Princes of Ireland - Edward Rutherfurd [339]
A little later in the month of August, Silken Thomas decided to send a party to raid the farms in Fingal. For the task he chose a contingent of Wicklow men led by the O’Tooles. When the Irish cattlemen got out of hand, burning down and plundering the rich Fingal farms, a large column of Dubliners, many of whom had property up there, broke out of the city and raced northwards to the Fingal farmers’ aid.
Cecily saw them returning from the tower. They were streaming across the bridge. She could tell from the way they rode that they were fleeing, and as they crossed the bridge she could see that many were wounded. It was an hour later that Tidy came back to the house with the awful news.
“There were eighty men killed.” His face was pale as he stared at her solemnly. “Eighty.”
She watched him quietly. She knew this was the moment for her to say something, to express the sympathy that might break the barrier between them. She knew it, but found that she could not.
“I’m not sorry,” she said. And she let the ensuing silence fall and remain like an invisible sea, until it had frozen into finality.
During the days that followed, the city was in shock. There was hardly a family that hadn’t lost a relation or a friend. A growing party in the town was beginning to ask what would happen next. Would Fitzgerald’s troops start killing the people in Oxmantown? Would the O’Byrnes come down and raid the southern farmlands? Doyle and his friends were all for holding out, but even some of the aldermen were wondering whether a compromise with Fitzgerald wouldn’t be wiser. “Let us at least negotiate,” they said. And once they were allowed to do so, an agreement was soon reached. The gates of Dublin would be opened. Lord Thomas and his troops might occupy the city in return for a promise not to harm the inhabitants. Everything would be available to him with the exception of the castle stronghold itself. The royal servants and a section of the aldermen would retire to the castle and take their chances on the outcome of events. It wasn’t what Lord Thomas wanted, but it was an improvement on what he had. So he took the deal.
“I’m going into the castle with Doyle. He’s taking his whole family with him.” It was eleven o’clock in the morning when Tidy came to give Cecily this news. “So I think we should all go,” he added. “We need to get ready at once.”
“I’m staying here,” she said simply.
“And the children?”
“They’ll be safer with me. Fitzgerald will do no harm to me and the children. It’s you who’ll be in danger if he attacks the castle.”
“The walls are too thick. They’ve already stocked it with provisions. We could hold out safely in there for years.”
She gazed at him bleakly.
“You are afraid to offend Doyle. I’m afraid to offend God. I suppose that’s the difference between us.”
“If you say so,” he answered. By noon he had left the house.
And whether her religion had caused her to split from her husband or whether it had only provided an excuse for her to maintain a separation she now desired, Cecily herself could not with certainty have said.
The siege of Dublin Castle continued through September without success. But as the month progressed, news from England made the business more urgent.
The English were finally coming. Troops were actually assembling, cannon being taken towards the port, a ship been found. Even the Gunner himself had made an appearance. It seemed that they might really be going to put up a fight at last.
As MacGowan stood in Castle Street and stared at the grey old castle walls, he felt discouraged. The day was fine; the mossy slates and stones of Dublin returned a greenish glow to the blue September sky. A few yards in front of him, a group of Fitzgerald’s men were shooting arrows over the wall in a gesture that was probably futile—unless anyone inside the castle was stupid enough to stand in their