Seek the Fair Land

by Walter Macken

  Odo was roaring as he backed-away, trying to defend himself with his own piece of club, but Dominick’s blows were landing on him. Cormac, when, the fight had passed him, was about to jump on Dominick when Dualta held him firmly. ‘ Let me go,’ said Cormac. ‘Don’t shame your father,’ said Dualta,’ who didn’t care that his father was taking a few thumps. Dualta thought his own father had a too heavy hand, and that was a fact. It pleased him to see a little man hardly half his size bringing a look of worry to the coarse bearded face.

  But Dominick was small, and Odo was big. He reached a long arm and caught him by the clothes and brought him close to him and clouted him in the face, and Dominick fell again, but he was up once more and dodged under the groping hand and hit again and again, before another swing on the side of the face caught him and sent him into the muck of the yard. And he rose again and only the intervening figure of Sebastian stopped him.

  ‘Dominick! Dominick!’ said Sebastian. He was holding his arms. He felt them trembling under his hands. It was like holding a stallion. His eyes were misted over with anger. And then Sebastian saw them clearing and recognition coming into them, so he freed him. ‘There are other ways, Dominick,’ said Sebastian. ‘There are always other ways.’

  ‘Did you see what the little devil did to me?’ Odo was asking in a loud voice. ‘Aren’t I entitled to kill him for what he did to me?’

  ‘What is it? What is happening?’ the commanding voice asked them as Murdoc came through the door.

  He stood in the yard and looked at them; at the bloodied, dirtied Dominick, and the bleeding, blustering Odo.

  ‘What happened, Dominick?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

  Dominick jerked a hand at Odo.

  ‘He,’ he said. ‘ The brave one. He cut the throats of three of my sheep.’

  ‘I warned you,’ Odo shouted. ‘Time and again I sent word to you that they weren’t to cross my mearing. I told you.’

  ‘You are a braver man than you know,’ said Murdoc to Odo, ‘to do a thing like that to the little man. You are lucky to be alive. You could have come to me, Dominick. You didn’t have to do this. This is the day of the judgement. It doesn’t have to be settled in the yard. Let it be settled inside where is the place for it.’

  ‘Am I to let him go free, Murdoc, after what he did to me?’ Odo asked. ‘Do you love the stranger better than your own? Can’t I settle with him here and now? Put a sword in his hand and one in mine and I’ll carve him. Who has done a thing like that to Odo and been freed from it?’

  ‘You’ll do it the right way I want it,’ shouted Murdoc. ‘You had plenty of land on your side of the mountain. You could have been a friend. Does three sheep eat your inheritance?’

  ‘That whole valley, the mountain and the lake, all that was mine,’ said Odo. ‘ You divided me, but there wasn’t justice in the dividing. I was a man of peace. I made no motion on it. But there has to be a mearing. I keep my own. It’s written down in the documents.’

  ‘Go inside, Odo,’ Murdoc shouted. ‘You will get justice. You too, Dominick, go inside. That’s where there is justice. You’ll get it there.’

  ‘I hope so, Murdoc,’ said Dominick.

  The whiteness was leaving his face. He walked past and went into the house.

  It was then that Murdoc’s eyes rested on Sebastian. They opened wide Sebastian was looking calmly at him.

  ‘Coote had you,’ said Murdoc.

  ‘He hasn’t got me now,’ said Sebastian.

  ‘Have I been sheltering you, unknown to myself?’ Murdoc asked.

  ‘The hills have been sheltering me,’ said Sebastian. ‘The people have been sheltering me.’

  ‘The hills and the people are mine,’ said Murdoc. ‘What they do, I do. I tell them what to do, and what not to do. So I could be faulted with sheltering you if you are found.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Sebastian. ‘You are the leader of your people.’

  ‘Hum,’ said Murdoc. ‘We will talk. Come inside first and see justice working. Could you not restrain Dominick? You were the only one who ever could.’

  ‘This time I was a bit late,’ said Sebastian.

  Murdoc turned and walked in. Sebastian followed, and after him all the people in the yard; their business, their buying and selling suspended.

