Kings of the Boyne Read Online Free PDF Page B

Daniel’s confusion, Robert continued shouting in a cheerful manner. He had a job to do and, unlike Henry Campsie, he also had a younger brother to tutor in the ways of the world. As such, he was too busy to notice Daniel’s twitchy attempts to attract his attention.
    And so it was that they were only a few feet away from the farmer when Robert finally understood that he was not actually addressing a farmer. No, he was addressing the farmer’s wife.
    ‘Oh!’ he exclaimed, for that was all that came to mind, and then he glanced at Daniel as if to say, ‘Behold, this is a woman!’
    However, Daniel only muttered, ‘I did try to tell you!’

Chapter Six
Drogheda, June 1690
    H aving seen that their horses, Paris and Troy, were fed and watered, Gerald and Jacques were wandering around the small walled town of Drogheda. Their walk was hindered by overcrowding. People were nervous. Catholics streamed in from miles around, trusting the safety of their families to the bricks of the garrison town – exactly like the Protestants who made their way into Derry in 1688 to take shelter from the coming storm of a Catholic army. Accordingly, the population of Drogheda had exploded.
    The noise was incredible thanks to screaming children, lowing cattle, barking dogs and the hawkers selling their wares. Because of Drogheda’s proximity to the sea, fish was a popular product. Here and there, the fishmongers, with their ruddy hands and sleeves pushed up past their elbows,delighted in the flamboyant gutting and beheading of their goods, spurts of blood splattering their already filthy aprons as they worked.
    The traffic was thick and fast on the streets: weary horses pulled carts that held all manner of things and then there were the horses of the well-to-do that pulled the grander carriages; young boys herded bleating goats and sheep to the butchers’; women scurried along doing errands; while bands of children got in everyone’s way as they played their games of chasing one another or daring one another to grab the tail of a passing horse, thereby risking being whipped by the rider or being kicked in the head by the irate owner of the tail.
    At one stage, Gerald thought he might have to go to the rescue of a young child who had become separated from its mother and stood lost in the midst of a bustling crowd, bawling at the top of its voice – ‘Mama! Mama!’ – until he was too overcome to pronounce the word and only bawled.
    People rushed by, too absorbed in their own business to notice the toddler in distress. Gerald had been about to snap into action when the mother suddenly emerged out of the throng of strangers and did nothing more than grab the child by the hand and drag him off, ignoring his moist smile of relief and happiness.
    Gerald would not have thought to admit it to himself butsince he had been forced to watch that girl hang, he was determined that he would not just stand by again.
    Jacques made a face. ‘Phew, this town smells worse than Paris!’
    Gerald grinned. ‘Do you mean your horse or the city?’
    Jacques laughed. ‘Both!’
    On their way into the town, they had passed what they assumed was a dumping ground, sitting just outside the walls. It was a towering mass of rotten fruit, fish guts, ancient potato skins and perhaps other types of skins too, broken crockery or what was once crockery, and, yes, the rotting remains of at least two animals, possibly dogs, or goats – really, it was impossible to tell. The dump seemed to throb with life thanks to the rats and the large birds scavenging for meals. The gulls and the crows screamed in protest at the thieving rats that were too big to confront.
    Jacques had pointed out to Gerald that it was far too near the River Boyne, and even as they stood there and watched, they saw yellowish thickened globules and muggy, shapeless forms of God knows what slide free from the stinking mountain into the water.
    Not surprisingly, the entire area was besieged by clouds of