Keppelberg

by Stan Mason

  ‘I’m indebted to you. Is there any work I can do for you in return?’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she replied frankly. ‘I shouldn’t really be talking to you let alone giving you the clothes.’

  ‘Why not?’ I was facing the same problem once again. ‘Everyone in the village refuses to talk to me. Why can’t you?’

  ‘I think you should leave now,’ she told me dismissively refusing to answer my question.

  ‘Can you enlighten me about the pharmacy at least. What happens there?’ I knew that I was treading on dangerous ground and that she wouldn’t answer but the woman had been so helpful I thought it might be worth a shot.

  She clammed up so fast in her body language that I felt the icy freeze of her reply. ‘I’ve done enough for you today, sir,’ she uttered harshly. ‘It’s time for you to go!’

  I took her advice for fear of repercussion and left the house without delay. Had I stayed and insisted on an answer, I might have created a situation which would have returned me directly to the police station. All she needed to do was to scream and I’d be incarcerated in a cell for the rest of my life. Anyhow I had achieved what I wanted to do and, with my battle dress folded neatly and tucked away under my arm, I made my way out of the village and walked on to the garage.

  The mechanic was absent when I arrived there and I looked at my repaired car. I sat in the driver’s seat and turned on the ignition. It started immediately. It was in my mind to drive away and forget I had ever been here but something triggered at the back of my mind preventing me from doing so. I knew that if I returned to Keppelberg I was putting myself in danger. Any punishment I received there would be self-inflicted because I should head south and never come back again. But there was something intriguing about the place and I could not shake the desire to follow through my investigation even though there was no benefit for me in the long run. One might say that it had become an obsession. Wayne Austen would have torn his hair out if he knew of my decision especially as my car had been repaired and was ready for me to use. I could visualise him trying to pacify my sister when he told her that I had stayed voluntarily in the village despite having had to escape from jail. But then, hadn’t I been partly crazy in a crisis! I wouldn’t have saved four men on the outskirts of Basra from being killed if I hadn’t been slightly crazy!

  Chapter Four

  I had enough food and victuals for the day because Mary had given me a stack of sandwiches and lots of cans of drink for the journey home which I had placed in the boot of the car. I removed them and sat there munching away as I waited for the mechanic to return. I had already decided to return to the village but this time I reckoned that the further I stayed away from the police station the less chance there would be for me to be caught. If I was recaptured, it would be a headache for them as to where to incarcerate me. Having once escaped from one of the cells, I was likely to do so again. The hours passed by and I decided to walk back to the village. If I had driven my car there, I would have been an open target. I had to use common sense. At seven fifteen that evening, I made my way to the village hall and entered. It was too early for anyone of the villagers to be there. I stared at a number of large flags, bearing strange emblems, hanging from all four corners of the hall and hid behind one of them out of sight of anyone who came for the meeting. It wasn’t long before the villagers began to arrive. They dribbled in after seven-forty-five to take their seats and, exactly at eight o’clock, the Chairman and his committee stepped on to the stage and sat in their chairs. By this time, every seat in the hall had been filled.

  ‘Good evening, friends,’ began the Secretary officiously. She stood on the low platform holding a sheaf of notes. ‘This extraordinary meeting has been called to consider the situation regarding a stranger who refuses to leave the village. We have no idea of his intent at the present time or whom he might represent. The man was arrested and placed in a cell from which he escaped and his current whereabouts are unknown. For further discussion I pass you on to our Chairman, Mr. Townsend.’

  Townsend got to his feet as the Secretary sat down. ‘Friends,’ he began. ’We are a separate community and proud of it preserving our heritage since the days of Obadiah Keppelberg. However this stranger is in our midst with his own agenda which is unknown to us and we need to stop him before he does something to upset the balance within this community. I recommend that we post a guard of at least two people at the main entrance of the village in case more strangers arrive and that we hunt down the man in our midst who escaped from our prison.’

