A Girl Called Eilinora

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Book: A Girl Called Eilinora Read Free
Author: Nadine Dorries
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voice, Liam began to stagger towards him.
    ‘Help, m’lord, have ye food? Can ye get me to Dublin?’
    Owen did not hesitate, even for a second. He had never before seen anyone he knew in as desperate a state as Liam. He now unstrapped his saddle-bag and threw it down in front of the boy.
    ‘There are oatcakes and bread in there and a water bottle,’ he said. ‘I will send two of the stable boys back for you tonight. Don’t move from here, I will tell them where you are.’
    Owen remembered Liam well. He was a bright boy. Owen had understood why he had needed to move out of Ballyford to create an independent life for himself. Shevlin had provided a good testimonial and given a shilling to the boy as a parting gift.
    But now, two of the men seized Liam from behind. One grabbed the saddle-bag from his hands and the other dragged him down and began to beat his skull into the road. Liam, having been kicked away from the others, lay helpless on the ground while a fight over the saddle-bag broke out between the stronger men. Father against son, neighbour against neighbour, friend against friend. In these days of starvation and despair, it was each man for himself.
    ‘Canter on!’ Shevlin shouted, as the remaining men realized there was a second saddle-bag and lunged towards them in an attempt to rip it from Shevlin’s horse. Some were brandishing the farm tools they had rescued from their cottages before they were tumbled by the landlord’s men.
    Owen’s gaze was fixed on the face of the boy he had tried to save and he momentarily considered dismounting to take him up on to his saddle. Liam’s face was grey, his eyes were glazed and blood ran down the side of his face.
    ‘Is he dead? Is he? Have I just killed him?’ Owen screamed at Shevlin. As he kicked his horse on to take a closer look at the boy on the road, the girl slipped in his saddle. Steadying her, he realized Shevlin was right, they were in real danger. Shevlin grabbed Owen’s reins.
    ‘Move, for pity’s sake! Do ye think we can pick up every poor peasant and take him home? You are a liability to both of us. I will not stand by while you take risks with our lives to pick up the boy. Kick on! Now!’
    Owen was almost too dazed by what he had witnessed to take offence, and he obeyed Shevlin who shouted, ‘Now! Ride hard now!’ Owen could hear his own heart as the adrenaline pumped through his veins, making the blood pound in his ears. They rode like the wind, charging through the men who still stood upright and were intent on forcing them both out of their saddles. Once clear of danger, Shevlin tried to explain.
    ‘A horse is food. These men are so hungry they are beyond reason. They would rather be alive in jail with a full belly than dead in a ditch, and some of them would even prefer deportation to a penal colony to staying here in Ireland. At least after a few years they would be free men in a country with food. Ireland, ’tis a stinking rotten, half dead country, growing nothing but stinking rotten potatoes. There is nothing here for anyone. Ireland is dead.’
    Owen was silent for the remainder of the ride home. He felt foolish, but he would honour his promise to Liam. ‘I will send the stable boys back tonight, armed, and Liam can come back to Ballyford, alive or dead.’
    ‘I have no argument with that,’ conceded Shevlin, ‘none at all. So long as he doesn’t have the fever.’
    A diversion across the bog added an extra half hour to their journey and by the time they turned down the drive to Ballyford, it was pitch black. The only sounds were those of the Atlantic waves crashing against the rocks along the shore and the clip clopping of the two sets of tired hooves.
    The girl had not stirred once. Not even when Owen had to kick his horse on through a crowd and jump over a ditch into a field. He was no longer sure if she was still alive. He felt foolish as the walls of Ballyford rose in front of him and guilty that he had put the lives of

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