Eric Flint: Ring of Fire III

“Not if you and John O’Neill had gone together. The prat may be insufferable, but he’s a competent captain and a bear in a fight. Together, the earls of Tyrconnell and Tyrone would have been invincible.”

“Gaelic bluster, O’Rourke. Don’t start believing the tales we tell to keep our spirits up during these long years of exile and waiting. Yes, I wanted to go. Yes, I wanted to lead. Yes, I agreed to Owen’s and Father Conry’s plan to create Ireland as a republic and to renounce any claim to preeminence. But unless wild luck had smiled on that project-instead of the death’s head which has loomed over all our others-the only result of an invasion led by both O’Neill and O’Donnell would have been the loss of the last two royal Irish heirs that the English are really worried about.”

“So your godmother was willing to let O’Neill to take the lead, and get himself strung up…”

“…in the unlikely event the invasion occurred at all; yes.”

“And you she saved out of love.”

“That-and practicality.”

“What practicality was that?”

“O’Rourke, how much trouble has our regiment had living side by side with the Walloons, even the Dutch?”

“Other than the occasional argument over the price of provisioning, none.”

“And O’Neill and his regiment?”

O’Rourke nodded; he saw Isabella’s logic now. “One incident after another. He’s been hard- and high-handed from the start, right down to this very day.”

Hugh nodded back. “Precisely. So if Isabella had to depend on mercenaries-and in particular, us Wild Geese-to protect her realm, she needed at least one loyal leader that enjoyed the trust of the locals and was not wholly subject to the manipulations of Madrid, nor the intrigues of her sworn enemies.”

“In other words, she needed you. And us. Well, now I understand the past a little better, but I’m still in the dark regarding the present.” O’Rourke lifted his mug. “So tell me, why skulk back into camp? And why not one word of what you’re planning next? What’s afoot?”

Hugh leaned forward. “For the nonce, O’Rourke, this is just between us.”

“As always.”

“Then here it is. I’ve hired on with the French. With Turenne. To work with an up-timer. To go to the New World. To take Trinidad from the Spanish crown. To sell it to the French. Because they want the oil.”

O’Rourke put down his mug, which had been suspended midair during Hugh’s brief, bulleted explanation. “You’re serious.”

Hugh nodded.

“And what do you get out of it?”

“ We — all of us-get money, maybe enough to keep our men and their families in food long enough to find a more permanent billet.”

“You mean the French would pay for our costs up here? They’d send ecus over the border to Isabella?”

“To Fernando,” Hugh corrected. “And yes, that’s the general idea. Subsistence costs only, of course. And some of the men-a few hundred maybe-would have to come down to France. Doing farm work for a few months, to help pay their keep. And then to travel-to serve-with me.”

O’Rourke’s response was a long, astonished whistle-which he abruptly ended when he noticed the puzzled stares of the orderlies, who then became conspicuously refocused upon their work.

O’Donnell was smiling. “You’ve a great future as a confidential agent, O’Rourke. A veritable master of undercover work.”

“Funny you should mention undercover work, m’lord. Years ago, when I was courting Maureen Hennessy on the sly-”

“Spare me the tawdry details, reprobate. Now, about getting a few companies of the regiment over to France: here’s the hitch-”

“There’s just one?”

“Very well: here’s the first hitch in that project: the companies joining me in Amiens must transfer over the border in one group.”

“But the archduchess is seeing to that, no?”

“She’s seeing to each unit’s release from service, yes. Moving ourselves and our gear: that has to be up to us. And we have to make the transfer without any Spanish-owned equippage.”

“Well, that will make the regiment look like the beggar’s army on parade, but I can put a good face on it. We’ve enough of our own equipment that if we spread it out one weapon per man, there’d only be a few empty hands. And we’ll keep those few in the middle of the formations. Also, we can march the swords and pieces separately to make it all look intentional-if absurd.”

“Good. Then there’s the approach to the border.”

“The French know we’re coming, right?”

“Yes, but the lads need to understand their weapons will have to go into French hands during the march to Amiens. And they won’t like it.”

“They don’t have to,” grumbled O’Rourke.

“That’s the tick, O’Rourke: I’m sure there’ll be no problems with you in charge of-”

But O’Rourke leaned far back. “In charge? Me? Not by Christ Almighty’s toenails, m’lord.”

“Who better to be in charge?”

“Someone who’ll be with the regiment, sir.”

“And so you shall be.”

“With respect, I shan’t. I’ll be with you.”

“With me? Now see here, O’Rourke-”

“ ‘O’Rourke’ me no ‘O’Rourkes,’ Hugh O’Donnell. You’ll not be leaving me in France to tend a bunch of turnip-pullers while you sail into high seas and perdition.”

“Sergeant O’Rourke, you are a man I can trust and a man who enjoys the respect of the entire regiment. You will see our men safely over the border, and then through their stay in France.”

“With respect, sir, I will not. There’s many as can baby-sit them better than I. Shane Connal is the one you’ve been grooming for this kind of work. Most of the men will hear and heed his voice almost as if it were your own. And m’lord, if fair speech is required in dealing with our French hosts, then let’s speak plain and admit I’m not the man for that. But Shane’s got your way with words and manners-and he’ll oversee a just and proper succession of your title here, should something ill befall us out there.”

Hugh considered the arguments. “You rehearsed that speech earlier, didn’t you, O’Rourke?”

“I thought I might have occasion for words such as those, m’lord. I figured a man of genius like yourself often lacks a bit in the common sense department; he might leave his right hand at home if the right hand wasn’t determined to stay attached all by itself.”

Hugh smiled. “You’re a pain in my neck, O’Rourke.”

“And other parts of the body as well, I’d wager.”

“Another bet you’d win. Now, for our trip to the New World, we’ll need about a half of a company for the landing and defense-as well as repelling pirates, if we’re unlucky. Recommendations?”

“I’ve been thinking about just that, m’lord, and the men that seem best suited to those purposes-”

O’Donnell clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I trust you, O’Rourke-in all things. Go get your list-and while you’re at it, fetch Shane Connal from the blockhouse, as well. Let’s not keep him in the dark on this any longer.”

O’Rourke rose quickly. “In a trice, m’lord.” And he was out the tent flap in a rush.

He had gone half the way to the blockhouse when a suspicion began to churn in his gut. Bt the time he had turned and sprinted back up the low rise to the commander’s tent, his misgiving had become a certainty. Pulling the flap aside, he burst into the dim interior.

One orderly looked up from his tasks, startled.

He was the only person in the tent. Of course.

O’Rourke smiled and shook his head; it was sad to think that after all these years, he was still so easily conned. He should have seen it coming: O’Donnell would want to slip out of the camp as stealthily as he had come in. And he’d have-rightly-known that O’Rourke would have had none of that: two guards, at least, to escort one of the last two princes of Ireland. But O’Donnell had given him the slip.