The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,4
fog.
Around the next bend, the brothers passed a tiny farmhouse. Wrapped together in only a thin blanket, a family sat in the doorway, shivering in the afternoon mist. Their starvation was so great, they did not have the energy to look up, but instead stared trance-like at their feet through sunken, lifeless eyes. The brothers looked knowingly at each other and, without a word, reached into their pockets. Each holding a small loaf of bread, they approached the family.
“Please, take this food,” offered Ryan. “I wish I could give you more, but it’s all we have.”
The parents were so surprised to see strangers acknowledging their plight that it took their confused minds a moment to recognize that food was indeed being offered. The blanket dropped to the ground. Jamie cringed when he saw their bodies. The skeletal ribs of the children showed that it was an effort for them to even breathe.
The father took the bread with a quivering hand.
“Thank you, Fathers,” he whispered. “God bless you both.”
A single tear from the starving mother was all the heart-wrenching thanks the boys needed.
Ryan nodded. “God be with you and your family.”
As they moved on, Jamie frowned at the stark landscape that surrounded him. The once lush forests of Ireland had long ago been harvested by the British to build their ever-growing navy. Farms had moved into the open land, but where there were once dozens of vibrant stone homes there now stood only piles of rubble. The homes had been destroyed one by one by the British landlords. The families, unable to pay their rent after another season of failed potato harvests, had been evicted from their shelters. Instead of producing food for the starving people of Ireland, the farmland had been converted into pasture for cattle and sheep, meat that would later be shipped off the island to English markets.
Many of the displaced peasants had removed bits of the rubble to build scalpeens, tiny illegal stone shelters that now dotted the Irish countryside. Those even worse off for shelter had no choice but to dig holes into the soft ditches that lined the road. The holes were then covered with sticks, turf or whatever else they could find to help protect themselves from the elements. Like a pair of feral kits, two tiny boys peered out from the shadows of a nearby hole. Without any food to give them, all Jamie could offer was a quiet blessing.
The fog finally began to lift, and the city of Cork materialized in the distance. The city’s great harbour sparkled, its protected waters a gateway to the Atlantic Ocean for the large collection of ocean-going vessels anchored in its waters. Seeing their final destination ahead raised their spirits. Soon they would be together again with the Brotherhood, and the priceless package in their possession would be safe.
A pleading scream broke their brief moment of tranquility. Nearby, a tiny farmhouse had been surrounded by four English soldiers in crimson suits, each brandishing a rifle. An argument was taking place between the husband and the lead soldier as his frightened family huddled in the doorway. A second soldier took hold of the single ox tied to the side of the house and led it out onto the road.
The farmer begged the soldiers. “No! Please! We’ll starve without her! How will we plough our field and earn enough for our keep?”
“You haven’t paid your landlord in almost a year,” replied a soldier, coldly. “He has agreed to take your ox in exchange for rent.”
The wife fell to her knees in tears, clutching her face in her hands.
“Jamie, I was wrong,” muttered Ryan as they walked closer. “I do hate them.”
“Don’t start,” said Jamie. “You know we can’t get involved. Look! I can see the cathedral spire from here!”
Ryan was about to answer when he saw the father reach for the ox. The soldier with captain’s stripes on his sleeve shoved the farmer hard and the weakened man collapsed backwards, crashing into the stone wall of the farmhouse.
The mother left her children and ran to him, shouting. “Leave my husband alone!”
The back of the captain’s hand caught the mother on the side of the cheek as she passed, sending her spiralling into the dirt.
The captain hovered over the crying couple. “And if you forget your rent again, we’ll be taking your house next.”
Something in Ryan snapped. Whether it was the memory of what had happened to their parents or simply a moment of enraged insanity, Ryan strode up