An Irish Hostage Read online

  “God probably is,” Major Dawson answered her wryly. “It’s the Church that wants to see Ireland free.”

  “If we could reach your father,” Captain Jackson added, avoiding using the Colonel Sahib’s name or rank in this household, “he might have better luck. He must know the right people to speak to. Who might help and who wouldn’t.” It was a polite way of saying that it was less of a risk than for the Major to go to Dublin. He might be brave enough to try, but even if he got there, who would give him honest answers?

  “But we can reach him,” I said, rising. “Captain Jackson, if you leave now, before anyone sees you or tries to stop you, you could be in Bristol tonight.”

  Eileen turned eagerly to me. “Could he help Michael? Bess? Would he listen?”

  While in the Queen Alexandra’s, I hadn’t told many people who my father was, although of course friends and officers from his days with the Regiment knew. For one thing, I didn’t want preferential treatment in my training or postings, because of my family. And for another, my father had reminded me that it could make me a target for the Germans. Here in Ireland, that might be doubly true. For the Colonel Sahib as well as for me.

  I said, “He’ll need all the information we can give him, so that he can reach the proper authorities. Eileen, do you have any idea who might have taken Michael? Or why? Where to start searching?”

  She shook her head. “That’s just the problem, it might be anyone. What if someone here believed he’d come to spy for England—or to look for traitors? We’ve heard the rumors, that the English are eager for an excuse to treat us like a conquered nation. And my cousin Terrence has enemies—they might have taken Michael to strike at him.”

  “If your cousin fought with the rebels, why should he have enemies here?” I asked.

  It was Major Dawson who answered. “He wasn’t shot or incarcerated with the other leaders. Not for want of searching on the Army’s part, I can assure you. Still, there are factions here. And some of them think that dying for the Cause makes a man a better hero.”

  I heard the Captain say something under his breath. I knew what he was thinking, that the state of affairs here in Ireland was murkier than we’d guessed while sitting around an English dinner table.

  But there was something else to consider too. I knew Eileen’s temper, and I’d also seen that flare of anger just now. Before very long, if Michael didn’t come home, it would soon take over and lead her to do something foolish. Something that might even get Michael killed.

  “I’m sure my father would try, if I asked,” I told her. “But you mustn’t pin your hopes on him. Not yet.” Then turning back to Captain Jackson, I added, “My family will be at the house in Somerset for one more night. If you fly back to Bristol now, he’ll come and fetch you. And you can travel to London together. It will save a whole day, don’t you see? And a day might make all the difference to Michael Sullivan’s situation.”

  “Not without you,” Captain Jackson said grimly. “Simon will wring my neck if I leave you here in such circumstances. And God knows what your father might do.”

  I hadn’t heard the Captain’s delightful drawl since we’d landed in the meadow and no one from the house had come to greet us. He’d been worried then, and he was even more worried now.

  Then how to convince him? Short of leaving with him?

  “Better still, I’ll bring your father here to talk some sense into you,” he went on, certain I’d never allow him to do that—certain I’d come to my senses before I’d risk my father becoming a pawn to exchange for Michael. “You wouldn’t care for that, I’m sure, and it will only waste time. You can do more in England to let people see what’s happened here.”

  He must have read my determination in my expression. He added, “With the Major’s help, I can put you in that cockpit and tie you there.”

  I bit my lip as I wondered how I was going to make any headway here at all, and persuade the Captain to leave now while he could. For I really did believe him when he threatened to bundle me into that seat and tie me there. It wasn’t an idle threat.

  “We’re running out of time,” I said. “The sooner we find Michael, the sooner they can marry, and then we can all go home—”

  Someone spoke from the doorway, cutting across my words.

  “Miss Crawford will be safe enough. You have my word. But if you want to save Michael, you’ll have to speak to London. We don’t have him. And I don’t know who does.”

  Chapter Three

  The four of us turned in surprise.

