The Shamrogues

by Patrick Meehan

  Kang explained that it was the way of magpies to decorate the interior of their homes with nice things. But now the previous owners had departed, and their old dwelling was beginning to fall to pieces.

  Further along, having passed through the narrow gap in a thick hedge, the Shamrogues, squirrels, and Mulligan came into an open space.

  “Well, this is it,” the big man declared. “This here is my secret garden.”

  There were rows of vegetables that grew in well-tended soil. There were apple and pear trees and, on an elevated piece of ground, raspberry shrubs and strawberry plants in abundance. Beside these in a corner, and overgrown by holly and ivy, stood the remains of a log cabin, derelict and in ruins.

  They made their way to the cabin and took up seats inside, beneath the yawn of an empty window. Here, they made their plans to prevent the wicked deeds which Colin and Sabina McNamara intended to carry out against Oak Glade.

  Since their talk in Mulligan’s secret garden, the Shamrogues had one of their number mount a watch each night. A few nights had passed and tonight it was Croga’s turn to act as sentry. She slept in the comfort of a dry bracken-filled hollow, oblivious to the deep rumbling sounds of something distant but approaching. It was not long, however, before the vibrating ground woke her with a start. Frightened, she sat up and peered into the gloom.

  There was something definitely very wrong. For even though they had kept watch, the Shamrogues had not expected anything to happen until the following night, the seventh. Perhaps, since this was only the sixth night, the vibrations in the earth and the alarming cries of frightened animals just might have been the result of a huge thunder storm approaching.

  Through the murky gloom, odd shadows and awesome flashes of light lit up the tree trunks. And massive monsters with yellow glaring eyes came closer and closer. As they threatened to engulf her, Croga lost her courage and fled to the cavern to warn the others.

  “This is what we’ve been expecting,” Mulligan explained to the Shamrogues. “We seem to have gotten our days mixed up, though I can’t figure out why. We heard those yuppies say ‘a week’.”

  Gorum scratched his balding head and then pointed in the air. “I have it!” he exclaimed. “Tomorrow is the day they intend to start their foul work. They’re using this, the previous night, to sneak their machines of doom in under darkness!”

  “You’ve made a valid point,” Trom said. “So we may have time before they can begin their acts of evil.”

  Mulligan stretched the bands of his braces. “By the gum of rubber trees, you’re right! We’d better get moving. There are things to be done.”

  “And plans to be carried out,” Glic said. “Call up our mounts…. Prepare the troops!”

  There were shrieks as Molag led her army into the faceless night. Trom, Gorum and Croga were on the backs of her finest fliers, and Mulligan, once more a shrunken man, flew on her own back. He roared his own war cry, “Onnngggg!”

  Kang and Aroo sped with all haste beneath the black flying storm, Sona and Glic on their backs.

  They soon reached the outskirts of Oak Glade and immediately went into hiding to watch the buzz of activity as men and machinery were drawn into place. It was necessary to keep well clear, as the McNamaras had organised generators and powerful lamps to make sure they set up their operation without being hampered by the pitch darkness. Stark bulbs hung on electric cables that had been strung through the trees.

  There were shouts, as men, with protective helmets and heavy clothing to beat the night chills, directed the monstrous bulldozers and heavy trucks into place. They would begin their destruction at first light. There were also power saws with chains of vicious teeth, capable of ripping the hardest of timbers apart like searing hot pokers through ice. But then, above the din, there was something else….

  It was Mulligan’s acute hearing that picked it up first. The commanding voice of a woman as she barked her orders to the workmen.

  Molag and her bats hung from the branches of trees that were hidden from the campsite. With their sharp ears, they listened.

  “Come on, you lazy bunch,” Sabina McNamara’s voice scolded. “Make sure those chainsaws are ready…and you! Get that dozer into position. I want to see trees being toppled at dawn. The other fools will saw the useless limbs off them as soon as they touch the ground!”

