Chapter Two

`` Sleeping under the Cross’’

``I Missed the Villian! Damn them, Damn them all!''

Hugh O Neill Mor spurred his horse, ``Come on lad! Harder Rosc!’’ his saber flashing, as his mount splashed across the brook.

How many where there? 7 or 8?

Hugh heard another shot. No time, to use his pistol again.

Now! The rider watched as his sword struck true.

It caught the Blackguard's shoulder Hugh smashed the pommel back down, on the Man below him.

Did the swine fall? No time! Hugh drove against another one of the banditos lashing out with his sword. This one was luckier, and caught him with his blade. Catching him at his thigh.

Oh Holy Mary it hurt. The horseman lashed out at his foe. Only to be met with strong parry. It would not be so easy now. stuck his spurs, with his good leg. His horse would have to be his weapon now

Rosc flung forward, almost throwing his rider. Yet what would come close to demounting Hugh would knock his foe clean over.

Near half a ton of horseflesh came down, on the sailor

Another of the blackguards beaten!!! Hurrooo!!!!

How many of the rogues were there? Curse the smoke!

Hugh realised had ridden further, and faster then the rest of his band. The price of a fine horse Curosity won hom over for a moment. Hugh looked at his leg. It was bad! The rider gritted his teeth. Was their time to load a pistol? No. Yet he had however got behind, the villains.

The Young Prince tightened his grip on the reins.

``Come on Rosc.''

`` An Lámh Dhearg Abú!’ was screamed afore Hugh the chant went up!

`` The red hand, Victory ‘’

The riders sword was a man, walking in the surf, but splashing blood rather then brine. Hugh caught another one of the brigands. His blade the winner again Now he could see his men, Earning their keep! Pistol shot, hit some ones horse, there was a yelp. It would be over soon. A horse was no victory,

``NO, mercy no, no parole Sir. Gawd sir, Mercy sir save us, sir Mercy’’

There were 4 now. It would be a slaughter.

His men, looked at him, with sword and pistol they

``No! No! Mercy Please Sir, have mercy! For the love of Gawd Sir! Please the Love of God begging you Sir?’’

The locals are here. They were alerted by the smoke. They took their blessed time

``Enough!’’ It was finished.

The Sailors knew it was over. They might chance their arms against the locals. Against him and his men It was another tale.

The scion of high Kings looked about the place. A wee fishing village. They had planned to to stop there, for something to eat, water the horses, and rest. A small Chapel whitewashed, and swept.

The Chapel was circled by little houses, Sun dried brick and the thatch. Dung heaps and fish drying on racks. Honest folk, humble and God fearing.

Now the best thing that could be said was, at least the smoke covered the stench.

The Brigands wanted what here? Beef, and the chapel candlesticks, and any poor virgins, they could get their hands on? Had they even made a plan? Not that many of them? Where were the fishermen? Their wives and children were dead or bleeding. Why did they not see the smoke?

Hmm

He looked over his prisoners. Sailors. Heretics. Dutchmen or Saxons.

They had probably slipped in during the night. Then the Sailors waited until the menfolk went to sea. had struck. A village full of Women and Children. Perhaps the odd Priest, and an Auld man.

A slaughter

Hugh surveyed the Sailors again

Would their comrades avenge them? Where they deserters? Pirates?

``Where is your ship? How many of you?’’ Demanded the man, with the guns

A man on horseback, approached, them. One of the locals Probably from the next village over. They would have seen the smoke. They gathered up there pikes, and whatever guns they had.

Let our friend see, you, all of you

Following his lead, his men, tugged off their hoods. They did not sheath their swords, yet.

``Who are you?’’ Demanded the rider `` what are you doing here?’’ His sword drawn , and his eyes a barrage behind the rider were a score of men, with Pikes, and a few flintlocks. Fishermen, cousins, and communicants.

The reply would have to come, from Juan. The O’ Neill did not answer to demands. the wound on his thigh, was starting to spike

This is Don Hugh Mor, son of Brien Mor. I am Juan rial, his sworn man . We are his men. We caught these men whilst they murdered, raped and stole.

You are?

The newcomer took off his hat.

`` I am your servant Sir. I am Patrice De Vega’’ Dipping slightly

Oh God! The pain, it had wandered away, and now had returned. Like the prodigal son he would almost be rather eating swill.

