The Shannon Shark by George Edwardson

Author:George Edwardson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2022-12-30T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Tories and wolves

Mountifort Westropp was, under normal circumstances, as calm and rational a man as any from his background at home in North Yorkshire or in Twistleton’s Regiment.

He could be brusque and direct if required but latterly known for his even temper and moderation at others. He had done his best to bury his intemperate behaviour when he first joined his regiment at Scarborough nearly nine years before.

Nothing prepared him for the devastation and savagery that he and his little troop discovered as they rode west from Limerick towards Attyflin.

The few people they encountered were ragged and beaten looking, there was hardly a house or hovel with a roof on it and every acre of land appeared abandoned and broken down. North Limerick was uniformly descending into a wilderness with roaming bands of hungry, desperate people and ruined properties.

Colonel Ingoldsby had not exaggerated about the wolves, either. Even in the middle of the afternoon, Mounty could hear the howling of packs of the beasts and he and his men, quite unused to the sound, rode closer together with hands on swords for mutual comfort.

There were carcases of half eaten cows and horses alongside the roads and tracks and scattered among the fields and grey-backed crows gorged themselves wherever they looked.

Mounty was appalled and getting angrier with every mile they travelled south west towards Patrickswell. How had it all come to this?

He had heard tales from the old people at home of how the countryside in Yorkshire had descended into violence, hunger and savagery during the times after the first King William had laid waste the North and the awful wars of the monarchs before Henry Tudor had come to the throne. What he witnessed now was worse than even he imagined conditions were in those dreadful times in the North of England.

Humphrey Gryonne seemed stunned at what he witnessed and even the normally steady Sergeant Nunthorpe appeared uncomfortable and alert to danger from every side. It was a sombre troop which finally rode slowly into the courtyard of the old half ruined house at Attyflin.

Mountifort Westropp’s small troop had a local guide for their short ride to Patrickswell. On hearing that a party of Ingoldsby’s settlers were riding to take up possession of Attyflin, a young Irish soldier in Limerick with enough English to make himself understood by the invaders, volunteered for a small fee to act as guide. Swallowing his pride and aware he would now be a marked man, he risked all by taking coin from the English settlers so desperate was his current situation.

Conn Bourke, while only 20 years of age, had known nothing but fighting with the settlers from across the Irish Sea since he was old enough to carry a sword. Captured six months before by a regiment of the English army, he had lived on his wits and native charm and, seeing which way the wind was blowing, had kept out of trouble with his new masters and worked hard to improve on speaking their language.

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