“Do not worry yourself with nonsense Peter! Did you hear what the steward said? People are hungry for the truth and will stand four-square behind us with proper guidance. Soon the Castle and London will see negotiation is the only solution! Then self-governance in Dublin will be just an angel’s breath away. Now wish me luck Peter.”
“You have it as always,” he replied. As Duncan strode away to join Samuel, Peter went into the throng below. Peter wanted to be among the people he championed while his truest partner delivered a rousing appeal.
“To all ladies and gentlemen gathered here on this wonderful occasion,” exclaimed Samuel McGee. “We thank you for attending the largest event ever staged for our Common Man Movement. Your time will be most rewarded by the knowledge you will gain for real change. Without further ado, I welcome the brilliant Duncan Malloy!”
Cheers of welcome exploded skywards. Duncan waited for the resounding din to recede before signaling his intention to begin.
“People of Ireland, I ask you, what does it mean today to be a citizen of this green land of clover? My well intentioned heart can think of times when hard work and toil brought a decent life of satisfaction. That meant a roof over head, food to eat and communities which shared in the lot of our whole. Now, these are only fond memories of an age most here may never know again.
“I look out into the crowd before me and see fellow people suffering; some more quietly and others more profoundly. Yet my tortured vision also sees ghosts. Yes, among you walk the souls of emigrants lost at sea because there was no hope left in their native country. I hear the wail of widows evicted with child after their husbands died so they could live. My ears ring from harrowing screams by families forced off land they tenanted for generations. And now they have nothing but the rags on their backs to carry forward!
“We were a fuller country in my memory, but surely no paradise. The future is meant to be for progress. Yet in reality, we have witnessed a long unyielding decline in our means to survive. I say such hardship is related to a parliament based in London which has no true interest concerning citizens across the sea!
“Whether one realizes it or not, this nation is at a crossroads which will determine the way we live for decades to come. Our solution with the movement is clear. First, we gain a Dublin based parliament elected by all citizens of the land without prejudice. Then, we institute laws which provide basic protection for our inhabitants. When they have a leg to stand on, all will rise to the challenges faced together. Without a parliament in Dublin, we will wither into a class economy, where a few elites are served by the majority of have nots!”
Duncan spoke with the fiery execution of one truly committed to every notion he advanced. Fed by tireless, sympathetic ears, he reached with endless determination into his inner well of firsthand experience.
“I have traveled to many towns and villages where most of those in Dublin Castle dare not step. I have spoken to our downtrodden every day in the places where most members in London Parliament do not show a face. These officials believe guilt cannot be assigned because they have not met these things in person. Regardless, to continually ignore is acknowledging these peoples’ lives are not worth the effort of finding a solution.
“Wicked plans are readily formulated in the absence of true concern. The current course of our nation’s affairs is a road to disgraceful subservience, with our puppet administration and token representation. It cannot be allowed to run its course!
“An Irish Parliament is the only option which attempts to recognize the ills which pervade the Island. We should not abandon the country which our forefathers toiled with extreme hardship for centuries. We should not die in vain by running from this cycle of deprivation to different towns for similar results. Most of all, we should not lose the right to determine our futures on native soil!
“Our opposition plays the war of attrition to great effect. Profits from land holdings here are ripened when a tenant leaves. More land is freed for growing grains to feed the prodigious belly of England. There is more grazing for fattened cattle to put on English plates when a tenant is forced off the land.
“The economics of eviction are the price we all pay when there is no home parliament. Please make no mistake that power always seeks a home. It is either wielded for or against you. Judge for yourself the consequences of how power is used today in Ireland.
“Now ask those in Dublin Castle the last time they went without three meals in a day. Ask those big men in Dublin Castle the last time they faced a forced eviction order. And please ask them the last time they had to face leaving the country their ancestors had inhabited for generations. There is no empathy when there is no understanding. There is no understanding if they do not care to know you exist!
“We light our wick by day only to have it snuffed by the winds of oppressive policies. When did our people surrender the rights to be free in our own land? When did we say take our native rights to participate in the governing of all by all for all? Along the way to London, some pretty powerful people hijacked our means, stealing our ambitions as well.
“Today I stand before you in Wheatstone Fields, not as an orator with a solid command of words. For here I am the brother who died from famine in ’48, the father who emigrated in ’55, and a tenant who shuffled from town to village after the landlord tossed me for two months back rent! I am the daily toiler who makes a sterling short a week and has one loaf less to feed my starving family. I am all of these people and more, for damn it, I am a child of Ireland! I am a friend to all. And I will protest with my last breath to save my beloved nation!”
Hearing his impassioned speech brought the crowd to a climatic frenzy. Most of the assembled in Duncan’s beloved hometown roared their complete approval at his true words. Before them was a man to put forth their claim to dignity. Duncan Malloy exemplified an Irishman for Ireland and nothing less.
Standing amongst this jostling throng, Peter could appreciate the power of their thoughts from a different vantage point. Here he could readily gage the pervasive mood. Today, a sincere appeal for self-government proved well received. Overall, Peter was in sheer joy at the reception Duncan’s pleas were eliciting from these huddled masses.
