looking for hostages.’
‘Perhaps he’ll take brother James, then!’ he said snidely.
Sinéad winced.
Fion climbed up into his loft and appeared a minute or two later with two saddlebags, which he lowered down to her.
Twenty minutes later Uncle Hugh’s small party of six set off into the woods behind the castle. Farewells had been brief. Con pleaded to be allowed to stay for the battle.
‘Thanks to you, Con, there won’t be a battle,’ laughed Uncle Hugh.
Sinéad was there to wave them off. As Fion passed, he bent down. ‘I’m sorry it’s ending like this, Sinéad. I have no quarrel with you.’ He touched his pony’s flanks, and was gone.
Sinéad’s hand dropped to her side. She felt a void open in her life.
Sinéad had little interest in the frenetic activity in the castle. If they weren’t preparing for war, what was all the fuss about? She was sad at the departure of Uncle Hugh, and at the way Fion had said goodbye as if he would never see her again. When she was hauledaway by her mother to get dressed, it seemed like treachery to put on Uncle Hugh’s beautiful dress to greet his worst enemy.
‘But Mother, Con says he’s like the devil himself …’ but the rest of her sentence was lost as her Mother, aided by Kathleen, lowered Uncle Hugh’s fabulous dress over her head. She emerged pink and furious. ‘I should be wearing armour, not this … this meringue!’
Mother seemed to be about to give her a slap, but then changed her mind. Sounding as if she was addressing a five-year-old, she explained: ‘Now listen, Sinéad. We have just learned that the Lord Deputy of Ireland, Sir Arthur Chichester, is about to make a courtesy call on the King of England’s loyal subject, Sir Malachy de Cashel–’
‘Why are you talking like that? If you mean Father, say
Father
, and you know perfectly well he’s not loyal to that old goat, the king – ouch!’ She received a stinging slap on the leg.
‘Sinéad, will you stop being foolish! This may seem like a game, but one wrong word and you could ruin everything. Listen now: Father
is
loyal! He
was
pardoned by the King, just like Uncle Hugh, after the battle of Kinsale, and neither of them has taken up arms against King James since then.’
‘Then why is Uncle Hugh on the run?’ said Sinéad, sullenly.
‘Because Chichester hates him, and wants to send him to England where the King will either behead him or lock him up in the Tower of London. By entertaining Sir Arthur and his troops, we are giving Uncle Hugh time to escape. We will also be showing our loyalty to the Crown so that Chichester will have no reason to confiscate our lands and give them to some English planter. Be polite to them, show respect and the manners that Dr Fenton hastaught you.’
The thought of Uncle Hugh –
her
Uncle Hugh – being beheaded finally sobered Sinéad. Tears pricked in her eyes. ‘So, what do we say about Uncle Hugh, and Con?’
‘If anyone asks you about either of them, just look stupid, like you were just now!’
Sinéad, feeling sad and a little ashamed, made a face. Mother gave her a kiss. ‘There’s no need for Chichester to know anything about our visitors, my dear.’ Sinéad nodded, but then suddenly sat up, alert. This was nonsense! Chichester would be told everything as soon as he was in the door.
‘But Fenton, Mother!’
‘What do you mean, “Fenton?” You mustn’t speak about him like that; have some respect, girl. He’s Dr Fenton!’
In that instant Sinéad realised that Mother didn’t know about him.
Holy smoke, does that mean that Father doesn’t know either? What if Uncle Hugh hasn’t had time to tell him?
It had all been so rushed.
‘Let me go, Mother! I must speak to Father!’ She ran for the door.
‘Stop, child! You’re open down the back!’ Kathleen grabbed her, and Sinéad stood trembling with impatience as the maid struggled with the line of tiny buttons and loops down her spine.
Oh get on, Kathleen!
she