Breach of the peace, p.1
Breach of the peace, page 1
Breach of the peace
C R Dempsey
CRMPD Media Limited
Copyright © 2023 by C R Dempsey
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Enhanced negotiations
2. New beginnings
3. The little lord
4. Getting familiar
5. With rank comes responsibility
6. What would Desmond do?
7. What would Seamus do?
8. A rock in the spokes
9. The changing of the guard
10. Long live the King
11. Old folly
12. The bargaining chip
13. A meeting by the river
14. The blossoming of love
15. The bargain
16. The return of the pretender
17. Back on the acquisition trail
18. The lust for revenge
19. Opportunities landed
20. The letter from across the seas
21. Man of the hour
22. The legacy of tapestries
23. The second front
24. All this for a hill
25. The ambush
26. A bargain in the shadows
27. Night work
28. Impostor syndrome
29. Moments of happiness
30. The cave
31. The kiss of summer
32. The Blackwater
33. Cartography
34. The bloody ford
35. The battle of the rain
36. Robbed by mud
37. A winter's truce
38. Return to court
39. The lonely tower
40. Return of the land agent
41. The pleadings of a prodigal son
42. The mildew wall
43. The gathering storm
44. Battle of Yellow Ford
45. The final charge
Also By
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Clans and military formations
About Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Enhanced negotiations
"Is that it?"
Taaffe pointed to a small house on a hillock surrounded by bog-land, with clutches of trees dotted around the vicinity. At the bottom of the hillock were more shack-like dwellings resting in the crevices of the land, paying their meagre homage to the house on the hill. He had brought with him land surveyors, the local magistrate whom he had appointed to assist him in his duties as sheriff of Sligo and a selection of soldiers and thugs, but it was mostly interchangeable, which was which.
The magistrate consulted his records.
"Yes, lord. On the maps, these are supposedly the lands of Turlough O'Hara."
Taaffe stroked his beard.
"I'd say these could be worth maybe fifteen to twenty pounds. What do you think, Sean?"
The surveyor applied his skills to the hillock and its surroundings.
"That'd be about right. A little more if you didn't record that part of the lands are in a bog. The landlords in Dublin will never know."
"Right you are, then. Let's go acquire some land." Taaffe slapped his hands together to signal to his men to venture forth.
Turlough O'Hara looked out the door of his house and saw a band of armed men walking up the hill. He signalled to his sons to fetch the pitchforks and old swords. Taaffe and his men strode up the muddy path to the house, past a couple of domestic pigs, a handful of young cows, and scattered the skinny chickens in their wake. Turlough O'Hara, a thin, old man and a veteran of many a famine and war alike, stood outside his house waiting for them.
"That's far enough for now," he said. "My son has his bow aimed at you, and he can reload faster than you can run up the hill. State what you want from a safe distance for both of us."
Taaffe brought his men to a halt.
"I'm here on the Queen's business and it's an offence to interfere with that," said Taaffe. "I know the Queen may not feel like much to you isolated on your hilltop and all that, but she rules all these lands and all the surrounding oceans as far as the eye can see and she's appointed me to do her business. Therefore, I'd advise you to treat her servants kindly and not be pointing arrows at them and issuing threats."
"These hills are all I have. I've been beyond to visit far-off clans and the markets in Galway, but I've never seen this Queen of yours, so you could be here just to tell me tales. State your business, or else move on."
The grin gave away Taaffe's intentions.
"That's no way for you to treat a man that's here to make you an offer."
"And who is that man?" said Turlough.
"I'm William Taaffe, the sheriff of Sligo, right-hand man to Governor Bingham. I'd come up there, shake your hand and make your acquaintance, but I don't want an arrow in my head for my troubles."
"I've heard of you," said Turlough. "You and your master wrongfully took Drumahair Castle from the O'Rourke. They say the castle sits on the ridge of the two demons. I must be talking to one of those demons."
Taaffe gave a throaty laugh.
"Now there's no need to be a gossipmonger nor resort to name-calling. We can both sort this out like reasonable men."
Taaffe made a hand signal behind his back to his men. Some of them slipped off.
"What is this offer you've come to make me?" said Turlough. "I haven't got all day. I've got crops to attend to."
Taaffe stood a foot on a tree stump and rested on his knee.
"There doesn't look like much here to pay the chieftain when he comes looking for his coign and livery. That must be a real burden to you?"
"I do just fine, thank you. Why are you so concerned about my welfare?"
"Who better to protect you than the Queen? Have you ever seen a more impressive army than hers? All she wants is a reasonable steady rent and you get all the benefits of her protection, her laws, her army, all of it."
Turlough scowled.
"I've heard about all them Queen's laws. You note all these things down on your papers, things that you've apparently agreed and then you get dragged in front of the Queen's court and someone reads out the same piece of paper and everything is different. A den of cunning thieves is what that court of yours is. Now begone with you before my sons let loose."
