Before & Beyond

by Patrick Welch

  “The folk tales are wrong. Having his pot of gold means nothing.”

  She shook her head. “Some of the legends were incorrect to be sure. I never suspected a leprechaun could appear in human size, after all. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

  I ignored her. “Haig, come with me.”

  “I can’t, laddie,” and the sadness was heavy in his voice. “I am bound to the lady.”

  She smirked. “See? Not all the legends were wrong. My rope of four-leaf clover worked wonderfully. Now what are we to do about you?” She snapped her fingers. “I have it! We were exploring these caves and attacked by a gang of hooligans. They tried to rob us but you two fought them off. Unfortunate you suffered fatal injuries in the battle.”

  I grimaced, then aimed the pistol at her. “Give me that pot.”

  “No. Haig.” He stepped in front of her. I held my aim. “It’s getting cold in here. It’s time we leave. Haig, remove him.”

  “I’m sorry, laddie,” he said. “I have no choice.”

  “Neither do I,” I replied. And fired.

  Haig changed to his real size just as I pulled the trigger. The bullet went right through where he was standing. Right into Grammet.

  I didn’t hesitate. I leapt forward, actually over Haig to the fallen woman. My bullet had struck her in the shoulder, knocking her back and to her knees. I wrested the tiny pot from her grasp and turned to see Haig, now in human form, standing behind me. “This is yours,” I said and returned his pot of gold.

  He looked at it, still stunned. “Sean,” he managed to say, “how did you know? How did you know I would change?”

  I grinned weakly. “I didn’t. I could only hope. We can talk about this later. We have to get Grammet out of here.”

  It was difficult moving her out of the cave because of her wound, but we managed. Haig then looked at his pot. “I’ll have to bury this elsewhere.”

  “Do what you must. I’ll stay with Grammet.” While Haig returned to the cave, I attended to her.

  The bullet had struck her high on the shoulder, not too serious from what I could tell. “You shot me,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “And what did you plan for me? Self defense I would say.”

  “I will tell the police.”

  “Tell them what? That you kidnapped a leprechaun? Were planning to have him kill me? Or that we were attacked by hooligans and you were shot by one as Haig and I fought them off.” I knelt beside her and stared into her eyes. “Mr. Haig and I are well-respected in some circles. Specifically Scotland Yard. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yes,” she said after long consideration.

  “Good. Let me help you into the carriage. We’ll get you to Corlewegh and a doctor.”

  Which we did. Afterwards, when asked by the police, we all agreed that a small band of ruffians had tried to rob us while we were exploring the caves and in the ensuing fight she had been shot. The constable assured us they would do everything in their power to find the outlaws. We pledged further cooperation if necessary, then took Grammet to Goodwin and saw her off on the train. We stayed the night at a nearby inn.

  Both Haig and I were lost in our own thoughts, so it wasn’t until much later that evening when we were relaxing over pints in our room when Haig asked what I knew he would. “You would have shot me, wouldn’t you, Sean?”

  “Yes.” I looked at him and fought my tears. “I knew you could never bear life as a slave to her.”

  “I see.” He stared into his pint for what seemed forever. Then he looked at me and grinned. “You are right, Sean. And you came to my rescue. For that I shall always be in your debt. Still,” and he shook his head, “I never thought you would shoot a woman.”

  “I never did either. Perhaps our stay in the Colonies changed me more than I thought.”

  He nodded sullenly. “But now Grammet knows. What do you think she will do with that information?”

  “A monograph or two. No one will believe her in any event, since no one believes in leprechauns. Still, you might want to alert the clans, in case she tries to capture another.”

  “I will.” Then he raised his glass. “To freedom.”

  “To freedom.” Even as we drank, however, I knew our relationship would never be the same.

  ROCK OF WAGES

  It was the noise that attracted me. A thunderous rolling sound followed by a crash. A stream of curses and grunts. A scuffle of feet, more grunts, loose falling stone and then the thunderous rolling sound again.

