A Game of Sorrows

TWENTY-THREE Ballygally Castle

It was the mist that saved us, and they could not see us. Or their need to search Ardclinnis, that bought us time. Or God in His Providence, who had not finished with us yet. Whatever the cause, we got away from the search party of Murchadh O’Neill and before midday had won to the safety of Ballygally.

‘Sir James Shaw is a Scot, well affected to the king and the Protestant cause. We will find sanctuary there, and a place of rest for the women.’

The latter was becoming a pressing concern: Macha was in a deal of discomfort, and the constant movement and exposure to the elements were playing hard on Deirdre’s weakened state of health. Her sleep last night had been restless, and full of terrors she could not name on waking. She had murmured of Sean, of the poet, and of Maeve MacQuillan, and I wondered if she was seeing again in her mind’s eye that vision of a death foretold.

She insisted on sitting up in the boat, on keeping watch, although we had told her there was no need to. ‘You will not watch properly,’ she said. ‘You will not see what I see.’ Her hair blew wild in the wind, and her eyes looked far into something that I knew in truth I could not see. She might have been a daughter of the legends of another age, fleeing from powers that had come to call her back to them.

Andrew watched her. ‘She loved me, Alexander. Like fire. Like a storm.’

‘She loves you still.’

‘I have lost her once already, to the English, to her own pride. But she can no longer hide from her roots: the Irish blood is too strong in her. Cormac knows this, and I think he knows her. He has bided his time, and waited, and I will lose her now to him.’

‘I have watched her with you, Andrew, and I have seen her with Cormac: she still loves you.’

‘I could only keep her while she is broken, and I will not do that.’ I did not argue with him, for he knew my cousin better than I did, and I knew him: he would not see atrophy that which he loved. And if Cormac’s rising did not fail then perhaps Deirdre would find her place in Ireland after all, the place that Andrew knew he could never give her.

We had kept close to the shore most of the way, but when the mist lifted, and Andrew pointed landwards, I thought we must have drifted across the narrows to the southern tip of Scotland. Only yards from the shore was a castle, a Scots castle, like so many I had spent time in as the friend of Archibald Hay.

It rose perhaps five storeys, looking directly across the sea to the land where it had its roots. The roof was steep, and turreted windows at the corners gave views to the west and the east, from where trouble or assistance might be expected to come. A high outer wall reached almost to the sea, where a small river met the shore. Loopholes in the walls allowed for musketry. Everything was clean and new, and it took me home, to the castles of Mar, like a miniature, a fragment of Castle Fraser, or Craigievar.

Before we had pulled the boat up on to the sand, a musket was sticking through a loophole in the castle wall, and a voice challenging us to state our business.

‘Tell Sir James it is Andrew Boyd. Tell him I bring news of Madeira, and seek shelter from rebels against the king.’

That was it, no explanation of who ‘Andrew Boyd’ might be, a direct appeal, with some shadow of a familiarity, to the master himself. Before I could ask what nonsense he spoke of ‘Madeira’, the musket had been lowered, and the huge oak gate in the outer wall was opening in before us. Andrew called for assistance for the women, and soon four men were hastening down the sand and helping them from the boat, as I was thrust by my companion towards the castle and told to get myself within its walls. A carving in the stone over the entrance portal showed its master’s initials and crest, along with those of his wife, Isabella Brisbane, with a date of 1625, the legend proclaiming God’s Providence to be his inheritance. ‘And mine also,’ I thought.

An attempt had been made, when we entered, to take Macha down to the kitchens with the servants, but Deirdre’s eyes had flashed fire: ‘She is my brother’s wife.’ And from that moment, there was no further suggestion that Macha should be handled as a servant.

It was evident, from the manner of their greeting, that Andrew Boyd and Sir James Shaw were not strangers. ‘I am sorry to see you injured, Boyd, but glad that you have gained safe to my house. You do credit to your master, and,’ his eyes drifted to me, ‘to his grandson. But perhaps you, sir,’ and now he was addressing me, ‘would be more comfortable in some fresh clothing.’

The fine garments I had been provided with for my night with Roisin at Dun-a-Mallaght had not fared well since I had left that cursed place. I opened my mouth to protest that Andrew was in greater need of attention than I was, but was silenced by a look from my companion that brooked no argument, so I went reluctantly with the two guards whom Shaw deemed it necessary to attend to my dressing. Only then did it occur to me that my host believed me to be Sean.

