July 1, 1690
Edward walked into the cold and dimly
lit dining hall of Malahide Castle and strained to recognize any of the three
faces that glanced up to see who had joined them. Realizing none of the faces
belonged to his father, and not in the mood to talk to any of his relatives, he
spotted an empty table, walked across the room and sat down quietly on the
vacant handcrafted oak bench. The only illumination in the chamber was provided
by six wax candles held in place on the walls by intricately caste iron
sconces: three on one side of the room and three more on the opposite wall. He
brushed his blonde hair away from his light grey eyes and stared at his folded
hands, trying to keep to himself.
Although
he had spent hundreds of mornings in that very room, Edward could not remember
any other time when he had felt so much dread and foreboding. The negative energy
was as thick as a moonless night and seemed to emanate not only from the men
seated in the room but also from the castle walls themselves. He wished his
father would arrive soon to eat breakfast. At least his father would try
brightening the mood even though the prospects for the outcome of the day were
not all that good. He tried to concentrate on lighter things, but his mind
continually returned to thoughts of the imminent battle looming before him and
how it was interfering with what he really wanted to do and who he wanted to be
with.
How had
he come to this point in his life? He had asked himself the same question
several times over the course of the last month but an acceptable answer
continued to evade
him. He was simply unlucky. If things had worked out in
his favor, if luck had been on his side instead of against him, he would have
been in Kilkenny with Claire instead of at Malahide preparing for battle. At
this point there was no option; he needed to be with the men of his family who
supported the deposed King James II against the invading Protestant forces of
King William of Orange. His courtship of the beautiful daughter of Richard
Butler would need to wait until after the battle was won. He was young and had
plenty of time. What his family didn’t know yet was that the two had already
expressed their love and commitment in a very sacred and binding ceremony; one
which neither of their parents would approve of had they known.
Edward
looked up as two more men slowly walked into the oppressive room. He lowered
his gaze back to folded hands after seeing that neither of them was his father.
He knew he needed to control his thoughts and steer them away from Claire
Butler. If he became distracted or daydreamed about the girl after the battle
started, then it could prove to be not only dangerous to him but to those
fighting around him.
The
thought that he could die later that day never entered his mind, primarily
because of his age. At only sixteen, he had previously been instructed by his
father that he was to stay off the front line of the battle and only assist the
commander as a courier. He wasn’t happy about not taking part in the actual
fighting but had long since given up on trying to talk his father into allowing
him to fight by his side; he was simply too young and inexperienced he had been
told. He never dared to ask why some of his friends of the same age were
preparing to fight with their fathers.
Three
more Talbot men laboriously entered the room and sat down across from Edward.
Looking up this time, he was relieved to see the bright blue eyes of his father
looking back at him. John Talbot recognized his son’s anxiety and smiled
warmly. He reached a muscled arm across the table and clapped his son on the
shoulder. Immediately Edward felt bolstered and more confident than he had for
some time. He didn’t understand the political difference between King James and
King William. He really didn’t grasp why it was important that William was a Protestant.
What he did know was his father was a good man, endowed with thoughtful
judgment, and he would gladly lend his support to anything his father felt
strongly about.
“Edward!”
his father said loudly. “Have you had your morning meal yet?”
“No Father,
I was waiting for you.” He answered half as loudly as the question had been
asked.
His
father smiled again and brushed a strand of long red hair out of his eyes. He
looked at the prepared fruits and breads on the table and grabbed a dark loaf
of something the baker had made that morning. He broke off a third and handed
the remaining portion to his son. “Eat, Edward. You’ll need nourishment to
sustain you though the day. I’m afraid it may be many hours before you have the
chance to eat again.”
Edward took
the bread and broke off a smaller portion for himself. “Yes Father.” He handed
what remained of the bread to his father’s older brother Bartley, one of the
other two men sitting across from him.
He felt
his father’s piercing eyes focus on him as he swallowed the first piece. He
looked up and asked, “What is it Father? Are you not well?”
John
Talbot sighed heavily. “Edward, where have the years gone? Just yesterday I was
bouncing you on my knee and now, what seems only a day later, you’ll go with me
into battle.” He chuckled before adding, “And, you are even old enough to
attract the attention of the redheaded daughter of Richard Butler.”
Edward
came close to choking on the bread he had just swallowed. “Father, you know?”
He was so surprised by the comment it was all he could do to utter the
question.
“Aye
Edward, your mother and I have known for quite some time.” He smiled again,
trying to set his son at ease. “You could do far worse lad. Claire is a
beautiful girl from a good family and you’d be very lucky if you won her hand.”
Edward
was simply stunned. Up until that moment he believed that the budding
relationship between him and Claire had been a well-kept secret between the two
of them. Had Claire said something to someone? He didn’t believe so but how
else could their love have been discovered? He knew he hadn’t said anything to
anyone.
They had
shared three short days together during the spring festival in Kilkenny. It was
then that everything had happened between them. What started as a mutual
attraction rapidly became true love within just a few short hours. It was the
only time in their lives they had been together.
“Father,
you approve?” Edward asked tentatively.
“Aye my
son, as I said, you could do far worse. I happen to know she comes from a good
Catholic family too.” He winked and placed some berries into his mouth.
“However Edward, you do need to keep thoughts of the girl from your mind today.
It will be dangerous if you are distracted from the task at hand, that of
repelling King William and his men.”
“Father,
I know this and I will not disappoint you. I give you my promise.”
John
Talbot nodded his head approvingly. “I know you will son. I have not found you
lacking in any way since you were a small lad and dropped my best knife-sharpening
stone into the garderobe.” He chuckled as he reflected on their years together.
