Free Kings of the Boyne by Nicola Pierce

‘Myfriends, perhaps the richest man is not the one sitting in a castle, counting his coins. Rather, it is the man who is free to choose his lot in life. Yes?’
    Michael studied Gerald. Up to now the boy had not interested him. It was obvious that his own childhood had been vastly different from Gerald’s and presumably they had little in common. Yet he noted the fire in the boy’s eyes and wanted to believe – yes, Michael did – that there could be a better life for him and maybe for all of them sitting here. He said, ‘I don’t know much about riches or freedom but I can agree to fight for a better future.’
    Joseph surprised everyone by asking, ‘Have any of you heard of Ireland’s “Sleeping Army”?’
    They shook their heads, and Joseph explained, ‘There is a cave somewhere between Drogheda and Ardee containing an ancient army of Irish warriors that were put to sleep long ago by some sort of spell. In order to wake the soldiers, who neither belong to our world or the next, one must enter the cave and fire the loaded gun that sits in the middle of them. My father met a man who swore he found the cave. He saw the soldiers lying on the ground, their eyes closed, looking as near to death as any dead man. Then he saw the gun and, without thinking, picked it up and half-cocked it. Immediately, every single soldier sat up but their eyes remained closed. The man got such a fright that hedropped the musket and left, leaving the gun half-cocked and the soldiers sitting halfway up.’
    Joseph’s listeners waited for him to continue but he was finished. It was the longest speech he had ever made and it had exhausted him.
    To make up for his rudeness earlier, Gerald smiled at Joseph and said, ‘Of course! The sleeping army could be like us and the man could be King James. All he has to do to waken our army is to fire a single shot and leave the rest to us.’

Chapter Nine
Around the Campfire
    T he campfire spat and spluttered as Daniel prodded the potatoes in the pot. Henry Campsie sat nearby, cleaning his musket. Against Daniel’s wishes, Robert had just told his friend all about the widow. His response was typical. ‘Are you sure that she was a woman?’
    Daniel refused to acknowledge such a stupid question but Robert was immediately intrigued. ‘What do you mean?’
    ‘You said she was huge, was wearing trousers and had a bit of a Scottish accent,’ said Henry.
    When Robert nodded, Henry produced his own theory. ‘Maybe she was actually a Jacobite soldier … you know, one of those Scottish giants, the Redshanks.’
    Back in 1688, the Redshanks were the first Catholic soldiers to arrive at Derry’s walls and demand to be allowed into the city. They hailed from Scotland, wore red coats andwere handpicked for their height – a man had to be at least six foot tall to join them.
    ‘Oh, my God!’ exclaimed Robert. ‘Did you hear that, Daniel? Why didn’t we think of that?’
    Daniel was astounded. Ignoring the usual smirk on Henry Camspie’s face, he asked his brother, ‘Are you serious?’
    Robert was determined that Daniel’s dislike for Henry should not cloud the issue. ‘Come on, Dan. He has a point. How can it be that the tallest woman we have ever met also happens to be wearing trousers and a pair of man’s boots?’
    ‘We both heard her speak, and she didn’t sound like any man I know.’
    ‘True,’ agreed Robert. ‘But she only spoke quietly, remember? She kept her voice low so she could have been disguising her true self.’
    ‘Or his true self,’ added Henry with a wink.
    Robert was furious at himself. What a mistake to make. Noticing his brother’s eyes on him, he asked him, ‘What were we thinking? Why didn’t we check?’
    ‘Because …’ said Daniel in an exasperated tone, ‘we both knew she was a woman. Because we were there, while Henry was not.’
    ‘But we should have checked at least,’ said Robert, already thinking how this might look to the likes of ReverendWalker