Less than an hour later, after some vigorous scrubbing in a tub set out by the stream that ran through the inner courtyard, and arrayed in the serviceable clothing of a Scots servant, I was brought once more to the great hall, where a welcome fire burned. Shaw and Andrew had been deep in conference as I’d entered, but lifted their heads from some papers as soon as they heard me. A momentary hesitation in Andrew’s eyes was quickly replaced by relief, and Shaw, distrust now gone, strode towards me, his hand outstretched.

‘Mr Seaton. You must forgive the coolness in my manner earlier. You are so much like your cousin that although I had heard him reported dead, the sight of you made me think the reports mistaken. Be welcome to my house as a fellow countryman and one of my own faith.’

I took his hand gladly as Andrew took up the explanation. ‘Sir James was an associate of your grandfather’s. He is a staunch supporter of the king, and of the Protestant faith. I have apprised him of your true identity, and of what has brought you to Ireland.’

‘Damnable superstition,’ the older Scot interceded, ‘but you do honour to your family in coming to their aid. It is the tragedy of some that they will not be helped.’ I did not ask him what he meant, but visions of my grandmother passed through my mind. ‘And you have garnered little thanks and much hardship for your troubles, I hear. But no matter, that will be put to rights. First though, you will rest and sup here, now, before we come to business.’ He banged a great gong by the fireplace and within moments, a light quick step was on the stairs. Glad of the fire, I attended only to it until the girl’s voice made me turn around and look towards the doorway where she stood.

‘You wish something from the kitchens, sir?’

‘I wish my wife. Where the Devil is she? Our visitors are half-starved.’

‘She is with the ladies yet. I will go and fetch her.’ I looked to Andrew in astonishment; I knew beyond a doubt that it was Margaret, the girl from the poor roadside inn, daughter to a widowed mother and sister to a murdered brother.

Andrew registered the cause of my surprise and his face broke into a broad smile. ‘Yes, it is Margaret. You recall when we last saw her, she asked if I could do anything to help her find some position of service, that she might be a charge on her mother no longer, and might perhaps earn something to help her with? I wrote a testimonial for her and she took herself to Carrickfergus to find work. That very day.’

‘And indeed, it was our good fortune that she did. My wife had gone in despair to the town, thinking a trustworthy girl was not to be had in the country. Young Margaret is quick, and careful, and minds her tongue. My wife is much easier in her own house to have such a girl by her.’

In a country where I had known only bad news, and worse, this was something truly to be welcomed, and for the first time in many days I felt a gladness in my heart.

Margaret soon returned, begging Sir James’s pardon, but Lady Isabella was much preoccupied with seeing to the comfort of the ladies, and might she be of service instead?

He ordered her to have sent up whatever food the kitchens might have ready. In no time, a hearty quantity of food had made its way from the kitchens to the hall. I could see Andrew took genuine pleasure to see Margaret in her new situation, and I hoped something might come of it, when the time was right. That time, I knew, would be a while off yet, because he would never abandon Deirdre or thoughts of her until she was ready to abandon him. Margaret mastered her emotions well, and I doubt her new employers could have guessed at any feeling between the pair, but she could not mask them so well that I, who knew already, could not see what her feelings for him still were.

Margaret bent to attend to the fire and Sir James moved from one side of the hearth to the other. ‘And so to business,’ he said. ‘You are accused of your cousin’s murder. I am blunt of necessity, for time presses and the niceties are not to our purpose here.’

Margaret could not help but look up at me, her face a study in shock. Andrew put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘Whoever murdered Sean, it was not Alexander. He was nowhere near Carrickfergus at the time: he was with me, and we have the witnesses to prove it.’ She regained a little of her usual composure, and attempted a smile in my direction, but she still looked far from assured on the matter.

Sir James continued. ‘The accusation, as you know, has come from your grandmother. There are few who believe her, however loud she proclaims it, but it must be addressed all the same. Now, Boyd here tells me you were together, taking shelter in Armstrong’s Bawn, on the road to Ballymena, on the night of your cousin’s murder. Is that correct?’

‘They tell me my cousin was murdered on the night of my grandfather’s funeral?’

He gave a curt nod, watching me carefully.

‘Then that is correct,’ I said.

‘Good, then there will be little difficulty in proving your innocence, as not only Andrew but others can vouch for your presence there. We must get you to Carrickfergus, to the safety of the garrison, and state your case to the governor.’