  He must have opened the door quietly, while we were arguing. For I hadn’t heard him, nor had the others.

  Standing there was the handsomest man I’d ever seen.

  I had heard the term Black Irish, most often used in a derogatory tone, referring to the mostly small, poor Irishmen who had come over to England to work building roads, digging subways, and any other jobs to be had. Often the same men who drank and brawled and had a reputation for troublemaking.

  This man was taller than the Major, with broad shoulders, thick dark hair like Eileen’s but his was just graying at the temples, dark eyes and dark lashes as thick as a girl’s. But there was nothing about him that spoke of femininity. Indeed, he could have been a hero in one of Walter Scott’s novels. But the poorly healed scar across one cheek and another along his neck, disappearing into his collar, spoke more of Treasure Island and pirates. As he moved forward, I noticed that one hand was scarred as well.

  I had seen enough wounds like these. He’d been shot several times.

  He came farther into the room, and Eileen said, “Can you be sure about that, Terry?”

  I realized then that this was the man who’d promised me safe conduct across Ireland. As if he ruled the land and could guarantee it.

  “I’ve passed the word. And I trust the answers.”

  I couldn’t quite be sure whether he was telling the truth about Michael’s captors or simply trying to relieve his cousin’s fears. And if he had such authority, why couldn’t he bring Michael back?

  What’s more, there was something in his expression when he turned to Eileen that I couldn’t quite define. But it made me suddenly uneasy.

  Still, this man was my best hope of convincing the Captain to let me stay.

  I smiled at him, to indicate that I was grateful for his support. “Are you sure? Do you even know that Michael is—safe?” I stopped myself in time, before I’d said alive.

  I could feel Eileen’s gaze on me, even so, and knew she was afraid of Terrence’s answer.

  “If the English have him, they’re questioning him about me. I’m wanted. Sadly for him, he doesn’t know I’m here. I’ve kept my presence quiet, until Eileen’s wedding. It was for the best.” He turned to his cousin. “I’ve sent out search parties. They wouldn’t go for the Constable, but they agreed for me.”

  She gave him a grateful look, her face brightening for the first time.

  I was sorry to spoil her mood, but I said, “Will the English let him go, once they’re satisfied that he doesn’t know anything useful?”

  He considered me. “You’re English. You tell me.”

  But I couldn’t. I certainly had no idea who had taken Michael or why. I’d only just arrived. Still, his question brought me back to Captain Jackson. Turning to him, I said quietly, “You must go, and do what you can in London.”

  “I won’t leave you,” he said stubbornly.

  I sighed. “I think we should discuss this in private,” I said. “My valise is still in your aircraft,” I added. When we hadn’t seen any sign of welcome, we’d left it there.

  Reluctantly the Captain followed me out of the room and then out of the house, as we made our way back to the meadow. No one tried to stop us, but I caught a glimpse of Eileen’s anxious face at the front windows as we passed. I gave her an encouraging smile, then walked on.

  Once out of earshot of anyone trying to hear our conversation, I said earnestly to Captain Jackson, “Don’t you se
e? The minute I land in England, no one will care about Michael Sullivan. He was demobbed, he returned to his home in Ireland, and that is all London wants to hear about him. If he’s disappeared since then, it’s an Irish problem, not an English one.”

  “Have you considered that London might be right? Bess, it’s not the same here as it is in England. Look at that man Terrence. He’s walking about as if he’s king, promising that you’ll be safe. And all the while he could very well have taken Michael himself. Just because the man once wore a British uniform. He’s not going to want his cousin married to someone he considers to be a traitor. Is he?”

  He had a point, one I had to consider. We crossed the stile, and for an instant I wished I’d never come to Ireland. But what about Eileen? She had nearly died as Britannic went down. She had served England in its time of need, and afterward had spent months learning to walk again. She had earned her happiness, and so had Michael Sullivan, who had served England honorably until war’s end. I knew that for a fact—my mother had told me privately that my father had looked up his military record.

