The Wind That Shakes the Barley Page #3

- That's right.

That's right.

What do they have you in for?

The written word.

"Disloyally affected person",

whatever that means.

We ain't f***in', lads.

Right, which one of you f***ers

is Teddy O'Donovan?

- It's me. I'm O'Donovan.

- Get him out!

- Get outside, you Fenian f***er.

- Sit down!

- Sit down!

- You bastards.

I'm Teddy O'Donovan.

- State your name again.

- Teddy O'Donovan...

- Get this one out.

- You Fenian f***er. Get him out!

You Fenian f***ers!

Move! Move it!

Get in there! F***ing get in that

chair! F***ing dirty Irish f***er!

Strap him down. And his legs.

Hello, Teddy.

It's a pleasure to meet you

in the flesh after all this time.

Where's your safe houses, Teddy?

I want names, places, Teddy.

Where's your weapon stashes?

I'm going to make you squeal, Teddy,

like all the other f***ers.

So you'd better start talking to me.

Now, I take it that

you want me carry on with this, yeah?

D This old man, he played one

d He played knickknack on my thumb

Now, I want names and f***ing places.

And you'd better

start telling me soon!

Names and places. Come on, sunshine.

Come on. You can do it. Come on.

Come here, you little...

Come on, Teddy. Come on, Teddy.

Come on! Tell me!

Teddy!

Hold it together, Teddy!

Hold it together!

Teddy!

Teddy! I can't take that

f***ing shite. Come on.

We have to be strong for him.

Do you hear me?

He'd want you to be strong, boy.

Come on now. Sing the song.

Shut up!

Shut up. F***ing Irish.

Shut up!

- Get in there!

- Jesus Christ, you f***ing bastards.

- What have you done to him?

- Keep his hands up, lads.

Give me something for his head.

Give me something for his head.

Behind his head.

You're alright, Teddy boy.

Keep them up now.

- I never said a word.

- I know you didn't, boy.

I know you didn't. You're the most

stubborn man I ever met.

You're alright.

How long have you known him?

All my life. He's my brother.

It's alright. Shh.

Open that f***ing door.

- Get on your feet, you f***er!

- Come on, move!

Get in there!

What's your name?

I am... I am a member

of the Irish Republican Army.

I demand to be treated

as a political prisoner.

You're a murdering gangster

who shoots men in the back.

No, you're wrong. I'm a Democrat.

In the last election, Sinn Fin won

73 seats out of a possible 105.

Our mandate's for an Irish Republic

separate from Great Britain.

- A democratic decision.

- That is not my responsibility.

I'm just a soldier

sent by my government.

Your government, which suppresses

our parliament, which bans our paper.

Your presence here is a crime,

a foreign occupation.

Tell me what I'm supposed to do.

Turn the other cheek

for another 700 years?

- That is not my responsibility.

- Get out of my country.

- What is your name?

- Get out of my country.

You're not a bog cutter.

Show me your hands.

Show me your f***ing hands!

What are you going to do?

Pull my fingernails off?

What do you f***ing well expect?

These men fought at the Somme,

up to their necks in vomit,

in filthy trenches,

while their friends got blown apart

in front of their eyes! Sort him out!

Give me your name!

Your name?

Come here!

Soldier!

Shoot him in the temple.

In the temple!

- Can't.

- Do it! Do it!

- I can't.

- Do it! It's an order!

Tomorrow, military court

and execution

for possession of a firearm.

"So I turned to

the garden of love...

...and priests in black gowns

were walking their rounds and..."

"...binding with briars,

my joys and desires." William Blake.

I got deported to Wales.

Frongoch Camp.

Don't tell these bastards, but they

were the best years of my life.

I learnt to read and write...

and think.

- Were you in the Citizen Army?

- Hm.

- With Connolly?

- Oh, yeah.

- Did you ever hear him speak?

- Dublin lockout.

Saturday afternoon

in the pissings of rain.

He set the place alight.

"If you remove the British Army

tomorrow...

...and hoist the green flag

over Dublin Castle...

...unless you organise

a socialist republic,

all your efforts

will have been in vain."

"And England will still

rule you through her landlords,

capitalists,

and commercial institutions."

Thank you, Mr Connolly.

I used that once in a debate

at university.

Jesus, I was all talk.

And when it came down to it,

I always had an excuse.

Teddy could see right through that.

Man of action.

We were fierce close as young fellas.

Just the two of us.

Me following him around all the time.

I could never match him.

They sent him away...

at 12 years of age.

The seminary at 12 years of age.

By the time he came back,

he was a man.

I was still a boy.

My name's Johnny Gogan.

My dad's from Donegal. And I won't

have your death on my conscience.

Come on.

- Where's the other fellas?

- Away for a piss.

I haven't got the key.

I don't have a key for this cell.

Damien!

Come back! Damien!

Whoa. Whoa. Bye, lads.

- You must be hungry.

- I'm starving. Thanks very much.

How is he?

- Aye, he'll be fine.

- Bearing up.

Eat up now.

You'll need to stay strong.

- What age are you?

- 19.

- What made you do it?

- I don't know.

Well, you're a brave lad.

Isn't he, Mam?

He's a very brave lad.

And we're very proud of you.

- My dad's from Donegal.

- Where?

Donegal.

There's a fresh bit there

if you want it.

- Are you holding up?

- Sure not great.

You did well, Damien.

Kevin, Johnny and Colum

are still there, you know?

They could be shot at any time.

We left them there.

Ah, Jesus Christ.

I can't take much more of this.

We know who turned you in.

Mairi's a typist at the barracks. She

found a letter and made a copy of it.

The horse you wanted

is in the stable over there.

That's for you, Teddy.

You've got to rest.

- Tim will take you back.

- Damien's next in command.

Sean? Sean?

Go, Julia.

Don't move!

Put your hands behind your head.

Give him the letter.

Read it.

"I feel duty bound to inform you

of my suspicions

concerning a member of my staff."

"Recently, I have observed

some unsavoury characters

trespassing on my lands."

"Most of them are a trumped-up

bunch of rustics, shop hands

and corner boys

with delusions of grandeur."

"I am now certain

my own employee, Chris Reilly,

takes orders from trench-coat thug,

Teddy O'Donovan,

who I know is a top priority

for you."

I don't suppose you know

what he looks like?

Short and thick, I imagine.

Get him some paper.

Write this down in your own words.

Go on.

For the attention

of General Hugh Tudor.

I am responsible for the arrest

of 11 members of the IRA.

Three now face execution.

If one hair on their head is touched,

I will get a bullet, too.

Such a beautiful room.

It's hard to imagine

a man scream from here.

Ever seen fingernails ripped out

with rusty pliers, Sir John? Hm?

All your learning

and you still don't understand.

Oh, I understand perfectly,

Mr O'Donovan.

God preserve Ireland

if ever your kind take control.

You better start

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