Now the last rays of the sun radiated through the windows and doorway, bathing the walls in golden light with shadows dancing on the low ceiling. Thomas went to a window on the far wall and gazed out at the sunset. It was a glorious sight. ‘What's your name?’ he asked the hunter spinning back around, fixing his gaze
‘My name's Mathis and I live here alone. My wife died two years ago,’ he said sombrely.
‘Sorry to hear that,’ said Thomas shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.
‘Welcome to my cabin friend. I don’t suppose you remember your name yet do you?’ said Mathis.
‘It’s so strange. I can’t remember anything before the moment we met,’ said the other looking bewildered.
‘Then I shall call you Thomas after my father, until your memory returns,’ said Mathis in a bizarre twist of fate.
‘That's a good name,’ smiled Thomas amiably, not recognising it as his own. ‘Was he a hunter too?’
‘The best,’ said Mathis. ‘Take a seat and I’ll give you some food.’ He moved around his table, took up a wooden plate and cut some beef and flat bread with his hunting knife. He cut himself the same and both men sat eating in silence. When they had eaten their fill Thomas took Mathis’ plate from him, cleaned both in a bucket of water and wiped them dry with a cloth. Then he sat back down studying the hunter. He was thin-faced with an awkward smile and close-set pale eyes, which still shone like quicksilver, and his fringed buckskin clothing was old, worn and had seen better days – but then the hunter himself was old, worn and had probably seen better days.
‘Do you remember anything at all?’ asked Mathis finally.
‘My memory is a completely blank canvas. It’s as if I've just been born,’ said Thomas yawning. Strangely he was enjoying the emotional solitude because there was no sense of panic or fear, just a lovely peaceful feeling. The weight of the world was gone from his shoulders and for once in his life he didn’t have a care in the world.
‘Oh, well, it will come back in due course I imagine,’ said Mathis in a gentle reassuring voice, his eyes wide and unblinking. He had no previous experience on which to base such an assumption but didn’t think it was a mistake to try and set his guests mind at rest. He had done the same for his long-time companion, the only woman he had ever loved, when she was going to die. He had even tried to deny the fact, scolding himself for being a morbid old fool right up until the inevitable end, but consoled himself in the knowledge that he had made her short life better and her lingering death slightly easier. His eyes misted at the thought.
‘What is it Mathis, you look sad?’ said Thomas.
‘Old memories,’ he answered wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
Both men decided to retire for the night, so Mathis showed Thomas to a room at the rear of the cabin. It was warm, light and airy, and before getting into his pallet bed he looked out of the bedroom window. The night sky looked beautiful, crisp and clear and he found his eyes drawn to a group of stars that seemed to twinkle more brightly than the rest. He was hypnotised and couldn’t stop staring at them, and for some strange reason the distant shimmering light made him feel ill-at-ease, lonely and suddenly sad as if he were missing something, but didn’t know what it was.
Strangely, not so very far away, Lira was looking out of their bedroom window at the same group of stars, wondering what had happened to her husband and why he hadn't come home.
*
The next morning, Thomas and Mathis were up at the crack of dawn poaching rabbits. They were out at the back of the cabin and Mathis seemed very tense, walking just ahead, picking his feet up high and putting them down gently on the moist ground. Spinning his head from side to side he moved all the time with his eyes sweeping the undergrowth slowly, searching for his quarry and keeping an eye out for danger. ‘A man can get himself hung for doing this,’ he suddenly whispered, ‘but we have to eat.’
Thomas’ eyes darted from side to side also and he began to imagine the landowner’s gamekeeper behind every tree, but incredibly the place was stiff with rabbits. There must have been at least a hundred of them bobbing and bounding around in the ferns and among the tree-stumps and it was an amazing sight – a poacher’s dream. And how close they were, some of them no more than twenty paces from where they stood.
It was cool and dark inside the forest with hardly any sunlight coming in at all, and both men had skirted the edge of it for about two hundred yards until they came to a clearing, where a large patch of sky appeared ahead of them. Mathis told Thomas that the clearing was the perfect place for the young rabbits to be in the woods in late June, because the gamekeeper fed, watered and guarded them at this time – and now they were ripe for the picking.
