At that moment, a cry sounded from somewhere nearby, that was immediately followed by the flat report of a rifle, muffled by the rain. The bullet dented the ground beside the coach. Dennis cursed, trying to control his frightened horse with one hand, as he turned and looked behind him.
Several riders were plunging down the hillside toward them, and Dennis turned and menaced Clay with the shotgun. ‘Up with you, Marteen,’ he said to his companion.
The boy swung a leg over the broad back of his mare and dug his heels into its sides. Without a word, Dennis followed him. They splashed across the stream and broke into a canter on the other side, disappearing like shadows into the mist.
Joshua scrambled down to the ground and leaned against the coach while he mopped his damp face with a handkerchief. ‘Colonel, what kind of a country is this?’
Clay shrugged. ‘Everything that lawyer told me in Galway must be true. I thought he was exaggerating.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t tell me an old campaigner like you was frightened?’
‘I stopped being frightened after Pittsburgh Landing, when we rode into that Yankee artillery regiment in the dark and you bluffed our way right out again,’ Joshua told him. ‘I was only worried in case you tried something silly.’
‘I must admit I was thinking about it,’ Clay said.
Joshua snorted. ‘Then that shot came just in time to save you from getting your fool head blown off.’
At that moment, the riders who had been making their way down the hillside reached the coach. Three of them galloped straight across the stream without stopping and disappeared into the mist on the other side. The fourth reined in his horse and dismounted.
He was in his early thirties, thick-set and muscular, in muddy jackboots and tweed riding coat, his mouth cruel in a pale face. Clay disliked him on sight.
The man glanced curiously at Joshua and touched the brim of his hat briefly with his riding crop. ‘Colonel Fitzgerald?’ Clay nodded and he went on, ‘It seems we arrived not a moment too soon. My name is Burke. I’m Sir George Hamilton’s agent. He heard you had arrived in Galway yesterday and sent me to meet you. Did you receive his letter safely?’
Clay nodded. ‘It was waiting for me when I visited my uncle’s lawyers yesterday.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘A pity you didn’t arrive five minutes sooner. I’d have been fifteen sovereigns and a gold watch the richer. Have you any idea who they were?’
Burke shrugged. ‘The country is swarming with such rogues. If we catch them, they’ll tell the judge they were true patriots collecting funds for the organization and damn the Queen’s eyes in the same breath.’
‘I see,’ said Clay. ‘Do these men belong to this Fenian Brotherhood I heard so much about in Galway?’
‘Fenians, Moonlighters, Ribbonmen.’ Burke shrugged. ‘There are several of these secret societies, all hell-bent on setting Ireland free, as they call it.’ The rain continued its steady monotonous downpour and he went on briskly, ‘But this is no place for a conversation, Colonel. Sir George is hoping you’ll spend the night with him. If you’ll get back in to your coach, I’ll lead the way.’
Clay shook his head. ‘That’s very kind of him, but I prefer to go on to Claremont tonight. Is it far from here?’
‘Drumore is another four miles along the road,’ Burke told him. ‘Claremont is about a mile the other side of it.’ He seemed to hesitate, a slight frown on his face and then went on, ‘You’ll find cold comfort there tonight, Colonel, and that’s a fact. The house isn’t fit for man nor beast.’
‘But I understand my uncle was living in it until his death,’ Clay said. ‘Surely it can’t have deteriorated to such an extent?’
‘But you’re forgetting about the fire,’ Burke said.
Clay shook his head. ‘No, the lawyers gave me full details. I understand the damage was extensive.’
Burke nodded. ‘Most of the house went. Your uncle lived in the west wing for the last six months of his life. It was the only part left with a roof.’
Clay shrugged. ‘There have been many occasions during the past four years, Mr Burke, when I desired nothing more of life than a roof over my head – any kind of roof. If my uncle managed to continue living there, I’m sure I’ll survive.’
‘Suit yourself, Colonel.’ Burke swung into the saddle of his horse and gathered the reins in his left hand. ‘One thing more,’ he said. ‘Mind how you go when you reach Drumore. They don’t take kindly to strangers.’
‘Not even to one called Fitzgerald?’ Clay asked, with a smile.
Burke’s face was grim. ‘These are hard times, Colonel, as I think you’ll be finding out for yourself before very long.’ He spurred his horse forward and disappeared around a bend in the road.
Clay stood gazing after him, a frown on his face. He turned and said to Joshua, ‘What do you think?’
Joshua shrugged. ‘It can’t be any worse than some of the places we slept in during the war, Colonel. One thing’s for sure, I don’t like that man.’
Clay grinned. ‘As usual, we’re in complete agreement. There’s something unpleasant about him, something I can’t quite put a finger on, but it’s there.’
Thunder rumbled faintly in the distance and he reached into the coach and, taking out a heavy overcoat, pulled it on. ‘It looks as if the weather intends to get worse before it gets better, and I’m beginning to get bored with this particular view of the countryside. If you’ll get in, we’ll move on.’
For a moment, Joshua hesitated, as if he intended to argue the point, and then he sighed heavily and climbed inside. Clay slammed the door behind him and then pulled himself up into the driver’s seat and reached for the reins. A moment later, they were moving along the muddy road.
Rain dripped from the edge of his hat, but he ignored it, his hands steady on the reins. He considered his conversation with Burke and asked himself again, and not for the first time, why he had come to Ireland.
Certainly there had been nothing to keep him in Georgia. Four years of war had left him with only one desire – peace. It was ironic that he should have come to Ireland of all places in search of it. If the stories he had been told in Galway were true, and the events of the past hour seemed to bear them out, he was stepping straight into the heart of an area racked by every conceivable kind of outrage and murder.
The elementary justice of Ireland’s claim to self-government was something he had learned at his father’s knee, together with harsh, bitter accounts of the treatment meted out to the unfortunate peasantry by English landlords. Later, his years as a medical student in London and Paris, and then the war, had all conspired to push the matter into a back corner of his mind as something relatively unimportant, in that it did not affect him personally.
However much the native Irish had right on their side, highway robbery was no way in which to attract sympathizers, he reflected, thinking of the two thieves. It occurred to him for the first time that although their clothing had been rough, their horses had been superb animals and he frowned, wondering who they were and what had driven them to such a deed.
Perhaps
