Land

by Liam O'Flaherty

  “Don’t condemn me, Miss Elizabeth,” he said. “I was only repeating what I hear. There isn’t a disloyal drop of blood in my veins.”

  “Get up at once,” Elizabeth said curtly. “I still think you should get a whipping. What is this gossip you heard?”

  Ahearn got to his feet slowly and said in a grumbling tone:

  “Old Pat Rice, the sacristan, is going about saying that Mr. Raoul is the Antichrist. I took the old devil by the throat and threatened to choke him, but he stood his ground. He gave the authority of Father Costigan for his allegation. Mrs. Callinan, the parish priest’s housekeeper, is even worse. It’s she that called Mr. Raoul the leader of paganism. When I taxed her with being a liar, she tore into me. The old bag of bones, with her skinny face and her buck teeth, she is a good picture of Antichrist herself. ‘Father Cornelius was softening the corns on his poor feet in a basin of luke-warm water,’ she said, ‘when he told me that Mr. Raoul St George was the ringleader of paganism in Manister.’ To cap it all, Julia McNamara has now joined in the hunt. She’s as busy as a ferret in a rabbit burrow, back-biting everybody at the Lodge. Even though it’s well known that she is a little touched in the head, she has influence with the young people, on account of her connections with the Fenians.”

  “Then it is quite serious, this scandalmongering,” said Elizabeth, becoming agitated.

  “It might become a calamity,” Ahearn said, “unless Mr. Raoul gives up having anything to do with the Committee, before it’s too late. I know the people inside out. To-day they are cheering Mr. Raoul, but only in the hope of getting something out of him, lower rents, or maybe no rents at all. When the English move to put down the agitation, it will be a different story. The people will turn their backs on Mr. Raoul and run for help to Father Costigan. Then the master will be blamed for any bad thing that may happen. Father Costigan knows the people just as well as I do, Miss Elizabeth. He is as shrewd as they make them. He is staying quietly in the background now, waiting for the tide to turn. In the meantime he is planting a few seeds of suspicion by means of scandalmongering. Those seeds will bear fruit at the right moment. He’s a shrewd man, Father Costigan.”

  “Dear me!” cried Elizabeth. “How can people be so cruel to one another? My brother is so generous. He wants to make everybody happy, all at once, in the way over-generous people do. This generosity gets him into most unfortunate situations. Dear me! How could an upright man like Father Cornelius be guilty of such questionable intrigue?”

  “Sure, he has to defend his bread and butter,” said Ahearn. “You can’t blame him.”

  “I do blame him,” said Elizabeth indignantly. “It’s outrageous.”

  “And that’s not all,” said Ahearn. “You thought that O’Dwyer was gone for good. Now didn’t you?”

  Elizabeth put her hand to the brooch at the neck of her dress. She looked terribly afraid.

  “Don’t tell me that he has returned,” she whispered.

  “He has, then,” said Ahearn. “I saw him land at the pier a little while ago, in a pucaun that belongs to Pat Lynch of Grealish Island.”

  Elizabeth stood very erect, controlled her emotion with an effort of will and then looked haughtily at Ahearn.

  “Thank you for telling me all this, Tim,” she said coldly. “You may go now.”

  Ahearn made a little curtsy and walked away.

  “Dear God!” Elizabeth prayed with her eyes closed. “Help me to protect those I love from all evil influence.”

  Since O’Dwyer’s disappearance a fortnight ago, she had felt completely recovered from the nervous shock that she suffered on the day of the shooting. She felt during the interval that life was again reverting to the peaceful routine that preceded her brother’s return. Now her brightening horizon had suddenly darkened once more.

  She tried to feel angry with Ahearn for this sudden darkening.

  “The drunken rascal!” she said, as she watched him go along the wagon trail. “For twenty years he has twisted me round his little finger, doing just what he pleased with himself and the farm. He is furious at having to keep himself clean and sober since Raoul’s return.”

  Then she raised her skirts and hurried up the steeply rising garden to the house.