Taaffe laughed.
"The Queen will be so disappointed to hear that's what you think."
With that, Taaffe's men, who had sneaked around the other side of the hill, came from behind two of Turlough's sons and slit their throats from ear to ear. Turlough and his other men turned to see what the commotion was, and Taaffe saw his opportunity and stormed up the hill. Turlough only had the time to dispatch one of his sons' murderers before Taaffe and his men felled Turlough and the remaining O'Haras in a rain of blows.
Taaffe wiped his mouth of blood from one of the few O'Hara retaliatory blows that landed.
"Bring him to me." Taaffe pointed to the beaten body of Turlough.
They dragged Turlough in front of Taaffe, kicked the back of his knees, and one of them grabbed him by the hair and held up his head. Taaffe thought it best to administer a few punches to the face before commencing negotiations. Turlough's head lolled from side to side.
"Wake him up," said Taaffe.
The two men dragged him over to a nearby puddle and shoved Turlough's face in it until he choked in the water. They picked him up and placed him in the previous position of on his knees and head held up by the hair. In the meantime, the land surveyor and magistrate gingerly walked up the hill, having turned away so as not to witness the violence.
"Now, let us get something straight. This is the Queen's land, not your land. Don't give me any of that Mac and Oe nonsense about the land belonging to your great grandfather's uncle. This is the Queen's land and always has been. Tell me you understand?"
Turlough's head remained bowed, but unmoved.
"Nod his head, will you?"
Taaffe's man grinned as he tugged Turlough's hair up and down.
"Now I'm the Queen's agent, so I act for her and follow her instructions on what she wants to do with her land. Have you got that?"
Turlough's head was nodded for him once more.
"Now I'm here to give you a chance. It's up to you to take it."
They nodded Turlough's head again.
"Now you either agree to pay the Queen's rent or I'll have to evict you from this land for being a squatter. What is it to be?"
Turlough's head remained limp and unmoving.
"Is he still alive?" said Taaffe.
A swift kick in the ribs and a yelp confirmed he was.
"Pick him up."
Turlough resumed the same position.
"Now this land is worth more with tenants on it. Since you're here, I'll give you the first option. Do you want to be the Queen's tenant?"
Turlough did not move. Taaffe slapped him across the face.
"I need an answer. Are you to be the Queen's tenant?"
Turlough roused and spat the blood out of his mouth.
"The O'Haras will not be slaves."
"What was that? I can't hear you. I need a yes or no."
"The O'Haras will not be—"
Taaffe whipped out his knife and slit his throat. The men let go and Turlough fell to the ground. Turlough's life drained into the bog he had done so
"Secretary, mark this land down as untenanted, assign a value, and get the magistrate to write it up. Let's move on to the next farm. Nothing more to be done here."
Taaffe and his men rode back to Drumahair Castle several days later. The flags of the Governor of Connacht flew proudly from the towers. It was a green and pleasant land with a handsome rental income, and the ground was soft underfoot for Taaffe's column of men. The tents of the English army and the supporting companies supplied by the loyal gentry of Connacht surrounded the castle. The Governor always travelled with a large force, for rebellion was rife in his province. But Taaffe was his most trusted man, almost an extension of his cruel arm.
The Governor needed men like Taaffe, for the wilds of Ireland was a place for adventurers. These resourceful men could take advantage of opportunities as long as they were not limited by the lengths they would go to exploit them. It took a callous man to succeed, especially in the hinterlands of Connacht, which was at best filled with bandits and, at worst, having another armed succession or territorial dispute.
Taaffe was an excellent example of a man who prospered in such conditions. He had been born the second son of wealthy Catholic landowners in county Louth. He was a large handsome man with a chiselled jaw, hands like paws, and an appealing personality until you got to know him and his brutish ways better and realised how far he was prepared to go to get what he wanted.
Taaffe had left his family land to be inherited by his older brother and found employment with Sir Richard Bingham and risen to the rank of the sheriff of County Sligo. He assisted Bingham in his brutal subjugation of Connacht and became a wealthy landowner in his own right because of it. His master wished to auction off more of the land occupied by the native Irish to the gentry of Dublin and Munster, and Taaffe was instructed to requisition it.
The gates opened upon the confirmation of the sight of Taaffe, and he rode straight in. Taaffe was sent with his officials straight through to a secluded room in the tower of the castle, for Bingham did not want the lords of Connacht to intrude on his private business.
Taaffe invaded the room with a sack full of papers, a churlish grin, and the odour of the bogs of Ireland.
"I got you some prize pickings this trip, lord," said Taaffe as he placed the first of three satchels of deeds on the table in front of Bingham. The states of the pages reflected the efforts he had to put in to obtain them. He organised the papers into three piles. He shoved the neat pages pile across to Bingham first.
