The Rebels of Ireland Read Online Free PDF

his mighty Armada across the seas to conquer the heretic island—and might have succeeded if a great storm hadn’t blown his galleons round the coast—the minds of most Englishmen became set in a simple prejudice: the Catholics were the enemy.
    Except, perhaps, in Ireland. “In the time of my father,” Queen Elizabeth could remember, “when the Jesuits went to the O’Neillsadvocating treason, the O’Neills sent them away.” Even as late as the Armada, when a Spanish galleon had been shipwrecked on his coast, Tyrone had massacred the unlucky crew, just to show the English queen that her native Irish lords could be trusted. The English Council did understand that their Catholic faith, as such, would not necessarily lead the Irish princes into conflict with the crown. As for the Old English, proud of their loyalty, where nearly all the gentry and most of the merchants were quietly Catholic, the queen and her Council had tried to maintain the compromise. If Richard Walsh was unwilling to renounce the Pope for Elizabeth’s Church—“the Church of Ireland, as she is pleased to call it,” he would say with a wry smile—he did admit, after attending a service once: “They follow the proper forms so closely, you’d almost think you were in a Catholic church.” If you didn’t attend, you had to pay a fine; but these weren’t always collected. Even Catholic priests, so long as they gave no trouble, were usually left alone. More serious, and more insulting, was the rule that Catholics could not hold public office. “But they can’t apply it, you know,” Richard liked to point out. “Often as not, the only local gentleman fit to be a magistrate is a Catholic.” The rule would then be ignored. In such an environment, men like Richard Walsh could manage their dual loyalties.
    But as the years went by, it had become harder. The New English arrived and took up position. Little by little, the Old English Catholics were being squeezed out of the business of government. The rules against their religion were tightened. “We’re treated like strangers in our own country,” the Old English began to complain.
    With the death of Queen Elizabeth, the throne had passed to her cousin James Stuart, King of Scotland. His tempestuous mother, Mary Queen of Scots, had been a Catholic whose plots against the heretic Queen Elizabeth had finally cost Mary her head. Her son James had been brought up a Protestant by the Scottish lords. But might the new king show more sympathy towards the loyal Catholic gentry of Ireland? There had been hints that he might. Until last year.
    November 5, 1605: the date that shook all England. A group of Catholic conspirators, led by one Guy Fawkes, attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament, Lords, Commons, and King James as well—only to be discovered by the royal network of spies. For centuries to come, the outrage would be rehearsed in popular rhyme.
    Â 
    Remember, remember
    The fifth of November,
    Gunpowder, treason and plot.
    Â 
    I see no reason
    Why gunpowder treason
    Should ever be forgot.
    Â 
    For the Puritans of England, and the English Parliament, there could be no trusting of Catholics after that.
    So where did that leave the Walshes? In difficulty. Perhaps, one day, in danger. That was how Martin Walsh saw it. And so what sort of son-in-law did he need? A Catholic, of course. He had no wish to have Protestant grandchildren. A man like himself: loyal, but intelligent and courteous. A man who did not allow his head to be ruled by his heart. A man ready to compromise. Was young Smith such a man? He didn’t know.
    All this time, he realised, his elder son had been watching him intently. Martin smiled.
    â€œDo not fear, Lawrence, I shall make diligent enquiries, you may be sure.”
    But Lawrence did not return his smile. Indeed, it seemed to Martin that the glance he now received from his son was