  I said, “I must stay. At least until Michael is found—or until I have a better reason for leaving. You know how to find me, you could land here in the dark, couldn’t you, if I needed to go in a hurry? Now that you know what the field is like?”

  “I could put my aircraft down in the front walk if need be. But that’s not the point.”

  He tried his best to persuade me, but I think he’d already accepted the fact that I was going to stay.

  Finally, he looked hard at me and said, “I’ll fly close by every night after dark. I can come in from the sea, no one will see or hear me. If there’s a white handkerchief on the stile, I’ll see it, and not land. If it’s not there, I’ll come find you. I don’t want to be responsible for anything happening to you, Bess. You must promise me you’ll do this, or I shall stay as well. I’m an American, after all. They won’t dare to touch me.”

  I wasn’t very sure he was right about that.

  All the same, it was important for him to reach my father as soon as possible. And so I promised, and I meant that promise.

  Someone spoke just behind us, and we turned to see the Major coming toward us.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked me.

  “No. Not yet. Not today.”

  He turned to the Captain, his face grim. “I’m not safe here, myself, but I’ll do everything in my power to protect her. You can depend upon it.”

  Handing down my valise, the Captain made one last attempt to persuade me to board the aircraft, then climbed up on the wing and swung himself into the cockpit.

  But he waved as he turned into the wind, circling the meadow as he gained altitude.

  I had to admit to myself that I felt an odd uneasiness in the pit of my stomach as I watched him lift over the stone wall and climb into the blue sky above me. Had I done the right thing?

  He dipped his wings a last time in salute, and then turned toward England.

  And I walked back to the house with the Major, who was carrying my valise.

  I hadn’t been afraid in France, even in the midst of a bloody war. After all, I was an officer in His Majesty’s Army, and I had the power of England on my side. As my mother had reminded me.

  I wasn’t entirely sure who was truly on my side in Ireland.

  The Major turned to me, his face grave. “I hope you don’t have reason to regret staying,” he said as we climbed over the stile.

  I gave him my best smile. “It will be all right. You’ll see. And you stayed. How could I do any less?”

  But even as I spoke, I could tell that he didn’t believe me.

  Chapter Four

  We walked the rest of the way in silence, Major Dawson and I.

  We had nearly reached the house when we heard raised voices coming from the front room, and not just one or two. A serious argument was in progress. Major Dawson glanced at me, then walked a little ahead of me toward the door to the house. As we stepped into the front room, there was a sudden silence, and we found ourselves facing at least a dozen men crowded into the small space.

  They stared at us. And it wasn’t a friendly stare.

  By the hearth stood Eileen and her cousin, and from the expression on their faces, I could see that matters weren’t going well.

  Terrence surged forward, saying as he came toward me, “The search teams I sent out are reporting. No luck.”

  I had the feeling that the search teams weren’t at all what they had been discussing—not from the sounds I’d heard from outside.

  No one responded. Terrence came right up to me, and the Major started forward. Then Terrence reached out to put a hand on my shoulder in a comradely fashion, and Dawson stopped.

  “She saved our Eileen’s life, lads. Do you understand me? And she’s kind enough to come over for the wedding. That makes her family.”

  A short, dark-haired man said with a scowl, “There’s have been no need for saving Eileen’s life, if she hadn’t gone to fight for the English.”

  “And how did she know we’d rise up and claim for ourselves what we’d been promised for so long? Men went to fight for England in the hope of speeding up that promise. Michael was one of them.”

  “He didn’t come home, did he? When the fighting was here?”

  Terrence’s hand was light on my shoulder in the beginning but was heavier now. I sensed the tension in him.

  “What good was a man to us, shot for desertion?”

  “Some came home. Thumbed their noses at their officers, and left.”

  “I didn’t see them there at the Post Office when we could have used their guns,” Terrence retorted harshly. “A grand gesture doesn’t stop the enemy.”

  The other man looked down, falling silent as he did. But I could see he wasn’t convinced.