DeVega, trotted round them. When De Vega saw the Church, started shouting.

Oh it hurt! Hugh watched as Juan dismounted and walked toward De Vega. Devega was roaring, screaming. Now he was spitting at the prisoners.

Juan was trying to get him to calm down. Juan was slipping into his native dialect The rest of the locals had arrived. Oh it hurt so much

Hugh leaned over, his horse. he had to vomit De Vega, was shouting to his men. Juan was trying to restrain him. Juan and Devega were shouting about the prisoners Who were whimpering and mewling. One of De Vega’s men, had walked up to the prisoners, and was shouting another followed. The prisoners started shouting now. Pleading and calling.

It hurt, his leg hurt so much

``Enough!’’

Hugh fired his pistol.

He didn’t even have to aim. The sailor caught his eye, for a second.

He would never see anything again

Juan told his men, to stand aside. The locals, had there fill. The screaming stopped after a while. The locals, revenge, lasted a bit longer.

The O’Neill got off his horse, and he lay down, the grass was wet, his eyes were so heavy

The Don, was stirring. He was shaking himself out of his fever

Hugh had been sleeping now for a few hours. It had gotten dark. It was not a good sign.

It foretold sickness. ``Don, Hugh, Hugh,’’ he asked, and squeezed his hand. ``Hugh.

They had not been able to wake him. His men had moved their chief onto a blanket, and lit a fire. They kept watch on him,

They had grim work to do. The dead had to be buried. They were Christian. They buried the dead. Old women and their grandchildren. Mothers and one very pretty maid, who had been defiled. The chapel she been baptized in had suffered the same. They were in the hands of the savior now.

Was Hugh ?

Their earthly master’s eyes opened and he murmured something,`` I am tired. Juan. I am tired and weary leave me be’’

Don, he said rasping. He squeezed the hand hard. We are going to move you. ``You are not well. We will leave this place, and seek refuge at your Cousin, the Don Neil of ‘’

…….

We have prepared a horse, for you.

``Come lift him.’’ Juan,now bore his masters burdern and his men, picked up Hugh lifting him onto a stretcher. The men had liberated the cleanest woolens from the village.

The locals took off their hats, and DeVega bowed slightly.

``We will remember him of course in our prayers and in the holy sacrifice of the mass’’

Thank you, Juan bowed back. ``We were glad to help. We are returning to our Kinsman. We travel overnight; we can get there by morning. Don Neil of …. Will want to know what happened here. You have done yourself credit sir.

You know this is not over. The men, who did this deed may be back. Send your women and children inland. We will be back, with more men. If they come back, we will be ready for them

Remember it was Hugh O ‘Neill who avenged your kinsmen and countrymen’’

``God save you, God save you all. There was no more to be said. Juan slung his foot into the stirrup and clambered onto his horse.

It should not have been like this. A few days of good They had caught deer, and Big eared Hare. They should be merry and sunburnt. He should have been winking at Maidens in the village. Not praying for their souls.

The sailors had got what they deserved. Yet Hugh should not have broken his word like that. Even, if they were just heretics and rapists. When Hugh is better, he should say something.

A man’s word means something. Hugh’s should dam well mean something more.

He looked back at Hugh. He had a deathly pallor. He was shivering. It did not bode well.

Sitting in his saddle, Juan Rial. began a quiet prayer looking up at the great cross, of the sky.

Eloise Hermet sister of Christ had always loved the smell of Tobacco. It was perhaps a failing. She would have to remember it to her confessor. Yet for the moment, she breathed in deeply.

Outside someone was smoking. It was a finely cured blend.

A few paces away, her companion Sister Innes silently recited the rosary.

The Don O Neill and his handsome wife , and her Spinster aunt sat afore her. The Aunt whispered something to her niece.

Eloise allowed herself a smile at the absurdity of it.

Innes is enough to protect my reputation. It takes two women to protect my benefactor from me.

It was a strange mix. Wild Irish mores, refined with Spanish manners.

Eloise’s host spoke. ``Sister H'elois, he began, offering her the constanant, for the vowel, he had lost. It is agreed, then, you will tutor my daughter?’’

