At Castlebar rigorous care was taken that P. J. D. and I should not speak with one another. Care had been taken that we should exercise apart, and only by the accident of the shortage of staff on the Sunday had either of us been able to do more than guess at the other’s presence. At Richmond Barracks we were thrown together perforce, and were condemned to sleep under the one slender blanket.

In the room to which we were consigned there were already twenty-five others. The officers who took us up told me that it was known as the Leaders’ Room: a description that, at that time, was ... ominous.... From it, De Valera had gone to his life’s sentence; from it, I was told, Sean MacDiarmada had gone to his death...; and there Count Plunkett had been required to answer for the consciences of his sons. And a goodly company remained there yet, from [45]whom we received a hospitality the joviality of which gave no heed to the courtsmartial that slowly worked their way along the lists provided by a diligent officialdom. Presents from friends were permitted, under supervision; and food so obtained was put into a common commissariat, presided over by mighty Sean O’Mahony, the ruler and president of our company. From this store we were regaled without further ado, while he stood between us and the others who rose to welcome us to our fate. He would suffer none to approach us with a more immediate welcome or inquiry until we had had what we would of the hospitality it was his to dispense; and then we mixed in the company into which we had been cast.

So, for the first time I came into touch with those who had had their part in the Rising. There were some of the company on whom the burning yet remained. Most had been through a historic week, and three had been ............