  I stopped my wagon at the side of the steep hill. The last few days had been extremely unprofitable, my recent stay in the village of Imogen a complete loss. The townsfolk had expressed no interest in my elixirs, curiosities, mechanisms or other, even more exotic wares. It would seem prudent to avoid the hill and whatever waited on the far side. Instead I dutifully lowered the canopy proclaiming "Dr. Forturo's Traveling Emporium Of Miscellaneous Marvels" and donned my work clothes: a tall silk hat, patchwork jacket and gold-encrusted trousers. Literally tooting my own horn, I urged my team forward.

  I rounded the hill as another crash erupted. The cause: a large, round boulder--at least three times the size of my wagon--which had rolled into a strand of trees lining the main road. I stopped playing my trumpet and watched as an equally huge man, stringing a steady stream of curses, manhandled the boulder out of the grove and back toward the imposing hill. Positioning the stone on a well-worn plot of grass and dirt, he bent down, leaned a great shoulder into the boulder and began to push. He managed to advance it five or six feet up the steep grade before his sandaled feet began to lose traction on the gravel. He continued to struggle thus for another five minutes, then lost his balance entirely and the boulder bounded inexorably down the hill and into the severely abused woods below.

  The man was wiping away dirt and gravel from his hands and tunic as I urged my wagon forward. "What ho, friend?" I greeted him. "So how are we faring this most lovely and propitious day?"

  The man/mountain favored me with a glare. "None too well, me thinks," he responded in a surprisingly soft, lilting voice.

  "Why, may I ask, do you persist in your labors upon yon boulder?"

  He sighed. "The curse of the gods. I must spend my days trying to roll that stone onto the crest of this mighty hill. Only when I have completed my task will they lift the enchantment. It is a burden I fear I shall never discharge."

  "My friend, I do believe that this day shall turn out most fortuitous for you. I just might possess, among the many wonders within my coach, an item that will make your onus less onerous."

  He frowned and studied me. "I am charged to accept no assistance. And you do not appear to possess the strength necessary to help me."

  "Not strength, my mountainous friend." I went to the back of my wagon, opened the door and wrestled a trunk to the ground. "Knowledge is quite another matter." I opened the lid and made a show of rummaging through its contents. "Here we are." I stood and brandished a pair of wooden clogs. "These should assist you greatly."

  "Shoes? I see not..."

  "Not just shoes, good sir. These are special shoes. These spikes," and I pointed them out, "will enable you to get purchase on this rocky soil. Here, try them."

  He accepted them reluctantly. They fit perfectly. He resumed his position behind the boulder and began to push. Almost immediately he noticed the effect; instead of slipping constantly on the loose gravel, the shoes allowed him to dig in and use both his mighty arms and legs to advance the rock. It appeared almost effortless; the boulder began to roll smoothly up the incline. Even though the hill was steep and expansive, I estimated he would achieve his goal before sunset.

  "Tell me, my huge friend; what will you do when you get to the top?"

  He paused and leaned against the boulder, which moved not a whit. "I know not. I never thought I would succeed before."

  I pointed toward the road just beyond. "If you leave it up there, it could eventually dislodge and roll back down this h
ill. That would pose a danger to any innocent wayfarers. I suggest you let it roll down the other side. There is nothing there." Nothing save the village of Imogen.

  "Most sound advice, good stranger. I thank you greatly for your assistance and I will do as you suggest!"

  As I rode away I saw that my friendly giant was continuing his excellent progress up the hill. I would have stayed to admire his efforts but I had additional business in Imogen.

  The village greeted me no more warmly upon my return than during my first visit. The town constable approached me before I even had time to disembark. "We told you to leave. You and your kind are not welcome here."

  "But I have most important and distressing news!" I forced fear and desperation into my voice. "I was leaving, just as you requested. But on my way I met a mountain of a man pushing an equally large boulder up yon precipice." I pointed to the east, where the steep hill was easily seen. "I fear what may happen when he reaches the crest."

