The Wild Geese

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER VII

  BARGAINING

  The melancholy which underlies the Celtic temperament finds somethingcongenial in the shadows that at close of day fall about an old ruin.On fine summer evenings, and sometimes when the south-wester washurling sheets of rain from hill to hill, and the birch-trees werebending low before its blast, Flavia would seek the round tower thatstood on the ledge beside the waterfall. It was as much as half a milefrom the house, and the track which scaled the broken ground to itsfoot was rough. But from the narrow terrace before the wall the eye notonly commanded the valley in all its length, but embraced above oneshoulder a distant view of Brandon Mountain, and above the other a peepof the Atlantic. Thither, ever since she could remember, she hadcarried her dreams and her troubles; there, with the lake stretchedbelow her, and the house a mere Noah's ark to the eye, she had cooledher hot brow or dried her tears, dwelt on past glories, or bashfullythought upon the mysterious possibilities of that love, of that jointlife, of that rosy-hued future, to which the most innocent of maidensmust sometimes turn their minds.

  It was perhaps because she often sought the tower at sunset, and he hadnoted the fact, that Luke Asgill's steps bore him thither on an eveningthree days after the Colonel's departure for Tralee. Asgill hadremained at Morristown, though the girl had not hidden her distaste forhis presence. But to all her remonstrances The McMurrough had replied,with his usual churlishness, that the man was there on business--didshe want to recover her mare, or did she not? And she had found nothingmore to say. But the most slavish observance on the guest's part, andsome improvement in her brother's conduct--which she might have rightlyattributed to Asgill's presence--had not melted her. She, who hadscarcely masked her reluctance to receive a Protestant kinsman, was notgoing to smile on a Protestant of Asgill's past and reputation; on aman whose father had stood hat in hand before her grandfather, andwhose wealth had been wrung from the sweat of his fellow peasants.

  Be that as it might, Asgill did not find her at the tower. But he waspatient; he thought that she might still come, and he waited, sittinglow, with his back against the ruined wall, that she might not see himuntil it was too late for her to retreat. By-and-by he heard footstepsmounting the path; his face reddened, and he made as if he would rise.Remembering himself, however, he sat down again, with such a look inhis eyes as comes into a dog's when it expects to be beaten. But theface that rose above the brow was not Flavia's, but her brother's. AndAsgill swore.

  The McMurrough understood, grinned, and threw himself on the groundbeside him. "You'll be wishing me in the devil's bowl, I'm thinking,"he said. "Yet, faith, I'm not so sure--if you're not a fool. For it'scertain I am, you'll never touch so much as the sole of her footwithout me."

  "I'm not denying it," the other answered sulkily.

  "So it's mighty little use your wishing me away!" The McMurroughcontinued, stretching himself at his ease. "You can't get her withoutme; nor at all, at all, but on my terms! It would be a fine thing foryou, no doubt, if you could sneak round her behind my back! Don't Iknow you'd be all for old Sir Michael's will then, and I might die in agutter, for you! But an egg, and an egg's fair sharing."

  "Have I said it was any other?" Asgill asked gloomily.

  "The old place is mine, and I'm minded to keep it."

  "And if any other marries her," Asgill said quietly, "he will want herrights."

  "Well, and do you think," the younger man answered in his ugliestmanner, "that if it weren't for that small fact, Mister Asgill----"

  "And the small fact," Asgill struck in, "that before your grandfatherdied I lent you a clear five hundred, and I'm to take that, that's myown already, in quittance of all!"

  "Well, and wasn't it that same I'm saying?" The McMurrough retorted."If it weren't for that, and the bargain we've struck, d'you think thatI'd be letting my sister and a McMurrough look at the likes of you? No,not in as many Midsummer Days as are between this and world withoutend!"

  The look Asgill shot at him would have made a wiser man tremble. ButThe McMurrough knew the strength of his position.

  "And if I were to tell her?" Asgill said slowly.

  "What?"

  "That we've made a bargain about her."

  "It's the last strand of hope you'd be breaking, my man," the youngerman answered briskly. "For you'd lose my help, and she'd not believeyou--though every priest in Douai backed your word!"