  “I must talk to Raoul,” she muttered. “He must resign at once from that Committee and forbid the house to O’Dwyer.”

  The air now felt chilly. The rustling of the leaves had become sinister. Clouds raced across the sky. The surface of the ocean had broken into serried ranks of waves, whose crests were capped with foam.

  Chapter XV

  Lettice looked terribly unhappy as she leaned against a pillar by the outer rim of the terrace. The rising wind was blowing a tress of her red hair across her hollow cheek. She had become even paler during the past fortnight.

  “Where is your father, Lettice?” said Elizabeth, panting as she came on to the terrace after her climb. “I must see him at once.”

  “He’s gone to the village,” Lettice said. “He has been gone for hours.”

  “I have most important things to discuss with him,” Elizabeth said as she sat down on a wicker chair.

  “What about, Lizzie?” Raoul said, coming on to the terrace at that moment from the living-room. “What do you want to discuss?”

  “Oh! There you are, Raoul,” said Elizabeth. “It’s about the Committee.”

  Raoul put his hands to his ears as he crossed the terrace.

  “I beg of you not to talk to me about the Committee,” he said in a tone of disgust.

  He threw himself wearily on to another chair and stretched out his legs.

  “I’m exhausted after arguing with those duffers for the past two hours,” he said.

  “Poor father!” Lettice said as she hurried across the terrace towards the living-room. “I’ll go at once and order you some tea.”

  “Adorable child!” Raoul said. “It’s the very thing I want.” He turned towards Elizabeth after Lettice had gone and added:

  “It’s humiliating to learn that one has no capacity for leadership. I am too decadent. These people have been slaves for so long that they only respond to the most primitive forms of persuasion. Father Costigan uses a blackthorn stick. Alas! I’m quite incapable of using such a weapon, and logical argument, I find, is completely worthless. Lizzie, they despise me.”

  He put his fingers to the tip of his beard and laughed heartily for a moment. Then he became serious again.

  “For thirty years,” he said, “I held that thought and observation were the only absolute forms of rational existence. I regarded all action as reprehensible, since it interfered with reverie. Then I suddenly decided to become a man of action. I have found it impossible.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that,” Elizabeth said, “because you must resign from the Committee at once.”

  “That’s impossible,” Raoul said.

  “Why?” said Elizabeth.

  “In the first place,” said Raoul, “it’s beneath my dignity. Secondly, this is my last chance to justify myself. Man is a social animal. He has a duty to society. Unless he fulfils it he feels ashamed of himself. I have always been a vain man, Lizzie. That you probably know. I mistook my intelligence for genius. I gave up my career at the Bar and went to Paris, to become a writer. Alas! I was able to write nothing of greater importance than articles for American newspapers. Then I turned my mind to other things. After years of study, I am convinced that I have produced a weapon that can make tyranny impossible in the future. All that is necessary, I feel, is to let humanity realise its power. That can only be done by actual experiment. Ah! If only O’Dwyer …”

  “A weapon?” Elizabeth said in horror. “Do you really mean that you are now manufacturing weapons?”

  “Poor Lizzie!” Raoul said with feeling. “It’s not really a weapon that one could see or touch. It is a method of resisting tyranny.”

  “Whatever it is,” cried Elizabeth, “you must drop it at once. Father Costigan has launched
a most dangerous intrigue against you. He is covering the parish with reports that you are the Antichrist.”

  “Really?” said Raoul, sitting up in his chair. “How amusing!”

  “For your daughter’s sake, if not for mine or your own,” cried Elizabeth urgently, “don’t joke about such a serious matter.”

  “Joke?” cried Raoul. “How can you use such a word?”

  “Resign at once,” Elizabeth insisted with her whole energy.

  Lettice came on to the terrace at that moment, after having ordered tea. She halted abruptly and looked at her aunt haughtily.

  “You have no right to speak to my father like that,” she cried.

  Elizabeth started, looked at Lettice in astonishment, turned pale and lowered her gaze.

  “How could you allow yourself to be guilty of such rudeness?” Raoul cried angrily. “Apologise to your aunt at once.”