‘We need to get the women back too, as soon as possible, to the safety of my grandmother’s house.’

‘Murchadh O’Neill is after you, and his son also?’

‘Yes. Murchadh would like to get his hands on me, I think, one way or the other, but Cormac’s only interest is in Deirdre.’

‘And yet, from what Boyd has told me, it will go ill for your cousin’s wife should they come upon her.’

I did not want to think about what they would do to Macha and her unborn child should they realise who she was. ‘I think we must leave here soon.’

‘We cannot all go together. Murchadh will know our party, and once we have left the protection of the castle we will be at risk of capture, at least until we reach Olderfleet.’

Sir James was not disposed to be much put out of his plans by fear of the O’Neills. ‘I am not as young as I was, but I am not ready to bide my time at the hearth, sucking on my gums, quite yet. You and the Irish girl, Sean’s wife, must leave tomorrow, early.’ It was Andrew he addressed himself to. ‘My steward takes a consignment of hides to Olderfleet. You will travel with him, in the guise of a Scots servant and his pregnant wife.’

‘No great disguise required for that, I think.’

‘Indeed. If they do not know of the girl or that she is with you, you should not be troubled on your way. No one will be searching for a servant with a pregnant wife.’

‘And what of Deirdre, and Alexander?’

‘They will travel later in the day, with me, and by God, let O’Neill try his hand and he will soon see what a Scotsman can do!’

‘The man is ruthless,’ said Andrew bluntly.

‘Oh, never fear, for I know that well enough, and if I did not, there is Margaret here could have told me.’ The girl, who had been refilling our plates and glasses, lowered her eyes. I remembered how I had felt at the sight of Finn O’Rahilly hanging from a tree, and wondered how much worse it had been for her to so find her own brother. ‘No, I can be ruthless myself, and have had cause to be so before now, and will be again, if need be. But I have cunning too, and I think, unlike so many of his race, that is what our friend Murchadh lacks. They will have to halve their numbers if they choose to go in pursuit of both of us. Margaret here will take on the role of lady’s maid, and we will have eight of my strongest men with us. It is no great distance from here to Olderfleet, and from there we will be accompanied by a detachment from the garrison to Carrickfergus. Let him try to approach us!’

And so the thing was decided.

I took my leave of our host and went in search of Deirdre and Macha. As I mounted the stone turnpike stair, I glimpsed, through open doorways and at windows, men standing, muskets at their sides, eyes trained on the sea. They were watching for Murchadh. It was a place awaiting attack, preparing for a siege.

While we had waited for our food, James Shaw had sent for one of his men and entrusted him with some commission. He was striding towards the stable, fully dressed now for a late autumn ride, and making for the saddled horse that stood in readiness. Before he mounted, I saw him place a paper in the saddlebag of his horse. I could not tell, but felt sure it was the same paper over which Andrew and James Shaw had been bent when I had first come upon them in the hall. Within moments, he was through the gates and riding for all he was worth, towards Carrickfergus. I felt a chill that was little to do with the coldness of the early November air, and wondered whether I truly knew Andrew Boyd at all.

Deirdre and Macha were in a small room almost at the top of the castle. Lady Isabella welcomed me. ‘Your cousin will be pleased to see you.’

‘And I her,’ I said, smiling at Deirdre, who was looking up at me from a stool by the fire, registering the relief of a child who has been left amongst strangers, and whose parent has finally come.

‘You look better already,’ I said.

‘Lady Isabella is kind, and I feel safe here. How long are we to stay?’

‘We leave for Carrickfergus tomorrow.’ The disappointment registered in her face.

‘And Macha?’ She looked at her sister-in-law, who was asleep on the bed.

‘We must take her with us.’

‘Must it be so? Could not they stay here, anonymous? What good could it do to place Sean’s child in my grandmother’s hands? She can only destroy.’ She looked away and into the fire. ‘She can only destroy.’

I knelt down in front of her, taking both her hands in my own.

‘There will be no more destruction in this family. This child is a chance to end it. Trust me, Deirdre, and believe in this chance.’

‘Do you believe God gives us second chances?’

‘I believe in His grace. I have known His grace.’

‘And what about love? Have you ever loved?’

‘I have loved twice.’

She drew a pattern in the ashes. ‘It is a sad thing to love twice. What happened to your first love?’