  Asgill knew that that was true, and though his face grew dark hechanged his tone. "Enough said," he replied pacifically. "Where'll webe if we quarrel? You want the old place that is yours by right. And Iwant--your sister." He swallowed something as he named her; even histone was different. "'Tis one and one. That's all."

  "And you're the one who wants the most," James replied cunningly."Asgill, my man, you'd give your soul for her, I'm thinking."

  "I would."

  "You would, I believe. By G--d," he continued, with a leer, "you'rethat fond of her I'll have to look to her! Hang me, my friend, if I lether be alone with you after this. Safe bind, safe find. Women and fruitare easily bruised."

  Asgill rose slowly to his feet. "You scoundrel!" he said in a low tone.And it was only when The McMurrough, surprised by his movement, turnedto him, that the young man saw that his face was black withpassion--saw, indeed, a face so menacing, that he also sprang to hisfeet. "You scoundrel!" Asgill repeated, choking on the words. "If yousay a thing like that again--if you say it again, do you hear?--I'll doyou a mischief. Do you hear? Do you hear?"

  "What in the saints' names is the matter with you?" The McMurroughfaltered.

  "You're not fit to breathe the air she breathes!" Asgill continued,with the same ferocity. "Nor am I! But I know it, thank God! And youdon't! Why, man," he continued, still fighting with the passion thatpossessed him, "I wouldn't dare to touch the hem of her gown withouther leave! I wouldn't dare to look in her face if she bade me not!She's as safe with me as if she were an angel in heaven! And yousay--you; but you don't understand!"

  "Faith and I don't," The McMurrough answered, his tone much lowered."That's true for you!" When it came to a collision of wills the otherwas his master.

  "No," Asgill repeated. "But don't you talk like that again, or harmwill come of it. I may be what you say--I may be! But I wouldn't lay afinger on your sister against her will--no, not to be in Paradise!"

  "I thought you didn't believe in Paradise," the younger man mutteredsulkily, striving to cover the check he had received.

  "There's a Paradise I do believe in," Asgill answered. "But never mindthat." He sat down again.

  Strange to relate, he meant what he said. Many changes corrupt loyalty,and of evil times evil men are the natural fruit. In nearly allrespects Asgill was as unscrupulous a man as the time in which he livedand the class from which he sprang could show. Following in the stepsof a griping, miserly sire, he had risen to his present station byoppression and chicanery; by crushing the weak and cajoling the strong.And he was prepared to maintain his ground by means as vile and a handas hard. But he loved; and--strange anomaly, bizarre exception, call itwhat you will--somewhere in the depths of his earthly nature a spark ofgood survived, and fired him with so pure an ardour that at the leasthint of disrespect to his mistress, at a thought of injury to her, thewhole man rose in arms. It was a strange, yet a common inconsistency;an inconstancy to evil odd enough to set The McMurrough marvelling,while common enough to commend itself to a thinking mind.

  "Enough of that!" Asgill repeated after a moment's pause. While he didnot fear, it did not suit him to break with his companion. "And,indeed, it was not of your sister I was thinking when I said where'd webe if we quarrelled. For it's not I'll be the cuckoo to push you out,McMurrough, lad. But a man there is will play the old grey bird yet, ifyou let him be. And him with the power and all."

  "D'you mean John Sullivan?"

  "I mean that same, my jewel."

  The young man laughed derisively. He had resumed his seat by theother's side. "Pho!" he said, "you'll be jesting
. For the power, it'sbut a name. If he were to use, were it but the thin end of it, it wouldrun into his hand! The boys would rise upon him, and Flavvy'd be theworst of them. It's in the deep bog he'd be, before he knew where hewas, and never'd he come out, Luke Asgill! Sure, I'm not afraid ofhim!"

  "You've need to be!" Asgill said soberly.

  "Pho! It takes more than him to frighten me! Why, man, he's a softthing, if ever there was one! He'll not say boh! to a goose with apistol in its hand!"

  "And that might be, if you weren't such a fool as ye are, McMurrough!"Asgill answered. "No, but hear me out, lad!" he continued earnestly. "Isay he might not harm you, if you had not the folly we both know of inyour mind. But I tell you freely I'll be no bonnet to it while hestands by. 'Tis too dangerous. Not that I believe you are much inearnest, my lad, whatever others may think--what's your rightful kingto you, or you to him, that you should risk aught? But whether you gointo it out of pure devilment, or just to keep right with yoursister----"

  "Which is why you stand bonnet for it," McMurrough struck in, with agrin.

