“He’s in! We’ve won!” shouted Harry.1
“Sure, ’tis a proud day!” said
Gearoid. “You were right, Mick. ‘Put ‘em in to get ‘em out.’2 It worked!”
“Of course I was right. They’ll bloody well have to release
McGuinness now,” answered Collins.
It was May 9, 1917. The jubilant crowds left reluctantly, late
though it was. Only the three friends
remained.
The weather had turned blustery. A cold rain, coming in gusts as from a
broken spout spewing in all directions, tested the patience and determination
of those seeking the comfort of house and hearth. Yes, it was May. But in
Ireland no one pays attention to the seasons or expects much from them.
“Sure, we haven’t a climate,” an old man
said, “only weather. An’ the devil,
himself, doesn’t know how that ‘ill behave.”
“We’ve got to find a place soon or we’ll
be spending the night in this barn,” said Gearoid.
“I could do with a sup o’ tea right
now.” Collins yawned, unusual for him.
“A sup o’ tea is it? A wee drop and a good feed would be more to
my liking,” answered Gearoid.
“Sure!
I know the very place,” said Harry rubbing his hands together as the
light of anticipation brightened his handsome face. “Come lads, pile into the old donkey cart. Let’s be off.” Harry started the engine.
The old Ford roared, backfired, and belted a cloud of smoke.
“My God!
Is this contraption safe?” asked Gearoid.
“I take it you’re referring to my
limousine? It got you this far, didn’t
it?”
“Aye, by the grace of God and your
mother’s prayers, no doubt,” answered Gearoid.
The banter continued as they sped along
the dark county roads.
When they had left the town of Longford
well behind, Mícheál spoke, “Where, in the name of God, are you taking us,
man?” His West Cork accent rising and falling like the waves on the strand at
Rosscarbery.
“Just you wait and see.” And Harry wouldn’t say another word.
“Are we not on the road to
Edgeworthstown?”
“Could be,” answered Gearoid. “But, as Harry says, let’s wait and
see. The old boy is full of
surprises. One thing I can say,” he
continued as he tried to make out the direction in which they were
heading, “is that we’re in Colum’s
country, Padraic Colum that is.”
That was enough for Mícheál. At once he started:
“Oh to have a little house
To own the hearth and stool and all,
The heaped-up sods upon the fire
The pile of turf against the wall.
To have a clock with weights and chains
And pendulum swinging up and down.
A
dresser filled with shining delft
Speckled and white and blue and brown.”
He paused as if the telling of the tale of The Old Woman of The Roads was too
much for him. After a moment, he
sighed. “Would that she had her little
house. Ireland has so many homeless
ones.” Then, his mood quickly
changed. “An’ isn’t this what its all
about. Let’s get the right men in an’
the bloody English out of this country once and for all.”
Harry Boland, like his closest friend,
Mick Collins, was a man of great physical beauty. And, like his friend, he was highly intelligent. Both were men of integrity. They were alike in their boundless energy
and charming personalities.
Light-hearted and full of fun, they loved a good joke and a rough
game. They were known for their
kindness and generosity. But there was
one big difference; Harry was head over heels in love with “the most beautiful
woman in Ireland.” Mick’s only love was
Ireland, herself, Roisin Dubh.
The door of The Greville Arms was opened
by Briget, the housemaid.
“Good evening and welcome Mr. Boland,
sir.” She stepped back, as soon as she
recognized Harry. “’Tis a terrible
night, altogether. Come in, come in,
gentlemen.”
“Are the ladies in bed?” Harry asked.
“Oh no, sir. I don’t think so.”
“Ladies, is it now? What have you got us into?” Gearoid,
wide-eyed in disbelief, whispered to Harry.
“Ah, don’t be afraid, man. They won’t bite.”
“Come along into the parlor. There’s a warm fire within. An’ I’ll be telling Miss Kitty you’re here,
sir.” Briget led the way to the comfort
of the large room used for the entertainment of the many friends and guests of
the Kiernan family.
As she threw the door wide open, the
happy dancing flames of the peat fire drew and quickened the steps of the tired
men.
Pulling off his leather gloves and
tossing them on the nearest table, Collins made straight for the hearth. Then holding his hands over the rainbow
glow, he exclaimed, “There’s nothing in the world like a turf fire. Symbol of true Gaelic hospitality.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” said
Harry.
As the men were making themselves
comfortable, Briget hurried off to tell Miss Kitty that Mr. Boland was
below. “An’ he has two other gentlemen
with him, Miss.”
“Tell the others, will you please,
Briget. And we’ll be needing some
refreshments.”
While awaiting the ladies, Collins had
time to take in the details of the room.
In the center of the polished wooden
floor was a rich multi-colored carpet.
The furniture was oak. An
exquisitely carved table in the middle of the room was flanked by twelve
matching chairs. Several smaller tables
with vases of fresh flowers, knickknacks, or books, a long sofa, and a variety
of other chairs were arranged in various groupings around the room. Meant to accommodate large gatherings, mused
Collins. Against the wall and facing the
fireplace, a grand sideboard displayed the best part of the family’s silverware.
There was a knock on the door. Maud, the youngest of the four Kiernan
sisters, entered. “Good evening and
welcome, Gentlemen.”
The men arose and Harry stepped to meet
her introducing his friends.
“Please don’t disturb yourselves,” she
said as they shook hands. “My sisters
will be along presently. I’ll just get
this table set. You must be
famished.” Maud, down to earth, always
atuned to reality, set to work as the men resumed their places.
Kitty was the next to enter. Her dark-blue eyes were shining as they met
Harry’s. She hesitated. Immediately he was beside her.
“Darling, it’s so wonderful to see
you.” He enveloped her in a warm
embrace. Then, looking down into her
upturned face, he paused a moment to savor the vision of loveliness before tasting
her cherry lips. “Darling Kit,” he
whispered as he finally released her, “I love you so much.”
Blushing, Kit said, “Aren’t you going to
introduce me to your friends?”
Harry took her hand and guided her toward
the fireplace where Mick was standing.