‘I had no courage, and was eaten up with selfishness. By the time I realised what I had lost it was too late; she had married another.’

She nodded, as if this came as no surprise to her. ‘This family does not know how to love properly.’ Then she laughed. ‘Apart from Maeve. Maeve truly loved. She loved our grandfather, and poisoned us all because of it. But I think you lie when you talk of a second love. You cannot love a second time.’

‘I do, Deirdre, and if I ever manage to leave this country, and if God forgives me my transgressions, I will not lose her.’

‘God will not forgive me mine.’

I brushed the hair back from her face; the colour had returned a little to her cheeks, and her eyes were as alive as any I had ever known. ‘What transgressions could you have to your account?’

‘I have dishonoured myself. I have dishonoured my family.’

‘Because you married a man and found you did not love him?’

‘I knew at the start I did not love him.’

‘And now? Do you plan to go with Cormac?’

She looked up at me as if I had said something that had never occurred to her. ‘I do not love Cormac. And anyhow, he will die in the same cause as my father did. He is less free even than Sean was. You know who I love.’

‘Yes, I think I do.’

She was silent for a few moments and then spoke to me again. ‘Was Grainne happy?’

‘My mother?’

‘Yes.’

‘No. She was not happy.’

‘Then there isn’t much left to me, is there?’

‘There is your brother’s child. He will need you.’

A determination I had seldom seen on any human face came into her eyes. ‘And I will not fail him. Before God and all who will judge me, I will not fail him.’

I held her to me, feeling her life, her breathing against me, my cousin, my dead brother’s sister, my trust.

Darkness was drawing in on the castle as I descended the stairs. What little blue there had been in the afternoon sky retreated in the face of the advancing dark clouds sent from Scotland, a Presbyterian anger at this unsettled land. The tide, pale silver at its eastern edge, was at a low ebb, and quiet, as if it too was waiting, and little stirred across the broad bay of Ballygally.

I found Andrew in the kitchens, talking with Margaret. Again the light in her eyes, the smile on her lips, died at the sight of me. I wondered when I had become the object of such fear and mistrust. She went to attend to a sauce bubbling in a pot. Andrew saw her discomfort, and the cause of it, and affected a brightness all three of us knew him not to possess.

‘We are to have fine fare tonight, Alexander. Sir James’s table rivals that of your grandmother’s house.’

‘I hope we can stomach it, after so many days of existing in such simplicity.’

I had not meant my words to come out so harsh, and yet I had had enough of being mistaken in what I was. If I made the girl uncomfortable, it was no fault or concern of mine. Andrew read my mood and gave up on his attempt to lighten it.

He changed his tack. ‘How is Macha?’

‘She sleeps. Lady Isabella is very attentive to her.’

‘And Deirdre?’

I watched Margaret for some reaction, but there was none. So she did not know of Andrew’s feelings for my cousin. Perhaps it was better that way. Women did not always forget these things, and if she and Andrew were ever to be happy, it was a thing she would have to forget.

‘Deirdre is … calm. She is weary, still, but a little stronger in body.’

We ate late – Sir James did not intend to sleep that night and there was nothing, he insisted, better at keeping a man from sleep than a good dinner eaten late. We had eels in a pickle of vegetables, mopped up with fresh baked bread, and slabs of venison that would have fed twice our number for three days. ‘There is nothing like a fine piece of venison, and yet the Irish do not prize it. They reckon nothing worth the praise and eating unless it be slathered in that infernal cheese. I am settled here twenty years and more now, and I have never yet got a taste for it.’ He lifted another slab on to his own plate, and to mine, before dousing it in the sauce Margaret had been busy at in the kitchens. ‘But this,’ he said, inhaling at the ladle with evident pleasure, ‘this they do better than any. Do not be mistaken in thinking this sauce to be the muck of the French – a man would need a stomach of iron to survive a month in that country. Smell it.’ He proffered me the ladle and I breathed deep. It was as I had thought.

‘Whisky?’

‘I have it brought down from Bushmills. If something from your own glens can be got now and again, well and good, but there is little that will surpass this.’

James Shaw was a genial host, and free and blunt with his opinions – too free, perhaps, as his wife often cautioned him.

‘James! Your tongue will lose you your head one of these days.’

‘Ach, hush, woman. Only if I waggle it at someone with a mind to carry its tales to the wrong ears. And those are not our guests tonight, or I am no judge of my own table.’

