‘Dose is ellyfants, ya eejit. Ellymentals aire soomt’n like ghosts, boot dey ain’t dead people. Ghosts c’n only scare d’ shite out o’ ya. Ellymentals were never people, dey’re loike demons ‘r sumpthin an’ dey c’n killya if dey want ta.’
‘What makes ya t’ink it w’s one o’ dose ellymentals? Maybe d’ auld sod jus’ come unglued.’
‘Nah, ya don’ know d’ ha’f uv it, boyo. Da capt’n had a half doozin o’ dese Proosian hoonters an’ ‘e sent d’ hounds out t’ catch d’ priest. Two o’ dem r’ dead, one is crippled, anudder is blind an’ d’ las’ two are disappeared. Da ellymental prob’ly took’em back t’ hell wit’ ‘im.’
Ned was astonished to discover that his little games had produced such deadly consequences and he felt a slight twinge of guilt. ‘Maybe somebuddy wuz jus’ playin’ wit’ dem an’ t’ings got outta hand.’
‘No!’ snapped the bartender. ‘Dis ain’ by d’ hand of any mortal man.’
Ned’s stomach grumbled, reminding him that it hadn’t been serviced adequately for a few days and he asked the proprietor if there was anything to eat. The owner dished out a plate of boiled potatoes and Ned ate them, almost without chewing, and ordered another plateful with a pint of cool ale to wash it down. Before he left, he enquired if anyone had heard news about his cousin, Joe.
‘Dat sheep-stealin’ sod got ‘imself killed by dem Proosians las’ week, down on d’ Beara,’ said the barman summarily. Suddenly, any guilt about what had happened to the jaegers evaporated from Ned’s conscience. He decided he would spend the night in Joe’s hovel, then strike out for Kenmare tomorrow. There, he would retrieve the big horses and don his uniform for the last time.
*
Robert took the horse which the unfortunate bandit had abandoned so abruptly after the lead ball struck him.
‘This will be of more use to us than to him,’ he said. ‘I’ll turn him loose before we get to Muckross. I wouldn’t want to get hung as a horse thief if someone recognises the beast.’
Mikey and Morna were speaking in voices so low that the old man couldn’t decipher what was being said, but he knew that he was being judged nonetheless. Morna was still in shock at the brutality of the violence.
‘Yer ooncle seems like such a quiet fella, an’ den somet’in loike dis happ’ns, an’ he doesn’t ev’n change ‘is expression.’
‘That’s how he’s survived so long, Morna. He shows no emotion at all when he does something that would make someone else hesitate. Uncle Robert has always been a riddle to everyone but himself. He doesn’t build up to anger, he just explodes and God help whoever is in his way.’
A little later, the three of them sat around a campfire and the silence was palpable. Robert spoke first.
‘There’s no joy in victory,’ he said. ‘Only perhaps the satisfaction that you get to live to see another day.’ Mikey and the girl just listened, waiting to hear what would come next.
‘If I had to shoot a mad dog, I would do it without a second’s hesitation. I would feel remorse afterwards because the dog couldn’t help being how he was. Sometimes people can’t help what they are either but, when they pose a threat to others, there’s no room for reason. I hope those three brothers have learned something. Their leader is lying in the road bleeding his guts out and for what? He probably couldn’t get a job because of only having one good eye. Some simpletons think an infirmity is a curse from God. I think, if there is a God, that He has better things to do than to poke out a man’s eye.’
‘But ya saved us again,’ protested the girl.
Robert was weary and he felt older than he’d ever felt before. ‘Men like me were once a shilling a dozen. I did what I had to do and now it’s the time for reasonable men, those who think before they act. They are Ireland’s future.’
‘Do you think Ireland will ever be free?’ interjected Mikey.
‘Free?’ scoffed the old man. ‘Free from the English? Yes, eventually, I have no doubt. As soon as it costs more to police the island than they can extract, they’ll go back home and persecute their own. But free? I doubt it. There will always be the money lenders and the power brokers. I don’t think people will ever see a government that gives more than lip service to the common man. There will always be those who can never have enough and those who have next to nothing.’
