Besieged

'You raped your half-sister?' he said, horrified. 'Aine was but a child.'

'She had nice little tits,' William replied. 'Besides, I count her no kin of mine, Da. Surely your whore could not be certain which of her lovers fathered her children.' He smiled again.

Shane Devers heard the mighty thundering of his heart in his ears. His temples throbbed fiercely. The world was red before his eyes, and then he felt a violent sharp pain slam inside of his head. With a cry he fell to the floor. He knew he was dying. His eyes desperately sought his eldest son. His breath was coming in shallow, short pants. He struggled to speak a final time. 'Forgive me, Kieran,' he rasped, and then he died with his last heroic effort.

There was a long silence, and then William Devers said, 'Well, that is that, is it not? Get out of my house, Kieran, and do not come back ever again. Be warned. I have taken care of the Catholics in Lisnaskea. I shall come to Maguire's Ford next.'

James Leslie caught the young man by his shirt front. 'Ye be warned, William Devers, put one foot, ye or yer minions, on land belonging to my wife, and ye'll be driven off wi nae mercy. I canna prevent ye from causing trouble here, but ye'll cause nae difficulties in Maguire's Ford. Trust me, laddie, ye dinna want Jemmie Leslie for yer enemy. I hae only just hae word from my cousin, King Charles, that he hae approved the transfer of the properties belonging to my wife to my two sons, Adam and Duncan Leslie. Yer a fool if ye think ye can rob my lads of their lands. I'd happily use that as an excuse to kill ye for what ye did to Mistress Fitzgerald, her lasses, and yer own da. Yer responsible for the death of Shane Devers, Sir William. Try to place the blame on anyone else, and I'll see the world knows the truth. For yer brother's sake, for the sake of the Deverses' good name, I'll say nought for now. I will nae hold yer family responsible for the actions of one villain, for the Deverses hae always been an honorable family. Do ye understand me, Sir William?' He loosed his grip on his antagonist's shirt-front, pushing him away with a sound of disgust.

William Devers's cold eyes surveyed the duke, half-afraid. His glance flicked swiftly to his elder half-brother, but Kieran's face was grief-stricken with their father's death. He knelt by the body, tears streaming down his handsome face, his hand tenderly protective on his father's head. Let him mourn the old man, William thought. He's gone, and good riddance. I am now master of Mallow Court. The knowledge sent a frisson of pleasure down his spine, but then Kieran looked up at him. His gaze was filled with both anger and pity.

'Don't look at me like that!' William almost screamed.

'God help you, Willy,' his elder sibling said wearily. 'God help you. I'd not have this sin on my conscience for all the world.'

'Get out!' Sir William Devers shouted at his half-brother. 'Get out, you filthy papist bastard!'

Kieran Devers arose from their father's body and struck his brother a blow upon his elegant chin, knocking him to the floor. His stepmother screeched, and ran to her son.

'I'll have the law on you, Kieran Devers,' she threatened.

'Oh, pray do, madame, and I shall tell them the truth of what happened last night in Lisnaskea. There are enough of your Protestants feeling burdened by their guilt who would gladly unload the onus of the horrors committed there on your son. Willy was never particularly popular for his arrogance would always overcome him when dealing with those good souls he considered his menials. The authorities may not believe the Catholics, although I suspect they would believe me, but they will certainly believe their own Protestant fellows. Remember, your precious son raped his fourteen-year- old half-sister before his companions, and then murdered her. 'Tis not a pretty picture, madame, especially as Aine Fitzgerald was known to be a decent lass. Many in the mob have daughters her age. Now, madame, I am going into your village to take the bodies of my half-sisters, and their mother, for burial. Should you, or that mongrel you bore my father attempt to stop me, I shall kill you. Is that quite understood, madame? Willy?' Kieran kicked his younger brother with his booted foot. 'Do you understand me, laddie?'

Sir William Devers groaned weakly.

'Good!' Kieran said. Then he bowed to his stepmother. 'Madame. I shall be at my father's funeral. If you try to prevent it, you will live to regret it.' He turned and left the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing as he descended the staircase.

A sardonic smile touched James Leslie's lips. This was a side of his son- in-law he had hitherto not seen. Kieran Devers was tougher than he had thought which boded to the good, for it would not be an easy life in the New World. Reaching out he aided William Devers to rise. Then he, too, bowed first to the mother, and then the son. 'Good day, madame, Sir William,' he said, and departed them. He found his son- in-law outside awaiting him. 'Do you think they will tell you when the funeral is to be, laddie?' he asked.

'They'll try to keep it from me, but I have allies in the house who will keep me informed,' Kieran said stonily.

'I'll ride wi ye into Lisnaskea to fetch the bodies of yer sisters and Mistress Fitzgerald,' the duke said.

'I'm grateful for the company, and the help,' came the reply.

They came into the village, and were shocked by the ruin they saw. Houses burned to the ground, half-burned, the church totally destroyed. The smell of death was everywhere, and yet the people were already rallying to rebuild. The Catholic families who remained alive had been gathered together in a cattle pen. James Leslie was appalled, and insisted they be set free at once.

'What the hell did ye intend doing wi them?' he demanded angrily.

'Sir William says they're to be killed, my lord,' Robert Morgan, the village blacksmith, said.

The duke looked into the pen which contained mostly women, children, and old men. 'Open the damned gate, let them gather what belongings they own that may have escaped the carnage, and allow them to leave Lisnaskea unharmed. Are ye such fools that ye truly believe God has smiled on yer murder and violence?'

'But my lord, they are papists. God doesn't care about the papists,' the smithy reasoned.

'And who was after telling ye that?' the duke said scornfully. 'For God's sake, man, we worship the same God, albeit in different ways.'

'Their God is an idol, my lord, and not our true God,' came the reply. 'Surely you understand that?'

James Leslie closed his eyes briefly. It did no good arguing with fools, he thought wearily. Would this kind of thing ever stop? His eyes snapped back open, cold and determined. 'Free those poor souls at once!' he thundered. 'I have far more authority than yer damned Sir Willy, and I'll fire what's left of this place if ye do not obey me at once!' Behind him his dozen clansmen glared with equal determination at the smithy, and the small group of men who had gathered about him.

The smithy considered defiance against this Scot, but then to his horror the duke spoke again, and his words were chilling.

'Would ye like to hae yer daughters suffer the same terrible fate as poor wee Aine Fitzgerald, man?'

'Open the pen and let them out,' Robert Morgan said. 'Let them take what is theirs, and leave Lisnaskea.'

'And nae harassment,' James Leslie cautioned the villagers. 'These are women, and bairns, and the old ones. Ye lived in peace wi them for years until ye were infected by others wi prejudice. Ye shared happy times, and mourned together over yer dead. Ye birthed children, and danced at each other's weddings. Remember those times, and nae what happened last night.' Then he turned to his own men, and ordered six of them to remain to oversee the freeing of the Catholic survivors while he, Kieran, and the others went to fetch the bodies of the Fitzgeralds.

They reached the lovely brick house and saw that its front door still hung