shepherd’s cottage on the mountainside. There was a blazing fire in the hearth and hot brandy for everyone. The humble shepherd had no chairs, so they all stood. There were five men in attendance with Lady Fitzpatrick. Barry Gallagher’s news was met with cheers and hearty handshakes.
“Aye, but that makes for a Merry Christmas!” O’Donnell roared.
“If we continue to see progress like this, anything is possible,” said Addis McGrath, one of the oldest members of the groups.
India said nothing, observing the gaiety.
“Not even this can move you, Lady Fitzpatrick?” said Cian O’Donnell stepping over next to her.
“Oh, but I am happy, Mr. O’Donnell. My spirit soars,” she said.
Cian searched India’s eyes for a moment then looked at her lips.
India looked away quickly. Walking to the table, she unrolled a map. Automatically the men gathered around.
“Lady Fitzpatrick, may I begin by sharing something else newsworthy?” asked Jamie Kinsella, a tiny man whose short neck and leathery countenance resembled a turtle.
“Of course,” she said straightening up.
“Garrett was telling me about it today,” he said, looking around at the others proudly. “There is a rich Irish Catholic livin’ in the colony of Maryland by the name of Charles Carroll. He is a descended from the fierce rebels of Tipperary. Well, it seems he is rekindlin’ the old family tradition of rebellion once more, but now in the New World. Carroll has been writin’ articles about British domination in America and stirrin’ up a hornet’s nest over there.”
“Good,” said Addis McGrath. “We’ll throw ‘em out on both sides of the Atlantic!”
India gazed out the window. She was trying to remember something she heard once about a revolution in a far away land, but she could not capture the memory. It was a woman’s voice she heard. Shaking her head, she turned back to the table saying, “I wish them luck in the Colonies, but I will see a free Ireland first!”
“Here, here!” they cheered.
“Gentlemen,” she announced, bringing them back to matters at hand. “I fear we have overstayed our welcome in the Ballyhouras. We must discuss our next encampment and target.”
She leaned over the map and a long lock of blonde hair came loose from her chignon and fell onto the map. The men looked surprised and somewhat uneasy. It was at times like this, that the repparees remembered Lady Fitzpatrick was a woman. With bittersweet yearning, O’Donnell looked at her and wondered if there was any other woman on earth who could lead a rebellion and at the same time completely steal men’s hearts.
* * *
Watching the men rejoice touched India, and she decided to organize a celebration to thank them for their loyalty and success. A large gathering of repparees, full of drink and distraction would be a perfect target for the enemy, so discretion was of the utmost importance.
After much thought, India decided to approach the wife of Addis McGrath about hosting the celebration. McGrath was from the neighboring hamlet of Roslow. Being older, he was well established and had a large cottage on a lake in the country, affording plenty of room and privacy for a gathering.
India decided to be completely discreet. The repparees would receive notice only a few hours before the festivity. There must be no time for informants to leak information about the gathering.
The day before Christmas, India wrapped herself in a heavy shawl and started for Roslow with Jamie Kinsella, head of intelligence for the rebellion. Kinsella was meeting a contact at a tavern in town to collect information on where the British were quartering in the next county.
India loved to see this tiny, quick-witted man in action. His techniques were unprecedented. Kinsella would loiter in villages, near taverns and soldiers quarters, masquerading as a feeble-minded innocent. The soldiers and informants,
“Aye, but that makes for a Merry Christmas!” O’Donnell roared.
“If we continue to see progress like this, anything is possible,” said Addis McGrath, one of the oldest members of the groups.
India said nothing, observing the gaiety.
“Not even this can move you, Lady Fitzpatrick?” said Cian O’Donnell stepping over next to her.
“Oh, but I am happy, Mr. O’Donnell. My spirit soars,” she said.
Cian searched India’s eyes for a moment then looked at her lips.
India looked away quickly. Walking to the table, she unrolled a map. Automatically the men gathered around.
“Lady Fitzpatrick, may I begin by sharing something else newsworthy?” asked Jamie Kinsella, a tiny man whose short neck and leathery countenance resembled a turtle.
“Of course,” she said straightening up.
“Garrett was telling me about it today,” he said, looking around at the others proudly. “There is a rich Irish Catholic livin’ in the colony of Maryland by the name of Charles Carroll. He is a descended from the fierce rebels of Tipperary. Well, it seems he is rekindlin’ the old family tradition of rebellion once more, but now in the New World. Carroll has been writin’ articles about British domination in America and stirrin’ up a hornet’s nest over there.”
“Good,” said Addis McGrath. “We’ll throw ‘em out on both sides of the Atlantic!”
India gazed out the window. She was trying to remember something she heard once about a revolution in a far away land, but she could not capture the memory. It was a woman’s voice she heard. Shaking her head, she turned back to the table saying, “I wish them luck in the Colonies, but I will see a free Ireland first!”
“Here, here!” they cheered.
“Gentlemen,” she announced, bringing them back to matters at hand. “I fear we have overstayed our welcome in the Ballyhouras. We must discuss our next encampment and target.”
She leaned over the map and a long lock of blonde hair came loose from her chignon and fell onto the map. The men looked surprised and somewhat uneasy. It was at times like this, that the repparees remembered Lady Fitzpatrick was a woman. With bittersweet yearning, O’Donnell looked at her and wondered if there was any other woman on earth who could lead a rebellion and at the same time completely steal men’s hearts.
* * *
Watching the men rejoice touched India, and she decided to organize a celebration to thank them for their loyalty and success. A large gathering of repparees, full of drink and distraction would be a perfect target for the enemy, so discretion was of the utmost importance.
After much thought, India decided to approach the wife of Addis McGrath about hosting the celebration. McGrath was from the neighboring hamlet of Roslow. Being older, he was well established and had a large cottage on a lake in the country, affording plenty of room and privacy for a gathering.
India decided to be completely discreet. The repparees would receive notice only a few hours before the festivity. There must be no time for informants to leak information about the gathering.
The day before Christmas, India wrapped herself in a heavy shawl and started for Roslow with Jamie Kinsella, head of intelligence for the rebellion. Kinsella was meeting a contact at a tavern in town to collect information on where the British were quartering in the next county.
India loved to see this tiny, quick-witted man in action. His techniques were unprecedented. Kinsella would loiter in villages, near taverns and soldiers quarters, masquerading as a feeble-minded innocent. The soldiers and informants,
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