by Paul Lynch
RAINFALL MADE MUST the scent of moss. A foot-worn path away from the house and he followed it and when he was out of sight he stopped by a rock and sat down. He put his head in his hands then wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. The conversational pitter of dripping leaf and stale cat piss in his nostrils. That girl’s crazy green eyes.
He sat awhile for figuring till he heard movement coming down the path. Through the trees he made out the head of the stranger and he heard him talking excitedly and he ducked instinctively to the ground with his blanket and clambered till he was hiding behind a tree, the moss moist to his knees. He heard the snuffle of horses and he lifted his head up to see three men on horseback behind the stranger. He snouted the ground, his heart clanging, and he held his breath as the men filed past and he fought the urge to run. When they had passed he moved with stealth and crept back towards the house. He watched the men dismount silently and each tie his horse to a tree and the stranger told the men to wait and he went up to the door and opened it. Faller stood with his hands on his hips as the stranger went inside and there came a roaring from the house and the sound of a woman wailing. The stranger came outside and he was waving his arms saying to the men I told her to keep em there just in case. I knew he might be somebody.
Faller eyed the stranger with no expression on his face.
Will you still pay me? the stranger asked.
You’re not a man of your word, said Faller.
She said she’d keep em. I showed you where he was. He must be hereabouts.
Show me him then.
The stranger shrugged and Faller stepped forward and the man stepped back till he was up against the wall and he craned his neck towards the door and he called out. How long ago did he leave?
The men heard sobbing and the girl stepped out with the boy hanging by her knees and she said just a wee while.
Faller looked at the girl and he looked down at the stranger and he looked at the girl again and he saw the child and his eyes narrowed. Macken turned to him. Well he ain’t gone down the path we just been on.
Faller turned and pointed. Gillen go back along the path. And Macken I want you to look up that way.
He turned to the stranger and looked at his small mouth, teeth canting and crooked like ragged gravestones and the pair of ears on him unfit for a man. Let’s go see where it was that you met him.
The man led the way and Faller followed and he told the man to hold up and he lit his pipe and then he resumed walking. They met the river and Faller got down on his haunches for a moment and then he stood up. There’s something of the rat about man isn’t there? he said.
The stranger looked at him curdled, a dumb face that spoke he didn’t know what to say.
Faller smiled. The rat, he said. Scuttles about in filth. Nosing in holes and hovels. Scavenging for scraps. Bearing disease. And always feeding. Always breeding. Can’t stop breeding don’t you agree?
He sucked on his pipe and realized it had gone out and he took out a box of matches and relit it.
You feel the urge yourself don’t you? The urge to fuck, even that upon which nature has decreed should be otherwise.
The stranger was toeing the mud by the riverbank avoiding the man’s strange gaze.
I donny know mister what ye mean.
Oh sure you do.
Faller stared at the man as if waiting on his words and the man said nothing and then Faller continued to speak. Man loves the water just like the rat. Not his natural home you see yet man will always be drawn to the water. It’s in his instinct.
The stranger turned as if to leave but found himself held by the man’s odd smiling address.
Have you ever watched a rat swim in water?
Faller stared at the stranger who squirmed under his gaze with bewilderment and then Faller reached out, grabbed him by the neck and began to drag him.
You would think it had been born to it. The rat. But it’s not, you know. And yet put the rat in the open sea and it will tread water for three days they say. I have read that a rat can hold its breath underwater for a quarter-hour.
The man flailed and Faller stopped at the river and looked towards the tarry pool.
Yes indeed, he said. The rat has an instinct for water.
HE HAD WATCHED THE MEN go three ways and sat hunkered wondering what to do. Fuck it, he said. He stood up and ran low towards the horses. The animals were strong and glossy and he smoothed the sable flank of one of them as he began to untie the reins from the tree.
The first knot fell like silk and the second with hardly any working at all, and he began shooing away both horses, go on, get, get away with yez to fuck, hissing through his teeth and he went to work untying the third for himself when he turned and saw the girl was watching.
He looked at her with pleading eyes and she said not a word and they stood there a moment staring and then she opened her mouth and began to shout. He’s here so he is he’s here.
Coyle ran to her and struck her in the face with the flat of his hand and she fell on her knees to the ground. Shut yer bake, he said. Everything was still in that moment but for the drizzle murmuring quietly to itself and he looked at the paths the three men had taken and he saw the horses had begun to wander and then he was away from her, fleeing through the trees.
Brushwood exploding under his feet as he ran, stumbling briefly as he tripped over snaking roots, and the land wobbled as he caught himself and kept running. His breath pounding in his chest and then he saw the fleeting shape of another coming angled towards him. He sensed the man drawing close, too close now to get away, and he pulled himself to a stop fast by a tree. The oncoming rush of feet and the forest floor crackling and the bellowing breaths of the man before Coyle, ready for him, lurched out unseen. He took the other sideways to the ground and they fell separated. They stood up eye to eye, warped and wheezing. He saw the startle in Gillen’s hazel eyes. No more than eighteen. I’ll have to learn him.
