Daughter of the Waves

Rebels And Thespians

About a week after the arrival of the beguiling Cillian, I was reluctantly helping Orla with some washing, when Sean poked his head through our open front door, an expression on his face that I could not quite read. It might have been apprehension.  When he saw us he let out a breath and smiled. "Hello Roisin, hello Orla! I see you're in the middle of something - I'll come back later." But before he could withdraw Orla invited him in and asked him cordially what he had come for. At this the apprehension returned to his face a little. "Oh, I was just happy to see Roisin at home.." -the unspoken inference being that he was glad I was not with my other friends - "...and, well, I was wondering if she would like to come for a walk? There's a travelling theatre troupe just arrived in the village, and I was hoping to ask Roisin if she'd like to see them - you too, Orla, we'd be glad of your company, I'm sure!" 

Orla was already taking off her apron. I took my apron off too, and put on my best bonnet. A travelling company was a rare thing in these parts, and not to be missed. The laundry could wait. I felt a pang of excitement that even though we were with Sean, I might see Cillian there. 

The three of us walked to the clearing on the edge of the village where the troupe had set up their tent, Orla chattering excitedly all the way, making it unnecessary for me to talk much to Sean, which I was glad of. While I still retained a fondness for him, I had hardly seen him lately. Our formerly warm relationship had changed in some indefinable way. It was not just that I had new, and as I thought, more exciting friends, but that as we had grown older, the ease we had had with one another as children had begun a subtle transformation into something less comfortable, that I couldn't quite put my finger on.  

There was a crowd quickly gathering in the clearing, all chattering in expectation. Entertainment of this sort was rare in our small village. It mattered little what the play was about, it was enough that it was here. We tossed a coin each to the girl collecting entry fees, and made our way to the edge of the crowd. I craned my head to try to find Cillian, and quickly spotted him in the middle of the excited mass, standing a head and shoulders above most of the villagers, still wearing his tri-corn hat. The butterflies in my belly burgeoned at the sight. 

The crowd hushed as the play began. It quickly became apparent that this group of players were of a revolutionary bent, and I was transfixed. When it came to the part where a small but heroic group of Irish rebels bests a troop of English soldiers, resplendent in their redcoats, the crowd went wild. The troupe of actors had perfectly caught the mood of the moment amongst the people. Beside me Sean was applauding, and so was Orla, though with less enthusiasm than Cillian, who I could see a little ahead of us, whooping and cheering. 

The play came to an end, all too soon, and people began to turn away. But then a voice cut through the general hubbub. "Friends, stay a moment!" It was Cillian "This marvellous play has moved me to say a word about the plight of our country and the brave fight that is underway to rid her of the English!" People stopped to listen, curious. "Speak, stranger, say your piece!" Called a man from the edges of the crowd. 

Cillian drew himself up to the fullness of his considerable height and began speaking in Irish. His voice rang out so that all in the crowd could hear his words. 

"For too long now our country has been governed by the English, who do not care for Irish ways or people. They take our lands, run us out of our homes, and force us to speak their language!! It is time for us to rise up in rebellion against these foreign overlords!! Join the rebellion!!" Cillian continued in this vein for a few minutes more, and as his voice rose with an undeniable power, many people in the crowd were swept up in the fervour. Even Sean, who I had never known to espouse the revolutionary cause, was nodding in agreement by the end of it, even if his response was more cautious than some others, who were ready to grab any weapon to hand and fight right that moment. 

As soon as Cillian stopped speaking, the crowd surged forward and surrounded him, all anxious to learn more about the cause. Orla, however, took my arm and turned my steps towards home, murmuring that I would see him later anyway, and that he would never notice me in all the hubbub. I reluctantly agreed that she was probably right, and she and I, with Sean following on our heels, returned to our home and the laundry. 

I was still excited by Cillian's words however, and when Orla and my two companions returned to the house, the three of us took up the laundry again, making me warm to Sean in a way I had not in some time. The talk was still of Cillian's rousing battle cry. Orla was sympathetic to the cause, but thought that joining in an armed rebellion would be a grave mistake - it would only get a person hanged or transported. Sean surprised me though. After being silent for several minutes, he chimed in on the conversation: 

"I was once totally against armed rebellion." He began.  "I was like Orla, I believed that it could only lead to a bad end for anyone who got involved with the rebels, that I would sacrifice myself and no real change would come of it. But as I've grown older, I've grown a little bolder too, and I have seen more of the injustices committed by the English. I still think some of these rebels are suicidal fools, but if an uprising of the people is what is needed to drive the English from our land and win us back our country, I am willing to contribute to the cause. I am perhaps not quite ready to lay down my life, but I surely wish to do SOMETHING to contribute to the cause!" 

I smiled and said nothing to this proclamation, biding my time, but it soon happened that we finished the laundry, and Orla left the house to draw water from the well in the village square. I slowly and carefully outlined to Sean of the fact that Cillian had, since his arrival, began forming our little gang of misfits into something altogether more political, with connections to other rebels throughout the country. I told him how dearly I held the cause, and I assured him that he would not have to risk life and limb, but that if he truly wished to contribute, I would introduce him to Cillian, and find a way for him to serve the revolution that need not go against what I knew were his peace loving principles. I was conscious of playing a part, akin to the one played by the actors in the travelling theatre troop, but in that moment did care about the ethics of my actions. Only that they had the desired effect.

He hesitated to reply for several long moments, only twisting a skein of rope to and fro in his large, gentle hands, evidently torn by the possibilities that my words had presented to him. 

But finally his hands stilled, and he looked at me, saying "Well, then, if, as you say, it is so important to you, and if I may fight for Ireland in a way that may avoid bloodshed, I will talk to this Cillian, and perhaps join your wee group of rebels."

At this pronouncement I threw myself into his arms and hugged him soundly, a gesture which he returned gladly. Though we clung together for several minutes longer than was strictly necessary, and even though I could feel our hearts beating in tandem a little faster than usual, I attributed it all to our nascent ardour for the cause, and knew I won a new and valuable contributor to our side. And all I could think of was how pleased Cillian would be with me. 

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