  The official laughed. "That fool will never succeed! He has been struggling thus for ages. Easier he grasp a handful of sunlight than push that boulder to the top."

  "That may not be accurate. When I left, he was making remarkable progress."

  The man snorted. A few curious townspeople had gathered nearby to listen so I addressed them. "Dear innocent dwellers of Imogen, I implore you to heed me! I fear greatly that your lovely village may be in danger!"

  "And why is that?" several voices asked at once.

  "The giant told me that once he reached the top, he would push the boulder down the other side of yon hill. As you can see," I pointed, "this lane leads straight to it. That boulder will roll right into, and destroy, your village."

  "Nonsense," the constable said. "This man is speaking lies. Good people, we have nothing to fear."

  "Perhaps. But would it not be prudent to have one of your residents verify my veracity?"

  "I'll go," a lad of about nine offered. The constable nodded and we watched as he ran down the street toward the imposing hill beyond. The constable gave me a ferret smile. "If you are lying, we will confiscate your belongings and throw you in the stocks. Our village will greatly enjoy the entertainment."

  We waited silently, he confident, myself feigning nervousness. The townspeople started to laugh when we saw the boy approaching. Their amusement died quickly. "It's true, it's true," we could hear the boy yelling well before he reached Imogen. "The giant is halfway up the hill!"

  I fought back a smile as I saw their concern and alarm grow. The constable was the first to speak. "This is impossible! Quickly; we must see for ourselves!"

  The news spread through the village like fleas. I sat patiently in my wagon while everyone in Imogen made their way toward the hill. Let them observe, let them plan, let them panic. I let nearly an hour pass before I urged my team forward.

  When I arrived at the hill, the villagers were congregated at the top. I joined them and looked down. The man and his boulder were over half-way up, and while his progress was slowed, he was still moving inexorably onward. I noticed a group of men standing by themselves, conversing rapidly. I assumed they were the town leaders and approached.

  "This is most serious," I heard one say. "What are we to do?"

  I allowed them to plan ineffectively for a few minutes before speaking. "If you don't mind, I might offer a suggestion."

  The constable glared at me. "Now what do you want, thief?"

  "Thief? I am no thief. I am your benefactor. Who, after all, alerted you to this looming tragedy?"

  "You are at best a charlatan."

  Another interrupted our discussion. "Is this man telling the truth?"

  "I doubt if it happens very often, but in this case, yes," the constable said.

  The man, whom I recognized as the tavern owner, appraised me. "I remember you, you tried to sell me some fake philter."

  "There is nothing fake about it. However, I doubt we have the time to debate its efficacy. Would you like my assistance or no?"

  "We are prepared to listen."

  "I suggest you pour boiling oil down the hillside. It will make it impossible for him to go any farther. Indeed it should prevent him from progressing entirely."

  I watched the men confer rapidly among themselves. "That might work," the tavern keeper said as spokesman. "But we have none."

  "Fortunately I do. And for a most reasonable fee I am prepared to offer it to you."

  The constable frowned. "And what would you consider reasonable?"

  "50 gold crowns. Paid in advance, of course."

  "That is outrageous!" screamed five voices at once. "We can buy an entire vat of oil for only five," the innkeeper added.

  "Fine." I turned and looked down the hill. "But you best hurry. Yon giant is rapidly approaching."

  They looked, then initiated a heated discussion. Finally the innkeeper approached. "30. We can only offer you 30."

  "You have it with you?" The small group looked at each other then nodded reluctantly. "Wait here." Whistling, I entered my wagon. I returned with a cask of heated oil. "Just pour this down the hill," I said after they gave me payment. "You should have no more concerns."

  The constable did as suggested. We watched as the oil flowed and spread down the hill, quickly intersecting the approaching peril. The boulder began to slip, then spin as it became covered with oil. My laboring friend held out admirably, but the spreading oil soon loosened the soil under his feet. With a groan and a curse, the man fell back as he lost his grip. The boulder rolled merrily down the hill and stopped with a resounding thump against the trees below.