  It was a warm, muggy, smoke-filled place now. The lower long table was placed against the wall and the upper table was occupied by the brehon O’Maoilfabhuil, flanked by Mac Cille Ceallaigh the poet-teacher who was writing in a book. Columba was also sitting at this raised table, and Murdoc sat beside her. From the misty memories of his youth Dominick could remember brehon courts that had more dignity and colour and ceremony about them than this one. But they had been on the decline for many years. They had been forbidden by the invaders, but since there was no justice to be found in the foreign courts they still had to resort to these. What was justice? he thought as he stood in front of the table with a grumbling Odo to the left of him, and feeling the heat and smelling the gathering behind his back. Does real justice exist for small people at all, English or Irish, except the justice that you exact with your own courage? The Lords-in-being appointed the judges. One time the brehons might have been powerful enough to defy even those who appointed them, in their just judgements, but looking now at the white-haired scraggly man with the thin face, plucking at his lips with dirty hands, with his blood-shot eyes and raddled alcoholic face, Dominick wondered if justice was to be found here.

  Odo was stating his case. It was a good case to him, sound in law and justice. He was a wronged man who had acquiesced in the dividing of his holding to accommodate a stranger at the word of his chieftain Murdoc. But there was a line and this line had been violated after several warnings, when he had to take action, and for his pains he was assaulted and wounded by the stranger. He pointed out his wounds, he rubbed his hand over the still bleeding ones and showed the palms of his hands. He looked to the judge to uphold his virtue, that even though tempted he hadn’t taken the life of the little stranger, which he could have done like he would crush a beetle under his boot.

  Dominick in turn stated his case. He was a stranger, if being an Irishman was a stranger. He was peaceful. He had treated all with honour. He had no will to push himself against a stream. All he wanted was peace to build up a life that had been destroyed. Had Odo no tongue? Had he ever approached Dominick and asked him to keep his few sheep from the mearing on the rim of the hill? Was he a man or a beast? How could cutting the throats of three sheep prove that he was anything but a vengeful butcher? The one he had a right to attack was the owner of the sheep. That was all. He was a stranger, but that was all the more reason for justice being granted to him.

  The case was simple, the judge said. It would not take up much time, seeing all the many cases that were to be decided. Odo had killed three sheep in his justifiable anger. That was nevertheless an offence and he must restore three live sheep in place of them. But Dominick had committed an offence by striking the first blow and he must give Odo three live sheep in compensation for the palpable injury done to him.

  He showed them blackened teeth in a smile.

  ‘And so,’ he said, ‘justice will have been served. One fine will cancel out the other, and after all, the stranger will be left with the mutton.’

  He expected a laugh from this and he got it Solomon has come to judgement, Dominick thought.

  ‘I appeal to the chieftain,’ Dominick shouted.

  ‘It is your right,’ said the judge, ‘ but is it wise?’

  ‘Not wise,’ said Murdoc. ‘The judgement will stand, it is fair and equitable, but the chieftain will talk to the stranger in an empty room. The judgement will not be altered, but there will have to be proof that the same will not happen again. The court will sit again in one hour.’

  Dominick just stood there. He heard the people behind him leaving. There was a hand placed on his shoulder. He didn’t turn his head. ‘You are only half a stranger,’ a voice s
aid in his ear. ‘Belittle Odo a few more times like today and you will be a stranger no longer.’ There was a laugh in the voice. It warmed him, but all the same he was seething. He didn’t feel as lonely but still felt like a man from whom a throng of people had fallen away.

  ‘Dominick,’ said Murdoc, ‘it was foolish of you to attack him. If you had kept your head, something could have been done. But you lost your head and you lost your judgement at the same time.’

  ‘You are afraid of them still, Murdoc, aren’t you?’ Dominick asked.

  ‘I’m afraid of no man,’ said Murdoc.

  ‘You are new over them,’ said Dominick, ‘you are only feeling your way with them. You will not offend them, so you blind your eyes.’

  ‘Dominick,’ said Murdoc. ‘These are difficult times. We will survive them, but only by cunning. I know what I am going to do to survive and how I am going to do it. Bit by bit. I want these people. I need them. I am going to make them survive with me.’

  ‘But how can you make them survive with you,’ said a voice from the smoke-filled room behind Dominick, ‘if you do not show them good example?’

  Murdoc was peering.

