Fugitives! Read Online Free Page B

guards, as they pushed the people back with the poles of their pikes.
    ‘But we have to get out!’
    ‘Nobody leaves here for one hour from now,’ the guards shouted. Con, only feet away from the gate now, heard one of them explain to the other, ‘He don’t want nobody gettin’ ahead and givin’ de Cashel a warning.’ The man dropped his voice. ‘They’ve got O’Neill cornered at last.’
    ‘Sir, sir,’ Con called in English. He grabbed one of their pike poles and held on. ‘I have to get out.’
    ‘They all say that, son.’
    ‘But … but I have important information for Milord Chichester.’
    ‘Le’go o’ me pike, boy; he don’t want to hear from the likes of you.’
    ‘Lieutenant!’ Con shouted through the narrowing gap between the gates. ‘Let me come out. I have information for His Lordship!’
    The lieutenant turned and saw him. ‘Well, if it isn’t Milord’s dandelion. Suddenly found our tongue, have we? And speaking English of a sort too!’ He wheeled his horse clumsily, dragging its head around as if it was cart-horse, and came back to the gate. ‘Well, bwat, what have you to tell me?’
    Con’s mind was whirring. What information could he pretend tohave? ‘Sir, I have secret information for the general, sir.’
    ‘Well, what is it?’
    Con rolled his eyes towards the crowd behind him. ‘I can’t talk here, everyone will hear!’ Indeed, he
was
afraid that some English patriot in the crowd would recognise him and put a knife in his back. Or an Irish one, if they heard what he had to say.
    The lieutenant pouted. ‘Tsch, I s’pose you’re wight,’ and then said to the gateman, ‘Let him thwough. I’ll see he doesn’t escape.’ The guards raised their pikes and Con and his pony were allowed through. ‘Lead that cweature, boy, and come with me.’
    Creature!
Con was furious.
We’ll show him, won’t we, Macha!
For a wild moment he thought he’d make a break for it, but, truly, a pony is no match for a horse, and he would soon be ridden down. The soldiers were being formed into marching order under the watchful eye of the general while Con was being led forward. He’d have to say something now, but what? The general turned, caught sight of Con’s yellow shirt, and a look of thunder crossed his face.
    ‘Lieutenant Bonmann, what the devil are you doing with that boy?’
    So that was the lieutenant’s name; Con was sure he’d heard it somewhere before.
    ‘He says he has important information for you, sir.’
    The general growled. ‘All right, bring him here, and if he’s a nuisance, you can have the pleasure of shooting him, dandelion or no.’ He glowered at Con. ‘Come here, boy! Lieutenant, you can wait there.’ Con walked forward, his knees feeling like jelly. ‘D’you speak English?’ the general demanded, leaning forward in his saddle.
    ‘Yes, sir,’
    ‘Well? What’s your message?’
    Con stood tongue-tied. Then, like a whisper, it came to him. ‘Sir – Milord – I have secret information …’ He looked about him as if nervous that someone might hear, and dropped his voice. ‘The Lord of Tyrone, sir, he’s lodging at de Cashel’s castle, sir!’
He knows it already, so it won’t make any difference. He’ll think I am on his side and let me go
. Con watched the man’s expression.
Am I betraying my own father? Is this news to him?
There was surprise on the general’s face, but it seemed mostly surprise that this new spy was a mere seven-year-old.
    ‘Well, well, well. So how do you have this information, pray?’
    ‘My sister works in the castle, sir,’ improvised Con quickly.
    ‘And does she speak English like you? That would be unusual for a serving girl.’
    ‘She was in service in Dundalk, sir,’ said Con, naming the only English-speaking town he knew. Still those cold eyes bored into him, but now there were sounds that the column was ready to move.
    The general looked up. ‘Bonmann!’ he yelled. ‘Take this lad. Let him ride, but hold