‘That’s grim,’ said Mikey.
Robert shrugged. ‘Just my opinion.’
After a long silence, Mikey asked, ‘How’s my brother Robbie?’
‘He’s married now,’ replied Robert, ‘but he hasn’t changed much. You know Robbie. If the roof leaks, he’ll buy a bucket to put under it and, when it stops raining, he’ll toss the bucket out and forget about the leak. The next time it rains, he’ll buy a bigger bucket and that’s how he’ll go until the roof falls in on him. Then he’ll go and whine to your mother.’
‘I never understood him,’ said Michael.
‘Neither did your father, boyo. You and Liam were so alike and Robbie was always jealous of that.’
‘I never had any hard feelings towards him.’
‘You have some difficult times ahead of you when you get back, Michael. Unless I miss my guess, Robbie has already proclaimed himself the heir apparent and you turning up is going to throw a turd into his soup.’
‘But I don’t want anything I didn’t earn,’ protested the lad.
‘Well that’s good because Robbie won’t give you any quarter and I’ll bet that, right now, he’s making a case to your mother.’
Mikey thought for a moment. ‘He always told me that, since he was the oldest, he would inherit the land and the shop. But I thought he was just teasing, trying to get under my skin, so I just ignored him.’
‘Ah who knows, son, maybe it won’t be as bad as I think once you and Morna get back to Gortalocca. But tread lightly because your mam will be so happy to see you that Robbie’s nose will be put right out of joint. Make a bit of a fuss of him. Your brother’s always liked being the center of attention.’
‘How’s Jamie? He was more of a brother to me than Robbie ever was.’
Robert allowed himself a smile at the thought of Jamie Clancy. ‘Jamie’s still working at Matt’s forge. He’s very much like your da. If you give him an idea, he runs with it. He has a new wife and a baby. You and him should build yourselves a blacksmith shop in Gortalocca.’
‘I used to love watching Jamie and my father working. I swear those two could have a conversation without saying a word. Each seemed to know exactly what the other one was thinking. I thought Jamie would die when he lost his wife and children. I’m glad he’s happy. What about Mick Sheridan?’
‘Ah Mick Sheridan is immortal,’ Robert smiled. ‘That man hasn’t changed in all the years I’ve known him. He’s still as strong as an ox. He and I have talked about going into the horse trading business when I get back. I’m getting too old for this sheriff malarkey. It would suit me to just buy a decent farm, then buy and trade horses with Mick.’
Michael grinned. ‘You’d get bored sure.’
‘Well if I do, Mick and I can go out and have adventures, just little ones from now on, mind.’ The two men laughed.
‘I can’t wait to see Mam. I wonder what she’ll think of me giving up the priesthood.’
‘You can take it from me, boyo, that it will make her happier than you could imagine, to have you safely back in Gortalocca, and married too. She can play the mother hen when you and Morna get a family started. She’s a good mam but she’ll make an even better grannny. Now you two get some sleep. I’ll stand watch, just in case those three thugs get any ideas. If I get tired, I’ll wake you and you can take over.’
Morna’s curiosity had been aroused by the subject of rivalry between Mikey and his brother and she asked her husband about him.
‘Robbie is… well, he’s just Robbie. One minute you want to wring his neck like a chicken and the next minute you want to hug him. He can be a pain in the arse … too heavy for light work and too lig
ht for heavy work. He’s best at telling stories, oh and drinkin’ me mam’s beer.’
‘Oy could help yer mam run d’ store,’ declared the girl.
‘Oh I don’t know, Morna, we’ll see. I think Robbie might have something to say about that. I’d like to have a pleasant homecoming and not to ruffle the sod’s feathers … at least not for a while.’
Morna rolled over on her side and cuddled up next to Mikey. He lay looking up at the stars and thought about how best he should handle Robbie. He had to admit that it put a damper on the joy of going home.