  Then Colin, her timid brother, spoke. “Yeah, move it or you’ll be out of a job before your families get to know you’re working.” He sniggered and followed his sister to a spot where they thought they could not be overheard. The McNamaras did not know that Mulligan and the Shamrogues, together with the squirrels, were in hiding close by.

  “You never spoke truer words, brother,” Sabina said. “As soon as those jerks are finished doing what we want, then they’re fired.”

  Colin’s beady eyes caught the light as he squinted and looked around shiftily. “You really mean it, Sabina? I don’t think they’ll like that. What if they go to the authorities?”

  His sister smiled sneakily. “You mean the police, dear innocent brother? They’d never dare, the fools. The law would only have their hides. This is illegal, remember? Now, let’s give them their last orders before we leave!”

  Sabina and Colin went to where the machinery stood ready for action, and called the men together.

  “Right!” the McNamara girl said haughtily. “Listen to me. I want all these lights dimmed when my brother and I leave. And no acting the glutton with the rations we’ve left for you either. Get a few hours sleep in those tents we’ve provided, and start the job nice and early. Remember, work hard tomorrow and you’ll get what you deserve…believe me!”

  “That’s it,” Colin called hoarsely. “Break up.”

  “And don’t forget…” his sister added, “we’ll be back tomorrow! Be ready!”

  With that, Sabina and her brother got into their jeep and drove away at speed. It was obvious from the looks on the faces of the workers that they were glad to see the backs of the conniving pair.

  “Let’s get some fires going,” someone called, as the work gang broke into small groups. “It’s going to be a long cold night….”

  Chapter Eight

  Magical Mayhem!

  Mulligan and the leader of the Shamrogues exchanged glances and nodded. Putting their fingers to their lips to remind the others to be silent, they retreated back into the woods on tiptoe.

  Molag and the squirrels joined the assembly of planners. What a strange sight they made as they huddled together and decided on final tactics.

  “This has to be done without hurting anyone,” Trom advised. “But a little bit of magical mayhem won’t go astray against these humans who place no real value on the forest.”

  There was a noticeable twinkle in the bearded leader’s eyes as he climbed upon a bat’s back.

  “Go to it!” Mulligan whispered. “You all know exactly what you have to do.”

  Glic grinned. “Save the oaks, of course,” he said. Then he and Sona, on Kang and Aroo’s backs, vanished up into the trees.

  Three of the workers sat around a campfire that was barely alight. They shivered, even though they wore blankets about their shoulders. They had never mastered the art of making fires in the open and were trying to burn twigs of green wood. Their efforts were totally useless and they stared at the smouldering fiasco. Each one thought about his nice warm bed at home. Suddenly their thinking was broken by a terrific downpour. Startled, they stared skywards.

  “What the…” one of them began to speak. But then something bounced off his eye which made him yelp in panic. It was not so much that he was hurt, but more that he was given a fright. He rolled back on the ground, holding his hands to his face and rasping, “I’ve been hit! I’ve been hit! There’s someone shooting at us!”

  The other two ducked and crawled to their workmate. They peered into his face, having pulled his trembling hands away. “There’s not a thing wrong with you, you dope!”

  Then there was an
other shower from above. One of the men grabbed at the object which had conked him on the head. He held it in his hand and guffawed. “It’s only a flippin’ acorn. They must be getting blown off some tree.”

  “Bu…bu…but…” the one who had been hit in the eye stammered, “there should only be acorns in the autumn. This is the wrong time of year. I don’t like these forests at night. I should never have come.” He rubbed a knuckle where the acorn had bounced.

  “Shut up the snivelling,” the third one snapped. “Have you never heard of frogs falling from the sky for no known reason? Or fish, or even red sand from the great Sahara Desert so many, many miles away from Ireland? So why not acorns?!”

  At that moment, Mulligan, Trom, Croga and Gorum were travelling on the backs of their bats. They had just visited a cache of acorns that had been gathered earlier by their friends Kang and Aroo, and had thrown some at the men.

  Mulligan, on Molag, his red beard whipped by the wind and the flies in his bush hat blown backwards, shouted across to Trom. “These acorns make great ammo! Let’s give them a pasting! Onnn we fly!”

