Rebel Sisters (41 page)

‘The British government and the Irish Parliamentary Party would never allow such a thing,' Muriel said, trying to convince herself as well as her sister that the king and the Westminster parliament would not consider such drastic action when they were so deeply embroiled in the war in Europe. ‘The likelihood is that Joe and MacDonagh will be deported, imprisoned – I don't know where or for how long. Perhaps they may even be sentenced to life in prison.'

Muriel could not imagine such a thing: being parted from her husband, not being near him when they loved each other so much. It was unbearable.

‘If MacDonagh is imprisoned I don't know how the children and I will survive without him.'

‘Joe and I should have been married by now,' Grace sobbed. ‘What if I never get to see him or speak to him again?'

‘That won't happen,' Muriel consoled her sister, hugging her. ‘We must both try to be patient and wait for news of the two of them.'

But Muriel herself was frantic and tried to talk to the Dublin Metropolitan Police to ascertain what was happening to Thomas MacDonagh.

‘If he is a prisoner I should be let visit him,' she pleaded. ‘I am his wife.'

‘No visitors are permitted,' they told her.

From the group of soldiers camped near their home she discovered that many of the prisoners were being sent immediately to Wales and England – perhaps her husband was one of them.

Her mind was in turmoil and the children were lonely and upset, missing their father, while she could not hide from them the tension she was under as they awaited news.

Grace was also trying to ascertain what had happened to Joe. She had gone to Belgrave Road to talk to his sister Geraldine.

‘Geraldine told me that Joe's parents have been arrested for their involvement with the rebels and she thinks they are being held in Richmond Barracks with George and Jack. The countess put up a bit of a fight, apparently, when the soldiers came to their house.'

‘What does Geraldine think will happen to them?'

‘A friend of Count Plunkett's informed them of the possibility that the leaders of the Rising may be tried for treason and sentenced to death.'

Muriel felt dizzy, a desperate clanging in her ears.

‘Oh Muriel, I'm sorry to upset you,' apologized Grace, making her sit down. ‘Perhaps they are wrong and MacDonagh will not stand trial.'

Muriel doubted that, for MacDonagh was not only a leader of the Volunteers but, along with Padraig, Joe, Tom Clarke and Sean Mac Diarmada, was part of the small circle of the Irish Republican Brotherhood who were deeply involved in planning every aspect of the rebellion. Why, he had even signed the Proclamation of the new Irish Republic – she had seen it herself.

Heavy-hearted, Muriel read the next day that by order of the Crown the leaders of the rebellion would all be tried. Thomas MacDonagh, her beloved husband, she suspected would be found guilty.

The hours went so slowly, and no matter whom she talked to Muriel could get no information about what was happening. If only Father had been well he could have used his Castle contacts, but she doubted her poor father even realized that there had been a rebellion, much less that Nellie and his son-in-law and Grace's fiancé had all been involved.

A soldier came and knocked on their front door. Three-year-old Don ran ahead of her as she went to open it.

‘Where is my dada?' he demanded, seeing the man's army uniform.

‘Your father is to be shot,' the man said coldly and her little boy, scared and hysterical, ran back into her arms.

Muriel began to shake.

‘Mrs Muriel MacDonagh, it has been ordered that Mr Thomas MacDonagh, who is convicted of treason, is to be executed at Kilmainham Jail tomorrow. The prisoner has requested that you visit him. You are hereby granted permission by General Lowe to visit the prisoner prior to his execution,' the soldier said, his gaze unflinching, not even meeting hers.

Execution … execution … The very words made her feel weak and she tried to steady herself.

But this was no time for weakness. She had to see MacDonagh. Grace had gone out earlier searching for information, so she was all alone with the children, the baby already asleep, but she would ask Mary to come over and mind them.

‘I will come as soon as I can,' she replied calmly. ‘Please inform Mr Thomas MacDonagh and General Lowe that I will be there immediately to see him.'

