only making an effort if his master’s whip reminded him of what he was there to do. Both human and animal were saturated, neither with adequate covering to keep out the very wetting rain. Not so his passengers, nor the remaining parcels. The Haineses were snug inside beneath a blanket, a tarpaulin covered the trunk and Keva’s precious goods.
Conversation inside the carriage was scant. Jack was feeling bilious having overdosed on the local brew. Hannah felt similar, although not for the same reason and Maggie wished she was back in Neston. There were so many things she wanted to do back home. Home. She had spent more years of her life in England than she had in this country, Ireland, the place that she had always thought of as home. It came to her then that it wasn’t; it was just the place where she was born. It was situation and circumstance that decreed she was to grow up in Killala. The elder daughter of cottiers, she had known what it was like to be poor. But now, thanks to Miss Rosemary she was wealthy and making this trip back to Ireland seemed somehow all wrong. What was she going to find when they reached their little hamlet? Her mother, friends and sister would all be gone. It was dragging up the past for no good reason, better if they had stayed in Llandudno with its genteel buildings and golden sands.
The carriage suddenly lurched and juddered and the occupants were thrown onto the floor. Rebel neighed indignantly at whatever had caused his delay.
“What’s going on?” shouted Jack angrily, as he picked himself up and helped Maggie and Hannah up again. He craned his neck through the window to find himself staring into the barrel of a well-polished rifle.
“Good morning, Sir, Ladies. Sorry to have to inconvenience you on your travels, but I would like you to disembark from your carriage while we carry out a search.”
Two soldiers, their helmets and capes running with water from the continuing rain, sat astride their horses beside the carriage. Keva had jumped down in terror and was waiting for his chance to run, but the soldier who hadn’t spoken yet had his rifle trained on him.
“We have information that weapons are being transported along this route, so our orders are to stop all vehicles that pass along this way.”
“So that gives yer leave ter stop law-abiding citizens and search their possessions. Is that what yer tellin’ me?”
“Look Sir, we can do this politely or we can cause offence. You choose. But I insist you get down from the carriage, though we will allow the ladies to sit out of the rain. You, driver, get up aloft and start handing down whatever is under that cover.”
Keva rushed to do as he was ordered. First the trunk was passed down to Jack and then the three oddly-shaped parcels; one a bolt of fabric for a farmer’s wife, another a replacement head for a pitchfork and the third a shiny large kettle. The soldiers grunted their apologies after searching through their trunk and told Keva to be quick about reloading and to get the carriage on its way.
Throughout this, Maggie sat with Hannah, silently fuming. The indignity of having to show the contents of their luggage, especially her and Hannah’s underwear, was an unwelcome intrusion into their lives. She could feel the familiar red mist starting to appear in front of her eyes. She began to get up from her seat, gathering the folds of her skirt to her so that she could easily manage to jump down, but Jack put his hand up to stop her. He knew what Maggie could be like when her temper was aroused.
“We’re to go on our way now, Maggie. Isn’t that so, Lieutenant? I’ll just help the driver to reload his parcels, then we’ll be on our way m’dear.”
The soldiers saluted and rode off back towards Longford, leaving the two men to heave the trunk and parcels back on top of the carriage again. Rebel had welcomed the break from his journey, contentedly chewing on a clump of grass at the side of the road.
“A good
Conversation inside the carriage was scant. Jack was feeling bilious having overdosed on the local brew. Hannah felt similar, although not for the same reason and Maggie wished she was back in Neston. There were so many things she wanted to do back home. Home. She had spent more years of her life in England than she had in this country, Ireland, the place that she had always thought of as home. It came to her then that it wasn’t; it was just the place where she was born. It was situation and circumstance that decreed she was to grow up in Killala. The elder daughter of cottiers, she had known what it was like to be poor. But now, thanks to Miss Rosemary she was wealthy and making this trip back to Ireland seemed somehow all wrong. What was she going to find when they reached their little hamlet? Her mother, friends and sister would all be gone. It was dragging up the past for no good reason, better if they had stayed in Llandudno with its genteel buildings and golden sands.
The carriage suddenly lurched and juddered and the occupants were thrown onto the floor. Rebel neighed indignantly at whatever had caused his delay.
“What’s going on?” shouted Jack angrily, as he picked himself up and helped Maggie and Hannah up again. He craned his neck through the window to find himself staring into the barrel of a well-polished rifle.
“Good morning, Sir, Ladies. Sorry to have to inconvenience you on your travels, but I would like you to disembark from your carriage while we carry out a search.”
Two soldiers, their helmets and capes running with water from the continuing rain, sat astride their horses beside the carriage. Keva had jumped down in terror and was waiting for his chance to run, but the soldier who hadn’t spoken yet had his rifle trained on him.
“We have information that weapons are being transported along this route, so our orders are to stop all vehicles that pass along this way.”
“So that gives yer leave ter stop law-abiding citizens and search their possessions. Is that what yer tellin’ me?”
“Look Sir, we can do this politely or we can cause offence. You choose. But I insist you get down from the carriage, though we will allow the ladies to sit out of the rain. You, driver, get up aloft and start handing down whatever is under that cover.”
Keva rushed to do as he was ordered. First the trunk was passed down to Jack and then the three oddly-shaped parcels; one a bolt of fabric for a farmer’s wife, another a replacement head for a pitchfork and the third a shiny large kettle. The soldiers grunted their apologies after searching through their trunk and told Keva to be quick about reloading and to get the carriage on its way.
Throughout this, Maggie sat with Hannah, silently fuming. The indignity of having to show the contents of their luggage, especially her and Hannah’s underwear, was an unwelcome intrusion into their lives. She could feel the familiar red mist starting to appear in front of her eyes. She began to get up from her seat, gathering the folds of her skirt to her so that she could easily manage to jump down, but Jack put his hand up to stop her. He knew what Maggie could be like when her temper was aroused.
“We’re to go on our way now, Maggie. Isn’t that so, Lieutenant? I’ll just help the driver to reload his parcels, then we’ll be on our way m’dear.”
The soldiers saluted and rode off back towards Longford, leaving the two men to heave the trunk and parcels back on top of the carriage again. Rebel had welcomed the break from his journey, contentedly chewing on a clump of grass at the side of the road.
“A good
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