  "That's possible. But I do that, my lad, because I hope naught may comeof it, but just a drinking of healths and the like. So, why should Iplay the informer and get myself misliked? But you--you may findyourself deeper in it than you think, and quicker than you think, whileall the time, if the truth were told"--with a shrewd look at theother--"I believe you've little more heart for it than myself."

  The young man swore a great oath that he was in it body and soul, sworeit by the bones of his ten toes. But he laughed before the words wereout of his mouth. And "I don't believe you," Asgill said coolly. "Youknow, and I know, what you were ready to do when the old man was alive,and if it had paid you properly. And you'd do the same now, if it paidyou now. So what are the wrongs of the old faith to you that you shouldrisk all for them? Or the rights of the old Irish, for the matter ofthat? But this being so, and you but half-hearted, I tell you, it istoo dangerous a game to play for groats. And while John Sullivan'shere, that makes it more dangerous, I'll not play bonnet!"

  "What'll he know of it, at all, at all?" James McMurrough askedcontemptuously. And he took up a stone and flung it over the edge.

  "With a Spanish ship off the coast," Asgill answered, "and you know wholikely to land, and a preaching, may be, next Sunday, and pike-drill atthe Carraghalin to follow--man, in three days you may have smokingroof-trees, and 'twill be too late to cry 'Hold!' Stop, I say, stopwhile you can, and before you've all Kerry in a flame!"

  James McMurrough turned with a start. His face--but the light wasbeginning to fail--seemed a shade paler. "How did you know there waspike-drill?" he cried sharply. "I didn't tell you."

  "Hundreds know it."

  "But you!" McMurrough retorted. It was plain that he was disagreeablysurprised.

  "Did you think I meant nothing when I said I played bonnet to it?"

  "You know a heap too much, Luke Asgill!"

  "And could make a good market of it?" Asgill answered coolly. "That'swhat you're thinking, is it? And it's Heaven's truth I could--if you'dnot a sister."

  "And a care for your own skin."

  "Faith," Asgill answered with humorous frankness, "and I'm plain withyou, that stands for something in it. For it's a weary way west ofAthlone we are!"

  "And the bogs are deep," McMurrough said, with a sidelong look.

  "Maybe," Asgill replied, shrugging his shoulders. "But that I've notthat in my mind--I'm giving you proof, James McMurrough. Isn't it I ampraying you to draw out of it in time, for all our sakes? If you meannothing but to keep sweet with your sister, you're playing with fire,and so am I! And we'd best see it's not carried too far, as it's liketo be before we know it. But if you are fool enough to be in earnest,which I'll never believe, d'you think to overturn the ProtestantSuccession with a few foreigners and a hundred of White-boys thatwouldn't stand before the garrison of Tralee? You've neither money normen nor powder. Half a dozen broken captains who must starve if there'sno fighting afoot, as many more who've put their souls in the priests'hands and see with their eyes--these and a few score boys without acoat to their backs or breeches to their nakedness--d'you think to oustold Malbrouk with these?"

  "He's dead!"

  "He's not, my jewel; and if he be he's left more of his kidney. No; ifyou must be a fool, be a fool with your eyes open! I tell you oldIreland had her lesson thirty years back, and if you were Sarsfieldhimself, and called on 'em to rise against the Saxon to-day, you'd notfind as many follow you as would take a sessions town!"

  "You know a heap of things, Asgill," James McMurrough answereddisdainfully. But he looked his discomfiture.

  "I do. And more by token, I know this!" Asgill retorted. He had risento depart, and the two stood with their faces close together. "This!"he repeated, clapping one hand on the other. "If you're a fool, I'm abigger! By Heaven, I am! Or what would I be doing? Why, I'd be pressingyou into this, by the Lord, I would, in place of holding you back! Andthen when the trouble came, as come it would, and you'd to quit, mylad, and no choice but to make work for the hangman or beg a crust overseas, and your sister 'd no more left than she stood up in, and smallchoice either, it's then she'd be glad to take Luke Asgill, as she'llbarely look at now! Ay, my lad, I'd win her then, if it were but as theprice of saving your neck! There's naught she'd not do for you, and I'dask but herself."

