Land

by Liam O'Flaherty

  “Beloved!” she said.

  The dawn breeze now whistled softly among the reeds. The sky had lightened in the east. The church bell tolled, calling on the people to awake and defend High Valley.

  Chapter XXV

  The tide was full. The sound of the waves, beating gently against the pebbled shore, was barely audible on the terrace. It was like a deep sigh, repeated at short intervals.

  Raoul closed the book he had been reading, stretched out his legs and yawned.

  “I can’t read,” he said. “I can’t think. Here I am, yawning at eleven o’clock in the morning, like a village idiot who only wants to sleep in the sun. Six months ago, I’d have been mortally insulted if told this could happen to me.”

  He stretched his arms above his head and yawned once more. Then he closed his eyes, dropped his chin on his chest and laced his fingers across his stomach.

  “I detest the sound of the sea,” he said. “It’s like the ticking of a clock, reminding me that I’m getting old, that I’ll soon lose consciousness and dissolve into unrelated particles of matter.”

  “I can’t understand how you can be so heartless,” Elizabeth said in a complaining tone as she dropped her knitting on to her lap. “Lettice has been gone two days now. We’ve had no news of her beyond rumours of wild happenings in High Valley. Yet you are able to yawn and talk drivel.”

  “You are being ridiculous,” Raoul said with his eyes closed. “I didn’t sleep a wink last night. That’s why I’m yawning.”

  “Then why don’t you admit that you are worried, instead of pretending that you are a heartless monster?” Elizabeth said.

  “It’s a peculiar form of vanity,” Raoul said.

  He opened his eyes, sat up and looked at his sister with interest.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to scold me,” he said, “for having allowed Lettice to go there. Yet you haven’t said a word. What does it mean?”

  Elizabeth picked up her knitting once more and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Can it be that your ideas have changed?” Raoul continued. “Upon my word! I do believe that you approve of her leading the peasant women against the police.”

  “Who am I to approve or disapprove of God’s will?” Elizabeth said.

  “Rubbish,” said Raoul. “It was my will that sent her.” “It’s God’s will,” Elizabeth said gently.

  “I planned the whole thing down to the most minute detail,” Raoul said, “and I don’t believe in God. So it could not possibly have been God’s will.”

  “It was God’s will,” Elizabeth said. “He often uses unbelievers to serve His divine purpose.”

  “Ugh! Reason is futile against such rubbish,” Raoul said.

  At that moment they heard a commotion within the house. A door was thrown open with violence. They both jumped to their feet excitedly.

  “That must be Lettice,” Elizabeth said.

  They hurried into the living-room. As they entered by the window, Annie Fitzpatrick came through the door leading from the hall. She was dragging Tim Ahearn rudely by the arm.

  “If I could lay hands on the ruffians that did it,” she cried as she led him across the floor, “all they’d ever need in this world would be Extreme Unction.”

  She halted at a short distance from Raoul and Elizabeth, shook Ahearn and added:

  “Speak up now, Tim. Tell them who did it.”

  Ahearn looked at Raoul in a shamefaced manner on being released by Annie. His right cheek and his left ear were heavily bandaged. There were many lumps and bruises on other parts of his face.

  “She is making big out of little,” he said. “The doctor told me they were of no account at all. They’re only scratches.”

  “Begging your honour’s pardon,” Annie said, “sure, it’s not the wounds I meant at all. It’s the insult that’s big, not the wounds.”

  Ahearn stepped nimbly aside as Elizabeth approached to examine him.

  “It’s nothing at all, miss,” he said. “Annie is making big out of little.”

  “It’s the insult that’s big,” Annie shouted. “I’m not talking of the wounds.”

  “Silence, woman,” Raoul said. “Let’s hear about it, Tim.”

  Ahearn squared his fists like a boxer and said:

  “A whole crowd of them set on me after I came out of the shop.”

  “Begin at the beginning, for mercy’s sake,” Raoul said.

  “It was McNamara’s shop,” Annie intervened. “I sent him down for a sack of flour.”

  “That’s right,” Ahearn said. “It was Julia McNamara started it, while I was getting the flour at the counter. She began casting on your honour about the death of Michael Bodkin and the kidnapping of the men that were summoned to court and the eviction of Father Kelly from the tavern.”

  “What’s that?” cried Raoul, becoming very agitated. “Who made these remarks?”

  “The shopkeeper’s daughter, your honour,” Annie said. “She has a slate off, as they say.”

