Cave of Secrets (17 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The Battle Is Joined

T
hey beached the currach on the shingle below the cave.

‘Thank you for helping me with the mortgage, Muiris,’ said Tom.

His uncle replied, ‘I have had no experience with them myself, but I do know a bit about sharp practice. Are you certain you want to handle things this way?’

‘I am certain. I’ve been thinking about it ever since Mr Fox arrived.’

‘Remember, Tomás, we know two important things about that man. He is a bully and he is greedy. Bullies are always cowards at heart. And greedy men always want more.’

Tom grinned. ‘I’ll remember.’

‘I will be waiting at the top of the cliff. If I see a candle in your window I will know all is well, and I can go home. If I do not see a candle by the time the moon rises, I will come to you and sort things out myself. In my own way.’

There was a sinister edge to his voice. Tom found it
comforting
. ‘I’ll be all right,’ he assured his uncle.

‘One more thing, Tomás. When your mother married Liam Ó Floinn she became part of his family. Under our ancient laws she is no longer entitled to share the property of our sept. I broke the English law by smuggling. Now I choose to break Irish law,’ Muiris said with a wry smile. ‘As I divide the treasure I will put aside a full portion for
Caitríona
. It will be buried at the very back of this cave. Should she – or her children, Tomás – ever be in need, you will know what to do. ‘Now go and drive the fox from his den.’

Tom entered the front door of Roaringwater House carrying a large leather bag. He found his family in the great hall.
Herbert
Fox was holding court in front of the fireplace, boasting of the way he had built his shipping business out of nothing. Sagging on her chair, Catherine Flynn sat twisting her hands. Her daughters huddled around her. William Flynn stood at the far end of the room, leaning against the wall. His face was ashen and his eyes were bloodshot.

They looked up when Tom entered. Without even
glancing
at Fox, the boy walked across the floor and handed the leather bag to his father. ‘Here is what you wanted, sir,’ he said.

Flynn stared blankly at him.

Tom raised his voice. ‘Did you not ask me to fetch this for you?’

‘Eh?’ Flynn hefted the bag. Felt its weight. Heard the clink of metal.

Turning so Fox could not see his face, Tom winked at his father.

William Flynn opened the bag and peered into it. After a sharp intake of breath, he looked back at his son.

Tom silently mouthed a name. Ó Driscoll.

Flynn thought very fast indeed. When he spoke he kept his voice calm. ‘Thank you, Tom,’ he said, as if his son
routinely
handed him bags full of gold coins. Striding over to the Jacobean chest, Flynn poured out the coins in a gleaming cascade.

Herbert Fox’s jaw dropped. ‘Where did you get all that money?’

‘I have resources,’ Flynn replied without looking up. He was busily counting the coins atop the chest.

‘You had better tell me the truth, Flynn. I can make things bloody hot for you,’ Fox snarled.

Bullies are always cowards at heart
. Tom cleared his throat. ‘I come from an ancient and honourable family, Mr Fox. Kings in this land since before the before.’

His mother sat up straight in her chair.

Adding a sinister edge to his voice, Tom went on. ‘Show my father respect or you will answer to relatives of ours whom you have never met before. They are quite close at hand. And they will not treat you gently.’

Herbert Fox cried, ‘I will not be threatened by a mere boy!’ He did not sound so sure of himself, however. He gazed uncertainly around the room, trying to decide what to do next. He started towards Mrs Flynn, but she drew back from him. The three girls swept their skirts aside as if he were dirty. He turned back to Flynn. ‘What’s this about the rest of your family? You never mentioned them before.’

Tom saw his father finish counting. Saw the naked greed on the face of Herbert Fox.
Greedy men always want more
.

‘If you hope to collect any interest at all on your mortgage, Mr Fox,’ Tom said, ‘you will accept what my father is about to offer.’

‘The total amount due,’ Flynn announced, ‘plus ten
shillings.
’

‘Only ten shillings interest? That is robbery!’

‘I would not accuse other people of a crime if I were you,’ said Tom.

‘I demand–’

‘You are in no position to demand anything, Herbert,’ Flynn interrupted. ‘You heard my son. Give us any more trouble and I shall summon dangerous men you really do not want to meet.’ He swept the money into the leather bag and handed it to Fox. When the man clutched the neck of the bag his knuckles were white.

Out of the side of his mouth Flynn asked Tom, ‘
Are
there any dangerous men nearby?’

‘Absolutely,’ the boy assured him.

Mr Flynn called out, ‘Our guest must leave immediately, Simon! Send for his horse and escort him off my property. Sign this deed of acceptance, Mr Fox. That will be the end of our business forever.’

When he was certain that Fox had gone, Tom ran upstairs. He lit a candle and placed it in the window of his bed-
chamber
. Then he joined his family downstairs for a celebratory supper. Roast mutton and boiled onions and steaming hot plum pudding.

His parents made no effort to conceal their relief. His sisters were almost giddy with it. They asked Tom countless
questions
. At first he tried to put them off with vague answers, but his mother would not allow it. ‘Secrets in a family can cause too much harm,’ she said. ‘Surely we have learned that much. Tell us the truth, Tom. Tell us all of the truth.’

So he did. Beginning with the day he ran away and fell down the cliff. He only paused to take bites of food – he found himself very hungry. When Tom told about joining the smugglers his father sputtered with anger. Mrs Flynn put her hand over her husband’s. ‘Tom did no worse than you have done, William,’ she said.

‘I was only trying to provide for my wife and children.’

‘And your son was only trying to spread his wings,’ she replied. ‘That is perfectly natural. Go on, Tom. What
happened
next?’

By the time he finished relating his adventures the hour was very late. Tom was hoarse from so much talking. Caroline could not stifle a yawn. The table was covered with crumbs and only a smear remained of the pudding.

Mrs Flynn suggested they all go to bed.

Mr Flynn followed his son up the stairs. ‘I have one more question to ask you, b … Tom.’

The boy stopped and turned around. ‘Yes, sir?’

‘Obviously you approached your mother’s people on your own and did some clever negotiating. I have to say, I am impressed, Tom. And sorry that I underestimated you. Very sorry.’ Apology did not come easily to William Flynn. ‘You could have brought the money to Fox yourself and claimed all the credit,’ he went on. ‘Many men would have done just that. Why did you deliver it to me instead?’

The boy was standing one step above his father, which put their faces on a level. He looked for a long moment into William Flynn’s eyes. Recalled the broken man. Pitied him. And chose to love him.

Tom smiled. ‘Because you are the man of the family, sir,’ he said.

MORGAN LLYWELYN is an internationally renowned writer of best-selling historical fiction and contemporary fiction for adults. Her novels for young readers are:
Brian Boru,
Strongbow
(a Bisto and Reading Association of Ireland award-winner),
The Young Rebels, Pirate Queen
, and
Star Dancer
, a contemporary novel about one of her great loves, horses.