  ‘I can’t see the face but I know the voice. Come forward, Sebastian.’

  ‘Here I am, chieftain,’ said Sebastian, coming to stand beside Dominick.

  ‘Have you more to say?’ Murdoc asked.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sebastian, ‘ I have been wanting to say it for a time. These are hard times we live in. The leaders of the people have been killed, slandered, sent into exile. Few of them remain. Is that agreed, Murdoc?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Murdoc.

  ‘So the ones that remain,’ said Sebastian, ‘ must be examples of greatness to the people. They must honour justice and truth not only with their lips but with their lives. Can you say that?’

  ‘What do you mean, now?’ Murdoc’s voice was very cold.

  ‘I mean how can you show good example when you are living in sin with that woman by your side?’ Sebastian asked calmly. ‘Are you leading your people to survival by flaunting your adultery?’

  It was a very heavy table, a long heavy table of solid oak, but Murdoc had grasped it with his hands, thrown it away from him, leaped over it and was facing the priest, with his hand raised.

  It was only a scream from Columba that stopped him hitting Sebastian. She came from behind and caught his arm, made him lower it and held his clenched fist in her hand. ‘No, no, Murdoc,’ she said.

  ‘You are alive,’ said Murdoc to Sebastian. ‘You should be dead.’

  ‘We are in love, we are in love,’ said Columba, looking into Sebastian’s face. Dominick thought anybody could see that. Also that Columba was pregnant.

  ‘We haven’t come to where we are now,’ said Sebastian, ‘because we are all good people. We have been punished for our sins. If we expect to be resurrected from the low places to which we have been thrown we have to become better people, better than our enemies in every way. How can the people become really good if their leaders are bad?’

  ‘You mealy-mouthed man,’ said Murdoc. ‘You have plenty to do, haven’t you, without coming here insulting a girl, throwing things in her face, disgusting. You are supposed to have pity, sympathy, love.’

  ‘And no fear,’ said Sebastian. ‘I pity her with all my heart I sympathize with her with my mind, and I love her, but blame you. You were the strong one. You have been abroad. You have seen the murder of this land. Why didn’t that put purity into your heart? Do you think you are bringing her happiness?’

  ‘Oh, he is, he is,’ said Columba. ‘You don’t understand. We have sent messages to France. My husband was an old man when he left before the siege. He is probably dead.’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ shouted Murdoc to him. ‘ You have plenty of it. You have old women dying and young men unconfessed and children who need to be preached to. Don’t madden me, Sebastian. Do what you have to do but keep away from me, or you will be sorry.’

  ‘My sorrow has nothing to do with it,’ said Sebastian. ‘Murdoc, can’t you see what you have done to her? Can’t you see what you are doing to yourself? How long a step is it from adultery to apostasy? Can you answer me that?’

  ‘Look, Sebastian, I tell you this: you better go. Go now. Clear out of here. I don’t want to see you any more. I don’t ever want to see your face any more. I don’t like you. I never did. If you were here for a hundred years I would never like you. Don’t give me cause. Don’t give me cause to really hurt you. Go away now.’

  ‘All right,’ said Sebastian. ‘I will go, Murdoc. Columba, I really love you. If I didn’t I couldn’t have faced this situation. Murdoc, I ask you with all my heart to examine yours. Unless you do you won’t survive.’

  ‘Go away, go away, go away when I tell you,’ shouted Murdoc. He walked away from him, cracking a fist into his open palm.

  Sebastian hesitated, then he bowed to Columba, who was looking at him with her forehead furrowed, anguish and indecision in her eyes, and turned and walked towards the door. Dominick looked at the two of them, then he too turned and followed the priest.

  Murdoc saw him going.

  ‘Dominick!’ he called after him imperiously.

  Dominick didn’t turn. He walked through the haze and followed out of the door after the priest.

  Murdoc put his hands on Columba’s shoulders.

  ‘Don’t let him upset you,’ he said. ‘ There is always one like him to spoil something beautiful.’

  ‘But it is a sin, Murdoc,’ she said, ‘it is a sin.’