  “She kept casting and casting,” Ahearn continued, raising his voice, “until I finally lost my temper with her and I carrying the flour out to the cart. I gave her a short answer then. One word led to another. A crowd gathered. Somebody threw a small stone. That fairly riled me. I threw my hat on the ground, spat on my fists and challenged them all. They gathered round me, led by old Pat Rice, and they shouted that your honour was Antichrist himself, sent all the way from Paris by the Devil. They said you read a Black Mass in Bodkin’s tavern before the unfortunate man hanged himself, that you drove away Father Kelly for fear God’s grace might save Bodkin’s soul at the last minute and that you are planning to burn the parish church.”

  He turned to Elizabeth, bent his massive thighs in crude obeisance and added in a lower tone:

  “Saving your presence, Miss Elizabeth, they said the girls that went to High Valley with Miss Lettice are now whoring with the Fenians.”

  “Oh! The outrageous creatures!” cried Elizabeth.

  “That last cast was more than I could stand,” cried Ahearn, turning back towards Raoul. “I let fly at a young fellow that stood near me. He’s a scrawny gaum of a lad named Tony Regan, the tailor’s eldest son. He went head over heels into the drain beside the cooper’s house. Then skin and hair began to fly. They pelted me with everything they could throw. Soon they got me down and began to kick me. Only for the police came, there wouldn’t be enough left on my bones to feed a wren. Dr. McCarthy tidied up the cuts at the dispensary. The police wanted me to prefer charges, but I refused, knowing you wouldn’t want me to have anything to do with the law.”

  “Poor Tim!” Elizabeth said. “It’s horrible to think there are such miscreants in the village.”

  “This is bad news,” Raoul said dejectedly. “Very bad news, indeed.”

  Ahearn took a pace forward and cried arrogantly:

  “The people are turning against your honour, just as I said they would.”

  “Don’t listen to that fool,” Annie Fitzpatrick cried angrily. “Your honour, he doesn’t know what he is saying.”

  “I know well what I’m saying,” Ahearn said. “There are rumours that martial law is going to be declared. So the people are turning tail at the first sign of trouble.”

  “You’re a liar,” Annie Fitzpatrick said.

  “I’m not, then,” cried Ahearn. “I tell you there was a big crowd there to-day and they were all hostile. The people are fair-weather friends, Mr. Raoul. I knew they would turn against you.”

  “Stop casting on the people, you drunken liar,” Annie Fitzpatrick said as she began to thump Ahearn on the chest. “The people are loyal, I say.”

  “I tell you they are cowards,” Ahearn shouted. “There was a big crowd there attacking me.”

  “Silence, both of you,” Raoul said. “God’s belly! Am I never going to succeed in teaching you two the meaning of the word ‘dignity’?”

  The two servants made a respectful bow to their master. Yet they continued to ar
gue in restrained tones.

  “I couldn’t let him accuse the people of being disloyal,” Annie said.

  “You know me, sir,” Ahearn insisted. “I wouldn’t say there was a big crowd, unless there was a big crowd.”

  “There was no crowd there,” Annie said; “only a handful of fools.”

  “That’s enough now,” Elizabeth said. “You’ll annoy your master. Take Tim to the dining-room, Annie, and give him some brandy.”

  “God spare your health, Miss Elizabeth,” Ahearn said with enthusiasm.

  “Not too much brandy, Annie,” Raoul said. “I’m anything but pleased with his conduct.”

  Ahearn was halfway to the door when he heard this last remark. He rushed back towards Raoul with outstretched hands.

  “Wasn’t I ready to offer up the last drop of my blood for your honour?” he cried in an outraged tone.

  “I don’t require your blood,” Raoul said. “You shouldn’t have provoked these stupid people. You have probably started something that might very well prove disastrous for my plans.”

  “Raoul, how can you abuse a servant that has shown his loyalty in such a remarkable way?” said Elizabeth indignantly.

  “Be off,” Raoul said to Ahearn. “Drink your brandy before I get really annoyed with you. Drink all you please. You are an incorrigible idiot. I don’t see any further use in trying to improve you.”

  Annie Fitzpatrick seized Ahearn and pushed him towards the door in triumph.

  “That’ll teach you,” she cried vindictively, “never again to say there was a crowd when there was no crowd.”

  She opened the door and then drew back with a cry of surprise.

  “Glory be to God!” she said. “It’s Miss Lettice herself.”

  Lettice rushed into the room and cried out in triumph:

  “We won.”

  She halted a little way from the door and seemed undecided whether to go towards her father or her aunt. She looked quite as slender as a child in her grey riding habit. She was carrying her little hat in her hand. Her red hair was shining, as if the dew of the mountains still clung to it. She finally decided on going to her father first. She kissed him hurriedly and then rushed to Elizabeth.

  “Dearest aunt,” she whispered, as she threw herself into Elizabeth’s outstretched arms.

  They began to sob as they embraced. Then they went towards the terrace, each with an arm around the other’s waist.

  “Upon my word!” Raoul muttered. “I am surrounded by hysteria of all sorts.”