  “Swoop, swoop, Swoop!” Trom urged the bats, getting used to flitting through the treetops.

  “Baddannggg!” Gorum called, loving the sound of the word. He hurled another acorn with glee.

  The bats dived at eye-blinking speed towards the three men who had re-settled at the excuse of a fire. Trom yelled an order for the winged creatures to circle and spiral lower and lower.

  Croga kissed the acorn she was holding and spoke to it.

  From greatest of oaks you’ve come,

  Now to a lowly fire you go.

  This knowledge, I give you some

  To set the flames AGLOW, AGLOW!

  With that, she threw the acorn directly into the centre of the smouldering heap. There was a ‘splatt!’ as the nut landed on the hissing sticks. And then there was the most wonderful display of shooting flames, of all colours, ever seen in Coillduff.

  With whizzes and bangs, and whooshes and fizzes, the tongue-shaped flames soared up into the darkness above. They brightened the clearing as though daylight had suddenly arrived. Flaring, they roared as they sucked hungrily for oxygen.

  The three workmen sat mesmerised by the spectacle. They were roused from their stunned shock by a hail of acorns as the bats darted closer.

  “AAHHH!” one of the men screamed. “We’re under attack. Every man to his own….Run for covverrr!”

  They scrambled for the safety of a big green tent that had been erected earlier. Inside, three more men cowered in fear of who or what might be making all the noise outside the tent.

  Molag led the attack in a variety of rapid descents, circling movements and swerving swoops. All the time, she shrieked her high-pitched commands to her followers. They hovered, waiting, at the entrance to the tent as the running men approached.

  Mulligan sat upright on the queen bat’s back. He shook his fist and scowled. “You destroyers of beauty. How dare you enter our forest without a ‘by your leave’. We’re not going to let you away so easily!”

  The three men stopped in their tracks and clung on to one another in wide-eyed amazement.

  “It’s a…a…a man on a…a…a…” the workman in the centre of the others stuttered.

  “Bat!” the other two uttered in unison. “And we’re staying no longer!”

  The three broke apart and began running for all they were worth, down the track that Sabina and Colin had used before. So fast did they run, their safety hats fell from their heads and their jackets billowed on their backs.

  Further down the track near the roadway that led to the town, two workmen kept watch in case intruders might by chance discover the undercover operation up at Oak Glade.

  The sound of running feet alerted them and they held their torches at the ready. They could hear the gravel surface being scuffed and pounded as the rapid footsteps approached.

  When the runners came level, the other two swiftly emerged and pressed their high-powered beams on.

  “Halt!” they cried, catching the fleeing men in the torchlight.

  “Heelllp us! We’re being chased by little flying demons!” They stood panting and hanging on to one another as they looked all about them, utter terror stamped on their faces.

  “Give it over, you messers! Stop the practical jokes.”

  There was a noticeable pause. And then, somewhere nearby, a tree limb violently crashed to the ground.

  “Aaaaggggghhh! There they are again! The bats with the little men on their backs are after us! They’ll get you pair as well. It’s the bats…the bats!”

  The three terrified workmen rushed for their lives, helter-skelter down the roadway.

  “Bats!” The two remaining men laughed. “Any excuse to escape Sabina and the brat brother!” they called after the escaping men.

  “I think that calls for a cup of tea,” the more senior of the two spoke. The other man readily agreed. As they made their way back to the campsite, a long-eared owl hooted deep in the wood. The men shivered and pulled their collars more tightly about their necks.

  But all was not so quiet up in the clearing. Mulligan, Trom, Croga and Gorum were on a tour of inspection of the assembled machinery. Molag and her bats had been given leave to go on their nightly patrol in search of food.

  Meanwhile, Sona and Glic, still in the company of Kang and Aroo, were sneaking towards the tent where the group of frightened men was huddled.

  Glic spotted some ground ivy growing at one side of the green tent. He smiled and motioned to his companions to stay clear. Then he stooped and rubbed a leaf on the plant.