And so we talked late into the night, of the state of Ireland, of Ulster, of the state of religion in Scotland and the perils it faced.

‘Mark me, the king will have cause to regret his dabblings with prayer books and kneelings. Why does he meddle in something that needs no meddling with? It is that wife of his, no doubt. The French.’ And he poured himself another glass of wine to swallow his disgust. ‘But I’ll tell you, he’ll never find a nation more loyal than Scotland, as long as he will leave to us our religion.’

And in such a vein it went on, and I began to understand why Lady Isabella feared for her husband’s head.

At intervals, Sir James sent for reports from the walls, and always the answer came back the same: nothing. There was nothing to be seen, from sea or land; nothing coming to the castle. A little after eleven the lady of the house excused herself, and an hour later, when the castle bell tolled midnight, he told us to go to our beds also. And we did, leaving this Scottish soldier, this Presbyterian adventurer, watching the sea, thinking to hold it back alone.

I saw that Andrew did not sleep easy. I would have asked him what troubled him, but I did not think he would tell me. Since we had left Ardclinnis, something between us had been broken. His bible had given him little comfort from the agitation of his mind. I myself had little trouble in surrendering my body and mind to a few hours of respite; I was too tired even to dream.

It had been better that I had dreamt, for I awoke to a chorus of shouts from the walls and through the castle; the O’Neills had come. Not by sea – they must have returned to Dun-a-Mallaght when they could not find us at Ardclinnis, and now, mounted, they had come overland. They were lined up to the west, torches in their hands, perhaps fifty of them. Swordsmen, musketmen, archers, whose arrow dipped in a flame could, well-landed, turn the castle and its yards to an inferno. Every man around the walls of Ballygally, at the windows and loopholes of the house itself, had his weapon trained on the party which had drawn itself up perhaps a hundred yards away, little more. Murchadh rode forward, his three sons at his side.

‘What do you want, O’Neill, that you disturb a Christian’s rest?’ called Sir James.

‘I have come here in peace, for Deirdre FitzGarrett, who is held against her will by Alexander Seaton, her cousin and treacherous murderer of her brother.’

Shaw laughed, a hearty bellow that corralled the place round and must have reached Murchadh with as much power as it had left his throat. ‘Against her will? She was released from imprisonment in your bestial lair only three days ago, and her cousin her greatest support. You will prise neither of them from my gates. You had better go tend to your cattle than disturb my sleep or theirs.’

‘Seaton is an accused murderer!’

‘Seaton is wickedly maligned by an old woman whose mind is so badly mangled by superstition and treachery that she hardly knows what she says.’

‘She knows what she says, and he will answer to it.’

‘As will he, but to the proper authorities, and in the proper place. Go back to your bogs; you have no business here.’

Cormac detached himself from his father and brothers, and rode closer in beneath the walls of Ballygally than any sane man should have done. Ten muskets now, that I could see, were trained on him.

‘Give me Deirdre, and do what you will with the Scotsman; I have no quarrel with him.’

‘And I no duty to you. An inch closer, and I’ll have your head blown from your body.’ Shaw meant it. He was standing now on his own walls, and had raised a musket himself.

Cormac ignored the threat. ‘Seaton,’ he shouted. ‘Seaton, can you hear me? You know I will do her no harm. You know she has need of me. Seaton!’

I took a step closer to the edge of the wall from which Andrew and I watched, but I felt his arm pull me back.

‘Don’t do this, Alexander. You cannot give her to them.’

‘What will become of her in my grandmother’s house?’

‘A chance, for life.’

‘He would give her that chance. At least she would have a position and respect.’

He looked me straight in the eye. ‘Alexander, if you let her go with Cormac she will be hanging by the neck from Carrickfergus Castle before a month is out.’

‘You cannot know that.’

‘I know it.’

He looked into my eyes, hard, a moment longer, and I stepped back from the edge of the wall, trying to ignore the shouts of my name until the crack of a gun startled Cormac’s horse and sent its rider back to join his father. We watched as they conversed a few moments, before wheeling their horses round and retreating to the woods. But they did not leave. Torches glowed amongst the branches of the trees, and then swiftly moving shapes began to emerge from the glen behind us – shapes that were men, unencumbered by munitions or mounts, almost silently jumping burns, scaling rocks, flitting through trees. They had no guns, these men, but swords, or bows on their backs. And for every ten of them, one carried a flaming torch. Within a very little time, the castle was surrounded on three sides, the sea alone offering some chance of escape. And then, as I tried in a desperate way to understand how we might make use of that, a line of boats appeared, snaking down the still water from the west, a dozen men and a burning brazier in each one.