Both men advanced in a series of quick, crouching spurts, running from tree to tree, and then they would stop, wait and listen before running on again, grinning and nudging each other in the ribs, pointing through branches at the rabbits. Thomas gasped for breath. ‘How the hell are we ever going to catch any of these critters?’ he said finally.
‘With good sized pieces of apple,’ said Mathis smiling broadly.
‘What?’ asked Thomas.
‘They love apple.’
‘I don’t believe it.’
Mathis paused, a gleam of pride in his eyes and he felt great. ‘It’s amazing, but I discovered that rabbit’s love apple, even though they have trouble swallowing it. And they spend so much time trying to swallow it that you can actually walk up to them calmly from your hiding place and pluck them from the ground.’
‘So that’s how it’s done,’ said Thomas, and even though he moved cautiously through the undergrowth, the noise of his footsteps seemed to go echoing around the forest as though he were walking in a cathedral.
‘Shush,’ said Mathis. ‘I’m trying to revolutionize poaching and you’re announcing our presence.’
‘Sorry,’ whispered Thomas looking embarrassed, and before either of them could bag a single rabbit, a gamekeeper came treading softly up the forest path with his dog, padding quick and soft-footed at his heels. They watched him through a hedge as he went by.
‘Don’t worry, he won’t come back today,’ said Mathis.
‘How do you know that?’ asked Thomas.
‘Because the gamekeeper knows where I live and simply hides outside my cabin, watching and waiting for me coming home.’
‘Smart man,’ said Thomas.
‘Not as smart as me,’ countered Mathis smiling. ‘I dump what I steal elsewhere before going home. He can’t touch me then.’
They watched the gamekeeper and his dog disappear up the path before Mathis came out of hiding, spreading the apple all around, and then they both stood watching and listening. Within seconds, the rabbits were eating the apple and both men were loading them into sacks. They were soft, floppy and warm.
Mathis finished loading his sack first. ‘The Abbot is partial to roast or braised rabbit,’ he said. ‘He’ll bless me for this lot.’
‘They're for an Abbot?’ said Thomas, having no recollection of ever meeting the man.
‘Aye, he’ll bless me good this time for sure. It helps feed the needy at the old Abbey.
‘Does he know they’re poached?’
Mathis shook his head vigorously. ‘Don’t be silly, he wouldn’t bless a common thief. I tell him I raise ‘em myself.’
Thomas finished loading his rabbits and humped the bulging sack onto his shoulder. It must have had about ten inside and weighed a lot more than he was used to carrying, because he struggled to lift it. ‘I don’t think I can carry this,’ he said with a groan.
‘Drag it,’ advised Mathis.
They started back through the forest, pulling the sacks behind them until they reached the boundary of the wood and peered through a hedge into a long lane. Sliding through the hedge they dragged the sacks after them along the dusty ground, and then it began to rain. Instantly it sheeted down, the drops spearing the ground and within seconds the lane was awash and bo
th men looked like drowning rats.
Far away down the lane, Thomas could see a dark shadow approaching, and as it got closer and closer he figured out that it was a horse drawn cart, driven by a small female, her clothing no more than rags. He stared hard at the approaching cart and driver. Then it stopped briefly for the woman to jump down from the driving seat and put the hood up, and Thomas fancied he could hear a baby crying and screaming in the old cart. It was yelling its head off and seemed almost hysterical as the small shrill voice in the distance grew louder, but as soon as the hood was up, the crying and screaming stopped almost immediately – but then so did the rain. The female climbed back up onto the cart, whipping the horse and the faint muffled sound of clip-clopping hooves and the rattle of iron-shod wheels began again.
Finally, the cart drew alongside both men and the female slowed it to a halt, staring down at them. She was lean and brown with sharp features and two long sulphur-coloured teeth protruded from her upper jaw, overlapping her lower lip. Her eyes were furtive, black as night and moved swiftly over the pair, studying them like insects. She stared at them with a certain fascination. ‘You up to your old tricks again, Mathis, poachin’ the Master’s land?’ she said finally, nodding her repulsive head sagely up and down. ‘You’re no clever’n a dog, you are.’
