An Irish Heart Read online

  She pressed her cheek to mine, and was just catching my lips with hers, when there came a knock at the door. I looked back over my shoulder, and saw Joseph Craton standing in the doorway. He studied us for a moment, his small face as innocent as anything.

  “Are you married?” he asked.

  We both laughed at that. I never did decide either one way or the other, whether he was serious when he asked that question.

  Chapter 15

  The sun shone brightly on the morning of our departure. There was scarcely a wind in the trees, and the birds sang cheerfully, bidding us farewell from their posts high above.

  “I am glad not to be going back alone,” said Joseph, pulling the strap tight on Isis’s small saddlebag. “It was a lonely ride.”

  Charlie and Zebulon stood side by side, freshly brushed and equipped for the journey. They looked quite the pair with their black and white hides, shining like obsidian and pearl in the sunlight. Isis, the small brown pony, stood off to the side with her equally diminutive master.

  I looked back at the house – which had been my home, for a full year now. I regretted having to leave it behind; and I hoped that we would not be gone for very long. The house stood, locked and shuttered, closed to the world. The branches of the silver-tree seemed to droop even lower than usual, as though saddened at the sight of our leaving.

  It was rather depressing; but even more depressing was the expression on Thea’s face, as she surveyed the property. She looked lost and misplaced. She clutched at Zebulon’s reins, clenching and unclenching one fist in her pocket.

  So we started off. After a little, Joseph and I began to chat back and forth; until Thea suddenly said, more to herself than either of us, that she felt she was going to be sick. She did indeed look rather grey – with a bit of green mixed in.

  “Are you going to be all right?” Joseph asked.

  Thea waved the question away; and though she was quiet for much of the day, Joseph and I talked nearly incessantly. He continued to tell me of Dublin, and of his life there. He did not seem, quite honestly, to know how to pass time in the company of others, without talking. A subject which came up quite frequently, of course, was his sick old guardian.

  “Oh, I do love him so!” he exclaimed.

  “You must,” said I, “to have come as you did, all alone.”

  He laughed. “Oh, everyone loves Mr McAlbee! But he said, ‘No, I want Joe to go. I trust him.’ That touched my heart, that did. Mrs Warner didn’t want me to go alone; but Donny took my side in that, he did. ‘If Joe wants to prove what a brave little man he is,’ Donny said, ‘then I think he should.’ ”

  “Who is Donny?”

  “Oh! That’s my brother. Donald, you know; but Donny, we all call him. He’s about your age, I’d say. He’s a member of the Irish Volunteers.”

  “That’s part of the military?”

  Joseph smiled, looking proud; but then corrected me by saying, “Not quite. It’s more of a political group, with soldiers in. Donny was in the Fianna Eirann when he was younger, but at eighteen he switched over to the Volunteers.”

  “Fianna Eirann?”

  “Have you never heard of it?”

  “I can’t say that I have.”

  “Well, it’s like a training program for boys. They learn military drills and the use of firearms. It was founded by Constance Markiewicz – a great woman, she is.”

  “You know her?”

  “I’ve heard a lot about her. She thinks the world of my brother – she says he’s a great soldier. Donny asked if I wanted to be one of her Fianna boys, but I don’t think I’m much for that kind of thing.” He held up his arm, and flexed his muscle. “Not too strong, I’d say.”

  I laughed. “You’re too sweet to be a soldier, anyway.”

  “That’s what Mrs Warner says.”

  ***

  The next day’s travels went much the same as the first’s – though Thea seemed to be growing annoyed with mine and Joseph’s never-ending conversations.

  “What’s the point of being amidst the peace of nature,” she asked, “ if you can never hear it?”

  Joseph and I fell silent at that, if only for a few minutes or so. By then, we had seen so many interesting things along the side of the road, that we found it impossible to remain quiet.

  Thea just sighed.

  We camped that night by a small creek, about a quarter-mile from the main road.

  The fire had not been out ten minutes, when I heard the sound of Joseph’s deep, sleeping breath. I looked over at him; his face was illuminated by the glow of the moon, peaceful and calm in sleep. I swore that I could see the fine wrinkles round his mouth, which had been formed by his ever-present grin.