  ‘What do you intend to do with him if he’s caught and refuses to leave?’ Asked a member stopping the Chairman in his flow.

  ‘Let us capture him first and decided what to do with him later,’ continued the Chairman. ‘What we eventually do is entirely up to you... the members of this village. Let us hope that he sees sense and leaves us of his own accord.’

  ’If he refuses to leave, can’t we just send him packing with a flea in his ear?’ Demanded a woman near to the front.

  The Chairman paused before replying. ‘The problem is that he mentioned the word ‘pharmacy’ when in jail which puts a completely different complexion on it. I have no idea how he found out about it.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that we may have to dispose of him in one way or another... execute him?’ Ventured a man in the middle of the hall.

  ‘Desperate deeds require desperate measures,’ came the reply from the Secretary who was becoming annoyed at the questions posed to the Chairman.

  ‘Surely he can’t know anything about the pharmacy!’ declared a woman in the centre. ‘No one would dare to have revealed any information to him about that.’

  ‘Than how did he know about it?’ Accused another woman near to the front.

  I stood behind the flag in one of the corners of the room wondering what they were wittering about. I was horrified to learn that they would be angry enough to execute me to hide their secret.

  ‘It might be possible to integrate him into the community if he simply wants to stay in the village,’ uttered another woman at the rear of the hall which caused me to feel a slight sense of relief.

  ‘We can’t do that without a woman!’ Stated another man adamantly.

  ‘But there is one,’ stated the same woman firmly. ‘Bridget McBain. She’s on her own now.’

  The room seemed to erupt noisily at the news and the Chairman was forced to use his gavel to maintain order.

  ‘Why wasn’t this brought to my attention?’ he asked irately.

  ‘Because her husband only died this morning,’ came the reply. ‘He refused to take his tablets over a period of time and died.’

  ‘That means our population’s fallen to one thousand and ninety-nine,’ calculated another man in the hall. ‘We need this stranger to balance the books.’

  ‘Then we need to find him to check his motives,’ called out another woman. ‘But what if he doesn’t like Bridget McBain?’

  ‘We’ll have to wait and see,’ related the Chairman solemnly. ‘The police will undertake a thorough search of the village tomorrow morning to apprehend the man. If he’s still here, he’ll soon come to light.

  The meeting went on in the same vein for a while and I wasn’t certain whether they were out for my blood or willing to let me meet Bridget McBain... whoever she was. It was sad that her husband had died but why didn’t he take his tablets over a period of time? What had that to do with anything? And why was the Chairman so concerned that the population in the village had been reduced by one person? It didn’t make sense! Clearly, everyone in the village was young but that didn’t obviate the fact that accidents happened... some of them with fatal results. And what did the Chairman mean when he said ‘there is a stranger within our midst who has his own agenda which is unknown to us and we need to stop him before he does something to upset the balance within this comm
unity?’ It all sounded so sinister. What possible danger could I be to this village?

  The meeting broke up just after nine o’clock and everyone left the hall with the Secretary being the last one to leave after turning out the lights. I stepped out from behind the large flag and wandered to one of the bench seats to rest my weary bones. Then I climbed on to the stage finding a couple of cushions on the seats which I used as a pillow and back-rest for the night. It was more uncomfortable that the filthy slim flea-bitten mattress in the cell but at least I had somewhere to sleep. I lay behind the table on the stage, placing two chairs on their backs to hide me from sight which was just as well because the door to the hall opened, the light went on, and the Secretary returned looking round as though searching for something she had dropped. However, she soon switched off the light and closed the door so that I was left in peace. Oddly enough, I slept very well that night. There was an eerie silence all around but no one was there to disturb me.