  Someone else spoke then, a man with twisted hands, grimed from heavy work.

  “Granny Flynn says she’s a spy, and up to no good.”

  “My grandmother sees spies under the bed when she says her prayers.”

  “And who’s to say she’s not right?”

  Terrence was angry now.

  “Since when is my word not good enough for you?”

  There was grumbling from behind me—I couldn’t see who it was—and then another voice spoke from the doorway.

  “Terrence’s word is good enough for me. But I say he keeps his eyes on our guests. To be sure, and all.”

  I turned slightly to see a priest just coming into the room. He was a small man, wearing the traditional black cassock but no hat, his ginger hair mixed with gray, and his forehead heavily lined.

  “Fair enough,” Terrence said, but I could tell from another change in his grip that he wasn’t happy with the priest’s comment. Still, the rest of the men in the room murmured agreement with the newcomer.

  And I had the sudden feeling that there was something between the priest and Terrence Flynn. Animosity? Mistrust? Then I realized what it was: the priest was engaged with the Rising hero in a battle for power. They were like two dogs circling each other, growling, hackles raised, looking for the best angle for attack. Only, unlike dogs, they had to pretend to a friendship neither man felt.

  “And won’t you present me to the bride’s attendant?” the priest went on.

  “Father O’Halloran, this is Elizabeth Crawford. It was she who saved our Eileen’s life.” He left out the particulars of that. “And she’s come to stand up for her at the wedding.”

  “Now it’s odd, don’t you think, that with a village full of kinfolk of one kind or another,” the priest asked with a smile, “that both Michael and Eileen chose English attendants for their wedding?”

  Unexpectedly it was Eileen who answered him. “Not so surprising, Father, when you consider what I owe Bess. It wasn’t anyone here who stopped them taking off my limbs as I lay there in that little boat screaming in pain. She gave me back my life, Father, when I despaired of ever seeing Ireland again.”

&nbs
p; He had the grace to say nothing. And not waiting for anyone else to speak, Terrence said, “The searchers haven’t caught a whiff of information about Michael. You’ll be keeping him in your prayers, Father?”

  “Oh, indeed. I’ve asked God to keep him safe.”

  Some of the tension went out of the room. And then the young girl I’d seen earlier opened the door from the kitchen and stepped in. Her voice trembling only a little, she said, “Mrs. Flynn wishes to see Father O’Halloran.”

  The priest nodded to the room at large and left with her. I could hear their steps on the stairs.

  Eileen came to stand beside me as Terrence moved away. “I want you to meet my mother,” she said. “She doesn’t come down very often. Granny has browbeaten her since the day Father came home and told his mother he was marrying her.”

  “She didn’t care for the match?” I asked, ignoring the men speaking quietly to Terrence behind me.

  “It wasn’t the match. She didn’t want her son to marry anyone. After all, no one was good enough, you see.”

  “I’ve already discovered that she doesn’t care for the English in her house.”

  “No, but I’m so very grateful you stayed. Major Dawson as well. Thank you, Bess!” She embraced me again with such warmth that I knew she saw me as her only anchor just now. As I had been when Britannic went down, saving her and then saving her legs.

  “Let’s hope they find Michael soon,” I said bracingly, “and the wedding can go on. Which reminds me. Does your grandmother know you intend to move away? Would that leave her alone, here?” If the Army didn’t have Michael and the Irish didn’t, I wouldn’t put it past Eileen’s grandmother to decide that she didn’t want Eileen to leave her. And the best way to do that, of course, was to prevent the wedding. In fact, she probably had a much better motive than anyone concerned about Irish politics.

  “I tried to tell her, but she wouldn’t listen. Still, she hears things, it’s as if she has her own spies everywhere. What I haven’t told her or anyone else is that I’m determined to take my mother with me. She deserves better than being treated like a scullery maid.” We’d been speaking quietly, but now her voice was very low, and I had to bend forward to hear her.