The Rebels of Ireland by Edward Rutherfurd Read Free Book Online Page B

would. Meanwhile, he would begin, if all went well, with a little foothold in the place.
    So he was in a cheerful mood as, coming to the Plain of Bird Flocks, he caught sight of the Catholic Walshes away to his left. He did not let their presence trouble him.
    Since that embarrassing first meeting, he had only encountered the Catholic lawyer occasionally. He suspected that Martin Walsh did not like him, though Walsh was far too much of a gentleman ever to show it. For Walsh’s Jesuitical son, he had only loathing. Of his two other children he knew nothing. But he bore families like the Walshes no special ill will. The fact was—you couldn’t escape it—that Walsh was a gentleman even if he was a papist. So long as he was loyal to the English crown—and Martin Walsh was certainly that—there was no need to dispossess them as if they were mere Irish. Pincher wasn’t quite certain what the fate of families like the Walshes should be. They’d be pushed quietly out of power, of course. Some, like the Jesuit Lawrence, would be dealt with in due course. Others would gradually be worn down. They were not the first priority.
    And then a happy thought struck him. By the time his nephew Barnaby Budge was a man of his own age, would Walsh’s younger son still be a papist, enjoying all the fruits of the Walsh family estate? No, he did not think so. Indeed, Pincher cheerfully considered, he could practically guarantee it. By then, to be sure, the Walshes and their kind would be finished.

    It was early in August when Orlando was told by his father: “You’re going to meet young Smith. The man your sister is to marry.”
    Orlando knew that his father had been busy with the matter ever since Anne and Lawrence had left for the continent. There had been discussions with his cousin Doyle, long talks with certain Dublin priests, and meetings with the Smiths themselves. After each of these negotiations, his father would return from Dublin looking preoccupied, but as to the substance of the discussions, his father had never divulged anything. So when his father told him that the young man was to come out to their house alone on a Saturday afternoon, spend the night there, and then go to Mass with them the following morning, he was highly excited, as well as full of joy for his sister.
    â€œI think you’ll like him,” his father said kindly.
    â€œOh, I’m sure I shall,” Orlando replied.
    And how carefully he had prepared himself. He had not forgotten his promise to his sister. No one should ever know about the clandestine meetings of the lovers. Neither by word nor by sign would he give anything away. When he met young Smith, he would look as if he had never seen him before in his life. Again and again, he went over it in his mind. He thought of every foolish slip he could make and prepared for them all. As the day approached, he felt nervous and excited; but he was sure of himself also. He would not let them down.
    He spent the morning with one of the farmhands. He was unloading a cartload of turves, brought down from a bog to the north, when he saw the figure in the distance, riding towards the house. His father was inside, and for a moment he wondered whether he should run out to meet young Smith, to let him know that his secret was safe and that he wouldn’t be giving him away. But after a moment’s hesitation, he decided that this might make Fintan suspicious and that it would be better to leave everything exactly as he’d planned it. So he turned round instead and went into the house, and found his father and told him that a stranger was approaching.
    It was his father, therefore, who went out through the door to greet the young man and call to the groom to take his horse, while Orlando, pretending to be shy, remained inside in the shadows of the hallway.
    From where he stood, it seemed to Orlando as if he were gazing along a tunnel towards the great gash of bright