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horse was nervous too, shaking its head and stepping one way and the other. Gabriel searched the sky for a clue. To be sure, it wasn’t a pretty picture unless you had a preference for grey clouds. However, it didn’t seem that astorm was on the horizon. Normally the animals got skittish when thunder and lightning were on their way. In any case the cows were still standing. They usually sat down when rain was due. So, what was it?
    He was too old to be scared by most things, he was just curious as to what the animals could sense. He stood against his front door and waited. It was not long before his patience was rewarded when he spotted a group of men in red coats coming over the hill. Although they looked impressive from a distance, Gabriel began to notice a few flaws in their appearance as they drew near. Hats were askew and some of them were in their stocking feet, while only a few wore their regiment’s coat and carried weapons. Oh, he knew who they were alright: Jacobites. Now, are they going to cause me trouble?
    He mused to the dog, ‘I wonder if the city scared them off?’ Certainly it was all a bit unexpected, but what could he do except wait and see?
    The first group passed him by, followed by a second and then a third group of soldiers. None of them showed any interest in the old man though he smiled pleasantly at them, especially the younger ones, boys of sixteen or seventeen years. Of course, he presented no threat, with his stooped, skinny frame and ill-fitting clothes.
    He couldn’t resisting calling out, ‘Are you heading home, boys?’
    There were some scowls and eye-rolling, but one older fellow deigned to answer him, ‘I hope we are, sir, as I’m sure you do too.’
    Gabriel shrugged. ‘Ach right, we’ll always have hope, if nothing else!’

Chapter Eight
    T he days passed as they always do, no matter what is afoot. Life went on behind the walls of the city. After all is said and done, it is the small things that matter most. Chamber pots had to be emptied, bread had to be baked and eaten, candles were lit and extinguished and so on.
    Derry was as lively as ever, watching over her swollen population and doing her utmost to keep it safe. In this she was helped when orders were issued to repair all cannon guns and have them placed on wheels so that they could be quickly moved from one place to another. A cannon gun was also positioned on the highest tower in the city, that of St Columb’s Cathedral.
    When they discovered they were not being pursued, the Jacobites returned to their camps. People took little notice of them. As James Morrison said, ‘It’s almost like they’re part of the landscape now.’
    The same argument raged back and forth:
    Should we let them in ?
    No, we bloody well shouldn’t!
    But they’ve said that they mean us no harm.
    And you believe them, do you?
    Oh, I don’t know!
    One morning a message arrived from Lord Mountjoy, the commander of the regiment that had been summoned to Dublin by Lord Lieutenant Richard Talbot, explaining that he had been sent back to sort out the situation. He asked for a parley with the city’s leaders. A Protestant, whose two sons lived in Derry, Lord Mountjoy was anxious to find a solution to the city’s predicament.
    There was some discussion as to who would go and meet with the returned commander. Bishop Hopkins had left Derry for London, feeling hard done by at the scorn that was poured on his warnings of a Jacobite triumph. John Buchanan had lost the respect of his peers with his gentle pleading for peace at any cost while Mayor Campsie was ill in bed. Eventually, it was agreed that the aldermen would meet him at Mongavlin Castle, eight or so miles from the city, and they had their part of the dialogue worked out beforehand.
    Alderman Tomkins said, ‘Well it’s simple, your lordship. All we – that is, the people – want is, firstly, for Talbot to promise that only Protestant troops will be lodged in our garrison. Secondly, we want