THEY WAITED AND WAITED – and they made their plans. Mary-Brigid helped her father to fill a huge sack with potatoes, which he and Michael dragged into the cottage. Every spare pot and pail and jar was filled with water from the well and put to stand in the coolest part of the kitchen, and no clothes were left on the washing line. John’s work-tools were brought in from the small outhouse, and now his spade, pitchfork, scythe and hoe stood against the kitchen wall. Maisie, too, was brought in, and she spent her time clucking angrily at Scrap, who was none too pleased with the visitor. Nano and Eily checked the flour and oatmeal barrels, and Michael and John dragged the huge kitchen dresser, which Mary-Brigid’s grandfather had made, over beside the door.
‘Mary-Brigid, you are to keep an eye on your little brother. You must not go more than a few yards from the house. Do you understand me?’ ordered her father.
‘Aye,’ she said, fearful of what was going on.
That night she slept fitfully, and in the morning found that Michael’s settle bed near the fire had not been slept on.
‘Michael’s gone!’ She ran to her parents with the news.
‘This isn’t his fight,’ said Nano. ‘And he has things to see to …’
Mary-Brigid looked out the cottage door. ‘The horses are gone too!’ she announced.
At midday Mary-Brigid’s heart leapt when she heard the sound of horses’ hooves in the laneway. She stared down the boreen; it was Mr Brennan and four other men.
‘Inside, Mary-Brigid,’ ordered John sharply. ‘Stand back from the window.’
He bent down and put his shoulder against the dresser. Then he and Nano and Eily strained to shove the heavy weight against the door.
After a few minutes a voice called out: ‘Mr Powers, it’s me, Tom Brennan. I’m afraid the amount you paid is unacceptable. Your landlord is insisting on the correct amount.’
‘I told you, I don’t have it!’ shouted John.
Another voice spoke. ‘By the order of the landlord Dennis Ormonde, you, John Powers, and your dependants are asked to quit this holding.’
‘’Tis Hussey!’ said John.
William Hussey sat astride his large, chestnut horse. One side of his severe-looking face seemed almost crooked, the skin puckered and scarred. His left arm hung uselessly at his side.
‘I’ll not quit!’ yelled John. ‘Tell Ormonde I’ll give up the low field if that will reduce the rent.’
Low voices spoke outside, as if arguing. Then Mr Hussey rode closer to the door. ‘This land will not be divided up,’ he announced. ‘There’s no arguing. You either pay the full rate for this holding or you give it up. Mr Ormonde is a very busy man. He leaves the running of the estate to me.’
‘You just want this farm for yourself, Hussey! You’ll not get it!’ shouted John.
‘How dare you!’ The landlord’s agent cursed. ‘You’ve not heard the end of this! Not by a long chalk.’
Two men were left guarding the cottage while the others rode off. John hoped that Mr Brennan was honest enough to tell the landlord of his offer.
Night-time fell and the family hardly slept. Eily sat in a chair by the small window, keeping watch lest Hussey and his men came back.
In the morning the cawing of the rooks from the nearby woods woke them. Bleary-eyed, Mary-Brigid had a sip of milk and a chunk of bread. Her father looked exhausted, but took over the watch. Eily dressed and washed Jodie and tried to amuse him. Nano finally roused herself, her old bones weary from it all.
William Hussey and his men returned, and they seemed to be pulling something. It was like a tree trunk, and they came to a halt with it just outside the door.
‘John Powers! Do you agree to pay the rent set by your landlord Dennis Ormonde?’ Mr Hussey said clearly.
‘I have given you almost double my previous rent,’ answered John in desperation. ‘I haven’t one brass farthing more. I have even offered to give up one of my fields to make up the shortfall.’
‘You have refused to pay the full rent!’ jeered Mr Hussey.
‘I have been a good tenant, just like my father and grandfather before me. I have no fight with Mr Ormonde. He knows that I’ve paid more than a fair rent,’ shouted John.
Mr Hussey turned his horse around. ‘We give you an hour to pack up your belongings and leave this dwelling,’ he declared.
Inside the small cottage they all stood bewildered and shocked, not knowing what to do. Jodie began to cry and clung to his father, who hoisted him up in his arms. Nano began to move around, folding things, putting them in small bundles.
‘What are you doing, Nano?’ said Eily.
‘I’m beginning to pack up,’ said Nano quietly, trying to hide the despair in her voice.
‘We are not packing up, Nano!’ said John firmly. ‘Sit down. All of ye sit down!’
From his face and manner, Nano knew that this was one time to respect the young man’s wishes.
Mary-Brigid felt so nervous that she could hear her own heart beating in her chest. Eily stood, looking helpless and as pale as a ghost. They all sat waiting.
After an hour one of the men took a huge pitchfork and began to pull the straw from the thatched roof. The others moved the tree-trunk closer to the house. Mary-Brigid closed her eyes, waiting for the thud as it hit against their wooden door.
‘Now!’ called William Hussey.
The men gave a huge push and the small cottage seemed to shudder as the ramming tree-trunk battered against the door, but the heavy old oak dresser took the brunt of the impact.
‘Again!’ ordered Mr Hussey.
The family braced themselves for another thud, and within the space of a few minutes their home was hit again, and again. The door split and it was obvious that the dresser could not hold for much longer. There was a gaping hole in the roof too, through which they could see the sky. Then someone blocked the chimney in an effort to smoke them out. Stinging tears ran down their faces, and the smoke made them cough and choke.
Mary-Brigid guessed that they would have to leave soon. Poor Jodie was choking so badly he could scarcely get his breath. Barely moving, Eily held the child tightly to her, standing as if she had been turned into stone.
‘Mr Hussey! Mr Hussey!’
They all heard the shouts. It was Michael’s voice. Michael had come back.
‘Stop that! Stop those men!’ he yelled, as he ran towards the cottage. ‘Leave them be!’
William Hussey turned to face him. ‘Who the hell are you? What business of this is yours?’
‘Eily is my sister and this is her home.’
‘Her home, indeed!’ jeered the land-agent.
‘Mr Hussey! What do you think is the value of this holding and the cottage? How much would it cost to buy?’ questioned Michael, standing with his hands in his waistcoat pocket.
‘Buy! Sure, they can’t even afford to pay the proper rent!’ guffawed the ruddy-faced man. ‘This farm would cost them at least forty pounds to purchase.’
‘Forty pounds!’ repeated Michael. ‘That’s what you’re telling me this place would cost.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Mr Hussey, glaring around at the few neighbours who had arrived and were now standing down by the gateway, watching.
‘’Tis done!’ shouted Michael, looking him square in the face, and catching a hold of the leather bridle of his horse.
‘What do you mean, done?’
‘I’m telling you the truth,’ said Michael. ‘Check with Mr Ormonde. The eviction order has been cancelled, and this land has been sold.’ A gasp went up from the neighbours. ‘Now, I’d advise you to stop those men, Mr Hussey, otherwise you’ll have to pay a large amount for the damage you’re doing!’
‘Where’s you proof?’ shouted Mr Hussey.
‘My proof is with Mr Ormonde. You can check it for yourself,’ said Michael.
Hussey jerked at the reins, turning his horse. ‘You little whipper-snapper, I’ll take my crop to you with your lies and falsehoods! I’ll find out what’s going on. You haven’t heard the last of me. I’ll be back and I’ll have the constable with me to arrest ye all and throw you off this property!’
‘They are no longer tenants!’ said Michael icily. ‘You can do nothing.’
William Hussey and his men abandoned the battering ram and made their way across the fields, leaving the cottage standing, the frightened family staring out after them.