Read Online Behind the Walls by Nicola Pierce - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nicola Pierce
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our present soldiers, made up from the population, to remain in place, and thirdly we want a general pardon for all that had taken placeuntil this present moment.’
There was nothing complicated about their demands; indeed Lord Mountjoy could have recited them himself without any help. However, and this was the sticking point, as he informed the delegation, ‘You know as well as I do that there is no way that the lord lieutenant will agree to the first point and perhaps not to the second one either and most definitely not to the third.’ He sighed heavily when the only responses to this were cold, uncomprehending stares. They reminded him of the man he had just left in Dublin, the lord lieutenant himself.
Lord Mountjoy was a superb soldier, for whom an order was an order. Therefore, he hadn’t questioned his boss when, three days after reaching Dublin with his tired men, he had been ordered to head back to Derry to sort things out. Before he had left he had heard, with some amount of glee, that such was Richard Talbot’s anger at the gates being closed to the Redshanks, he had actually ripped his expensive wig off his head and flung it into the fire. How he would have enjoyed seeing that.
However, with his superior’s wrath still ringing between his ears, despite spending the last few days marching from Dublin in cold, unforgiving weather, Lord Mountjoy did not indulge his former townsmen unnecessarily. And so he told them, ‘I’m afraid, gentlemen, there are few options.’ The ensuing silence was only broken when he added, ‘Gohome and think over your position. Tomorrow morning I will present myself at Bishop’s Gate and ask to be allowed through.’ He stood to indicate that the meeting was at an end. ‘Good day, sirs!’
The following morning was 12 December and, as promised, Lord Mountjoy turned up at Bishop’s Gate and asked for the gate to be unlocked. Henry Campsie and Robert Sherrard were on duty and refused. It caused a bit of a stir amongst the crowd who had gathered to watch the goings-on.
Because his lordship was a former resident of the town and not shy when it came to spending money, some of the traders wondered if the rules should be relaxed. ‘Surely,’ said Mr Dobbs, the owner of the coffee house, ‘we could just let Lord Mountjoy through. He might like a beer or a coffee after all his marching.’ The cobbler, Mr Sanderson, couldn’t help wondering what state the men’s boots were in after walking to and fro from Dublin. Those selling food and snuff nodded their heads in complete agreement with Mr Dobbs.
This line of reasoning was bludgeoned by the scorn that poured forth from Henry and Robert.
Robert rolled his eyes. ‘For God’s sake, he’s Talbot’s man. Allowing him in is the same as giving in to the Catholic king.’
Henry declared, ‘Now is not the time to make a mistake!’
Mr Sanderson asked, ‘Well, what are we going to do then? Just leave him standing out there?’
The usual merry-go-round of ‘yeses’ and ‘noes’ began all over again. More people arrived on the scene, the boys’ fathers included.
Mr Sherrard suggested it might be wise to reopen negotiations. ‘Don’t forget that this man is also the Master of Ordnance.’
Someone rather cheekily called out, ‘So what?’
It was the mayor who answered him, ‘So … he knows how little ammunition we have and the poor condition it’s in.’
Mr Sherrard smiled at this unexpected but welcome show of support. ‘Exactly!’
With the appearance of Reverend Gordon and a few others, it was decided that a party of ten men should go out to talk to Lord Mountjoy. The men were chosen and in due course the gates were unlocked, but not to allow his lordship inside, only to allow the ten men out to meet with him.
It was a cold and dry morning. People waited about to hear how the meeting went but, as one hour passed into the next, they got restless. Some headed home or back to work. Finally an agreement of sorts
There was nothing complicated about their demands; indeed Lord Mountjoy could have recited them himself without any help. However, and this was the sticking point, as he informed the delegation, ‘You know as well as I do that there is no way that the lord lieutenant will agree to the first point and perhaps not to the second one either and most definitely not to the third.’ He sighed heavily when the only responses to this were cold, uncomprehending stares. They reminded him of the man he had just left in Dublin, the lord lieutenant himself.
Lord Mountjoy was a superb soldier, for whom an order was an order. Therefore, he hadn’t questioned his boss when, three days after reaching Dublin with his tired men, he had been ordered to head back to Derry to sort things out. Before he had left he had heard, with some amount of glee, that such was Richard Talbot’s anger at the gates being closed to the Redshanks, he had actually ripped his expensive wig off his head and flung it into the fire. How he would have enjoyed seeing that.
However, with his superior’s wrath still ringing between his ears, despite spending the last few days marching from Dublin in cold, unforgiving weather, Lord Mountjoy did not indulge his former townsmen unnecessarily. And so he told them, ‘I’m afraid, gentlemen, there are few options.’ The ensuing silence was only broken when he added, ‘Gohome and think over your position. Tomorrow morning I will present myself at Bishop’s Gate and ask to be allowed through.’ He stood to indicate that the meeting was at an end. ‘Good day, sirs!’
The following morning was 12 December and, as promised, Lord Mountjoy turned up at Bishop’s Gate and asked for the gate to be unlocked. Henry Campsie and Robert Sherrard were on duty and refused. It caused a bit of a stir amongst the crowd who had gathered to watch the goings-on.
Because his lordship was a former resident of the town and not shy when it came to spending money, some of the traders wondered if the rules should be relaxed. ‘Surely,’ said Mr Dobbs, the owner of the coffee house, ‘we could just let Lord Mountjoy through. He might like a beer or a coffee after all his marching.’ The cobbler, Mr Sanderson, couldn’t help wondering what state the men’s boots were in after walking to and fro from Dublin. Those selling food and snuff nodded their heads in complete agreement with Mr Dobbs.
This line of reasoning was bludgeoned by the scorn that poured forth from Henry and Robert.
Robert rolled his eyes. ‘For God’s sake, he’s Talbot’s man. Allowing him in is the same as giving in to the Catholic king.’
Henry declared, ‘Now is not the time to make a mistake!’
Mr Sanderson asked, ‘Well, what are we going to do then? Just leave him standing out there?’
The usual merry-go-round of ‘yeses’ and ‘noes’ began all over again. More people arrived on the scene, the boys’ fathers included.
Mr Sherrard suggested it might be wise to reopen negotiations. ‘Don’t forget that this man is also the Master of Ordnance.’
Someone rather cheekily called out, ‘So what?’
It was the mayor who answered him, ‘So … he knows how little ammunition we have and the poor condition it’s in.’
Mr Sherrard smiled at this unexpected but welcome show of support. ‘Exactly!’
With the appearance of Reverend Gordon and a few others, it was decided that a party of ten men should go out to talk to Lord Mountjoy. The men were chosen and in due course the gates were unlocked, but not to allow his lordship inside, only to allow the ten men out to meet with him.
It was a cold and dry morning. People waited about to hear how the meeting went but, as one hour passed into the next, they got restless. Some headed home or back to work. Finally an agreement of sorts
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