The Northern Iron Part 9

CHAPTER V

When Neal arrived at the Manse he found that the sentries who had stood on guard at the door were gone. The yeomen had disappeared from before the meeting-house. The broken door, the fragments of the wrecked pulpit, and the figure of the dead trooper swinging from the branch on which he had been hanged were left as witnesses of the Government's methods of keeping the peace in Ireland.

Inside the house Micah Ward paced restlessly up and down the floor of his study. Donald, his pipe in his mouth, sat on a chair tilted back till its front legs were six inches off the floor, and watched his brother. His att.i.tude was precarious, but he seemed comfortable. Micah paused in his rapid walking as Neal entered the room.

"What have you been doing, Neal?" he said. "Your face is cut, your clothes are torn; you look strangely excited."

"I have been fighting," said Neal. He did not think it necessary to add that he had also been love-making, though it was the interview with Una, far more than the struggle with the yeoman, which was accountable for the gleaming eyes and exalted expression which his father noticed.

"I trust you were victorious," said his father, "that your foot has been dipped in the blood of your enemies, that you have broken their bonds asunder, and cast away their cords from you."

"I was beaten," said Neal, smiling. It did not just then seem to matter in the least whether he got the better or the worse in any fight.

"You take it easily," said Donald. "That's right. You're blooded now, my boy. You'll fight all the better in the future for tasting your own blood to-night. I'm glad you are back with us. Your father has been giving out the most terrific curses against Lord Dunseveric for having brought the yeomen down on us and taken away his little cannons. I tell him he ought to be thankful they went into the meeting-house instead of coming here. They'd have made a fine haul if they'd walked in and taken the papers he and I had before us when you came here. They'd have had the name of every United Irishman in the district, and could have picked them out and hanged them one by one just as they wanted them."

"They've got as much information, pretty near, as they want," said Neal.

"They are going to arrest three men to-night."

"G.o.d's curse on Eustace St. Clair, him whom men call the Lord of Dunseveric," said Micah Ward.

"Spare your curse," said Neal. "It wasn't Lord Dunseveric who brought the yeomen on us, and what's more, only for Lord Dunseveric you'd be arrested yourself along with the others."

"What's that you are saying, Neal?"

"I'm saying that the yeomen brought orders from Belfast to arrest you, and me, too, and that Lord Dunseveric refused to execute them."

"And so I owe my liberty to him! I must thank him for sparing me. I must fawn on him as my benefactor, I suppose. But I will not. I refuse his mercy. I scorn it. I cast it from me. I shall go out and offer myself to the yeomen. They are to take my friends, my people, and spare me. I will not be spared. Am I the hireling who fleeth when the wolf cometh? I go to deliver myself into their hands."

"You'll be a bigger fool than I take you for if you do," said Donald.

"Listen to me now. From what Neal has told us it's evident that you're wrong about Lord Dunseveric. It wasn't he who brought the yeomen on us.

There is someone else giving information, and it's someone who knows a good deal. Come now, brother Micah, cudgel your brains; think, man, think, who is it?"

Micah sat down at his writing-table and pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead.

"I cannot think," he said. "I cannot, I will not believe that any of our people are traitors."

"These orders which Neal speaks of came from Belfast," said Donald. "Who has lately left this place and gone to Belfast?"

"I can tell you," said Neal. "James Finlay. And James Finlay had a grudge against me. The others whom he denounced were United Irishmen, perhaps, I was not. Why was I marked down, unless it was out of private revenge? And there is n.o.body, n.o.body in the world, I believe, who has cause to wish for vengeance on me but only James Finlay."

"I cannot believe it of him," said Micah. "He came to me himself and asked to be sworn. He was a member of the committee."

"If you ask me," said Donald, "I think the case looks pretty black against James Finlay. I think, if things are to go on as they ought to, it will be better to cut the throat of James Finlay. I don't know him myself. Perhaps you do, Neal."