  ‘Well, it is a sin, if you say so now,’ said Murdoc, ‘ but we will find somebody to forgive it. He is only one man, a whey-faced, implacable letter-of-the-law man. Let him go to hell. How can he destroy beauty, something as tender as a flower he crushes in his ugly paw? Don’t listen to him. Put what he said out of your head. You are mine and I know what is right. Don’t let him spoil this thing between us. It is the first in my life, the very first, and I will hold on to it, and no ranting priest will destroy It, I promise you. You must trust in me, Columba. I am the one you must listen to. Everything will be all right.’

  But she was downcast.

  ‘I hope so, Murdoc,’ she said, ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Believe in me, Columba,’ he said, holding her shoulders. ‘I will work your life for you.

  He was still raging. He walked to the doorway. He saw the crowd in the yard, and at the outskirts the tall figure walking with the short one beside him.

  ‘Remember John the Baptist Sebastian,’ he roared after them. He saw the startled faces of the people. He saw the thin bearded face of the priest looking over his shoulder at him, with the wide deep sorrowful eyes. Then he went back to Columba.

  Sebastian and Dominick walked on until they were alone.

  ‘Three sheep are not so important after all,’ said Dominick.

  ‘There are more important things,’ said Sebastian.

  ‘Yes,’ said Dominick with a sigh. ‘I shouldn’t have lost my temper.’

  ‘We have seen a lot, Dominick,’ said Sebastian. ‘ We have seen priests and men hanged and quartered. You saw noble men dying on that island out there. What good are the deaths of the innocent if we won’t learn a lesson from them? If we don’t apply the lessons how can we ever drag ourselves out of the ditch of despair? If the people don’t get a lead, what are they to do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Dominick. ‘Come home with me for the night. Can’t you forget it for one night? Peter is panting to see you, and Mary Ann has learned to spin wool. She is proud, but what good if, you won’t see it?’

  ‘I will,’ said Sebastian. ‘But just for tonight. There is so much to be done, Dominick, and so few of us to do it.’

  ‘The sun will shine tomorrow,’ said Dominick. ‘ God is good.’

  ‘I am afraid for Murdoc,’ said Sebastian. ‘ I am afraid for him.’

  And he had cause to be.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  FOR
COOTE came into the land.

  There was a fairly wide and even patch of ground some several hundred yards from the castle of Rin Mhil. It was good drained ground and the grass on it was green and clipped very close by the sheep.

  On a blazing June day, Dominick sat on a rocky hillock overlooking this field and watched the animated scene below him. It was the feast of St Jarlath, and the people had gathered from all their sheltered valleys and hills, and from many miles around. They sat or lounged around the field in groups, eating the prepared food they had brought with them. Off in the far corner of the field, he saw many hundreds of the small black mountain cattle. He could hear them lowing, and beside them there were many sheep and horses, jumping and neighing. There were pedlars from as far away as Dublin, peddling news and ballad sheets, and iron ploughshares, coulters and spades and hatchets and scythes, and net-twine and fish-hooks, and pieces of silk cloth, and dyed linens and tobacco and wine. Anything you could put a name on, they had it if you had the money to pay for it; ribbons and beads for decoration and rosary beads for praying, and little plaster models of saints.

  There was a lot of noise down there near the fair. He could hear men singing, and see tumblers tumbling, and in another corner near-naked men were wrestling with one another, to shouts of encouragement or derision.

  It was hot. It reminded him of the summer they had come here. How many years ago? Was it one or two? Two. It seemed so long ago. Here, where time had ceased to be measured by the work of the clocksmiths and was registered by the rising and setting of the sun. By what you had accomplished this year and by what you hoped to do next year. Last year they had spun and dyed their own wool. Wasn’t that an accomplishment? To have climbed the mountain to the lake in the cup of it and dug deep for the grey black muck, bringing that down in wooden buckets and boiling it with the wool to dye it a sort of black for the heavy impervious cloth that would stop any wind or rain in the winter. There was the purple dye of the lichen moss, and the yellow-red of the roots from the bog. Warping the wool for the weaver’s loom, a small dark taciturn little fellow who lived by the sea and shuttled away, day after day. Did he ever see the sunlight, Dominick wondered, or did he ever care if he saw the sunlight? He was like something that had been woven himself, he was impregnated with the smell of the wool, but it was good for a man to be silent if that was the way he wanted to be.