  I listened for Thea’s breathing, trying to determine whether she was asleep. She lay with her back to me, golden hair cascading over the dark fabric of her bedroll, like a sun-filled waterfall.

  “Are you awake?” I asked softly.

  Whether she was or not, she did not answer.

  I fell asleep quickly after that, dreaming of myself in soldier’s clothing, with a rifle slung over my shoulder. Little Joseph Craton stood before me with a cooking pot atop his head. I knew not where the legendary Johnny Appleseed fit into my dreaming, but he arrived nonetheless in the form of a smiling boy, with a black dog whom he called “Dolly.”

  ***

  By nightfall next day, we still had not reached our destination.

  “I thought you said three days?” repeated Thea irritably (for perhaps the fourth time), scratching the back of her neck. “I’ve never been this long without a bath. I’m getting itchy.”

  “We’ll be there soon,” Joseph assured her.

  She did not look convinced.

  So we rode on into the darkness, with Joseph’s promise of reaching Marcker Street very shortly. I didn’t doubt him, but I still didn’t care for riding in the dark – especially in the area that we were in. It was evidently an impoverished neighbourhood, with weather-beaten old houses and grassless yards.

  “This is where you live?” Thea asked.

  “Aye.”

  “It’s – lovely.”

  We kept on in silence, pushing the tired horses towards their last mile. Joseph whistled while Thea shot him toxic glances (she seemed even more exhausted than me), but I remained silent, suddenly struck by a strange feeling in the depths of my stomach. It was not a feeling of sickness, but rather of wariness. I looked furtively all about.

  A few minutes later, I heard a loud noise from up ahead. Joseph stopped whistling, and Thea jerked back on Zebulon’s reins. I slowed Charlie’s step, as well.

  “What was that?” Thea whispered.

  “I dunno,” Joseph said, squinting into the darkness. “Maybe someone dropped something?”

  “What? A piano?”

  “I guess not,” he said.

  I felt cold fear coursing through me, making my heart beat fast and my palms break out in a sweat. That tight feeling in my stomach had never departed; and now it became more intense, strangling my innards mercilessly.

  “I’m sure it’s nothing,” said Joseph, nudging Isis forward.

  “Wait,” I said. At the sound of my voice, Joseph looked back, pulling up on his pony’s reins.

  We sat in silence for a bit; and finally, another sound rose up to meet my ears: light, shuffling footsteps, emerging from the darkness, and into the dim light of the streetlamp above our heads. A group of boys stepped into the pool of light, dressed in dirty military garb, brandishing iron rods. One of them struck his rod upon the ground; and we all knew, then, that there had been no piano involved in the previous noise.

  “Well, hey, Joey,” said the boy in front. He was tallest and looked the meanest; so I assumed that he was the leader of the pack. “Ye’ve been gone a while.”

  “What do you want, Eli?” Joseph asked timidly.

  The boy stepped forward, but the others were still, blocking the street and our path. “Who’re yer friends, Joey?�
�� the boy asked. “Ye know we don’t like strangers.”

  “They’re here for Mr McAlbee. Won’t you just let us through?”

  “Oh, poor Mr McAlbee,” said Eli, looking back at the boys. “Don’ we all feel right sorry for him, fellas?”

  The boys laughed, banging the ends of their rods upon the cobblestones. “Poor Mr McAlbee!” they shouted.

  “Who are you?” Thea asked loudly, seeming not the least bit afraid. She had not lost her air of irritability, despite the iron rods that the seven or eight boys waved about before us. (What with the dimness of the light, an exact count proved difficult.)

  “Oooh,” said Eli. “We’d better be careful, boys – she might try to strangle us with ‘er hair!”

  Despite his mocking words, he examined Thea carefully. He leant against his rod, looking quite the arrogant little bastard.

  “Are you going to get out of the way?” Thea asked, looking as though she might actually attempt to strangle the boy.