  “Please, forgive me, Father,” Lettice said gently, blushing to the roots of her hair.

  Then she stood in front of Elizabeth and curtsied in a most elaborate fashion.

  “I forgive you, darling,” Elizabeth said when the gesture had been completed.

  Yet she did not raise her eyes to look at Lettice.

  “That’s better,” Raoul said to his daughter. “I’m going to forbid your having anything further to do with the village women, if I notice a deterioration of your manners.”

  Lettice came over and perched on the arm of his chair. She put her fingers through his hair.

  “I promise you that I’m never going to be guilty again,” she said, “but my work in the village is not responsible for this instance of rudeness. On the contrary, Father, I find my work among the women to be most exalting. It’s wonderful what the Committee has done already for the people. There is laughter and singing everywhere, not only in the village, but in the countryside. People who hadn’t spoken to one another for years are friends once more. Even the most lowly and destitute have been exalted in spirit by the belief that freedom from tyranny is at hand.”

  “When bees revolt against the inability of their old hive to give adequate expression to their needs,” Raoul said, “they do not waste time in singing and dancing. The swarm builds a new hive at once. Alas! The people of Manister are completely devoid of the bee’s organisational ability. Dear Lettice! I find lyrical enthusiasm just as exalting as you do, but I prefer organisation at certain moments. This is one of those moments.”

  “Please don’t worry, Father,” Lettice said. “Even if nothing came of the Committee but a few days of singing and dancing …”

  “If only that wretched O’Dwyer had not deserted me,” Raoul interrupted. “He has power over these fellows. The young men have the same faith in him that monks have in God. They refuse to help me without orders from him. Even though he has behaved in this shabby way, they are not in the least critical of him. I can’t understand how a man can have such power over others and yet behave like an irresponsible idiot.”

  “Raoul,” cried Elizabeth in a shrill tone, “you must resign at once.”

  “What’s the matter now, Lizzie?” Raoul said quietly. “You look upset.”

  Elizabeth got to her feet.

  “There is no time to lose,” she cried. “Go and tell these people …”

  Her voice drifted away into silence. She stood with her lips parted, her head turned a little to one side, listening intently. Both Raoul and Lettice also got to their feet and stood listening.

  “Can it be possible?” Raoul said.

  They heard a man whistling a hornpipe called “The Blackbird.” There was no mistaking the voice or the tune. O’Dwyer invariably whistled that tune as he approached the house on his nightly visits to Raoul’s study.

  “Let God’s will be done,” Elizabeth said as she heard footsteps on the gravel of the drive.

  She walked over to the outer edge of the terrace.

  “This solves my problem,” Raoul said, putting his arm around his daughter’s waist.

  “Oh! Father!” Lettice whispered, clasping her hands before her lips.

  Father and daughter hurried from the terrace into the living-room.

  “It is now too late to interfere,” Elizabeth said as she looked towards the sea. “She has already fallen in love with him.”

  An occasional drop of rain had begun to fall, making dark stains on the flagstones at the rim of the terrace floor. The wind had died down. It was getting dusk.

  “I have been so stupid and narrow-minded,” she said aloud, while tears gathered in her eyes. “I have set myself up in judgment over those whom I love.”

  There was a knock at the hall door, Then the door was thrown open. She heard O’Dwyer speak. Raoul and Lettice also began to speak at the same time. There was a peal of ringing laughter from Lettice.

  Elizabeth bowed her head and clasped her hands before her mouth.

  “I am being punished by her laughter,” she said.

  The wind swept up from the sea once more and there was violence in its rush. The clouds burst, loosening a torrent of rain upon the earth. There was a continuous roar among the trees, as the countless drops pressed down upon the outspread leaves, that trembled and swayed under the weight of ever-falling water. The air became heavy and drunkening, as the earth’s pores opened to receive the moisture.

  Elizabeth threw back her head, closed her eyes and let the rain beat against her face. Her warm tears mingled with the cool rain-drops. She felt purified by the rain, as if it were the water of baptism making her holy.