"They should be tenanted lands, where they signed the deeds with little coercion."
He pushed across a second pile, frayed around the edges with scrawls for signatures.
"We had to employ enhanced negotiations for some of these, as the locals proved stubborn in their stance. They're mostly untenanted, where we had to remove the farmers for being rebels and suchlike."
He pushed across the final pile of mud-stained, torn and sometimes bloodstained pieces of paper where the previous owners of the land had spent their last defiant energies hurling the pages back in the face of Taaffe.
"They'll be the disputed ownership lands that we had to revert to the Crown to prevent any festering disputes that could lead the locals astray to side with the rebels. The boys have marked down the prices accordingly to reflect the risk."
Bingham grinned from ear to ear as he inspected a sample of the land deeds from each pile.
"You've done splendidly again, my dear boy," said the Governor to Taaffe. "Have your men leave their valuations and other notes on the table. I assume you have marked out the tracts you want in lieu of your payment?"
"I have, lord. But I have something else to ask."
Bingham put the deed down.
"What is it? You're not going to raise your rates now the rebels are getting a bit feisty?"
"No, lord. I wish to play a bigger role in our venture. Are you going to introduce me to some of your buyers? I have served you well and feel I could serve you better by describing to your gentlemen friends first-hand what they are buying and get you a better price."
Bingham rose from his seat and walked around the table. He put his arm around Taaffe's shoulder and escorted him to the door.
"Dear boy, we have the perfect arrangement. Never have I met one as efficient as you in gathering up land we can package up to sell to English landlords and help the poor people of this island get a bit of civilisation. We are going to be very busy with the amount of rebel lands that is going to fall into our hands and I don't know how I could resell it all without your help. How about the next castle we get can be yours? Make yourself a nice home. Very soon your estate will far outstrip the estate your father gave to your brother instead of you, and all the Taaffes will look up to you. You are a man of distinctive talents, and we have the perfect arrangement. So why don't you have a wash and relax, for I have many other missions for you."
Before Taaffe could protest and argue the matter, he found himself outside the room with the door closing on his face. He walked off, cursed to himself and swore revenge against the man who made him what he was today, but denied him his right to further advancement, just like his father.
Chapter 2
New beginnings
"Ow! Be careful where you poke that needle! It hurts!"
"Don't be such a baby."
Eunan was in the uncomfortable position of being a clothes horse again with Dervella beneath him, trying to measure and pin his clothes so he could look his best for the ceremony. He wobbled on the stool, unsure of his balance. His strength and agility were returning slowly, but this balancing act was proving a severe test. Dervella lent him the occasional steadying hand and gripped the pins in her teeth. Pin and tooth made a formidable grin.
"Do you remember the last time you stood for me on a stool and I adjusted your clothes?"
Eunan frowned.
"How could I forget? You dressed me so respectably for my trial, only for Donnacha to strip me and put me in rags as soon as my foot touched the shore."
"Yet look at you now. A young man, all respectable and far better dressed. You have much to be grateful for."
Eunan was confused. To who did he owe this gratitude? Had God especially smiled on him to bless him with such good fortune? The last time he was in Enniskillen he had been put on trial for murder and had barely escaped with his life. Was it to himself when he made the brave choice to decapitate Donnacha? Or was the gratitude due to her husband Seamus and all of his conniving? All of this came at the expense of the death of Desmond, his mentor and the most father-like figure that had been in his life. Dervella, being the more blessed of the two in social skills, knew when to subtly press for a reconciliation between the two most important men in her life.
"OW!"
Another pinprick centred Eunan's wandering mind. But boredom and constriction of his soul in such fineries soon had it wandering again.
He looked around. The rays of spring beamed through the window frames of Enniskillen Castle and the crisp air wafted in and cooled his face and brought calm as he slowly breathed in and out on top of his stool. The sky that he could see was blue with scrapings of fluff as decoration. He was alive and could feel the strength return to his body. In his darkest moments in the prison cell in the same tower that he now stood in, he could not have imagined where he stood now, on a stool being measured up for his wedding clothes. Invited by the Maguire, no less, to get married in the chapel in the castle. It was an honour indeed, for if the nobility of the Maguire were not getting married on Devenish Island, they would be married in the chapel.
The Maguire had been more than generous to him and he had stayed in the castle to recuperate after the trial and the Maguire had dispatched some of his finest men to see to the upkeep of his house, farm, and cattle in his absence. Eunan thought it may have been guilt for letting one of his most faithful men be put on trial as a traitor, but Seamus told him to make the most of his newly found good fortune and try not to destroy it by over-thinking.
"How are you, boy?"
Seamus strode into the room, the chills of spring blowing through the open training ground having blushed his cheeks. He looked like a veteran, almost respectable lord, for he had helped himself to fresh armour and clothes since he was also basking in the fine favour of the Maguire. He placed a bag in the shadow of the door.