*
CHAPTER 33
Ned was exhausted from the previous week’s journey. The emotional toll, as well as the physical exertion, had left him nearly spent. The surges of adrenalin and the excitement of the chase was all but over and now he had only two tasks to perform. He would go back to Kenmare to retrieve the big horses, then return to Ballyshee for Mary Galvin and bring her back to Nenagh with him. He counted the coins he had in his purse and found there were almost four shillings, that would be plenty. His father had always told him that he could live on the smell of a greasy rag. He left the door gaping open on cousin Joe’s cabin and began the walk to Kenmare.
He left the main road just outside Glengarriff and headed due north, towards the ridge of Barraboy Mountain. Once on the other side, he could reach Bunane before dark and get lodgings and a decent meal. Tomorrow he should reach his goal, Kenmare, and after that he could rest his legs and let the horses do the walking for him. It was one of those days which came late in August, when the sun shone brightly and hot then, with no warning, a cloud would come and dump a rain shower from over the ocean.
*
Robert and his two charges reached Muckross long before midday and he turned the old horse loose as he’d planned. The nag was content to stop and graze and the trio headed towards the town.
‘The first thing we have to do is find lodgings and a bath,’ he told them. ‘I have half of County Cork on my clothes. Then we’ll get ourselves a proper meal and find you both some decent apparel for the coach ride to Limerick. You should be home in a few days.’
‘What about you, Uncle Robert?’ said Michael. ‘I thought you’d be coming with us.’
‘I have something I need to do and it might take a little while. I have to see what has become of my deputy.’
They were lucky in finding lodgings straight away and, in no time at all, they were fed and ready to do some shopping. Robert looked down and took stock of himself, he needed some clean and simple clothing. A new leine and a pair of breeches would do him but he had decided Mikey needed something more sophisticated, so he bought him a new blouse and a waistcoat, as well as a pair of trousers befitting a gentleman. Morna stood waiting for them, gazing excitedly at the dresses which hung around the shop and, by the time the men were fitted out, she had already selected a dress she liked and she pointed to it.
‘No,’ said Robert. The girl looked crestfallen. ‘We have to go to a proper woman’s clothier, my dear. There’s nothing suitable in here.’
A few doors away there was a dress shop and, when Robert opened the door, a little bell on it announced their entrance. He ushered Morna and Michael inside the shop and closed the door behind them. The girl looked around her in wonderment. Dresses more magnificent than anything she had ever seen hung in various stages of readiness. She didn’t even notice when a girl of about her own age, followed by a woman in her forties, entered the shop from a back room. Both women were dressed stylishly and were beautifully coiffured. The older woman politely inclined her head towards the two gentlemen and, when she turned her attention to the barefooted, waif-like creature who was with them, her expression soured. She instantly assumed that Morna was a strumpet and Morna didn’t help matters when her attention was captivated by a red dress.
‘No, not that one, m’dear,’ said Robert, kindly, and he took a forest green dress off its hanger and held it up against her. The older woman addressed Robert, haughtily.
‘That dress will cost you a pound, sir, and I doubt you’ll be wanting to spend that much.’
Robert turned to the young couple and he rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll handle this,’ he whispered.
‘My nephew and his bride will be travelling to Tipperary tomorrow, to the family estate,’ he said, his tone even more condescending than hers. ‘We have just returned from an arduous journey and, if you don’t want our business, then we’ll be glad to take it elsewhere.’
The woman’s face flushed red and the young seamstress put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
‘Mother,’ she said, ‘that dress has been hanging there for over a year. Even if someone could afford it, they wouldn’t be able to fit in it.’
The shop owner attempted to hide her humiliation by snapping at her daughter. ‘Well then, you handle the transaction, and don’t accept less than ten shillings.’ With that, she wheeled around and flounced out the same way she’d come in.
‘Don’t moind me mam,’ the seamstress said to Robert, her accent reverting back to Cork in the absence of her mother. ‘Sometoimes she fergets where she came from.
‘Sometimes we all do,’ he said and smiled at her.
‘Youse boys go an’ git yerselves lost fer a coople o’ hours. When ye get back, yer princess’ll be all ready.’
Robert bowed at the waist to the young woman. ‘Then we leave her in your capable hands, miss,’ he said, and hustled Michael out the door and into the street. ‘Let’s go and get ourselves a beer, boyo, sometimes it’s best to leave the girls to themselves.’
