Celtic Mist Ch. 12

Their boots rang out in unison on the cobblestones. Unexpectedly, so too did their voices in a jarring incantation. Nigh everyone in the square, including Declan, paused to take in the alarming new development. As they approached, the words of the soldiers' strident chorus could be distinguished:

Ye croppies of Wexford, I'd have ye be wise

And go not to meddle with Blaylock's Boys,

For Blaylock's Boys they vow and declare

They'll crop off your head as well as your hair.

Derry-down, down.

Ye rebels take heed, we'll bloody the waters

Farewell bid your wives and uncropped daughters,

For Blaylock's Boys on croppy hunts,

Will pike your cropped heads, and cock-pike their cunts.

Derry-down, down.

The citizens stood in shock as the Yeomen marched through the square and continued onto Market Street. When the sound of the boots and chanting had completely receded, hushed, flustered activity ensued among the people.

Declan rushed back to Foley's but found neither father nor son. What was happening? Had the rising begun? Should he go out to the farm? Had General Lake at last turned his attention to County Wexford?

The tavern was due to open in the late afternoon, so he tempered his agitation, knowing Colin Foley should eventually be back. After pacing up and down in the hall for a while, he occupied himself by splitting logs in the yard out back.

He was thus engaged when, some two hours later, Brian burst from the rear door of the tavern, breathless and red-faced. "Come quick! Something is happening in the square!"

Declan dropped the axe and raced after him. "What?" For a moment he considered grabbing his pistol and dagger, then thought the better of it.

"I dinna ken. I saw Bolger in the street, and he said make haste to Abbey Square!" Together they ran through the streets, joining a disorderly throng of people all similarly directed.

When they arrived at the square, they jostled through an eerily silent crowd gathered at the periphery. Finally able to see, Declan was stunned by what was transpiring. There in the center of the square stood a ten-foot-tall wooden triangle, formed by three stout oak beams leaning together and fastened at the peak. When the Devil had that been erected? It had not been there yesterday!

Between two of the struts stood a man with his bound hands raised and secured to the peak of the triangle. He was stripped to the waist and his back was marked with a web of red stripes. A burly Yeoman sergeant was wielding a cat o'nine tails, and an additional dozen Yeos formed a circle round them. The officer from last night stood nearby with his arms crossed on his chest; next to him was visible the back of a second officer observing with his hands upon his hips.

With every blow, the man uttered a strangled cry and the muscles strained in his back and arms. After five lashes, the sergeant was signaled to desist. The second officer stepped up to the pinioned man, seized his hanging head by his curly black hair, and lifted his face. In that moment, Declan recognized the victim as the blacksmith Rory Redmond --- and the officer as Blaylock!

Blaylock said something close to Rory's ear, to which he responded by shaking his head.

Declan's heart careened against his ribcage and the hot blood rushed into his face and fists, whilst next to him he felt Brian start as he too recognized Rory. Without thinking, Declan lurched forward to help Redmond, but Brian grabbed his coat and pulled him back with a tight shake of his head.

Ka-thump, ka-thump, ka-thump --- Declan's fists clenched tighter and his vision came over crimson for a moment ere subsiding to clarity.

In order to preserve the cause, Captain Fleetwood had ordered the company to stand ready and unseen till the official signal was received. To attack these Yeomen, unarmed and grossly outnumbered, would serve only to cost the United Irishmen a soldier, and achieve no reprieve for Redmond. Despite his skill at fighting, 'twas maddness to suppose otherwise. He could only stand by, concealing his rage as Blaylock signaled the sergeant to resume the flogging.

Declan now realized that two Yeomen soldiers were restraining Redmond's struggling wife near the triangle as she wailed and clutched a crying wee bairn in her arms. Among the bystanders, Declan also saw Rory's sister Niamh with her red face contorted and streaming with tears, as well as several of his United Irish comrades, like him absorbing the outrage with somber expressions.

Another group of Yeo soldiers now began pulling objects from a handcart standing by --- Redmond's blacksmithing tools --- and smashed them with a sledgehammer on the cobblestones before him. The heavier metal implements that could not be damaged they threw into the river at the end of the square.

Blaylock halted the sergeant after five more lashes, and again addressed Redmond. Again the defiant man shook his head. The scourging started anew. The blood now flowed freely from the lacerations on Rory's back, and with each blow spattered the adjacent beams. Now the soldiers dragged Redmond's anvil from the cart --- it took four of them to bear the weight of the massive block and heave it into the river.

As Blaylock turned to watch his soldiers, his gaze shifted in the general direction of Declan's position. Sidestepping behind another onlooker, Declan ducked his head and waited till Blaylock's attention once more was upon Redmond.

The savagery continued for another ghastly fifteen minutes with Redmond steadfastly shaking his head each time Blaylock grabbed his hair and spoke to him. His refusals grew weaker and weaker as his back was transformed into a macerated, bloody mass. At last he hung unconscious from the triangle.

Blaylock straightened and his eyes slowly moved over the silent crowd. In calm, cold voice he intoned, "No other warning will be extended. Such is the punishment for any who engage in sedition against His Majesty and his agents."

