valuable than books might end in being destroyed,â said Colm. âMe.â
âTrue, O King.â
âAnd
donât
quote the Old Testament at me!â
âSorry. Will we drag some of those tapestries down while weâre about it?â
They did so, and surveyed the heap of books and tapestries critically.
âI think thatâs as good as weâll get,â said Colm.
âAnd everythingâs as dry as kindling; itâll go up like the deepest cavern of hell.â
âI hope so. This roomâs directly over the underground room so everything down there should burn.â He looked frightened, then said, âBut in the long run, weâre all going to burn,â and tipped the oil from the lamps over the bonfire. âGet ready to run as if the devilâs chasing you,â he said, and Declan struck the tinder.
As the glowing tinder fell on to the bonfire and flames burst upwards, Colm cried, âRun!â
âAnd slam the doors as we go,â gasped Declan, tumbling across the hall to the door. âItâll keep the fire contained for a while and we need that underground room to
burn.
â
They got outside and skidded breathlessly down the first few yards of the path, expecting every minute to hear cries and to see people running up the cliff path, ready to douse the fire. But no one appeared and a quarter of the way down they stopped to look back.
âNothingâs happening,â said Colm, staring up at the black monolith of the tower.
âYes â look, thereâs smoke coming through the bricks on the left.â
âOnly a few wisps, though. Will we go back to make sure itâs burning up?â
âTheyâll be annoyed at home if weâre late,â said Declan doubtfully.
âTheyâll be more than annoyed if Iâm hanged for Sheehanâs murder. Iâll go on my own if you want.â
âNo, Iâll come too.â
They went back up the path, skirting the towerâs front and making a cautious way around the cliff face. There was not exactly a way across the open face of this part of the Moher Cliffs, but there was a series of crevices and jutting rock spurs that made it possible to swarm partly across. Colm and Declan had clambered over these cliffs almost since they could walk, and they knew the way as well as they knew their own gardens. Even so, negotiating them was hazardous and they did not speak until they were close to the base of the watchtower.
âIt
is
burning,â said Colm, on a note of relief. âSee over there. Thereâre flames coming out from between the stones.â
âAnd you can smell the smoke,â said Declan. âItâs funny that you donât see the barred window of that underground room from here, isnât it? All the times weâve been out here, and weâve never once seen it.â
âItâll be beyond that spur of rock,â said Colm. âSee there, where it overhangs? Weâve never tried to get round there.â
âWe donât need to get round it now, do we?â The spur of rock was large and it thrust menacingly out of the rocks.
âNo, because the fireâs burning up properly now; you can see the glow . . .â Colm broke off and turned to stare at Declan. The dull crimson glow mingled with the light of the approaching storm, casting a shadow over his face. âDid you hear that?â
âIt was the sea,â said Declan after a moment.
âIt sounded like somebody shouting,â said Colm.
âSomeone who saw the fire? Raising the alarm?â
âI think it came from inside the tower,â said Colm.
They looked upwards, fear clutching them. The watchtower reared up into the bruised sky, the black stones already tinged with angry red.
âWas it Sheehan?â said Declan. âOh God, could he still be alive in there?â
âWe thought he was dead,â said Colm, but he too