  When daylight came, I rose, shook myself down, and went outside. As I inhaled the fresh morning air, Basra seemed to be more hospitable than Keppelberg. At least in Iraq I was free to roam anywhere I wanted to... within reason. Here, in Keppelberg, I was to be arrested on sight in my own country for a deed of which I was innocent. I suddenly realised how angry innocent people became when arrested and were put on trial for something they hadn’t done. Such feelings of emotion were entirely negative and I gave myself some very good advice to stop the self-pity. It would do me far more harm than good in the long run. I wondered where Wayne Austen was at this particular moment, smiling to myself as I envisaged him in the oldy-worldy clothes that he wore in the village. He was probably miles away hoping not to have to face my sister with the news that I was still here,

  For the moment, I needed to do something desperate to secure my position and an idea quickly formed in my mind. Moving into action, I went to the nearest house and knocked on the door. A woman answered staring at me in surprise.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I began politely. ‘Can you tell me the address of Mr. Townsend... the Chairman of the village committee?’

  She paused to think for a moment and then conceded. ‘I’ll take you there,’ she offered, closing the door behind her and leading me out on to the path. She walked on for about two minutes with me in tow and then pointed to one of the houses. ‘He lives in that one!’

  Before I had the chance to thank her for her kindness she had turned on her heel and was making her way back leaving me to face the man alone. I knocked on Townsend’s door and he answered swiftly, eyeing me up and down with a strange expression on his face.

  ‘The stranger,’ he uttered slowly, wondering how I had the audacity to enter into the lion’s den without fear.

  ‘Yes,’ I returned casually. ‘I’m the stranger... and I’ve come to you to tell you that I know about the pharmacy but I’m willing to stay in the village to make up the number. I would like to meet Bridget McBain. Now you can have me arrested but I’m giving myself up to save you the trouble.’

  He was stunned by my declaration... more so by the fact that I knew so much about the pharmacy and Bridget McBain. It was the last thing he expected to hear from a stranger and my plan of action struck him right between the eyes. It was sufficient for him to invite me into his home and I sat in the small lounge facing him.

  ‘What do you know about the pharmacy?’ He asked nervously.

  ‘I’m not prepared to answer that because it’s a secret known only to the villagers,’ I bluffed. ‘Like them, I promise never to divulge it to any other person. That’s how much I’m committed. Let me say that your secret is my secret.’

  He paused for a moment to reflect my answer which actually told him nothing. ’How do you know about the number concerning our population?’ He pressed.

  ’I was there at the meeting last night,’ I admitted freely not wishing for him to catch me out on a lie. ‘I stood behind one of the flags in a corner of the hall.’

  ‘And that’s where you learned about Bridget McBain,’ he went on sombrely.

  ‘I was there and heard everything that went on.’

  ‘I didn’t realise that anyone could hide behind the flags.’

  ‘I was well hidden.’

  ‘Hm,’ he muttered sharply. ‘I’ll have to take that one up with security. If a stranger can remain hidden in the village hall without anyone knowing about it there must be something wrong.’

  ‘So where do I stand, Mr. Townsend?’ I asked meekly, placing myself entirely in his hands. ‘I did escape from prison but I tell you I was incarcerated there wrongfully. There was no charge, no arrest, yet I was put into a cell for no other reason than that I was lost and couldn’t find my way to my sister’s house in Bishopstown.

  He stared hard at my apparel. ‘And I suppose you didn’t steal the clothes you’re wearing,’ he accused bluntly.

  ‘Not so, sir,’ I explained. ‘They were given to me by one of the villagers. I did not steal them.’

  Thee was silence for a while and I could imagine his mind working overtime like a computer to find a solution.

  ‘I’ve no alternative but to hand you over to the police, you realise that,’ he said eventually.

  I shrugged my shoulders aimlessly. ‘I understand, ’I uttered miserably, ’but you could recommend leniency and allow me to meet Mrs. McBain.’ Suddenly, a woman whom I had never seen or heard of before became my only hope of redemption as far as the villagers were concerned. She had been married and probably had a child or children but, for the time being, none of that mattered. The fact was that her husband had died and there was some fetiche amongst the inhabitants there that the population figure had to be retained at eleven hundred. Why? I hadn‘t a clue but it appeared that instead of them having a hold on me it was the other way around. The point was that I was the only person available to fill the gap.