“I’m proud to be your father. You represent the Talbot name well.”
“Thank
you Father.” Edward lowered his gaze back to his hands, a little embarrassed by
the praise and knowing his father’s voice had been loud enough for all in the
room to hear what he said. There was no animosity or jealousy between cousins,
uncles, and brothers but praise was something generally reserved for private
moments in the Talbot family and not just for anyone’s ears.
The next
time Edward looked up there were a dozen male family members in the dining
hall. Each one of them ate the remainder of their meal in eerie silence. Even
though there was plenty of time for the men to eat, very little bread and fruit
passed their lips that morning compared to most.
The sun
was starting to make its customary appearance in the eastern sky, lighting the
room beyond what the six candles could provide. Edward knew, as did the rest of
the family, the time for leaving the safe confines of the castle was soon
approaching. Edward noticed his rather robust father was not eating much
either, signaling that he was worried.
Bartley
Talbot, the oldest of Edward’s uncles, placed his hands heavily on the table
and raised himself into a standing position. He looked around the room
appraising the family’s mood before speaking in a subdued but patriarchal tone.
“It’s time my brothers. We need to make our way to the river.”
Edward
and his father stood up simultaneously along with everyone else in the room. As
they made their way to the dining hall door, John Talbot placed a strong arm
around his son’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze, pulling him closer as he did
so. In a hushed tone that Edward didn’t know his father possessed, he said,
“Edward, you keep to the rear and do only what is asked of you. Do not think of
engaging any of the enemy in battle yourself.”
“Yes
Father.”
John
Talbot looked at his son closely and seconds later nodded his head, content in
the belief that his son was listening and would make it through the day.
The
Talbot men emerged from the castle and gathered outside the front entrance.
There they were met by several of the Talbot women as well as a local priest
who offered a blessing in behalf of the family.
Edward
looked across the expanse of the grounds and appreciated the beauty of the
trees reaching into the sky. The grass was as green as he could ever remember
it, and it was obvious the gardeners had been doing their best to take care of
the entire property. Flowers of different varieties seemed to be without end
wherever he looked.
The
women hugged and kissed their husbands, sons, and brothers after which the men
mounted their horses that had been led to the castle from the stable some time earlier.
Everyone present noticed how regal and noble they all looked atop their mounts,
muskets held in one hand and the reins of each ride held in the other.
Despite
their formidable appearance, Edward noticed the mood of the men had not
changed. Looking into their faces he could tell most were not optimistic and
actually quite grim. He thought what a contradiction everything was. The beauty
of Ireland normally uplifted his heart and overwhelmed his spirit; but on this
day, the opulent surroundings could not break through the encompassing
blackness.
The
ladies stepped away from their men and watched as they trotted away in the
direction of the river. The journey wouldn’t take long since they were
fortunate enough to have horses. For most of the soldiers in the Jacobite army,
the luxury of owning a horse was way beyond their financial means. The Talbots,
however, had the wealth and importance to warrant owning several of the
creatures and they were not embarrassed to indulge themselves. With their
affluence came respect, something that had not gone unnoticed by the Talbots,
and they hoped their arrival at the battle ground would inspire those fighting
on their side.
The sun
had not been above the horizon an hour when the river came into view and
already John Talbot saw there would be confusion. Both armies were dressed in
red which made it almost impossible to distinguish who the enemy was,
especially since both sides were positioned along the banks of the river. He
turned in the saddle to face his son. “Edward, you station yourself up on the
hill to the west and wait for further instructions.”
“Yes
Father.” He looked in the direction where his father was pointing and noticed a
small knoll that appeared to be well out of danger. He kicked the flanks of his
brown mare and rode toward where he was assigned to wait. He covered
half the distance in relative quiet when the stillness was shattered by the
loud crack of musket fire. He reigned in his horse and turned the mare in time
to see his father fall from the saddle and lie still on the ground, his horse
stepping nervously around him. More loud cracks and two more men from his
family fell to the earth while another listed to one side in the saddle as his
horse ran off in the opposite direction.
Edward
was unsure what to do. From his elevated position he could see several enemy
soldiers lined up in two rows approximately thirty yards from the clearing. The
front row was reloading their muskets while the back row was stepping forward
to fire again. His family had not been expecting the attack and was just now
scrambling to react.
He
kicked his heels and guided his horse back toward the clearing at a full run.
He could see Bartley dismount and bend over his father who, as far as Edward
could tell, had not moved since striking the ground. Other family members
jumped off their horses and prepared their own matchlock muskets to return
fire.
Disobedience
did not come easily to Edward and he hoped his father would understand why he
didn’t stay on the hill.
As he sped
to where his family was now firing back at the enemy, a single soldier saw his
approach out of the corner of his eye and leveled his flintlock musket as he
rode from right to left. He led him perfectly and pulled the trigger.
Edward
never knew he had been hit. He thought he heard a bird of prey screech in the
sky somewhere overhead but was unable to tilt his head to look up. He saw
Claire, a look of horror on her face, materialize right in front of him only to
disappear again. Then, along with all his hopes and dreams, Edward died before
he fell off his horse.
Three
significant things happened that day on the banks of the River Boyne. First,
every male member of the Talbot family who ate breakfast together in the dining
hall that morning was killed during the battle. Second, and perhaps of more
importance, the deposed King James II would finally give up his ambition of
retaking the throne of England that he had lost two years before. Third, the
wheels that had already been put in motion to assure Edward and Claire’s union
were abruptly halted. Nobody could possibly know, at the time, what harm or
consequence would be the result.
