Bold Fenian Men
Chapter Four
"How do you do it, Padraig?" Cillian whistled.
"Do what?"
"Change moods faster than you change outfits?" Padraig chuckled softly.
"Those huns from the UVF have been trying to kill me for three years now, and I'm not about to allow Gearoid to let them succeed, eh? What would you muckers do without me?"
"All get shot up, probably." Cillian laughed. "I've never heard the term "muckers" in a South Armagh accent before. You should do it more often." Padraig was originally from Crossmaglen in South Armagh, although he could swap his accent to Belfast at his own leisure if he wished.
Padraig's face hardened as a timid Gearoid entered the room again. He handed Padraig his gun, jumping slightly as Padraig took it from him.
"Quit your snivelling," Padraig commanded. "Are you an IRA man or what?"
"Well I never know if you're here to be nice or shoot my knees out." Gearoid muttered.
"Behave yourself and you won’t have to fear me, will you?" Padraig asked, his eyes and voice firm. Gearoid nodded.
"Look, Padraig, I'm real sorry. I was pissed out of my head and I forgot to give it back. I wasn't using it for anything else, I swear."
"I'd like to think you're not." Padraig said sternly. "The IRA carried heavy punishments for using weapons without authorisation. I don’t want to be the one kneecapping you one day, Gearoid." Fear flashed into Gearoid's eyes.
"I swear to God, Padraig, I wasn't!" The young man looked close to tears. "It was just lying under my coat all night. I only used it for the operation last night, I swear to God, seriously –"
"If you say so, Gearoid. Sure I'm not going to make anything of it. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again." Gearoid nodded frantically as Padraig led himself and Cillian out, and he shut the door behind them, his eyes still wide with fear.
Padraig had meanwhile stored the gun away in the inside pocket of his jacket. He was an expert at concealing weapons by now, and even Cillian wouldn’t have even guessed that Padraig was in possession of a gun even though he was standing right up close to him.
They got back into Padraig's car and headed over to Cearnaigh's house, a short distance away from their own. When they arrived, Cearnaigh was waiting anxiously at the front door. Padraig pulled up on the kerb and he and Cillian got out.
"What are you looking so worried about?" Padraig asked brightly, walking lightly over to the house.
"I was wondering where the Hell you'd gotten to!"
"Getting my God damn gun of Gearoid McMahon." Padraig said.
"Ah, Padraig, tell me you didn’t hurt him?"
"Why would I have hurt him?"
"I know how you can be. You didn’t, did you?"
"Of course I didn’t."
"Good. Because he's only just eighteen and he still doesn’t really know what he's doing."
"Nonsense. He wouldn’t be in my Brigade if he didn’t know what he was doing. You know what I expect from my Volunteers and he meets the mark. He was pissed anyway." Cearnaigh looked relieved.
"That's grand. I was getting worried you were going to kneecap him in his kitchen or something." Padraig laughed.
"I don't think so." he chuckled. "The poor bastard was frightened out of his wits anyway, without me even having threaten him."
"You're a devil, ye know that?"
"Of course." Padraig's face slipped back into serious mode. "So, where are the huns we're shooting up today then?"
"It's risky." Cearnaigh said seriously. He looked as though he wasn't going to enjoy the following conversation one bit.
"What's the matter with you?" Padraig asked.
"Do what?"
"Change moods faster than you change outfits?" Padraig chuckled softly.
"Those huns from the UVF have been trying to kill me for three years now, and I'm not about to allow Gearoid to let them succeed, eh? What would you muckers do without me?"
"All get shot up, probably." Cillian laughed. "I've never heard the term "muckers" in a South Armagh accent before. You should do it more often." Padraig was originally from Crossmaglen in South Armagh, although he could swap his accent to Belfast at his own leisure if he wished.
Padraig's face hardened as a timid Gearoid entered the room again. He handed Padraig his gun, jumping slightly as Padraig took it from him.
"Quit your snivelling," Padraig commanded. "Are you an IRA man or what?"
"Well I never know if you're here to be nice or shoot my knees out." Gearoid muttered.
"Behave yourself and you won’t have to fear me, will you?" Padraig asked, his eyes and voice firm. Gearoid nodded.
"Look, Padraig, I'm real sorry. I was pissed out of my head and I forgot to give it back. I wasn't using it for anything else, I swear."
"I'd like to think you're not." Padraig said sternly. "The IRA carried heavy punishments for using weapons without authorisation. I don’t want to be the one kneecapping you one day, Gearoid." Fear flashed into Gearoid's eyes.
"I swear to God, Padraig, I wasn't!" The young man looked close to tears. "It was just lying under my coat all night. I only used it for the operation last night, I swear to God, seriously –"
"If you say so, Gearoid. Sure I'm not going to make anything of it. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again." Gearoid nodded frantically as Padraig led himself and Cillian out, and he shut the door behind them, his eyes still wide with fear.
Padraig had meanwhile stored the gun away in the inside pocket of his jacket. He was an expert at concealing weapons by now, and even Cillian wouldn’t have even guessed that Padraig was in possession of a gun even though he was standing right up close to him.
They got back into Padraig's car and headed over to Cearnaigh's house, a short distance away from their own. When they arrived, Cearnaigh was waiting anxiously at the front door. Padraig pulled up on the kerb and he and Cillian got out.
"What are you looking so worried about?" Padraig asked brightly, walking lightly over to the house.
"I was wondering where the Hell you'd gotten to!"
"Getting my God damn gun of Gearoid McMahon." Padraig said.
"Ah, Padraig, tell me you didn’t hurt him?"
"Why would I have hurt him?"
"I know how you can be. You didn’t, did you?"
"Of course I didn’t."
"Good. Because he's only just eighteen and he still doesn’t really know what he's doing."
"Nonsense. He wouldn’t be in my Brigade if he didn’t know what he was doing. You know what I expect from my Volunteers and he meets the mark. He was pissed anyway." Cearnaigh looked relieved.
"That's grand. I was getting worried you were going to kneecap him in his kitchen or something." Padraig laughed.
"I don't think so." he chuckled. "The poor bastard was frightened out of his wits anyway, without me even having threaten him."
"You're a devil, ye know that?"
"Of course." Padraig's face slipped back into serious mode. "So, where are the huns we're shooting up today then?"
"It's risky." Cearnaigh said seriously. He looked as though he wasn't going to enjoy the following conversation one bit.
"What's the matter with you?" Padraig asked.