Back on stage, overwhelming crowd support stoked an equally gripping response from their emboldened orator. Feeding on abundant reserves from a lifetime of passionate observation, Duncan Malloy continued his fiery appeal.
“I believe the true measure of any person who inhabits this broad swath of earth is how much love they give, free of condition, to their fellow man. To be a selfless giver is one lesson the Good Book would surely approve of. I’ve been given the miracle of a good life, and enough resources to help with great assistance. For that I’m most grateful. Selfishness knows no home in these faithful bones!
“I stand here with no regard to whispered cautions about pending harm that may come my way. In all that I pursue with our Common Man Movement, let each person assembled know I do it to free all people on our beloved soil. We must live with the dignity that every human was accorded from above. So I now demand the shackles to fall, and from this nightmare to be set free!”
One sensed multitudes of ears pricking to attention as the gathered throng reveled in new found unity. Duncan Malloy spoke no hollow words. Indeed, this swelling cry for redemption of truncated ambition came from a weighty arsenal of past grievances. Individual voices so long silenced sounded out their need to be heard. Soon, the low roar grew louder as each person realized positive momentum must be seized now.
Ugly, brooding yesterdays stooped in the labor of barely living had been deemed to run their course. Duncan Malloy stirred passions in the swelling crowd for rightful determination. He put to words the angry storm of harm that surely thrashed through weary bodies that never tasted due recompense.
And so a movement for the right reasons claimed a small victory. The common man, bereft of moneyed privile
ges, became aware they did not stand alone. Or needed to be alone, for there was support in the unity of shared struggles. Ages of painful loads could feel just a little lighter when spread amongst the backs of many. Thus the cries of protest grew in strength, summed up by the throng’s three sentences.
“Malloy stands for Ireland, and we will stand for thee. Put my soul in Ireland, for its roots belong to me. An Irish Parliament is what we need Old London now to decree.”
Duncan beamed proudly at this display of grassroots faith pouring forth from the starving belly of supporters before him. One can go their whole life without finding purpose or merit of conscience. Though at this precise moment in his life there was a sweet intersection of hope and destiny.
The gathering could sense a chance to grab the ring of equality. They could sense the tide changing just a little. And they knew Duncan Malloy would give within an inch of his life to lift the assembled multitudes towards a better way of life. Here on earth. Here in the land of their ancestors. Here in the lush green fields of Ireland.
From the darker recesses came forth booming voices which cut above the teaming throng. “Here’s to Duncan Malloy! It was surely not our lot to be administered by these self-appointed judges from Imperial Britain. We need decisions in our country made by our own government!”
Feverish chants erupted throughout Wheatstone Fields for an orator who spoke the will of this country’s quiet majority. Until now, a multitude of voices were squelched by a desperate fight for daily survival. Now, their hopes for decent shelter, adequate food and responsible administration of their country’s affairs were personified in the pleas of Duncan Malloy. Any casual observer could sense a tipping point in the mood of this nation.
Peter managed to catch the attention of Duncan and waved appreciation of his powerful oratory. Duncan acknowledged with a salute and broad grin. Wheatstone Fields was proving to be the culmination of their will for justice.
Samuel McGee beheld with much pride all which unfolded around him. For a brief moment he imagined how his grandfather would have witnessed today’s spectacle. Instantly a smile of great satisfaction pasted his face.
“Here’s the cause granddad; you were just sixty five years too early,” McGee whispered in awed breath.
While the crowd cheered and rallied in song, one man prepared to make good on his sole intention. He gave no care to the significance of occasion around him. Only one thing was on his mind. Slowly he took a concealed weapon from under a heavy cloak. After a final look around, he prepared to load his rifle.
By this time Peter had moved behind the cheering crowd to a more solitary position. At that precise moment, he caught an annoying glint in the corner of his eye. Peter turned to see from where it came. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Yards away from where he stood, an unknown man loaded a powerful rifle. Peter followed the direction of the gunman’s focused attention and grew ages in a second. Duncan Malloy was about to be fired upon.
Peter had no time to cover the distance to physically stop this individual. He had but one desperate choice to make. Aidan’s gift was on his person, but he knew it would be a life altering decision to use it.
As the steely glint of the rifle barrel prepared aim, there was no time for hesitation. Peter’s racing heart leapt into his dry throat. Duncan had possibly a few precious seconds on this side of the living.
Without a moment to spare, Peter quickly drew the small arm kept for personal protection in his inner left coat pocket. In one experienced motion, he coolly aimed the pistol. Now at the point of no return, he fired a lethal shot just before the assassin’ trigger finger made its deadly discharge.
The gunman slumped on his side when Peter’s bullet made impact. Initially there was no notice of the horrific sequence of events. Everyone was preoccupied with making rousing rounds of approval in supporting Duncan Malloy’s memorable address.
Fifteen minutes later a well-dressed man came upon the scene. He deftly secured the rifle and assassin’s personal effects. With the same speed he arrived, the man vanished amongst a bustling throng. All that remained was an unidentifiable body with no story left to tell its mission.