He went to him with his fists. The kid fumbling at the flintlock in his belt and Coyle swung and missed and the youngster instead drove his head into Coyle’s chest, forced fingers into an eye socket. Coyle recoiled in pain and he drove a knee to the other man’s groin and the youngster went down groaning. Coyle stood panting, his hands on his hips and then he saw clearly the gun, the youngster fumbling to unhook it from his belt and he saw a stick on the ground carbon and ragged like lightning that had burned itself out of the sky and he had it in his hands and swung it. The stick made good with the youngster’s jaw, broke off his face half rotten, and the gun and the man went down. Coyle sprung on him, took a hold of the gun and flung it, began hitting him in the face and the other weakened beneath him, a rapt fury as Coyle kept fighting, and then his eyes seized upon a rock and he reached for it with both hands and lifted it. He held the rock suspended in the air and then he saw the other man’s eyes, an intensity of living in them, the sheer fright, and he stopped and threw the rock away from him. He got off the youngster and stood.
Go on get up.
He offered his hand. The youngster stood unsteady and his hands were shaking and Coyle rubbed his raw red eye and he glanced about for his hat. Who are ye? he said.
Sheamy Gillen.
Gimme your coat Gillen.
The man took it off and handed it over and Coyle sleeved the jacket. Your hat too. They stood there looking at each other with no sound but for the ragged shears of their breathing and Coyle looked back through the trees over his shoulder. Let me off now on my own, he said. I mean it. Tell him I’m gone another way.
He turned to go but Gillen called out for him to wait, his voice strangely quiet, and Coyle turned around and saw the man’s face was earnest.
I canny do that, he said. He’s gonna find you. It’s like he knows the smell of yer blood.
THE LITHE FIGURE OF FALLER seen quickly from the trees and then he was in the clearing. He saw the girl where she stood and he did not stop but followed with his eyes the direction of her pointing finger
. She watched him disappear as quickly as he came and she stood a moment and looked down the forest path towards the river. The child toddled out of the house wearing a look of confusion and he pulled at her leg and she pushed him away and the child went away sulking. He stopped by the door and snatched a snow kitten by the nape and when the animal scratched him he cried. He threw the animal against the wall and the cat righted itself in landing and bolted into the scrub and the girl watched the scene and then turned towards the forest to see the one-eyed man dashing through the trees.
She went into the house and did not know what to do and she went outside and kicked about and then Faller emerged with Gillen and Macken behind him, the youngster’s shoulders stooped and he was holding in his hand his bruised face. Faller stopped and looked about. Where are my horses?
The girl seized, pointed, muttered something frightened. Faller glared. He turned and took Macken with him to find the horses. Gillen stood there awkward. Can I get a wee drink of water?
The girl went inside and came out with a cup. Her hand was shaking. Gillen looked at her. It’ll be alright.
Faller and Macken returned with the two horses. Gillen climbed up slow on his and Faller looked at him and turned towards Macken. Give him your oilskin, he said.
Macken’s face pussed. I need mine.
Faller stared and Macken shrugged and took off his coat and handed it up to Gillen. Faller mounted his horse and ignored the girl who was now standing beside him. Where is he? she said. Where’s me father?
Faller indicated to the others with a nod of his head and Macken saddled up and the girl pulled at Faller’s boot and asked him again. What did you do with him? Macken and Gillen turned around to look at Faller. He gave the girl a sharp kick and she stumbled onto her hind and then she sat on her sit-bones looking up at him. Faller stared at her in derision. Mamzer, he said. He kicked his heels to the flanks of his horse and the riders moved out.
THE MURMUR OF WATER and he followed till near he came upon the bloom. Brushwood hazed with luminous light then fields of tubular blue. The bluebells stood head-bowed as if quietly mourning their own quick passing or the memory that came as he kicked through their beauty of a time when to see them was small heaven itself.
He found the river and bent to the water and saw his face ripply on the surface. He’s tracking me so he is. I can feel it. He scooped water into his hands and drank and then he took off his boots and stepped into the river. The stream flowing against him and foaming around his knees and he waded his way through it. He figured a distance of about a furlong and then he crossed to the other bank and set off at a run near steady. A couple of wee miles just. I canny do more than that. He stopped exhausted where water pooled darkly and foamed over rocks. Across the river he saw a brae thick with gorse. He forded gleaming stones and stepped softly onto the bank, stood dripping and shook the water off him and rebooted and climbed up the hill careful not to leave a track. The gorse was flowered golden and he peered into its thorny embrace, then lowered himself prone and reversed into it. Just enough space for his body and no more, the chamber smelling of earth and musk and the flowers wafting sweet and he lay and closed his eyes.
THE DAY SAT GRAY, all quiet but for the river sleek and ceaseless. He dozed awhile and spent moments coughing, loud enough he figured for him to be heard down below, and he sat a mean hour watching till he saw the shapes of his pursuers appear in file along the other side. Faller in the lead and they seemed in no hurry and the men came to a stop a short distance away and dismounted.