Less than half an hour later she was on her way. Her mind was spinning, but she tried to concentrate on the fact that she was going to see MacDonagh and would be able to talk to him. There must be some mistake, some legal loophole they could find to commute his sentence. She would talk to her husband. She would not think of him being executed.

The city was still under martial law, a war zone, full of barricades and damaged buildings, so much destruction and debris everywhere. The acrid smell of smoke still clung to the air. The curfew was still in operation and Muriel had to stop at a checkpoint manned by some soldiers with their bayonets.

‘You should not be out, missus,' they warned. ‘Return to your home.'

‘A member of your army came to my home in Oakley Road to inform me that I was requested to visit my husband, Mr Thomas MacDonagh, who is imprisoned in Kilmainham Jail tonight,' she said quietly.

‘Show me your permit please,' demanded an older soldier.

‘I don't have one. The soldier who came never gave me a permit or note from General Lowe,' she replied, realizing that she had absolutely nothing to prove her case.

‘He would have given you a written permit to break the curfew and cross the city,' the man said knowledgeably.

‘I promise you, he gave me nothing. He just told me that he had been sent to inform me that my husband is to be executed and that I have permission to visit him in Kilmainham.' Muriel's voice was breaking.

‘We have no knowledge of it,' the army man said testily, ‘and have strict instruction to enforce the curfew as some of the rebels are still at large.'

‘Please!' she begged. ‘Let me through. My husband is to be executed tomorrow. I have to see him … please.'

She could see three of the soldiers talking behind the older man.

‘Must be one of the traitor leaders!' one called.

She flinched.

‘Please. My husband, Mr Thomas MacDonagh, was a commandant in the Irish Volunteers. He is in Kilmainham Jail and the governor and General Lowe himself have granted me permission to visit him. Don't stop me doing what any wife would want to do when she hears such terrible news.'

‘We cannot let you pass,' he repeated stubbornly. ‘You get a permit, missus, and return and we will let you through.'

‘Where can I get such a permit at this late hour?' she pleaded. ‘Tell me …'

He shrugged his shoulders and simply turned away from her. She could hear them all laughing.

‘Come back in the morning, after curfew,' called another younger soldier.

Muriel ran back to Oakley Road, to the home of neighbours who possessed a new telephone machine and begged them to let her use it to phone Kilmainham or someone in authority to get the necessary pass, but realizing that her husband was one of the rebels her neighbours, despite her pleas, shut the door on her.

Over the next few hours Muriel frantically attempted twice more to get through barricades and checkpoints, but all to no avail. It was long past midnight when, tearful and exhausted, she returned home, determined that tomorrow morning at first light she would go immediately to Kilmainham to see MacDonagh.

Still dressed, she curled up in their bed and tried to imagine that he was close beside her, telling her never fear, my love, all would be well and soon they would be together again …

AS DAWN WAS
breaking Nellie and her cellmates were woken by sudden gunfire, a whole volley of shots and then utter silence. It sounded close within the prison. The three women sat up in their cell, then got to their feet.

Nellie stood on the stool on tiptoe, peering out over the narrow windowledge, hoping to see anything outside in the prison yard other than the high stone walls and the grey-streaked dawn.

It sounded as if a few soldiers were shooting together. The women's senses were on alert as they wrapped their blankets around them.

After what seemed only about fifteen or twenty minutes there was another loud volley of shots, then silence and stillness; and fifteen minutes later a repeat of loud simultaneous gunfire again.

She and Winnie and Julia all looked at each other, unwilling to say the words but each of the same mind.

The soldiers were shooting the prisoners one after another …

IT HAD BEEN
an awful night, Grace filled with a deep sense of unease about Joe, poor Muriel in a terrible state, waiting for the sun to rise and the curfew to end so that she could visit MacDonagh.

Grace had a strange premonition that she must go to Joe immediately. Ever since she was a child she had had a sense of telepathy about things and she knew that she must act on it. Fate had brought her Joe's letter, written in Richmond Barracks and delivered by a soldier to her parents' home yesterday; Liebert had brought it over to her at Muriel's.

