ‘Let’s go for a ramble.’

The pair headed off for a stroll around the grounds, and eventually ended up at the Rock, Eoin’s favourite place in the whole school, which lay beside the
bubbling
stream.

‘Oh, I forgot to tell you,’ he started. ‘I was here a couple of weeks ago and could swear someone was shooting at me.’

‘Whaaaaaaat?’ said Alan, stunned.

‘Yeah, I know it sounds mad, but when I went off the first night I came down here for a while. I heard two bangs that I’d swear were gunshots – I think they came from the school.’

‘Are you serious?’ said Alan. ‘That’s no joke – you should have told McCaffrey.’

‘I know. I know. But it seemed so stupid. And there was no harm done.’

‘And what happens if they decide to shoot now – and they hit me? Then there’s plenty of harm done. You need to report it.’

‘OK,’ muttered Eoin. ‘I’ll call in to him later.’

‘Any word from Brian or Dave this year?’ asked Alan. ‘I’d love to see them as often as you can.’

Alan had discovered he too was able to see the ghosts that visited Eoin, but they had so far only appeared to him once.

‘I don’t know, it’s a weird thing,’ Eoin replied. ‘Sometimes it seems I can call them up and other times they just appear when I really need them, but you just can’t tell. There’s something about this place here though. You can feel it’s a bit spooky at times, especially in the evenings when the light is starting to go. I wonder was there anything on the site here long ago?’

‘An ancient burial ground?’ joked Alan. ‘Maybe you could ask Mr Finn? He’s writing a history of the school, isn’t he?’

‘Good idea, I’ll have to be careful what I ask though.’

The boys turned to head back to their dorm, kicking a soft-drink can to each other as they dribbled across the field. Eoin suddenly felt a strange urge to turn around, and he stopped and looked back in the direction from which they had come. He saw a young man, dressed in a black and white rugby jersey, just standing at the entrance to the woods.

Eoin called out, ‘Hey, are you lost?’ but the man just turned and wandered back into the trees.

‘I saw him! I saw him too!’ said Alan. ‘Is it a new ghost?’

‘You’re obsessed with seeing ghosts!’ said Eoin, ‘but I’ve no plans to head back down there after him. I wonder what’s for tea?’