Mathis shook his head. ‘Get away with you, you old hag,' he said with a hiss. ‘Be on your way and leave well alone if you know what’s good for you.’
She held her head up high, sniffing the air with a nose that twitched perceptibly from side to side. ‘Now you listen to me, old man,’ she hissed back, speaking all her words with an immense relish as though they tasted good on her tongue. ‘One day, I is gonna be comin’ to a fancy hangin’, and there’s gonna be a man with a bag over his ‘ead and a noose tied good an’ tight about his neck and I’m gonna cheer, because it’s gonna be you.’ She whipped her horse and shot off laughing feverishly. ‘So put that in yer pipe and smoke it, old man,' she shouted.
‘Who the hell was that?’ asked Thomas looking dumbstruck.
‘A crazy old woman,’ said Mathis, ‘who just happens to be my mother.’
*
It was an afternoon shortly after Thomas’ disappearance. Lira and Olivia were sat in their sandbox in the backyard of the Dog and Duck playing with small shovels and sand pails and Olivia was sobbing, asking where daddy was, and Lira was almost a gibbering wreck with no answer to give her. Repeatedly they transferred sand from one pail to another and the time for dinner came and went unnoticed. Lira was afraid, her heart beating fast, her hands trembling. Thomas had never stayed away from home before without letting her know where he was and what he was up to – so now she was fretful and panicking for all the right reasons.
Suddenly, Olivia threw down her sand pail, screaming. ‘I think someone’s taken my daddy away.’
Lira looked stunned and didn’t know what to say. She knew there was a reason for everything and probably a solution to every problem, but she was stumbling around in the shattered pieces of her own grief and loss. ‘Sometimes,’ she began in a tight voice, ‘God takes the ones we love, and not at a time of our choosing but, I don’t think he would take daddy yet because he’s far too young, handsome and strong, so don’t cry any more my darling.’ She wiped the tears from Olivia’s eyes, kissing her forehead gently. ‘But if he has taken him,’ she continued in a whisper so low that Olivia couldn’t hear, ‘I won’t hate him – but I'll never forgive him.’
*
Two more weeks passed and Thomas’ disappearance was on everyone’s lips. Dardo and Dody opened the bar at the Dog and Duck each night praying for him to come strolling home, while Lira raised Olivia with the help of a local nurse. In hushed conversations between revellers at the inn, the talk was of Thomas dying in mysterious circumstances, probably stabbed to death in some drunken brawl, but his friends knew better. There was no way that he would be caught up in something he couldn’t handle, indeed such was his prowess that his friends couldn’t even imagine a situation he couldn’t handle, which left them with the question – where was he?
Minutes turned into hours, hours into days and days into weeks, and the whole community prayed each night for his safekeeping and swift return, but it didn’t happen. Then, exactly one month to the day after his disappearance, Lira found out that she was pregnant again. Now more than ever she needed support and guidance, so she went to seek out the Abbot.
Now the forests and meadowlands stirred to the bold voice of the Abbey bell as she and Olivia travelled up the dusty road in their horse drawn cart, and as usual she could see the familiar sight of brothers Alf and Mathias weeding the graveyard and Friar Hugo rebuilding the dry stone walls. She waved and they waved back; then carried on doing their chores, and as the cart entered the Abbey gates the Abbot appeared from out of an arched doorway and bid her to stop, which she did. As usual he folded his hands into the wide sleeves of his habit, staring impassively at her. ‘Can I be of service my child?’ he asked.
Olivia was fast asleep in the back of the old cart so Lira climbed down from the driving seat without disturbing her. ‘Yes, Father Abbot,’ she said, fixing his judicious gaze, ‘I need your council.’
He indicated to the two wooden chairs by the doorway. ‘Then sit and tell me what ails you my child, although I think I already know the answer to my question.’