More minutes passed before the stricken body first caught the attention of a man walking through this sheltered area. Thinking it merely exhaustion, he bent low to offer some assistance. His initial gesture of goodwill turned to mortified shock when blood showed on the prone body. Hurriedly the passerby ran to alert other attendees for help.
Meanwhile, after firing the fatal shot, Peter knew there was an urgent decision to be made. No time could be wasted fighting through the crowd to tell Duncan what had occurred. He must seek immediate and powerful protection at once. In his racing mind that could only be provided by one person. Aidan Malloy, a fellow Man of Goodhope.
Tearing through the packed grounds, Peter ran the streets towards Goodhope House. He was fortunate that Aidan Malloy was still in Dublin attending affairs, and not on his customary business travels. When he came to the familiar sturdy door, he knocked furiously to gain entrance. Within a minute it swung open.
“Peter, I thought you were still at Wheatstone Fields with Duncan…Oh my, you look terrified! What is the matter? Please come in.”
Aidan Malloy guided Peter into the main study and offered a chair. He then walked towards the serving cart and poured two Irish whiskies, handing one over to a shaken Peter.
“My dear man, your face tells much distress. Please let me know what has happened!”
Peter finally had enough control to stop his shaking hands. He looked up at Aidan and told him the hard truth.
“Aidan, I’m in serious trouble. A short while ago, I mortally shot a man at Wheatstone Fields! You were the only person I could think of to help me with rational advice. Therefore I ran all the way here to find you. My goodness, I fear everything I have worked for is lost in a moment of horrific chance!”
Aidan stood rooted in utter disbelief. “Peter, you cannot be serious. Why would you kill a man with a gun? There is nothing in your character to suggest such an unwarranted action!”
“Believe me Aidan when I tell you there is a dead body waiting to be found back there. You are right about me not being an aggressor. But I had no choice in my decision. The man had a rifle pointed towards Duncan onstage and was preparing to strike him down. It was through sheer chance I spotted him before he could complete his objective.”
Aidan’s body went limp as he slumped into a nearby chair. “Dear God Peter, they wanted to kill my son? They’re that desperate to stop a peaceful protest? Damn these barbarians that cling to their ill-gotten spoils!”
Peter began to gain his composure. “Aidan, now you know I had no choice in the matter. Far as I know Duncan is still safe, though I had no chance to relay any of this to him. I have quick decisions to make and cannot waste any time.”
Aidan realized the immediacy of Peter’s dilemma. “You are as dear as my own son Peter. I find myself at fault for all of this dreadful news! I gave you that gun, in my naivety, never thinking through the consequences of such an action. You saved Duncan’s life, and for that I am in your debt. But I did not want to sacrifice your future as a consequence.”
Peter made Aidan know his heavy conscious was totally unwarranted. “There was no intention on your part that this nasty business would unfold. You and others concerned provided ample warnings our actions may arouse the worst in our midst to react. Alas, my only choices currently are to turn myself in or flee the country.”
Aidan knew Peter counted on his esteemed judgment to decide his next move. He readied himself to give Peter his sincere assessment of available options. But before the first word escaped his mouth, they heard the main door swing open and frantic footsteps racing towards them. Soon a familiar voice knocked hastily from the other side.
“Father, are you inside? I have the most dreadful news to deliver! May we pleas
e come in?”
“Yes Duncan,” called out Aidan. “I have Peter in here with me.”
Immediately the door swung open to reveal an agitated Duncan with Samuel McGee equally unsettled in demeanor.
“Peter, we were wondering where you had gone off!” blurted out Samuel. “You missed all of the happenings once Duncan finished speaking. We had a murder on the grounds of Wheatstone Fields. The Metropolitan Police are combing all over for clues, questioning any attendee they can lay their hands on.”
Aidan feigned surprise, though wanted to know if there was any new information. “Do they know who it was? Are there any leads on a potential assailant? And how was the unfortunate murdered?”
Duncan answered his father as best he could. “From what we could gather, there has been no positive identification of the man’s body. A single, well placed bullet felled him. No gun was found on or near the body.
“Remarkably, there are no papers to identify him. In fact, they questioned dozens of people to recognize him with no success. As for the shooting itself there are no witnesses.”
While Peter remained in bewildered silence, Aidan wanted to impart the true shocking reality to Duncan. At present he desired to keep all such information in their exclusive company, without Samuel’s presence.
“Samuel, could you do us all a good favor? Please return to Wheatstone Fields and gather any new information possible from onlookers or the like. Then go to the local police quarters to obtain any firsthand accounts from assigned officers. We shall need to put a positive focus on Duncan’s speech to deflect any negative consequences from this violent deed!”
“Excellent suggestion Aidan,” Samuel replied. “I will be in touch with you gentlemen once I have pursued all enquiries. Good day.” Samuel left the study to start these tasks with his typical thirst for results.
Aidan now turned to his son. “Duncan, please have a chair. I shall add to your story, but it is not pleasant in the least.”
The Watchman's Grace Page 39