He watched Faller stand by his own and Macken begin talking to him while Gillen stood by his horse. Macken took Faller’s water flask from his saddlebag and called to Gillen and threw it towards him. Gillen picked it up and went to the water and filled it and handed it back. Faller went to his horse and fished into his saddlebag and took out his own bottle, drank from it and when it was empty he handed it to Macken who turned and threw it to Gillen. The youngster picked up the flask and threw it back at him and Macken picked it up and stormed over to him and grabbed Gillen by the shirt. The men began tussling and Coyle heard Faller shout for them to stop and Macken went to the water and filled the bottle while Gillen went and sat cross-legged beside his horse.
Coyle watched Faller sit down on the ground and fill his pipe. Balls of blue smoke circled into the air and then Faller alighted his gaze on the hill, kept it there as if in wondering, and Coyle froze and he figured their gaze was met for a good minute but for the screening of the gorse. Go on will ye to fuck.
Faller stood up and began knocking his pipe on a rock and slowly he mounted his horse. He fixed his hat and spoke to the men and Coyle leaned on his breath till the three men rode away.
HE LAY DOWN TO SLEEP in the keep of a tree, wrapped in the comfort of dusk. When he awoke the world was flat and dark and he did not recall what he had dreamed. His teeth were chattering and his stomach rumbled and he wrapped his arms about himself and began walking. The light of the moon skipped moodily between the clouds and when it shone clear it cast a deep shade of blue. In the shadows of fields he sensed the startle of livestock, heard the wary padding of feet away from his motion. He climbed over a ditch that scratched at his legs and fielded stinging nettles and he followed blind a winding road. Against the sky he saw the darker shape of a house barely seen and walked up the brae towards it and circled listening for dogs. The place was silent and there was no outbuilding to see so he walked on not wanting to disturb.
The land leveled around him. Far off to his right he saw a speck of light fattening slowly in the darkness and he figured it for a person with a lantern. He stood and waited till it crossed far off in front of him. The light a blear fighting the dark expanse and he sat watching until the light disappeared, its bearer swallowed whole by an oblivion, and he set off again.
He found a track that rose towards a house and he walked up the verge and went around the back where he came upon the smell of cooped chickens. He found their rough nest under a low wooden roof and felt about for a door. Birds fluttered furiously when he crawled his way in but settled just as soon and he lay down on the straw amongst the droppings and the flies and the molted feathers and he felt warm.
NOT YET MORNING and he was up. The day uncalled by cockerel and he rummaged for eggs in the silver-purpled light, shucked their insides out silken and raw and he filled his pockets with whatever eggs were left and went outside and met the lopsided gaze of a dog. The animal looked at him with liking and he scratched its grayed ears and asked it how far away he was now from Buncrana and the dog looked at him and then answered to his hand with a wet stubbled lick. He began again his journey and the dog followed him for some time listening to his talk. I wonder what you’d do if you were in my place. I’ll bet you’d hang about wouldn’t ye, bite the problem till the end. A more noble creature you are.
The dog circled the air with its tail and began to nose the side of the road, found a trail and followed it.
I shoulda been born a dog.
He stayed away from the road, canny risk it, and he cut through fields and he avoided a short shower of rain under a tree. He met no eyes and no eyes fell upon him though only so much he could see and he walked till the land slumped bleakly in front of him and he came upon the moss. Scabbing of black amidst brown weave of heather and he trudged on, the blanket rolled in his hand, and he passed under the watch of a steep dun hill and again it began to rain. He tightened his hat, pulled tighter his oilskin and followed the cannelure of track that rounded the hill, the weathered groove meandering and pebbled with the droppings of sheep. The rain stopped and the land blushed in the veiling linger of mist. He saw stones fighting swamp and he spied sheep far off on a hill and he eyed all about for a house of some kind and by noon he found one solitary. He followed the path to it, dim smog from a chimney and a cart canting outside, and he went to the door and knocked. There came no answer and he knocked again and he opened the latch and went in. The smell of turf smoke steeped in the walls. No
one about and he found the fire dozing under the keep of ashes. He went to it and poked it alive and he looked about for kindling. The fire snatched at the faggots and he put his hands over the heat for a while and just stood.
The second room housed a bed and on the dresser he saw a knife and he ran his finger over the dull rusting blade and he pocketed it. Lucifer matches too and he slurped old stew potted beside the fire after reheating it and then he sat in the chair and closed his eyes.
Dog bark. He awoke and sat up. Listened again and then he stood, the baying reaching from closer now, and he looked about. He took his blanket and went to the door and slivered it. No one about yet and he opened it wider and slipped outside and closed the door behind him. He took another look and saw the advance party, black dog drumming up the path from the hill.
THE SHEEP SCATTERED from his flailing arms when he went after them. He chased after one and then another that nimbled around a rock and he fixed on one that was slower and went after it, his feet squelching in the black ooze and the animal veering about. He came up to it and grabbed hold of it and he wrested it by the neck and took it to the ground. It lay panting and unblinking and he pulled the knife from his pocket and put it to the animal’s throat, began to talk to it in whisperings, there she goes girl not so bad, as the flesh resisted the blunt advances of the knife and then yielded to it and the animal buckled and calmed. He stayed whispering to it like it was a lover as its blood soaked the sedge and drained into the wet earth, the sheep’s eyes glassing till finally unseeing he let it fall limp.
