Redemption - Leon Uris [158]
“That’s right.”
“Do go on.”
“We accept that the weapons in Lettershambo belong to the Militia and that the Militia will have some clear legal status. We will rescind the order for the Midlanders and Coleraines to occupy Ulster and there will be further action taken on the resignations.”
Caroline jotted notes, wondering if it was not a total capitulation by some other name. No, it was only Winston spitting out the seeds of compromise’s bitter fruit.
“To continue,” he said, “we will remove the principal source of Unionist irritation, the Home Rule Bill. Redmond and the Irish Party have agreed to table the legislation during the crisis and, in the eventuality of war, to keep it tabled until such war is completed.”
“What is John Redmond going to say to the Irish people?”
“Well, we’ll throw him a bone. We will allow the Irish in the south to form a Home Army similar in legal structure to the Militia. Everyone in Ulster knows that the Irish could never muster a fiftieth of the strength of the Militia. It should not be a problem with your father.”
“But isn’t that the end of Redmond, giving up home rule for a few guardsmen?”
“I say, does it really matter, Caroline? Those hooligans from Sinn Fein are ready to rush in and fill any vacuum left by a defunct Irish Party. What matters for us is to postpone the entire Irish issue, get it off our backs, and allow us to conduct the war without a squabble in our kitchen…to use Irish troops…Ulster troops for our own battle purposes. We’ll deal with the Irish after the war. That’s what Redmond can assure us now.”
Caroline took up the phone to call her father at Rathweed Hall, going over Churchill’s points with care.
Weed digested it carefully. The only negative seemed to be the formation of a home army, but that was a fly speck. Bringing down the Liberals had been evaded and avoided.
“I don’t think I can sell it,” Freddie said. “It’s Churchill’s move, Caroline.”
“Hold on, Father.”
As Caroline laid out Freddie’s ultimatum, Churchill smiled. He took a single-page order from his jacket and laid it on the desk before Caroline. As Caroline read it to her father she realized that the Liberals were not only going to quit but, furthermore, the Conservatives and Unionists would now have to share responsibility for the consequences. The Liberals were willing to risk the calamity, but it was one hour past brinkmanship and the Conservative Party would have to explain the loss of their officer corps to the people as well. Did they have the stomach for it? Or…was Churchill playing a dummy card?
The order she read to her father called for three divisions of troops to sail from England to Ireland immediately, this day, seize Camp Bushy, arrest all officers who had resigned, and charge them with mutiny and treason.
Furthermore, any British officers offering resignations in sympathy would likewise be treated as mutineers.
Thirdly, Ulster was to be placed under martial law with dawn-to-dusk curfew.
Caroline read it once more, slowly.
“He’s bluffing,” Weed said.
“Do I take that as a rejection, Freddie?”
“Hold on.”
Silence…muffled background conversation…curses…silence.
“What do you think, Caroline?”
“Isn’t there something in mythology or some such that says that I am only the messenger?”
“I’ll call you back,” Weed answered.
Churchill shook his head with a definite no, pocketed the order, and got up to leave.
“It won’t wait,” Caroline said quickly.
Silence…muffled curses.
“It’s fucking blackmail!” Weed shouted.
“Freddie, Churchill has left my office.”
“Well, grab the son of a bitch before he leaves the building and tell him he has a deal!”
“Lawrence! Get Mr. Churchill and bring him back, at once.”
“Yes, m’lady. He’s at the lift…Mr. Churchill! Mr. Churchill!”
As Winston reappeared Caroline held a thumbs-up. “Father, are you there?”
“Where the hell do you think I am!”
“I want you to remain calm, take your medication, and call for Dr. Symmons. I’ll catch the overnight and be in Belfast in the morning.”
“What the hell for! Damned if I want communists in my house!”