Conna in Crisis & The Marriage of Ulick

by James Kilcullen

  The judge was well aware of the situation, but he wasn’t about to give way to this autocratic little twerp.

  The judge addressed the court.

  ‘This case gives rise to a number of complicated legal issues. Accordingly I am going to reserve judgement.’

  Crat was furious. ‘Your Honour, there is no reason to delay this matter any further. I demand that you hand down judgement here and now.’

  ‘You demand, Mr. Bur O’Crat?’

  ‘Yes, Your Honour, there is no reason to waste any more of the courts time.’

  The judge smiled. ‘Mr. Burr O’Crat, this is still my court and I’ll decide when to hand down judgement.’

  ‘I will make an immediate appeal to the European Court in the Hague.’ He snarled.

  The judge responded calmly.

  ‘You cannot seek any such appeal until this court has ruled.’ He paused. ‘Surely some one of your seniority should know that. This court is now adjourned.’

  Ulick smiled as the judge departed. If he knew Percy Daly it would be many a year—if ever—before he handed down a decision.

  His supporters from Conna cheered with great gusto.

  *

  Leaving the Court, Ulick was approached by Superintendent Tom Lally, Galway’s highly respected police chief; a commanding figure with rugged features, he rarely raised his voice. He handed Ulick a document.

  ‘I’m sorry Ulick. I’ve been instructed to serve this warrant and take you into custody.’

  ‘For what, Tom?’

  ‘You are charged with keeping a wild animal, namely a wolf hound, in your custody and allowing it to roam freely in a public place, contrary to one of those Directives.’

  Ulick smiled. ‘Setanta won’t be pleased to be described as a wild animal.’

  A very pleased looking Crat was watching quietly from a distance. Battler Barry stepped forward while the rest of the Conna people looked on with puzzled expressions.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ he demanded.

  Ulick took his arm. ‘It’s all right, Battler,’

  The super was becoming more embarrassed.

  ‘It’s not all right,’ Battler raised his voice. ‘No fucking way is anyone taking our President into custody.’

  The Conna people moved closer. Ulick addressed them.

  ‘The Super is only doing his job. Go home now; this will be trashed out in court.’

  The Super lowered his voice. ‘Ulick, I can get you bail. There isn’t a judge in Galway would refuse you.’

  The crowd dispersed reluctantly.

  ‘No, Tom,’ Ulick assured him, ‘every good patriot has to spend some time in jail.’

  Together, they walked up Eglinton Street to the local barracks. This was no ordinary arrest. Ulick was provided with a comfortable cell and put under the personal care of the station sergeant, Joe Roche. Provided with coffee—having refused a pint—and a newspaper, he sat down and relaxed.

  After a while he realised he wasn’t alone; Dandaboy was sitting down opposite him with a puzzled expression.

  ‘Why you not send for me? We go home now.’

  He smiled agreeably. ‘No lad. I have to obey the law.’

  ‘You not obey the big count; why let this bad man put you in here?’

  He heard Joe approaching.

  ‘I come again,’ Dandaboy disappeared.

  Joe entered the cell and put down the lunch tray.

  ‘We rarely have visitors like you, Mr. President; Ella rang a few minutes ago. She’s on her way in.

  *

  At ten thirty the following morning, Ulick was arraigned before a very surprised Judge Percy Daly. A large very angry crowd from Galway and Conna was in attendance. There was no way that any court in Hi-Brazil would convict its President; there would be uproar, possibly a revolution. When he was brought up into the dock, there was a mighty roar of support; a relaxed and smiling Ulick looked around him and waved to the vast crowd.

  Crat strutted into the Court and took his place beside Madame on the bench reserved for the Plaintiff’s representatives; Ulick would represent himself. The judge took his seat and looked down angrily at Crat. He nodded to Ulick who smiled.

  ‘Proceed,’ he ordered briskly.

  Crat rose to his fullest height—all of five feet minus two inches—and addressed the Court.

  ‘Your Honour, Mr. Ulick Oscar Joyc is charged with breaches of Directives numbers 274839 and 189734 in that he permitted a wild animal to wander freely on the public highway in Main Street, Conna on 4 April this year. Further, he refused to hand over this wild animal to our authority for disposal.’