  The townspeople let out a cheer and congratulated each other. I quickly returned to my wagon and drove away. I was tired and it was nearing time to set my camp for the evening; I had plenty of work planned for the following day.

  "What ho, friend?" I called out. It was now morning; after a quick breakfast I had made my way back to the giant and his burden.

  "I am lost!" he greeted me.

  "Why so morose, my colossal comrade?"

  "Yonder hill. It has become befouled with some unknown substance. Even with the sandals you graciously provided I can no longer move this rock more than a foot or two without falling. I am lost!"

  "Perhaps." I pretended to commiserate and contemplate this unfortunate turn of events. "Tell me," I continued after a suitably long ponder, "what exactly is your obligation?"

  "Why, to get this boulder upon the top of that hill. I told you that."

  "But do you have to push it?"

  He frowned, the small gears inside his head struggling to turn. "I understand not."

  "Those spiked shoes still provide you sufficient purchase, do they not?"

  "Yes, but I cannot push the rock without losing my grip, now that it is covered with that foul substance."

  "So much the better. Perhaps you should pull it."

  "How?" he asked, trying to grasp the concept.

  "Most simple, really. I happen to have a very strong, very long rope in my possession. We merely harness it to the boulder and you... pull it up the hill. Since the ground is now moist, the rock should slide easily."

  Finally a smile appeared as the dim light dawned. "You are most correct, friendly stranger. If you have such a rope, that would indeed be possible!"

  Of course I had the rope. We tied it thoroughly around the boulder; a few sample tugs convinced him that my suggestion would work. He started pulling his load toward the hill, then stopped. "My friend, your largesse has been great. Yet I have nothing to repay you with. How can I thank you?"

  "Just helping a fellow gentleman out of a most trying circumstance is reward enough. May you enjoy success this day and may your burden be finally lifted!" His stream of benedictions faded behind me as I rode away. Back to Imogen.

  I paused outside the tavern long enough to decompose myself, then burst in. "The giant," I yelled. "He's coming!"

  The innkeeper looked up from the glass he was cleaning. This early in the morning, the
business was otherwise deserted. He was unconcerned and most unfriendly. "It's you. What are you prattling about now?"

  "The giant. He's coming back up the hill!"

  "And how is that possible? You assured us the oil would prevent him from succeeding."

  "He's not pushing the boulder. He's pulling it!"

  The innkeeper set down his glass, his attention finally mine. "He cannot." Then he glared at me suspiciously. "Unless he is obtaining assistance from someone."

  "It matters not now. Come. Something must be done to stop him and protect your village."

  The innkeeper followed. Soon nearly the entire village trailed behind my wagon as we made our now familiar journey up the hill. The townsfolk formed a crown on the crest as we all gazed below. The giant was making steady progress. As I had promised, his cleated shoes still afforded excellent purchase in the oil-stained soil. The strong rope stretched taut behind him as the boulder slid rather than rolled over gravel, dirt, oil and the occasional patch of grass, making his task much easier. I glanced up at the sky. At this rate he would reach the summit within the hour.

  The townspeople recognized their peril as well. The innkeeper approached me. "More oil. We must have more oil!"

  "I am afraid you have exhausted my supply. If you had been a bit more conservative in your use of it..."

  He grabbed me. "We must do something!"

  I pulled his hands away and stepped back, disgusted. "Control yourself. We must think clearly in this situation, not allow our reasoning to be clouded by rampant emotions." I looked anew down the hill. "I should have something ..."

  "What?" The entire village was gathered around me now.

  "Wait here," I ordered, and went to my carriage. I returned dragging a small chest.

  "What is it? What is in there?" a buzz of conversation rose among the townsfolk.

  I ignored them and instead pulled the innkeeper aside. "This is a very valuable chest. In order to accomplish what we must, it will be destroyed. I expect suitable compensation."