Chapter 28 #2
And then, the city of Cork was set ablaze.
The Auxiliaries and soldiers stationed there had embarked on a campaign of terror in retaliation for the ambush of two of their lorries one evening.
Not only did they set the center of the second largest city in southern Ireland on fire using petrol and incendiary bombs, but they actively hindered and intimidated the fire brigades attempting to fight it.
The Crown Forces looted shops, robbed and beat the city’s residents, and fired indiscriminately from their speeding vehicles.
Of course, the government subsequently denied these facts, claiming the IRA set the fires, despite all evidence to the contrary.
A military inquiry was eventually conducted into the matter after a great deal of pressure was applied, but the results were never published.
When the government refused to issue such things, it was of a certainty that it was because they hadn’t liked the findings.
However, the event which would prove to have the greatest implications for us was the raid made by a group of Auxiliaries on an IRA munitions factory in the basement of a bicycle shop in Great Britain Street.
They managed to confiscate a large amount of material for making grenade shells but made no arrests.
Some of the explosive ingredients had been stored in bags marked “bicarbonate of soda” and “cream of tartar” to conceal what they were.
“Those grenades were packed with gelignite,” Alec informed us when we rendezvoused briefly one rainy afternoon inside the National Gallery.
An uneasy expression came over his face as he continued, but I suspected it wasn’t directed at the painting in front of him, but rather what he was about to say.
“Apparently, someone tipped off the Auxies to the location.”
At first, I thought he was trying to ask if it had been us, and I was affronted. Until, abruptly, I realized what he meant, turning to Sidney to see if he understood. “Ardmore.”
We had speculated that Ardmore would try to shift the blame to someone else.
Was this his attempt to incriminate the republicans?
The Mulcahy documents that had been captured a month ago had mentioned the IRA’s plans to use explosives, and they’d already blown up warehouses in Liverpool.
If Ardmore did succeed in detonating that gelignite, the republicans would be the natural suspects, and this evidence, while circumstantial, would go a long way to convincing many that it was fact.
“But I thought he wanted to help the rebels?” Sidney questioned.
“No, he only wants to help himself,” I refuted softly. “Though it will be easier for him to implement his plans if the republicans’ aims are achieved. And having the IRA blamed for his explosion won’t prevent that. Depending on the target, it might actually help it.”
“None of this alters the fact that we need to find Ardmore and his explosives,” Alec stated. “It just makes it more complicated.” He cast a side glance at me. “You’ve heard that Mick has taken over as acting president of the republic since Griffith remains under arrest.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “No.”
He nodded, pivoting toward the door to the gallery. “Then perhaps at least some of the Dáil’s business isn’t broadcast the moment it’s passed.” He cast me one last lingering look. “It won’t be for long. Dev is on his way back from the U.S.”
A disquieted feeling lodged in my chest, for Willoughby had speculated that Ardmore might rather deal with de Valera than Collins since the latter had rejected all of his previous advances.
If we were correct about Ardmore’s intentions, they all seemed to be falling into place despite our attempts to disrupt him.
The Viceregal Lodge was just about the last place I wished to spend an evening, but considering our predicament, and the fact that we needed to continue to apply pressure about finding Ardmore, Sidney and I decided we couldn’t decline the invitation to the lord lieutenant’s dinner party.
So I donned my periwinkle-blue gown with matching capelet, pulled a gold headband over my auburn curls, and pasted on a pleasant smile.
Mark Sturgis was there, along with Anderson, the Burkes, and Lord French’s mistress—Mrs. Bennet.
It was a small party, which allowed the dinner conversation to flow quite freely.
Though, of course, the topics of conversation were mainly to do with current events.
“Clune was adamant that the Shinners won’t surrender their arms as a preliminary truce,” Sturgis was telling the lord lieutenant, who was more or less uninformed as to the current state of things. “That they view such an act as tantamount to surrender.”
“But an honorable one,” French grumbled, his well-groomed white mustache quivering. “Which is more than they deserve.”
“However, I rather liked Anderson’s suggestion of proposing an unofficial truce,” Sturgis continued as if he’d not been interrupted.
My fork stilled over my plate of stuffed brussels sprouts, failing to understand what this meant.
Fortunately, Anderson seemed to recognize this term would only cause confusion. “A sort of slacking off by both sides,” he explained. “They cease these murders and outrages, and we’ll stop our forces from raiding, looting, burning, and such.”
“But of course the court-martials and arrests will continue,” Sturgis added. “No one will be released.”
This seemed a bad bargain from the republicans’ standpoint, and I wondered how they didn’t see this. Particularly, as Sidney pointed out, “How are you going to ensure the police and troops obey it? I thought the government had no control over their reactions?”
This last statement was perhaps farther than I might have gone in present company, but he was just repeating one of the excuses we’d heard the government offer for their inability to halt the reprisals.
“If there were no outrages, there would be no reason for anger,” French argued, to which the others nodded.
“Four policemen were killed just today in someplace called Kilcommon Cross,” Sir Gerald Burke interjected. “Whether that will result in reprisal, I can’t say, but one can understand it.”