‘Oh, dear God!’

James Shaw turned to his wife. ‘Get back to the women, Isabella; this is no place for you.’

‘We will burn in our beds.’

‘Did you hear me, woman?’

He turned to Andrew and myself. ‘You, too, should go back. There is nothing you can do here, but these Irish dogs are cunning, and thrive on the ways of the night. If one should find his way undetected into the castle … Go inside. Bring the women down to the great hall: you can guard them closely there, and there will be greater chance of egress than from my wife’s chamber should the place take light.’

We did not need to be told twice. The noise had woken both Deirdre and Macha, and they were glad to see us. In Macha’s eyes was a truly hunted look. She held her hands across her belly, the last defence of her unborn child.

I went to her, put a blanket around her shoulders. ‘It is all right. They still do not know about you. I will see that no harm comes to you.’

I had spoken to her in English, but she answered me in Gaelic. ‘You can have no knowledge of the brutality of these men, what they can do. For Sean’s sake, save his child.’ I remembered Michael, lying beaten and blinded by the altar at Bonamargy, and I prayed to God for His mercy on these innocents.

Lady Isabella refused to lie down, but took up a seat by the window in the great hall, watching through the night at the deadly show of light in the woods beyond the castle. A servant had brought rugs and blankets, which we put in front of the hearth. Deirdre and Macha both, in the ways of the Irish that I had come to know, were used enough to sleeping on the ground, with little to cover them, and exhaustion soon won out over anxiety and took them to their sleep. Andrew and I sat on the carved oak chairs at either side of the fire; he watched me intently.

‘You have to make your choice, Alexander. The time is coming when we must all make our choice and trust to God.’

‘I am here, am I not?’

‘But your heart is not entirely.’

‘I learned long ago to bridle my heart.’

Nothing more was said between us as the hours of the night advanced, and the candles burned down in their sconces. Margaret tried to persuade her mistress to rest. The older woman shook her head kindly and continued to gaze out of the window, from where salvation or eternity might come.

It was about an hour before dawn that the first of the arrows was launched from the edges of the woods and into the castle yard. It formed a perfect blazing arc in the sky before dipping, assuredly, into the thatched roof of one of the byres. A rush of men and buckets was running for the byre when the second arrow hit – this time landing close to the pond. Ducks and geese screeched horribly and took flight, flapping in the faces of those who sought to douse the arrow in the water. A third arrow came, taking the shoulder of a guard on the inner wall. The man’s screams were quickly muffled by the comrade who launched himself at him, flattening him to the ground and putting out the fire. The flames on the roof of the byre had taken hold now, and the whole was ablaze. A chain of men and women passed bucket after bucket from the stream to the flames, while others released and sought to calm the terrified and bellowing beasts. Another arrow came, and found the brewhouse.

I surveyed the scene from the windows. ‘There is no way out,’ I said.

‘No way but surrender,’ said Andrew.

Lady Isabella’s face was drawn, hardly moving. ‘My husband will never surrender.’

I had not planned for such a death as this. I summoned images of Sarah and Zander, as if I could hold them, keep them before my eyes to take me through whatever was now to pass.

‘Then we must commit ourselves to the mercy of God.’ It was Deirdre, she was on her knees. Macha soon joined her, and I heard the words I had come to know so well over these last weeks, the words that begged intercession from Mary, the holy mother of God. My hand again was at the crucifix at my throat, still there. Andrew watched me carefully, as if waiting to see if I would bend the knee and join them. I fought the urge to do so, and tried to summon in myself the strength and faith that He had given me. I reached up my hand to pull at the chain around my neck, thinking to break it once and for all.

As I felt the cold metal at my fingers, a shout went up from outside, a shout that rose above the clamour of the flames, the sloshing of the water, the terror of the yard. Andrew ran to the window. I was quickly at his shoulder.

‘What is happening?’

It was a moment before he was able to make sense, through the smoke and the last dark before the approaching dawn, of what he was seeing.

‘They are leaving,’ he said at last. ‘Thanks be to God: they are leaving.’