  Setanta—unseen—was sitting at the back of the Court with Ozzy.

  ‘Is that little man saying I’m a wild animal?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Setanta started to move forward. ‘I’ll show him.’

  Ozzy grabbed him. ‘No, not now.’

  The judge looked at Ulick.

  ‘Mr. Joyc, how do you plead?’

  He stood up and looked around him.

  ‘Your Honour, I plead guilty. I’m proud to plead guilty to upholding the freedom of our people for which countless Irishmen and women fought and died. If this mindless jackal and his masters get their way, the repression we’re suffering in Connemara will spread, like a cancer, to every country in Europe. I’m asking our people and all the peoples of Europe to join me in a great crusade to restore our civil liberties.’

  The crowd cheered; the judge called for order.

  The judge now had a dilemma; as Ulick had pleaded guilty he would have to impose a sentence. Crat rose angrily.

  ‘Your Honour, I deeply resent and refute Mr. Joyc’s remarks; we came to Connemara to improve.......‘

  He was interrupted by a mighty ongoing roar of disapproval from the people behind him. He looked around and, for the first time, noticed that the proceedings were being recorded on camera.

  The judge used his gavel. ‘We’ll have order in Court.’

  The crowd quieted down.

  The judge continued.

  ‘As you have pleaded guilty Mr. Joyce, I sentence you to 30 days in jail. In view of your excellent character and the service you’ve given to our country, I’m going to suspend this sentence.’

  Crat hopped up. ‘Your Honour, there is no provision in these Directives for suspended sentences. I demand that the prisoner serve a custodial sentence.’

  The crowd yelled. “No—release him. Release him. Release our President.”

  The judge consulted his notes; he was trapped and he knew it.

  ‘Silence in Court. As it seems I have no option, Mr. Joyc, I am reluctantly sentencing you to 30 days in custody.’

  Ulick nodded soberly.

  Crat looked satisfied. The Conna people roared their disapproval.

  ‘This court is now adjourned,’ the judge concealed his fury.

  As Ulick was led downstairs, Crat turned to Madame.

  ‘That fulfills one of my priorities.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘I was not aware, Director.’

  ‘I still have one priority left.’

  He had no intention of telling her what it was.

  *

  Escorted by super Tom Lally, the Taoiseach, and a large crowd of his supporters, Ulick walked—like a conquering hero—the short distance from the court house to Eglinton Street Garda barracks where he would serve his sentence. Cameras flashed and a HBTV man recorded this extraordinary event before rushing off to edit the events of the day for the evening news. He knew, as everyone else did that this item would cause uproar throughout the length and breath of the country.

  While Ulick was returned to his cell, Frankie Carney walked to his office and rang Moxy in Brussels.

  ‘Do something man, get Ulick out of jail.’

  The commissioner smiled to himself, although he sounded sympathetic when he replied.

  ‘Frankie, I have no jurisdiction in this matter.’

  ‘You’d better get some fucki
ng jurisdiction and fast.’

  ‘I’ll talk to the DG, but I can tell you he is very pleased with progress in Connemara.’

  Frankie slammed down the phone, muttering loudly to himself—bastard.

  He walked around to the barracks where he found Ulick enjoying an excellent lunch in the company of the Super. Ulick was surprisingly relaxed.

  ‘Taoiseach,’ the Super asked, ‘couldn’t you issue a pardon?’

  It was Ulick replied. ‘No way, they’re will be no pardon.’

  Frankie told them about his discussion with Moxy.

  ‘Much as I expected,’Ulick remarked.

  ‘Dammit man, you can’t spend the next 30 days here,’ Frankie insisted.

  ‘Why not, I have plenty of work to keep me occupied,’ He looked at the super, ‘Can my secretary collect my tapes for transcribing?’

  ‘Of course.’

  *

  Even with Ulick Joyc safely locked up in Galway jail, Crat wasn’t taking any chances; he welcomed the opportunity of a showdown with the half civilised natives. On Saturday, while a number of locals were busily putting up bunting and flags across the Main Street in Conna, he made a short appearance on HBTV in which he made it abundantly clear that the planned march through Conna would not take place. Tanks and troops would be deployed around the town.