  James McMurrough stared at him, confounded. For Asgill spoke with abitterness as well as a vehemence that betrayed how little he cared forthe man he addressed--whether he swung or lived, begged or famished.His tone, his manner, his black look, all made it plain that the schemehe outlined was no sudden thought, but a plan long conceived, oftenstudied, and put aside with reluctance. For the listener it was as if,the steam clearing away, he'd a glimpse of the burning pit of avolcano, on the shelving side of which he stood. He shuddered, and hiscountenance changed. A creature of small vanities and small vices,utterly worthless, selfish, and cruel, but as weak as water, he quailedbefore this glimpse of elemental passion, before this view of a souldarker than his own. And it was with a poor affectation of defiancethat he made his answer.

  "And what for, if it's as easy as you say, don't you do it?" hestammered.

  Asgill groaned. "Because--but there, you wouldn't understand--youwouldn't understand! Still, if you must be knowing, there's ways ofwinning would be worse than losing!"

  The McMurrough's confidence began to return. "You're grown scrupulous,"he sneered, half in jest, half in earnest.

  Asgill's answer flung him down again. "You may thank your God I am!" hereplied, with a look that scorched the other.

  "Well--well," McMurrough made an effort to mutter--he was thoroughlydisconcerted--"at any rate, I'm obliged to you for your warning."

  "You will be obliged to me," Asgill replied, resuming his ordinarymanner, "if you take my warning, as to the big matter; and also as toyour kinsman, John Sullivan. For, I tell you, I'm afraid of him."

  "Of him?" James cried.

  "Ay, of him. Have a care, have a care, man, or he'll out-general you.See if he doesn't poison your sister against you! See if he does notmake this hearth too hot for you! As long as he's in the house there'sdanger. I know the sort," Asgill continued shrewdly, "and little bylittle, you'll see, he'll get possession of her--and it's weak is yourposition as it is, my lad."

  "Pho!"

  "'Tis not 'pho'! And in a week you'll know it, and be as glad to seehis back as I should be to-day!"

  "What, a man who has not the spirit to go out with a gentleman!"

  "A man you mean," Asgill retorted, showing his greater shrewdness, "whohas the spirit to say that he won't go out!"

  "Sure, and I've not much opinion of a man of that kind," McMurroughexclaimed.

  "I have. He'll stand, or I'm mistaken, for more than'll spoil yoursport--and mine," Asgill replied. "I'd not have played the trick aboutyour sister's mare, good trick as it was, if I'd known he'd be here. Itseemed the height of invention when you hit upon it, and no be
tter wayof commending myself. But I misdoubt it now. Suppose this Colonelbrings her back?"

  "But Payton's staunch."

  "Ah, I hold Payton, sure enough," Asgill answered, "in the hollow of myhand, James McMurrough. But there's accident, and there's what not, andif in place of my restoring the mare to your sister, John Sullivanrestored her--faith, my lad, I'd be laughing on the other side of myface. And if he told what I'll be bound he knows of you, it would notsuit you either!"

  "It would not," The McMurrough replied, with an ugly look which thegloaming failed to mask. "It would not. But there's small chance ofthat."

  "Things happen," Asgill answered in a sombre tone. "Faith, my lad, theman's a danger. D'you consider," he continued, his voice low, "thathe's owner of all--in law; and if he said the word, devil a pennythere'd be for you! And no marriage for your sister but with his goodwill. And if Morristown stood as far east of Tralee as it standswest--glory be to God for it!--I'm thinking he'd say that word, andthere'd be no penny for you, and no marriage for her, but you'd both behat in hand to him!"

  McMurrough's face showed a shade paler through the dusk.

  "What would you have me do?" he muttered.

  "Quit this fooling, this plan of a rising, and give him no handle.That, any way."

  "But that won't rid us of him?" McMurrough said, in a low voice.

  "True for you. And I'll be thinking about that same. If it is to bedone, it's best done soon--I'm with you there. He's no footing yet, andif he vanished 'twould be no more than if he'd never come. See thelight below? There! It's gone. Well, that way he'd go, and little moretalk, if 'twere well plotted."

  "But how?" The McMurrough asked nervously.

  "I will consider," Asgill answered.