*
The sun was stretching out its last few fingers of peach-coloured light from beyond the mountains when Ned arrived in Bunane. He was tired and hungry, but first he needed a pitcher of ale to wet his parched throat. He trudged into a bar and it was uncomfortably crowded with men. He bought a jug of beer and found a place to sit outside. He didn’t even bother to use the flagon but just upended the jug and didn’t give a damn when a good deal of it escaped the corners of his mouth and dribbled down the front of his shirt.
‘What day is it?’ he asked a passerby.
‘It’s d’ bes’ day o’ me life,’ replied the man jovially. It wasn’t quite the answer that Ned had expected, but he tipped the jug to the merry fellow and took another huge gulp, this time letting it linger in his mouth for a few seconds before swallowing.
A heated discussion was underway inside the bar as to what manner of creature could kill dozens of redcoats and dozens of Prussian mercenaries. Some suggested it was a kelpie who had shape-shifted into a Franciscan. Others insisted that a demon from hell had come to seek vengeance on Pussy Grey, who had sent so many souls there that it was becoming overcrowded with Corkmen. Finally, the proprietor decided there was too much arguing and not enough drinking, and he kicked both sides out. The debate didn’t end there, it merely changed venues and, when they got outside the bar, they sought to get Ned involved.
‘Whatta ya say, stranger?’ said one. ‘Do ya t’ink it was a demon ‘r a kelpie?’
Ned thought for a moment. ‘Maybe it w’s a Carkman,’ he said, ‘pissed off at bein’ sent t’ hell.’ His answer was met with derision.
‘Ah sure, all Carkmen are divils alright, but not ev’n a Kerryman could do all dat. How do ya explain dat Poosy's black sarvent saw a ghost ‘r sumpthin’ come t’rough a locked door, an’ put a gun up to d’ auld bastard’s head an’ blow ‘is brains out? C’n a Carkman do dat?’ Ned had to agree that he didn’t think that eve a Corkman could walk through locked doors.
He began to lose interest in the discussion as the beer went to his head and he went back inside the bar. He purchased a few boiled potatoes, which he placed in his food sack, and he found a stable to spend the night. He had hoped to glean some information in the bar, but all he’d got was a bit tipsy and a few spuds. He fell asleep before he’d finished eating the first one.
*
Robert and Michael had a few flagons of good ale
in The Brown Cow. The proprietor was an excellent fiddle-player and they lost themselves in the music. Already, the memory of their adventure had begun to alter and the hardships they’d endured didn’t seem so bad, now that the end of the journey was in sight.
‘I wonder what happened in Ballyshee after we left,’ said Michael, rhetorically. The statement brought the old man back to the present and, even though the fiddler played on, neither of them heard the music now.
‘I don’t think Percival would suffer the indignation of being made a fool of lightly,’ said Robert. ‘I wouldn’t put it past him to have done something ugly.’ Both men grew sombre, each silently speculating as to what kind of nefarious retribution the unstable captain might have wreaked upon the village.
‘Don’t say anything about this to Morna,’ said the old man. ‘We’ll find out in due course what, if anything, happened and there’s no need to worry her about her parents now.’
The proprietor stopped playing when a man rushed into the bar and tugged excitedly at his sleeve. The fiddler put his instrument down and listened in rapt attention as the man spoke quietly but in an animated fashion. Now and then, the owner stopped him and asked questions and the man answered, continuing his monologue for several minutes.
‘Something’s going on,’ said Robert. ‘As soon as yer man’s gone, I’ll ask the proprietor. I never knew a musician who could keep a secret.’
The old sheriff waited a while before discreetly approaching the men at the bar, who were already discussing the latest gossip. He listened for a while, then returned to the table with a smile on his face.
‘Well, it sounds like Ned is still alive.’ he said, his smile broadening.
‘How do you know?’ asked Mikey.
‘Those blokes are saying that a giant ghost, dressed like a Franciscan priest, has slain hundreds of English soldiers in West Cork. You can’t kill an apparition, so that means he’s still alive, or at least he was when the rumours began.’
Safe Home (The Tipperary Trilogy) Page 21