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Updated: June 23, 2025
You are punished for the crime, and we must abide by it, even though you did not kill Erris Boyne. It is the law that has done it, and we cannot abash the law." "We shall meet no more then!" said Dyck with decision. Her lips tightened, her face paled. "There are some things one may not do, and one of them is to be openly your friend at present."
No one was more obedient to wise argument; and her mother had a feeling that now, perhaps, the time had come when they two must have a struggle for mastery. There was every reason why they should not go to Dublin. There Sheila might discover that Erris Boyne was her father, and might learn the story of her mother's life.
"The man is called Cathbarr of the Ax, and he is a hard man to fight, for he has ten men like himself, axmen all. The woman cannot fight, but she has a swift mind, many men, and her name is Nuala O'Malley, of the O'Malleys of Erris." "I had sooner fight a man than a woman," returned Brian slowly. "Also, this Cathbarr of the Ax has fewer men. I will do you this favor, O'Donnell Dubh."
After the first agitated greeting-agitated on her part, he said: "The story has been told, and she is now reading " He told her the story of the manuscript, and added that Sheila had carried herself with courage. Presently the woman said to him: "She never believed you killed Erris Boyne. Well, it may not help the situation, but I say too, that I do not believe you did.
If it's true that I killed Erris Boyne, what hurts most is the reason why I killed him." "One way or another does it matter now?" asked Christopher gently. "Is it that you think nothing matters since I've paid the price, sunk myself in shame, lost my friends, and come out with not a penny left?" asked Dyck. "But yes," he added with a smile, wry and twisted, "yes, I have a little left!"
Swiftly he described what happened in the little room at the traitor's tavern, of the momentary reconciliation and the wine that he drank, drugged wine poured out but not drunk by Erris Boyne, and of his later unconsciousness. At last he paused. "Why did these things not come out at the trial?" she asked in hushed tones. He made a helpless gesture.
Yes, he was a man of mark, even though a murderer. Calhoun spoke slowly. "Your honour, you have said what you have a right to say to a man who killed Erris Boyne. But this man you accuse did not do it." The governor smiled, for the assumption was ridiculous. He shrugged a shoulder and a sardonic curl came to his lip. "Who did it then?"
"Yes, and that was why I did not tell what the quarrel was. If I had, even had I killed Erris Boyne, the jury would not have convicted me. Of that I am sure. It was a loyalist jury." "Then why did you not?" "Isn't it strange that now after all these years, when I have settled the account with judge and jury, with state and law that now I feel I must tell you the truth.
Then, on a piece of paper, she wrote the words: "I, not Dyck Calhoun, killed Erris Boyne." A few moments later, Noreen's eyes opened, and Sheila spoke to her. "I have written these words. Here they are see them. Sign them." She read the words, and put a pencil in the trembling fingers, and, on the cover of a book Noreen's fingers traced her name slowly but clearly.
Erris Boyne was naught to me at all, but he was my daughter's father, and that made everything difficult. I could make him cease to be my husband, and I did; but I could not make him cease to be her father." "I had no love for Erris Boyne," said Sheila. Misery was heavy on her. "None at all, but he was my father."
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