With a short signal of his hand, he and the other officer mounted their horses and the soldiers fell into formation behind them. As Mrs. Redmond and Niamh rushed to Rory's side, the Yeomen marched away --- the onlookers hastily parting to let them pass.

In the wake of the receding bootsteps, Declan, Brian and a handful of other men and women ran to the triangle. Declan freed Rory's wrists from the rope, and Brian, he, and four other lads carried Rory's limp body, following where Mrs. Redmond and Niamh led.

Far in advance of arriving at the forge, the plume of flames and black smoke heralded the crime that had recently been visited there as well. Two Yeomen were yet at the site, loading onto a wagon the few valuables that had been plundered from the household: chairs, a table, a clock, a cabinet, a bedframe. The forge was otherwise engulfed in the conflagration.

For a grim moment, they all gazed at the sight, then O'Connor --- one of the men carrying Rory's legs --- instructed them to bring Redmond to his house. A few streets away, they carried him to a residence behind a bakery, where they laid him on his belly on a bed. The lasses immediately took charge, whilst one of the men departed in search of a physician.

Declan and Brian hastened back to the tavern, where Colin Foley had also just returned from the square. A member of the company had already been dispatched to apprise Captain Fleetwood of the atrocity. Colin Foley grimly directed the lads: he would open the tavern as usual, and they should make their way to the farm as covertly as possible.

As soon as darkness fell, Declan and Brian collected the last two pike heads from the barrel, and by a meandering route through the fields, hied out to the farm.

Two weeks ago, the appearance of a wooden triangle on the square in Athy town had been followed by the unleashing of terror in County Kildare to the north. Aye, there no longer could be any doubt --- the Crown's counter-insurgency campaign had at last come to County Wexford.

All evidence suggested that Rory Redmond had held his tongue to the last and had not betrayed the company --- why else would Blaylock have continued the flogging till he fell unconscious? But now that the Crown was actively marshaling its forces against the insurgents, all caution was imperative.

For several hours that night they toiled in the fields, moving pikes and firearms to more secure hiding places. They cleaned all traces of weapon assembly and honing from the barn and rearranged the straw bales in the glen from a wall into an innocent, dispersed array.

Returning to Enniscorthy after midnight, Declan and Brian stopped by O'Connor's house to inquire after the patient. Niamh spoke to them quietly in the kitchen: Rory had regained consciousness, but they had had no luck in finding a physician. Dr. Woods, a member of the United Irishmen, was in Dublin at present. Niamh reached for a corked, squat pottery jar on the table. "A scraggy lad came by and brought this. Michael, so he called himself. Do ye know him?"

"Aye, he's a member of the company."

Niamh looked relieved. "He told us this was an unguent that would help prevent festering. Said his sister had taught him how to make it. We didn't ken whether to trust him, but if you're vouching for him, I'll bring it up to him now, so I will."

Declan nodded, his lips pressed together to conceal his emotion. "Aye, you can trust him."

* * * * *

He was dancing about in the boxing ring, throwing punch after punch at the large crimson shape before him. Blood was streaming down his face and obscuring the view of his opponent --- he ducked his head to wipe his eyes on his upper arm, and in that instant a massive blow caught him on his temple. Red and black flared together...muffled shouts came from the crowd.

Brodie was wiping his face and supporting him as he staggered back to the center square. He shook his head and when his vision cleared, he beheld Blaylock across from him, a feral grin creasing his lean cheeks and his dark blue eyes boring into him.

In fury he launched himself at the man, all consideration of strategy and technique having fled his mind. Even after landing blow upon blow on Blaylock's face and chest, the man relentlessly came after him. Declan stumbled back, his arms now feeble...Blaylock grew taller and taller and the ring folded in on itself --- the floor caved in and the four corner posts shot up to a towering height.

Declan's bound wrists were affixed to the peak of a triangle formed by the four corner posts leaning together. Lashed to the posts on either side of him were the bodies of Da and his brother Rory --- their white, still faces hanging down. Blood flowed from the wounds in Rory's neck and Da's chest.

The sudden lash of the whip upon his back made him scream --- his body arched, then swayed forward. Behind him, Blaylock chortled and brought the lash down again. As Declan's eyes dragged open from the agony, he beheld Ma in the triangle formed by the two posts opposite him --- her bound hands were similarly strung up, and her spread ankles were tied to the posts on each side. Her back was towards him and she was struggling.

"Ma!" he cried.

"RUN!" she shrieked, her voice echoing ghost-like, "RUUUN...RUUUN!"

Even as Blaylock flogged him from behind, the villain impossibly also appeared in front of him, leering and stepping up between Ma's legs where he yanked her skirts up in front. Declan wrenched at his bonds as she screamed --- he felt himself growing weaker and weaker, felt the anguish like a noose constricting his throat, felt the tears burning as Ma's body grew limp and the blood appeared below her hem, trickling down the inside of her ankles.

Declan started awake and bounded up from his pallet, his heart pounding. He stalked up and down behind the bar, taking deep breaths and shaking his arms out. At length, he leant with his hands braced upon the bar, slowing his breathing as the cold sweat dried upon his back. Picking up an empty stoneware bottle, he wrapped his hand round it and began deliberately squeezing...squeezing harder and harder...his fingertips growing white...harder and harder till it shattered in his palm.