Unable for the moment to visit the South, Sidney sent Carew and Gilbert to Kilkenny, in a sally from which town they inflicted a severe defeat on Sir Edmund Butler. In a second encounter Carew was less successful, but was able, within a few days, to lay siege to Clogrennan, which the garrison had orders to defend against all but the Lord Deputy himself. Hooker represents the capture of this castle as a great feat of arms, but Ormonde says that it contained only eight armed men. Being hard pressed, the commandant asked if Sidney was present, and being told that he was, went out on safe-conduct. Finding himself deceived, he returned into the house, but a soldier named Baker followed, shot or stabbed him in the back, and threw a log of wood between the doors, so that they could not be shut. Carew's men then poured in, and killed not only the garrison but the women and children, including 'an honest gentleman's son, not three years old.' This rascally breach of faith is represented by Hooker as fair stratagem of war.[168]
It is needless to recapitulate all the outrages committed on either side, or to inquire whether certain attempts on Carew's life were instigated by Sir Edmund Butler or not; but Enniscorthy was remarkable for the rapes and murders committed on the merchants and their families frequenting the great annual fair on August 15. Agriculture was quite neglected, and few houses were inhabited except those belonging to Ormonde. Carew laid all the blame on Irish ferocity, but Ormonde declared that the mischief was caused by rash attacks on landed property, which were shaking the loyalty of the highest and noblest. Sir Edmund had been a good subject, and was rewarded by losing his estate. He tried to defend his property, and was proclaimed a traitor. 'A wiser man than he,' said his brother, 'might be brought beside himself thus.' The following is too interesting to omit:--
'Old Grace, my man,' the Earl wrote, 'landed three weeks ago in Waterford sore handled with gout; my brother hearing of his being there came to the waterside to talk with him. Grace was carried between men to his boat, and in the boat talked with my brother, who asked very earnestly of the Queen's Majesty. The other told him she was in health and very well. "No, no," says he, "I know well enough she is poisoned, and my brother put into the Tower and there put to death." My man told him he might know my handwriting: he answered my letter bore an old date. He asked again twice if the Queen were alive. The other sware she was alive and in as good health as ever she was. "Well," said my brother, "if my lord is alive and that I may see him, I will believe his word, and then will I go into England and let her Highness know how I am dealt withal by my Lord Deputy and Sir Peter Carew."'