  We drank some coffee together and he put on his jacket to take me to the police station, explaining that I had handed myself in voluntarily and that I was willing to meet the widow, Bridget McBain. Despite the dispensation offered to me by the Chairman the Desk Sergeant was livid with the damage I had cause to the floor of the office above the police station and the ceiling of the cell below. I offered my services to help repair the plasterwork but he had already arranged for someone else to undertake them.

  Townsend left shortly afterwards and I sat on a wooden seat in the police station facing the Desk Sergeant.

  He stared at me with a sullen expression on his face. ‘You’re a trouble-maker,’ he spat angrily. ‘I knew that the moment I laid eyes on you!’

  ‘Is that what you think of me,’ I asked cheekily. ‘Do you know, last week I was walking around the outskirts of Basra in Iraq holding a machine-gun in my hands, watching out for anyone who might want to take a pot-shot at me, or careful not to tread on any mines that might have been dug in at the roadside. My role there was a peacekeeper.’

  He stared at me with an element of disbelief and it soon became evident that his view of me started to change substantially.

  ‘You were in the army in Persia,’ he uttered in amazement.

  ‘Well it’s called Iraq now,’ I corrected deciding to press home my advantage. ‘I was in the Fourth Regiment putting my life on the line for quite some time. I won an award of merit for saving the lives of four soldiers on the front line under severe fire.’

  The information stunned him into silence but that didn’t quench his inquisitiveness. ‘How come you ended up in Keppelberg?’

  ‘The story I told you was true. I got demobbed from the army was driving to my sister’s house in Bishopstown but got lost. What surprises me is that this village is so much behind the times... so far from the hustle and bustle of modern life... so remote from television, computers and the like. How do you keep it that way? I mean surely some of the people want to leave here to set
up elsewhere. Some of them must have that kind of ambition.’

  ‘We’re happy here,’ he responded. ‘We don’t like strangers to interfere in our way of life.’

  ‘Hopefully I’m not longer a stranger. I’d like to live this kind of peaceful life. When do I meet Bridget McBain?’

  ‘Very shortly,’ he told me.

  He stared at me long and hard, weighing me up, and then returned his attention to some papers on his desk to continue to work. I stood up and went to the door.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ He demanded officially.

  ‘I’m just going to get some fresh air,’ I replied.

  ‘Just because you were brought in by Mr. Townsend doesn’t mean you can treat this like Liberty Hall,’ he reproached me sharply. ‘You’re helping the police with their enquiries. If that doesn’t suit you, I can offer you another cell... only this time there won’t be a bed or a chair in it.’

  It was a sobering thought. His tone reminded me of my Commanding Officer when I went into Basra with an army colleague one night. It was off limits but I went there with him anyway. The CO read me the Riot Act when I returned, warning me that if I ever did anything like that again I would be put on a Charge. The inference of this civilian situation was pretty much the same thing. So I went back to my seat and sat down, cooling my temper. The Desk Sergeant recognised that he had damaged my ego and he leaned over the counter to pass me a book. I looked at the title to note that it was the Holy Bible.

  ‘Read the eleventh commandment,’ he told me.

  ‘But there’ only ten.’ I corrected.

  ‘Look again!’ he persisted before going back to his work.

  ‘I suppose you’re going to quote a passage from Mark, Luke or John,’ I uttered.

  .’No,’ he expounded, ‘but I don’t suggest you read from the book of Exodus!’ He burst out laughing at his little joke.

  It was the first time I had seen anyone smile or laugh in the village. There was indeed some hope for them yet! I realised that I was digging a deep hole for myself in which I might be buried. My intention to stay in the village was more of a whim, hardly carved in stone, yet I was intrigued to meet the widow scheduled for me. With the tightening of security in the village, it might never be possible for me to leave. I was a prisoner of my own resort. Almost certainly I would be watched every hour of the day so that the authorities within the village would be sure I never failed to toe the line or reveal any secrets it harboured... if only I knew of one!