  He simply watched her. “So,” he said. “Ye’re a friend of Joey’s? I suppose you can’t be too bad, then.” He looked at me and said, “Surely you can’t be bad, sweetheart. Say – yer lady-friend here doesn’t seem to like me much, but there’s no reason why you and me can’t be friends! There’s plenty o’ room at our place, and ye’re more’n welcome to come and visit.” He glanced back. “Ain’t that right, boys?”

  They all hollered in agreement, with an array of vulgarities mixed in with their strong sentiments. I felt myself flush; but Thea’s own face took on the sharpness of a dealer of death.

  “Come on, Eli, won’t you cut it out?” Joseph pleaded.

  Eli stepped forward. “Cut it out?” he repeated. “Well, Joey, that depends. What would ye like cut out?” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small switchblade. “Or perhaps cut off? How about a finger? Yer dirty little nose, maybe?” He brandished the knife in Joseph’s face.

  Joseph swallowed hard.

  “Leave him be,” I said.

  Eli glanced up at me, looking amused. “What are you going a’do about it, sweet cheeks?”

  Thea jumped down from her horse. She was behind Eli before he had the chance to move, a knife I had not even known she owned pressed up against his throat. Her blade was longer than his, and glinted cruelly in the light of the streetlamp.

  I held my breath along with the rest.

  “Don’t even think about coming near me,” she said, looking straight ahead at the other boys. “I’ll cut his throat, before you can even raise your little wands.”

  The boys were still.

  “All right, then,” she said, shaking Eli. “Put your knife away, before someone gets hurt.”

  Dressed in her rumpled travelling clothes, with her hair long and wild as it was, she looked quite formidable then. I doubted I would argue with her. But then, I wasn’t a menacing gang-boy with a switchblade.

  “Who do ye think ye are?” Eli asked. His voice was calm – and smooth as glass. “I don’t think ye realise who ye’re dealing with. I recommend that ye lower yer knife, before you get hurt.”

  “Listen to him, Thea,” Joseph begged.

  Thea stared at him in disbelief. “You want me to let him cut your finger off?”

  “I’ll give ye one more chance,” said Eli.

  “I’ll give you one more chance to drop your knife.”

  Eli laughed. “Finn,” he said. “Take care a’this.”

  Another boy stepped forward, moving up quickly beside Charlie, and yanking me down from the saddle. I struggled against his grip, but his arms were powerful. I could feel his muscles bulging through his shirt.

  “Let ‘im go,” he said to Thea. “I don’t think ye want me to hurt yer friend.”

  I wriggled my right arm free, made a fist and swung it up behind me. It slammed into his face with a force that I had not anticipated.

  The boy lost his hold on me, fell back and clutched his face. Blood spurted through his fingers. I suspected I had broken his nose.

  Immediately, others moved forward to reclaim me. I soon found myself in the grip of three boys, just as strong as the broken-nosed Finn, unable to pull another trick.

  “Thick-headed bitch,” one of them hissed.

  “Thanks,” I said, spitting in his face. He punched me in the back, and I cried out involuntarily.

  Thea faced us, holding Eli to her chest.

  “If you touch her again,” she said, “I will kill him.”

  We all stood in silence for a little, while Thea tried to stare down the boy who held me, and vice-versa – until I finally realised that Joseph was gone. He had run off with Isis without our knowing it.

  I heard a gunshot behind me, and jumped. We all looked towards the sound.

  I saw a tall man walking towards us, with a rifle held firmly in his hands. When he reached our circle, he said, “What seems to be the problem here, boys?”

  Eli was the first to speak. He shrugged and said, “Beats me, John. These girls are crazy!”

  The man eyed him angrily. “That’s not what Joseph tells me. He says that you pulled a knife on him.”

  Eli held up his hands, one of them still holding the switchblade. “It was all just a little joke, John. Ye know how sensitive Joey can be.”

  “That’s enough,” John said. “Miss,” he said to Thea, “please put your knife away. You too, Eli. And you there – let go of that girl.”

  Everyone did as John said. Eli returned to his crew, smiling arrogantly.

  “I would have had ye in two minutes,” he said to Thea.

  “You’d have been dead in two minutes,” she hissed.

  He frowned, furrowed his brow, and signalled to the boys to follow him. With that, they ran off down the street, talking loudly and laughing.