They sat down in silence, staring at each other fleetingly. She looked sad, subdued and withdrawn. ‘Father, exactly one month ago to the day, my husband Thomas left home and he hasn’t been seen since,’ she said in a tight rasping voice. ‘We argued the night before and I was angry and said things that inflamed the situation unnecessarily. Now I have no idea where he is and I’m worried father. Everyone is worried. He wouldn’t leave without saying why and not come back, even though we did have an argument – this I know for sure.’
The Abbot unfolded his arms from his sleeves, placing a firm hand on Lira’s shoulder, fixing her gaze. ‘Strangely enough, Thomas came to me a month ago. He was also seeking advice – but his was a money problem. Are you saying he hasn’t been seen since?’
She sobbed fitfully. ‘Yes father,’ she said and somewhere inside she was screaming for help.
‘Come, come child, be calm,’ he said placing his arm about her shoulders, trying to let her feel his strength. He was surprisingly strong for an old man. ‘I don’t know what has happened to your husband, but I know he's not dead. This I feel in my bones. The nightmare that is shadowing your days will end soon, I am sure of it, so wipe your tears away, go home and have faith.’
‘Oh, Father, I have faith but, do you really think so?’ she said wiping the tears away with the back of her hand.
‘I do. Truly I do. Thomas is an extraordinary man and extraordinary things happen to extraordinary people, but the whys and wherefores are unknown to us all. Have faith in the Lord and your husband will return home safely to you and your child.’
‘Children,’ she corrected, grief shadowing her eyes making them dark. She stood up; wiping more tears away, ‘I’m pregnant again.’
The Abbot pushed himself to his feet. ‘God bless you and your children Lira,’ he said helping her back up into the driver’s seat of the cart.
She spun her head to look back at Olivia, who was still fast asleep. Pausing, she fluttered one hand up to nervously finger the beads at her throat and sighed heavily, still on the verge of tears. Olivia’s eyes suddenly opened. ‘Mommy,’ she said, ‘is everything alright?’
‘Of course my darling, of course,’ she said trying to smile, ‘but I have to confess I’m frightened and scared of a future without your father.’ Again she sighed. ‘We lived way beyond our means and spent money before we had it, but it wasn’t our fault, the inn has drained our resources and kept us in poverty. Maybe that’s why your father left. Maybe he’s working somewhere else to earn money for us.’
Olivia’s delicate brows screwed up into an anxious frown. ‘When will daddy come home?’ she
asked.
Lira’s expression of hope collapsed into one of forlorn reminiscence as all sorts of weird thoughts and images flooded into her mind before she continued. ‘Soon, my darling, soon.’ She spun her head back around, waving goodbye to the Abbot in silence, and then set off back through the Abbey gates, down the long road to the sound of clip-clopping hooves and the rattle of iron-shod wheels. Her whole life felt different now that Thomas was gone. Even the air about her seemed heavy, and the shadows that scarred her soul grew deeper and more menacing with each passing day.
Much later that same night, Lira sat alone in her bedroom on the end of her pallet bed crying. Then she stood up, walked to the window and stared out at the night sky. It looked beautiful, crisp and clear and once again she found her eyes drawn to the same group of stars she had noticed some nights earlier. Again they seemed to twinkle more brightly than the rest, and this time they somehow reminded her of a warrior stranded in the heavens.
Strangely, not so very far away, Thomas was gazing out of the hunter’s cabin window again at the same group of stars, and once again he was hypnotised and couldn’t stop staring at them twinkling in the night sky. Somehow they reminded him of a beautiful golden haired goddess floating though space, and once again he suddenly felt sad as if someone had taken something away from him. It was as if his mind was lost and he was wandering through a pitch-black wood.
‘Would you like any supper?’ asked Mathis jolting him back from his thoughts.
‘No. I’m not a bit hungry, but thanks anyway,’ said the other looking miserable.
Mathis looked earnestly into Thomas' face. ‘Do you know, I’m so glad you came into my life the other day? I was beginning to consider taking my own life because I’ve been so lonely since my wife died.’
Thomas looked stunned. ‘You mustn’t talk like that. It’s against God’s laws to take your own life, no matter what the reason. And besides, you have everything to live for.’
A Violent Man ( the story of Thomas Flynn ) Page 19