``Yes Sir’’

Eloise was glad to be obedient

`` Good, I will pay well. You and the Order. Your sisters will prosper from our association. I am pleased my Brother was able to recommend you. The Sisters can be proud of their work. They have schooled the flower of Catholic maidenhood across the world. The Ban Donneill will find quarters here. For you, Oh and I will see you are fed, and clothed, as befits my Christian duty, and oh you'll need Capal''

Now it was Eloise turn to test her mettle. Capal? Ah Oui cheval! A horse. Eloise

Her host smiled at her returning the compliment. They were not so Spanish in their manners then.

``It is done then.’’ Concluded the Don. ``I insist you accept the courtesy of a nights lodging at My home. You and your Sister. Sister Eloise can return to the convent on the morrow, with my wife's Aunt. She wishes spend some time among the Sisters. ‘’

Of course, you will join us, at my table tonight. You shall not want for Bread, or Meat.

Modestly. Eloise nodded.

``If you will allow me, to retire now?’’

``Of course’’

Eloise looked over her new master again. A slave to manners her host rose, to let her depart. The Don’s skin was sunwashed. The consequence of a lifetime riding to the hunt.Looking over the foremens shoulders. This was not a perfumed courtier Topped with dark hair that was common as the lapin had been on her father’s little farm. The Don was tall though, as befit a gentleman a head taller then the Gascons . Eloise had played with as a lass

# Loitering in her hostss eyes there was a weariness. It was why one can see weeds of grey sprouting in his hair. Eloise hair would remain to the world as the Trinity was a mstery.

The door was opened. Eloise watched the large man, who attended the door, step backwards and bow. His high boots, would not have been faulted in Versailles. Ash wool breeches, a stout leather belt supported a unflinching rapier. Then the leather cloak. The simple leather cloak and hood, that Patricos, must be born with.

A maid, curtseyed, and asked Eloise and Ines to follow her. They trio made their way down the staircase, and into a courtyard. The day was going to be warm. There guest quarters, were, well better then she had expected. Since the....No she would not think of that.

The bed was a board of ash on brown bricks. A woolen rug decorated the floor and more woolen blankets furnished the bed. There was a Yankee stove in one corner of the room. A chest, from the south. Wood shipped up and dragged across the plains. Indeed as the Sisters of charity had been.

A crucifix, reminded one and all that this house was under the eyes of Almighty God.

The maid gave another curtsey and left. Eloise joined her sister, in the Rosary.

The smells of cooking, added to the many distractions of the world. As the day grew weak

The maid returned. The meal was ready. They were lead to the court yard. Their places, were by the hostess. Quite respectable. Joining the table of their hosts, would be the elder daughter There would be some tenants. A few kinsmen, and the senior men of the estate. The Stable master . The Huntsmaster. As well as one or two neighbours and their wives.

They had killed the fattened calf.

Eloise shared in the thanks, for their meal. Giving her praises to Him gladly. The torches were lit. There was wine, but her hosts drank some kind of beer. The bread was soft, and rich. The beef was even better. There was game too. Lapin? no hare? Tasted slighty different, a sauce? Oh and geese.

Her host, smiled, and nodded at her. Oh they ate well. Simply perhaps none of the good sauces of her far of …. Yet still they dined well. Linen, covered the tables. Torches lit the diners, and servants busied themselves. They drank from good pewter, and earthware jugs.

Eloise was content.

The piper took his place by the fire prepared his instrument. A musicians skilled fingers, gliding along the pipe, a thoughtful ear, studied the noise. The piper started to earn his pay playing a sad song. It was a little jarring, observed the Nun. The day had been a fair one. The sun bright but modest. The Don’s business with her had been concluded well. There was neither stormcloud or smoke scarring the sky

On the other hand, better to start the evening sad, then finish it that way. Bitter beer before the sweet wines

A young lad one of the tenant’s Son joined the piper and he began to sing...

It was a sad song. A song of loss. A song of dashed hopes and scattered armies.

A song of smashed thrones Choruses of Widows and verses of burning homes. Lines about famine, and orphans. Added to a chorus of exile and despair

Yet the melody changed. The bare earth sprouted anew. It was a different crop then the one sewn

It song of birth A painful birth but the child, grew strong Sweeping the Indios aside.