  Thea ran over to me. “Are you all right?” she asked. “They didn’t hurt you?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, smiling to reassure her; quite despite the various pains which had started up at the hard hands of the young ruffians.

  The man called John cleared his throat behind us. “If you’ll just follow me, ladies,” he said.

  We went with him. He took us a short way down the street, to a small building with several doors in front. He took us up onto the porch, and into the middle flat, which was well-lit and quite warm. He closed the door behind him.

  I looked round the room in which we stood. It was a large parlour, full of people. I saw Joseph seated on the sofa, beside a little raven-haired girl, petting a black dog that lay at his feet.

  It looked exactly like the dog from my dream. I half-expected to see a silver cooking-pot atop Joseph’s head.

  “Are you two all right?” he asked.

  “Thanks to you, Joseph,” I said.

  “Oh, I knew old John would take care of you. The Hounds are afraid of him.”

  “The Hounds?”

  “They’re a foul bunch,” said John. He stood before a wooden gun cabinet, and was emptying the bullets from his rifle, so that he might place it safely back upon the shelf. He closed the cabinet doors, and locked them with a key from his pocket. “We have a lot of trouble with them. They like to take the law into their own hands, you see – though there’s not much law round these parts, anyway. Even the blues stay away from Marcker Street.”

  Joseph nodded emphatically. “The Hounds stole my bicycle a few months ago,” he said. “But John got it back for me.”

  “Someone’s got to stand up to them,” John went on. “If not, they’ll go on thinking they can do whatever they want.” He paused. “Well, it seems as though I’ve forgotten my manners, what with all this excitement. My name’s John Warner.”

  “Kate O’Brien,” I said.

  “Theodora Alaster.”

  “I figured one of you had to be,” said John. “That’s who Joseph said he was off to find.”

  A plump redheaded woman, clad in a flowered apron, came into the room, then, emerging from what I guessed to be the kitchen. She looked at us, a
nd seemed surprised to find us there.

  She looked to Joseph. “Oh, dear! I didn’t even know you’d come back.” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek, then straightened up to appraise us.

  “You two look exhausted!” she exclaimed, bustling over to take our cloaks. “I’ll just hang these up for you, you don’t mind? And how about something to eat? I’m sure you must be starving.”

  “Let them breathe, Mother,” said John. “They’ve just come through the door.”

  “All the more reason to get some food in their stomachs,” the woman said. She looked at us, then – particularly at Thea, whose hair she attempted to smooth down with one hand. “Oh, dear, what a state! Anyway, I’m Ella Warner. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “She means it, too,” said Joseph with a smile.

  “Come with me into the kitchen, girls,” Ella Warner said. “There’s still some supper on the stove; I’ll put a couple of plates together for you.”

  “Mrs Warner’s a great cook,” Joseph said.

  “Oh, stop that, Joseph,” said Mrs Warner – though she looked not the least bit embarrassed. She turned to me and Thea. “Come along, dears.”

  We followed Ella Warner into the kitchen, where we were fed enough meat and potatoes to more than make up for the dry, unsatisfying food we had eaten on our journey. For drink, there were two mugs of cold ale. I wasn’t used to the stuff; and even with the large quantity of food I consumed, it left me feeling slightly dizzy, and more than a little giddy.

  After we had eaten, Mrs Warner took us back into the parlour to introduce us to everyone.

  “Well,” said Mrs Warner, “you already know Joseph, of course. And you’ve met my son John, one of our great Nationalist spokesmen. You ought to hear one of his speeches one of these days; he gets the crowds all riled up at College Park. This little girl over here beside Joseph is Mary-Anne, my granddaughter. That’s her mother, Sally – John’s wife.” She pointed to the last person on the sofa, a woman whose dark hair made her pallid cheeks appear as those of someone dead. But she smiled warmly, just the same.

  “This is my daughter, Kerry,” Mrs Warner went on, indicating a very pretty red-haired girl, who could not have been much older than me. “I have no doubt that she’ll be bothering you soon enough, Miss Alaster, about all your ways of medicine. It’s all she’s been talking of, since Joseph went to fetch you.”