  “I’m going to learn from her how to love the people,” she whispered with her eyes closed. “Then I may be able to share in her laughter.”

  Chapter XVI

  Raoul finished reading the documents that Michael had given him.

  “This Bodkin seems to be quite a remarkable ruffian,” he said. “You say he is Father Kelly’s brother-in-law?”

  “Yes,” Michael said. “Father Kelly lives with him. That’s why it’s so hard to know what to do. I don’t want to make Father Kelly suffer any more. He has suffered enough already.”

  “Of course, you know that Butcher wanted you to kill Bodkin?” Raoul said.

  “Naturally,” Michael said. “I knew that at once.”

  He suddenly leaned forward and looked at Raoul fixedly.

  “Yet I nearly killed Bodkin,” he added, “in spite of knowing it was a trap set by Butcher.”

  “Really?” said Raoul. “Tell me about it.”

  “After leaving the eating-house,” Michael said, “we went to a cottage belonging to an old man that does a lot of work for our organisation. We got him out of bed and sent him out to get the lay of the land. He came back in a few hours and told us all we wanted to know. District Inspector Fenton had put a guard of two men in civilian clothes on Bodkin’s tavern. One covered the front, from a house across the street. The other was in a shed, overlooking the rear entrance. There is an underground passage, though, that the police didn’t know about, so they left it unguarded. The old man led us to this underground passage the following night and we came up through a trap-door behind the bottom of the stairs in the tavern room. There we came upon a scene that astonished all of us. We saw Father Francis and Bodkin, dressed only in their small shirts, kneeling on the flagstones side by side, holding hands like children and praying to a crucifix that stood on the table before a lighted lamp.”

  “Astounding!” Raoul said. “What was the time?”

  “A little after one o’clock in the morning,” Michael said. “What made it all the more strange is the fact that Bodkin has injured Father Francis terribly. His sister Penelope, who was married to Bodkin, died a few years ago. Bodkin used to beat her unmercifully. It’s generally agreed that she died as a result of the beatings he gave her. Father Francis was very fond of Penelope. No wonder, because it was she saved his life when they were left orphans at the time of the famine. She raised him and paid for his education until he was ordained. You can imagine how he mu
st have loved her. Yet there he was, kneeling hand in hand with the man that killed her. You have to love a man before you kneel hand in hand with him, at dead of night, in front of a crucifix.”

  “Quite true,” Raoul said.

  “There are other things about Bodkin,” Michael continued, “that are almost as bad as his spying and his cruelty to his wife. The man is a miser. He won’t spend a penny except to satisfy his gluttony. Even at that, he’ll buy only the very cheapest food. In fact, he rarely buys any at all, because people from the country bring him presents of food. Neither will he employ a man to help him behind the bar, in spite of the fact that he has been ailing for years. An old woman comes in one day a week to do the scrubbing. She has to fight a pitched battle with him every time for her wages. Father Francis does whatever cooking is required. No matter how you look at it, it’s an incredible story.”

  “What did you do?” Raoul said.

  “What could we do?” said Michael. “We went away again, of course, without doing anything at all.”

  “What did you intend to do?” Raoul said.

  “I intended to kill Bodkin,” Michael said simply.

  “In spite of knowing it was a trap?” said Raoul.

  “There are things a man can’t help doing,” Michael said.

  Raoul got to his feet, walked around the table and then halted in front of Michael’s chair, over by the window of the study.

  “But that was a fortnight ago,” he said. “Where have you been since?”

  “We went to the island of Grealish,” Michael said. “We spent most of the time hunting seals, there and on another island near there.”

  Raoul suddenly lost his temper. He drew himself to his full height and glared at Michael.

  “Does it not occur to you that you owe me an apology?” he said.

  Michael returned Raoul’s stare. His eyes glittered.

  “No,” he said quietly. “It never occurred to me.”

  “Why not?” Raoul cried.

  “I have never apologised to any man in my life,” Michael said.

  The two men stared at one another in silence for a little while. Then Raoul shrugged his shoulders and began to pace the floor.