  Battler Barry, Ozzy and Martin Sandys watched the TV appearance in Paulo’s; the normally affable little pub owner was in despair.

  ‘What are we going to do, lads?’ he asked while serving up three pints.

  ‘We’ll take up the little bastard’s challenge,’ Martin assured him.

  ‘What do you think, Ozzy?’ Paulo asked.

  Paulo had a good reason for asking this question, knowing—which the others didn’t—that in his other existence Ozzy was none other than Dandaboy, one of the little people who could be relied on to help if he could.

  Ozzy replied. ‘Crat very bad man.’

  Paulo didn’t take any consolation from that remark.

  The normally calm Battler was becoming angry.

  ‘I’m going to round up the boys and force the guards in Galway to release Ulick.’

  Martin disagreed. ‘No, I spoke with Ulick yesterday. He says there’s to be no violence. Crat is spoiling for a fight; he would love to show Europe what a bunch of yobs we are.’

  ‘We can’t have a march without Ulick?’ Paulo protested.

  Martin was in no doubt. ‘We’re going to have our march. I’ve hired the gigantic green heavy plastic figure of Gulliver from the Galway arts people. He’ll be delivered this evening on the back of a flat trailer and—with eight stalwart Connemara men—will lead the parade.’

  Crat entered the bar stood at the far end. ‘Garson,’ he shouted, ‘A Gin and tonic here.’

  Paulo served him.

  Ozzy turned to Martin. ‘What’s a Garson?’

  ‘I’d say it’s French for “Croppy lie down.”

  Ozzy shook his head. ‘That’s no way to talk to Paulo.’

  ‘According to that little shit we’re all Garsons.’

  Ozzy shook his head in dismay.

  Martin raised his voice.

  ‘I hope you’ll be coming to our annual parade, Mr. Crat.’

  He finished his drink and sneered at them.

  ‘There will be no parade.’

  He departed, feeling quite pleased with himself; they were taking up his challenge.

  *

  The Contessa rang Galway jail and asked to speak to Ulick; she was put through immediately.

  ‘U-lick, my dear U-lick, how can they do this to you? I’m coming in to see you. Someone should do something about that awful little twerp.’

  He smiled into the phone. ‘Gina, I’m fine. I have all the comforts of home here. Don’t come in to see me; it would only cause publicity and you don’t need that.’

  She agreed reluctantly. ‘When will you be released?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. Frankie is working on it.’

  ‘I want to see you, I’ll ring tomorrow.’

  He put down the phone. There was something different in her voice; a slight hesitation he couldn’t account for. She had been away for the past three weeks but didn’t say where.

  *

  Paulo helped Jody Fahy and Iggy O’Haire carry the new model monster from Jody’s workshop to the boat tied up at the nearby pier. It was nearly two in the morning; the sky was overcast and it looked like rain. They lifted Madamor aboard carefully, followed and rowed out into the lake. A hundred yards off shore, Jody started the engine.

  As they picked up speed Paulo grunted quietly.

  ‘If this works, we’ll flood Conna with photos before the march; that will give Crat something to think about.’

  Jody agreed. ‘This could become a bit severe on the nerves.’

  Iggy prepared his remote control while they approached the centre of the lake. Jody cut the engine.

  ‘Paulo, give me a hand here. We’ll lift her gently into the water.’ He turned to Iggy. ‘Ready with your box of tricks?’

  ‘All set.’ he grunted.

  Paulo and Jody lifted Madamor over the side; fortunately the water was calm. It sank slowly below the surface; Jody adjusted the long neck and swan like head. He was taking no chances this time. A rope tied around Madamor’s body was firmly attached to the boat.

  He leaned over the side.

  ‘She’s holding nicely about a foot below the surface. Start up your motor, Iggy, very gently now.’

  ‘Right.’ He grunted.

  Paulo held his breath as the motor kicked into life; the craft started to move slowly forward pulling their boat behind.

  ‘A few pictures and we’re in business,’ Paulo enthused.

  ‘We’re too near her,’ Iggy objected.

  It was Paulo heard it first; a slight hissing sound.

  ‘She’s losing air.’

  ‘She’s taking in water.’

  ‘Shit,’ Jody grunted as the rope holding the craft became taut and started to put pressure on the boat.’