The Strong son had flourished. Like the cattle, the sea of cattle which which made the land

The piper, then struck up another tune. Eloise rose from the table, In her heart called upon the grace of the Virgin.....

Eloise prayers were quieter with then the rooster. The maid, came, to empty her pot. Then she returned with a jug of warm water. To break the fast of night, she was furnished with bread and wine. Her solitary sleep her hosts, waiting in the courtyard.

The Sun, was young, and innocent. In the distance there was the dust of Horses. Spurred to the gallop by determined men. The hooves rumbled like thunder. Alas the rain, would not be

``Don Neil, Don Neil!’’The shouts came.

Eloise, kissed her cross. Dust and shouting where the herald of disaster, as sure as the north wind brought the winter snows. The rider, was recognised and bade enter

Her Host, had not been idle. He was rushing to the door, clutching his saber. Demanding action and Arms, from his men

The rider bowed. Don Neil, Don Neill. ``We were hunting; we came across some sailors plundering the fishing village, a day’s ride away. With the locals we drove them off. However we fear there ship lurks among us like a serpent in the cornfield. Your Cousin, Hugh Mor is ill with fever.’’

Eloise prayed that her host would be forgiven for his momentary lapse.

The Don’s self indulgence was only momentary. Alerted he shouted, to his servants.

Arms were gathered, sentries posted. Steel from pike and sabre tip flashed in the sunshine, like the smiles of maidens. It drew the eye.

The rest of the party arrived at the house. There were perhaps half a score of them.

On horseback. Young men. The followers of a Gentleman. The Myrmidons to an Achilles

One horse, had been burdened with the body of Hugh, Mor. Eloise watched as the men, lifted their wounded leader gently off his mount. Hugh’s chest rose and fell. That was a good sign. The paleness troubled Eloise.

The Allmighty and all seeing received a silent prayer from his humblest servant. The daughter of Christ knew a great task, awaited her. The young man’s body was in mortal danger. A priest would attend to his soul. The earthly matter was hers.

The Mistress of the House, did not neglect her duties either. She had hurried to Eloise side

``Sister our nephew is sick. We have sent for a priest. Your prayers and assistance, we beg you. Your order is known for its craft with the sick’’

My most pressing duty, and my great pleasure Eloise assured her host, and master

They had taken the young man, out of the He had been brought to a good room. Full of air and swept. A fire had been lit. Good

Eloise observed her charge, Hugh

He was handsome. He was quite handsome. She found her eyes wandering away, looking at his chest. She remembered her duties and vows. That would be the last lapse.

The Women of the Household, had removed his breaches. They had covered his manhood, with cloth. Eloise looked at the wound. It was beginning to turn foul.

She remembered the teachings her sisters had impressed on her. The wound was to be cleaned. She called for water. Quickly Water any water. The maid brought her some water that was being boiled for cooking.

It would do. Dousing the cloth in water, she began to clean. Hugh stirred as the heat pressed against in thigh. Eloise took her time. She was washed the wound. She called for Wine. One of the most pious and wisest sister she knew insisted on the washing of wounds with wine. Like the Wedding feast at Canan. Water and Wine, and prayers, and the savior would do his work

The Maid like Eloise did not shrink from her duty.

Eloise began to stitch the wound. The matter was out of her hands now.

She looked at her patients head. He was so handsome. His eyes remained concealed A few days growth of beard covered a strong jaw. His ragged beard almost covered a slight scar on his cheek. His hair reached for his shoulders.

She could smell Tobacco

`` Tell me again, what happened?’’

``We were riding after deer. It must have been the third or fourth hour, after the noon. We thought we would stop at this wee fishing village. As we ride up, we see smoke, its quiet. Too quiet, where are the women? Where are the animals? It was as quiet and still as stone

Hugh saw it and he knew something was wrong. He rode in, drew his sabre and we followed. There were these sailors there. Raping and burning. I guess they wanted the church silver. Hugh thought them. Killed a few. We beat them , but Hugh got hurt. ‘’

Juan, blew smoke… Eloise asked for forbearance, and forgiveness

``There is a ship offshore somewhere. Lurking like a wolf. Perhaps he has run into the forest

He has feasted on our lambs’’