Joe wrote telling her that the only thing he cared about was that he was not with her. He had heard that he would be sent to England, but said it might be possible for them to be wed by proxy and that she should go and talk to Father Sherwin about their marriage. Grace sensed that she should not delay …

Muriel was just getting ready to leave the house to go to Kilmainham to see MacDonagh when an early-morning bread-delivery van stopped outside. A priest got out of it and knocked on the door, asking to see her sister.

Grace's heart sank. Had he word of MacDonagh?

Father Aloysius came inside and took Muriel by the hand. Gently, he told her that her husband, Thomas MacDonagh, had been executed by firing squad earlier that morning in Kilmainham Jail.

Muriel gave a strange piercing inhuman cry, her skin like alabaster, listening to his words, then she quietly asked the priest to repeat them, over and over again …

Father Aloysius had been with MacDonagh before he was shot and had given him the last rites. He told her how much her husband loved and cared for her and his two children – his last thoughts were of them – and that he died with no rancour or bitterness in his heart.

Grace felt as though her own heart would break with the sadness of it. She made tea and fetched a warm blanket, then held Muriel and tried to comfort her.

Father Aloysius told her that Padraig Pearse and Tom Clarke had also been executed that morning and that unfortunately, more executions of the rebel leaders were planned over the coming days.

Fearing that Joe, instead of being deported, would surely meet the same fate as his best friend MacDonagh, Grace knew she could not delay any longer.

Mary arrived and promised she would look after her distraught sister, who had finally begun to cry and weep for the loss of her beloved husband. Their brother Liebert, having heard the news of Thomas MacDonagh's execution, also came to the house to see if he could do anything to help, promising Grace that he would stay with their sister.

Grace set off immediately to town to meet Father Sherwin, determined to try to get the necessary licence for Joe and her to wed. Father Sherwin advised her to talk to the priest in the same parish as Kilmainham – perhaps he was the one who could help organize a marriage in the prison. He gave her a note for Father Eugene MacCarthy, who was the prison chaplain, as he might be able to get permission from the governor of Kilmainham, Major Lennon, to perform the ceremony.

‘I have to get married to Joe,' she confided to the priest tearfully as he promised to help them.

It was getting late and some of the shops on Grafton Street had begun to shut. Grace was keenly aware of the staff putting up shutters and winding back canopies, getting ready to lock doors as the final customers in their shops left. The large jewellery shop was still open and she glanced quickly at the tray of rings on display in their window before pushing the door open.

A man stood behind the counter covering the trays of expensive jewellery in heavy velvet cloths, ready to store them in the shop's safe.

‘I'm sorry, but we are getting ready to close, miss,' he said, barely looking up at her.

‘Please, I need to see your wedding rings,' she said, trying to keep control of her voice.

‘I'm afraid I have put some of them away already.'

‘I saw some in the window – please may I see them?'

Reluctantly stopping what he was doing, he walked over to the window, leaned in and took out the velvet-lined tray, carrying it over to the dark mahogany counter and placing it in front of her.

‘Gold bands, rounded, and a few straight. Some young ladies like a traditional narrow band and others prefer it wider,' he recited.

Grace touched the curving bands with her fingers.

‘May I try one or two of these rings on?'

The jeweller looked pointedly at the clock.

‘A marriage band is for life, the fitting and choice and purchase of which is not something usually to be rushed,' he advised.

Grace blushed and swallowed hard, standing resolutely at his counter.

‘Please, I wish to try this one.' She indicated a simple, narrow gold circle from the centre of the tray and he took it out and passed it to her. She put it on her finger, but it was far too big.

‘Try this one,' he offered, handing her another ring.

It was still too big.

‘We usually size the ring to fit your finger exactly,' he explained kindly. ‘I promise that it will only take us a few days to make one to fit you perfectly.'

Grace felt like crying and pointed urgently to two more rings.

One was tiny and only fitted her little finger; the other was a curving design which she did not like.