  Iggy yelled. ‘Cut the fucking rope before she takes us with her.’

  *

  Ella made up her mind; Ulick no longer loved her. It was time to move on, but she couldn’t leave him while he was in jail. She talked to Nan about it; she didn’t agree. Had she talked to Ulick? She hadn’t, he was very preoccupied lately and stayed out in the Haven one night. Were there any differences between them? No, but she didn’t sound very convincing. For some time she’d been thinking of opening a restaurant in Galway city. Should she sell up in Conna and move on? The only thing she was sure of was that she still loved Ulick.

  *

  Dandaboy found Ulick, in his comfortable cell—looking very relaxed—sitting on his bed, surrounded by sheets of hand written notes.

  ‘I bring you home.’

  Ulick smiled. ‘It’s good to see you, lad, but I’m too law abiding to break out of jail.’

  Dandaboy looked puzzled. ‘Last time you not law abiding.’

  ‘It’s different this time; I can do more good here.’ He paused. ‘You didn’t bring a little bottle with you by any chance?’

  Dandaboy opened his little jacket and extracted a half bottle of Jameson and a glass.

  ‘That’s more like it, lad.’ He smiled as he poured himself a glass and put the bottle on his little table.

  In the distance they could hear someone coming down the hallway.

  ‘When you come home?’ Dandaboy asked.

  ‘I’ll let you know, lad.’

  As the door opened the little man disappeared. Joe entered carrying a tray.

  ‘Lunch, Mr. President,’ he put the tray on the table; his eyes opened wide when he saw the bottle and glass.

  ‘Where did they come from?’ he inquired.

  Ulick grinned. ‘I don’t know, they weren’t there a minute ago. Like a snort?’

  *

  From early morning the Main Street in Conna was cordoned off with Cr
at’s armed troops very much in evidence. No vehicles were allowed in or out. The faithful trooped to Mass in the old stone church near the bridge. Church leaders roundly condemned the unnecessary interference with a peaceful march. It would be fair to say—in the absence of their President—the people were despondent but defiant.

  Crat—smiling confidently, dressed in a grey business suit, white shirt and black tie—strutted up and down the street; Napoleon style. He was accompanied by Madame, looking sprightly and about ten years younger with her new hair-do. Wearing a new black suit at least four sizes too small for her ample figure, she was looking forward to her TV appearance.

  By midday the TV crews from HBTV began to arrive; they would cover the day’s events for USETV. Greeted affably by Crat they placed their cameras by the bridge, facing the Maam Cross road.

  Reporters and their cameramen assembled in Paulo’s for a few drinks before the action—if any—commenced. The morning papers condemned Ulick’s incarceration and the siege of Conna, but saw little hope of the march proceeding. After a showery breezy night, the sun was shining high in the sky.

  Crat watched the natives—stupid people—head out the road towards their assembly point. Today, he would assert full control over those uncivilised natives and show the people of Europe—on live TV—how to maintain law and order. He was thrilled at the prospect; he planned it well; everything was in place; nothing could go wrong. Having Joyc locked up was inspirational.

  *

  Martin Sandys joined Ozzy for a quiet drink in Paulo’s crowded pub. He sensed the air of defiance in that crowd and hoped it wasn’t all coming out of a bottle.

  Paulo put up two pints and stopped to talk.

  ‘Did you get your Gulliver, Martin?’

  He nodded. ‘We were stopped on the Galway road and turned back.’

  ‘So we won’t have the big man?’

  ‘We’ll have him all right. We took him around by Costello; he’s currently sitting in the woods out the road a bit. He’ll lead the parade.’

  ‘You’ll need ten strong men to move him.’

  ‘I have them all lined up.’

  ‘I wish Ulick was here,’ Paulo added.

  ‘So do I, but the Taoiseach is coming.’

  Martin Sandys took charge of the march preparations; Frankie Carney, accompanied by his government ministers, was greeted with a great cheer when he joined them. As the TV coverage showed clearly; the government and people of Hi-Brazil were behind the people of Conna. Thousands of protests were pouring into HBTV in Galway. In the interests of safety, outsiders were urged to stay away from Conna. Ulick Joyc was sitting quietly in his cell in Galway jail, watching events on TV.