Cave of Secrets by Morgan Llywelyn Read Free Book Online

each other,’ Ginger Whiskers pointed out. ‘The Lord Deputy decided to make an example of Boyle for defrauding the Crown. He fined the earl fifteen thousand pounds for questionable practices in the diocese of Lismore. He also forced him to move the elaborate family tomb he had built in the heart of St Patrick’s Cathedral. Now it gathers dust in a side aisle.’
    ‘Wentworth has made a bitter enemy of the Earl of Cork,’ Plum Waistcoat warned. ‘Boyle will turn the entire government against him. And he knows just which strings to pull, which debts to call in. Boyle has a whole string of moneylenders working for him, you know. He’s even loaned money to King Charles.’
    Pipe Smoker summed up the situation. ‘There are bad times ahead, my friends. Bad times indeed. I advise you to keep your heads below the parapet. We are merely pawns in larger games.’
    William Flynn looked around the table. Nobody said anything . After a while he got up and left the coffee house.
    ‘There goes a desperate man,’ Harsh Voice remarked as the door closed behind him.
    ‘These are desperate times,’ said Ginger Whiskers.
    * * *
    Leaving the cove behind, Donal led Tom along the coast. The waters of the bay were still rough. Great breakers deposited mountains of foam and scud wherever they touched land. Ragged clouds raced across an otherwise blue sky. There were several places where Tom tried to stop for a moment and enjoy the view. Donal, who had seen it all many times before, trotted on. Tom had to run to catch up with him.
    Tom felt a growing excitement. He had never met a king before. Even his father had never met a king, though William Flynn spoke of King Charles as if he were a personal friend.
    At its best the way was rough and broken. The boys climbed up and down steep slopes and made their way along the crumbling edges of unstable cliffs, where the ground threatened to collapse beneath their feet at any moment. Caught between sea and sky, they moved through a magical, ever-shifting light that made it impossible to judge distances.
    ‘Mind you keep an eye on the path,’ warned Donal.
    ‘I don’t see any path.’
    Donal laughed. He was as agile as a wild goat. Tom twice skinned his knees and once narrowly avoided breaking his ankle. ‘Do we have far to go?’ he panted.
    ‘Not very,’ Donal assured him. ‘It only seems like a long way because you’re not used to it.’
    Tom had just about decided to turn around when Donal announced, ‘Here we are.’
    Ahead lay a marshy area studded with clumps of willow bushes like miniature islands. Through this wetland a little river emptied into the bay. The stream flowed sleepily along, in no hurry to reach the sea. By contrast the willows were bristling with energy. Wind trailed long fingers through their branches, turning the slender leaves first to show their brilliant green side, then reversing to silver. Shining waves of green and silver followed one another in constant motion.
    Tom was entranced by the sight. He almost failed to notice that Donal had turned inland to follow the course of the river. He had to run to catch up.
    As they followed a footbeaten track along the riverbank the sound of the bay gradually receded into the distance. The air grew very still.
    In the reedy shallows a solitary heron waited, immobile, to spear an unsuspecting fish. The bird was so involved in its task it did not blink as the boys walked past.
    When they came to a bend in the river Donal’s pace increased. Tom felt his own heart beat faster.
    A short distance beyond the bend, steep hills rose on either side of a narrow valley. Nestled in the valley was a handful of stone cabins whitewashed with lime. They had been built with their backs to a hill and their fronts to the sun. Their roofs were thatched with reeds securely pegged down. A round, stone bake-oven stood at a safe distance from the dwellings. Between the cabins and the river Tom sawa clutter of lobster pots and fishing nets and