Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [336]
The patrol in early August was routine. The previous patrols had toured the areas where some trouble might have been anticipated; now it had been decided to go to the houses of even the Fitzgerald supporters. For Lord Thomas wanted to try out a new oath of loyalty; and Sean O’Byrne had been given quite a broad area to cover. Eva couldn’t say why she should have had a sense of unease about this patrol. There was no reason to expect any trouble. All the men were going: Seamus had come up from his house, Maurice and Fintan were ready to go. But just before they set off, she called out to Sean, “Are you taking all my men away?” And giving him a little look, “Am I to be left alone?”
He glanced at her and seemed to guess her feelings. He decided to be kind.
“Which one will you keep?”
“Fintan,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation, and regretted it immediately. She saw his face fall.
“But Father …” he began.
“Don’t argue,” said Sean. “You’ll stay with your mother.”
And I shall be blamed, Eva thought sadly; but she didn’t change her mind, though her heart went out to her son as he came and stood by her side, doing his best to smile at her affectionately. As the party drew away, she put her arm round him.
“Thank you for staying with me,” she said.
Margaret Walsh was already standing outside her door with her husband when the patrol arrived. There were a dozen riders. The Walsh estate was the third that O’Byrne and his men had come to.
So this was Sean O’Byrne who was such a devil with the women. She took a good look at him. He was a dark, handsome fellow certainly. She could see that. There was some grey in his hair now, but he looked lean and fit. She saw his vanity and did not dislike it, though she didn’t think she was attracted to him as he greeted William and herself with cool politeness.
To Walsh’s offer that they should all come in for refreshment, he answered that it was only himself and two of the other men who need detain him inside for a few moments and so, without more ado, Walsh was obliged to go in with them to the big oak table in the hall where, with an official air, Sean O’Byrne took out a little book of the Gospels in Latin, and laying it on the table asked William to kindly place his hand upon it.
“Is it an oath you’re wanting?” Walsh enquired.
“It is,” O’Byrne replied easily.
“And what kind of an oath should that be?” asked Walsh.
“Of loyalty to Lord Thomas.”
“Of loyalty?” Walsh’s face clouded. “I hardly think,” he said with some feeling, and drawing himself up to his full height, “that Lord Thomas would wish to compel an oath from me who has so freely given his loyalty to his father the earl all these years.” He gave O’Byrne a look of gentle rebuke. “You offend me,” he said with quiet dignity.
“There is no compulsion.”
“You come here with armed men.”
“I will tell the Lord Thomas that you gave the oath freely,” O’Byrne answered smoothly, “if that will satisfy you.”
It did not seem to satisfy Walsh, for he looked seriously displeased. Going to the door, he asked his wife to call all the men into the hall at once, and stood by the door until they were assembled. Then with a glare at O’Byrne, he went swiftly to the table, slammed down his hand upon the Gospels and declared: “I swear on the Gospel the same love, respect, and loyalty to the Lord Thomas Fitzgerald that I have always given, and still give, to his father the Earl of Kildare.” He picked up the Gospels and handed them back to O’Byrne with finality. “I have sworn, which given my known affections I should never have been asked to do. But I swear gladly all the same. And now,” he added with some coldness, “I bid you good day.” He indicated with a brief bow that he wished O’Byrne to leave.
“It’s not enough,” said Sean O’Byrne.
“Not enough?” It was not often that William Walsh became angry, but it seemed that