  Up the sides, and over the top,

  Of this canvas house now slide,

  Round and round, bind it tight,

  Keep these foolish men inside!

  This said, the green creature with the power over plants, stepped aside and commenced directing the ivy’s growth with the twiddling of his tiny fingers.

  The leafy vines began to writhe and coil as they snaked across the ground towards the tent. At the base of the canvas walls, the tentacles felt their way about. Then, having decided the direction to take, they began to slide upwards, spreading and branching out in every conceivable way. Very soon, the tent was completely enmeshed in creeping woody stems that grew thicker and stronger by the second.

  It was Sona’s turn to carry out her part in the defence of Oak Glade. Spying a lone earwig as he emerged from beneath a rotting leaf, she called the spike-tailed creature to her. His long brown body scurried over to the bright-eyed Shamrogue. Never before in his life had he seen such a creature. He raised his pincers in case of attack. The earwig’s brain was in a tizzy because the pink thing could speak Earwig!

  “Hello,” Sona addressed him. “I wonder if I may ask you for big favour. Would you mind?”

  Now the earwig, whose name was Yort, was confused even more than ever. Here was this total stranger, whom he had never set eyes upon, asking him to perform a favour.

  He curled his back, as earwigs do when unsure, and opened and closed his needle-sharp tail-end.

  Sona, seeing this, assured him, “I am here because we have come to save your home from destruction. The humans, who intend to do this terrible thing, are waiting in their ivy covered tent.”

  As Yort studied the peculiar sight, Glic, Kang and Aroo suddenly appeared. Yort was really taken aback. It was all becoming too much. Now there were four colours to contend with. Pink, green, red and grey. All creatures, but terribly different in appearance and shape. He felt intimidated by them, but put on his bravest face and sneered.

  “So, you want me to do you a favour? There seems to be enough of you to do your own dirty work. I’m nobody’s mug. Now, if you’ll excuse me!” Yort turned to leave. His heart was thumping and his legs could hardly carry him. These creatures could trample him in the ticking of a second.

  “Stop!” Sona implored. “It’s not dirty work we want you for. And not only you alone, but millions o
f your insect friends of the forest! We were hoping you could perhaps make the men inside that text a little…uncomfortable!”

  Yort hesitated as Sona continued, and he listened to the pink creature’s words. “We’d appreciate it if you could lead an assault on the men inside that tent. If you could creep in under the sides of the tent and invade the men’s clothing. That’s all. I have a feeling you’re a great organiser.”

  The earwig wheeled about and faced the four. “You really think I could lead such an expedition? Why, I…I’m flattered.” Then he imagined himself as a mighty warrior and leader of a huge army of various insects. That an earwig should undertake such an important task was beyond belief. But still…! Yort needed a little more persuasion.

  “I can assemble the other insects with my magic. But there are things that you must do for yourselves. Will you help us?” Sona asked.

  Yort raised his head. This indeed was a wonderful honour. “I would be most pleased to assist. Call up my army.”

  No sooner had he agreed, than millions upon millions of different insects began to arrive in the clearing, until it became a seething mass of tiny shifting bodies. Yort, at their head, led them in under the flaps of the tent. Now was to be his greatest moment!

  Inside, the group of men shifted uneasily as the space became invaded by the insects. One of the men, feeling an itch on the tip of his pointed nose, scratched the irritated part. But the annoyance persisted and seemed to shift to other regions of his person. He began to scratch and scratch.

  “YOWEEEE, YAOWWWW!” he screeched in a frenzy.

  The men bolted for the exit and ripped the flaps apart. Being met with a solid wall of ivy, they tore madly at the vines, at the same time attending to the itch inside their clothes.

  The two men who had been on guard at the end of the track approached the clearing, unaware of the action in the tent.

  Kang and Aroo were also busily engaged in their own task. They gnawed and chewed on the guy ropes holding the tent upright. They were almost through the stout cords as the men arrived. Suddenly the tent structure collapsed on its occupants, who roared in terror and disgust.