"Yes," said Neal, "I know him."

"And he is in Belfast," said Donald. "Now, what was his reason for going to Belfast?"

"He went to obtain employment there," said Micah. "He took letters from me to some of our leaders. He went as my agent, properly accredited. My G.o.d! If he is a traitor!"

"I think, Neal," said Donald, slowly, "that you and I will take a little trip to Belfast. I should like to see Belfast. They tell me it's a rising town. I should also very much like to see our friend, James Finlay. I suppose we shall be able to get horses to-morrow. Oh, yes, I've money to pay for them. I didn't come over here with an empty purse.

Anyway, I think Belfast would suit me better than this place. Your people, Micah, don't seem very fond of fighting."

"You are wrong, brother. They will lay down their lives right willingly when the hour comes."

Donald shrugged his shoulders. "Their meeting-house has been sacked, their minister has been insulted, three of their members are to be arrested, and they haven't offered to strike a blow. If they had the courage of doe rabbits they'd have chopped up those yeomen into little bits and then scattered them for dung over the fields. I reckon that unless the Belfast people are better than these men of yours I'd be better back in the States. We knew how to fight for our liberty there."

"You don't understand, Donald. Believe me, you do not understand. We must wait for orders before we strike."

"Oh, orders. Waiting for orders. I know the meaning of that. It means waiting till the English have picked off your leaders one by one. I know, I know."

Donald knocked the ashes out of his pipe, filled it, and lit it again, and puffed slowly. Micah sat at the table, his head resting in his hands. Neal sat down and waited. There was silence in the room for a long time. Donald's pipe was smoked out and lit again before he spoke.

Then he said--

"I'm sorry, brother, that I spoke as I did. I don't doubt but that your men are brave enough. They would have fought if they had known what was going on."

"No, no," said Micah. "You were right. I ought to have fought if there were no one else. I ought to have died. I would to G.o.d that I had died before our meeting-house was pillaged, before my people, the men who trusted me, were taken captive. I was a coward. I am a coward."

"Then I am a coward, too," said Donald, "and no man ever called me that before. But I'm not, and you're not. We were two unarmed men against fifty. I'm fond enough of fighting, and I take on a job with long odds against me, but not such long odds as that. Rouse yourself, brother.

Neal and I are going to Belfast. We shall want letters from you. We must be accredited like Mr. James Finlay, whom we hope to meet. Stir yourself now and write for us."

"I will, I will. Neal, there is no ink here. I remember that I used all my ink yesterday. Neal, fetch me ink from the shelf beside the window."

In a few minutes Micah's pen was travelling slowly over the paper. Neal could hear its spluttering and scratching. Suddenly, there was a noise of loud knocking at the door of the house. Donald started and laid down his pipe. Neal rose to his feet, and stood waiting for some order from his father. Micah stopped writing, and turned in his chair. All trace of nervousness and agitation had vanished from his face. His expression was gentle and joyous. He smiled.

"They have come to take me also," he said. "I am right glad. I shall not be indebted to the oppressor for my liberty. I shall be where a shepherd ought to be--with the sheep whom the wolf attacks."

Again came the noise of knocking, heavy, authoritative, threatening.

"Be quick, my son, and open the door. Bid those who enter welcome."

Neal went to the door, and opened it. Lord Dunseveric stood outside, the reins of his horse's bridle thrown over his arm, his riding whip in his hand.

"I suppose your father is within, Neal. I want to speak to him. Will you ask him if I may enter?"

"He bid me say that you were welcome," said Neal.

Lord Dunseveric stared at him in surprise. "How did he know who was at the door? But it does not matter. Show me where to tie my horse, Neal, and I will enter."

Neal led the way into the room where his father and his uncle sat.

Lord Dunseveric bowed to Micah Ward, and then, with a glance at Donald, said--

"The matter on which I wish to speak to you, sir, is somewhat private.

Is it your wish that this gentleman be present?"