  Michael came into the room as the two servants were again making their way out into the hall. He looked distraught and ill at ease.

  “More power to you!” Annie Fitzpatrick said to him reverently, as she went out.

  “Lord have mercy on the dead!” Tim Ahearn said, making a little curtsy.

  “Well?” Raoul said as Michael crossed the floor. “How did things turn out?”

  “Everything went exactly as you planned,” Michael said.

  “Sit down and tell me about it,” Raoul said as he began to pace the floor.

  Michael sat on the sofa and said:

  “We held them along the southern approach to the valley until sunset of the day before yesterday. When they reached the bridge, we blew it up in their faces. They turned back, circled the valley and halted at Carragh for the night. The auxiliaries fled from that village, when we began sniping after midnight. We learned also that a fight broke out at the hotel between Butcher and Head Constable Reilly. They fell downstairs from the second floor; locked in one another’s arms. Reilly broke his leg and Butcher got badly cut about the face. They were taken to the hospital at Clash. In the morning, the remainder of the column came up the pass. There again we managed to delay them until three o’clock in the afternoon. Most of them were exhausted by the time they reached the summit. I drew off my men at that point, according to your plan, giving Lettice charge of the defence. The police charged the barricades with fixed bayonets. The women met them with volleys of stones, breaking up the first charge before it could come to close quarters. District Inspector Fenton got thrown from his horse. One of the deputy inspectors took command and rallied the police. They came again with their bayonets levelled. Their blood was up, so the volleys of stones did not stop them. Neither did the women flinch. Some gripped the bayonets with their naked hands. Others poured boiling water from buckets on to the heads of the police. The line was pierced at one point and a party of police broke into the rear. A reserve group of big women immediately went into action with cudgels. They were as big and strong as men, barefooted, with their red skirts tied up about their waists and heavy shawls wrapped round their skulls for protection against the carbine butts. They yelled as they charged and used their blackthorn cudgels with great skill. The fight lasted for about ten minutes. Then the police broke. The whole line followed suit. They all ran for their lives down the mountain.”

  “Anybody seriously hurt?” Raoul said.

  “One woman got a deep bayonet wound in her thigh,” Michael said, “but the doctor said it’s not really serious. Apart from that, there were only torn palms, bruises and a few bones broken. A number of the police were burned and a large number of them got their skulls cracked, but nobody was fatally injured. Fenton was only stunned. He was able to ride back to Clash.”

  “Good,” said Raoul. “By killing one of them, we would merely give the Government an excuse for taking strong measures. Our object is to teach our people how to fight. We must do nothing that would endanger the first feeble stirring of that fighting spirit. We can’t expose it to the stern test of real battle at birth. You did well.”

  “It’s Lettice who is to be congratulated,” Michael said. “It was her handling of the women that …”

  “It’s good news that Butcher is obviously beginning to lose his nerve,” Raoul interrupted. “We can now proceed with the final assault on him. The stage is set. However, it would be well for us not to get excited over this minor success at High Valley. Butcher can procure another writ at the next Assizes, three months from now. Judging from the news I have just received, there may be no resistance to his next attempt at evicting the High Valley people.”

  Michael got to his feet and said anxiously:

  “Is there something wrong?”

  Raoul described the attack on Ahearn and the slanders uttered against himself.

  “Pay no attention to those people,” Michael said. “They are just a few religious fanatics. They have no influence.”

  “You are wrong,” said Raoul. “I have been expecting something like this. The Church is being set against us.”

  “It was against us from the beginning,” Michael said. “What of it?”

  “This is different,” said Raoul. “Until now, the Church opposed us officially, on moral grounds. Now it is using the weapon of superstitious fear, in an underhand manner. Superstition is the oldest and most effective weapon in the hands of tyranny.”

  “I’ll soon deal with that group,” Michael said. “I’ll guarantee they won’t attack anybody else for a long time.”

  “What do you propose to do?” said Raoul.

  “Leave that to me, sir,” Michael said.

  “I forbid you to use force,” said Raoul.

  “Why not?” said Michael. “You have told me, again and again, that prevention is always the best cure in war.”

  “Force would only make matters worse in this instance,” said Raoul. “Superstition is a deadly germ that must be handled with extreme delicacy. In any case, they have me at a disadvantage. I blundered badly in the case of Father Francis.”

  “I know this group of people,” Michael said indignantly. “They are just acting out of spite. It’s not religion that inspires them at all. I’m certain that Father Costigan disapproves of them.”

  Raoul shook his head.

  “In a free society,” he said, “religion is the poetry of the people. It is the dark ecstasy by means of which even the most lowly confront suff
ering and death with dignity. It ennobles all the incidents of daily life. Under tyranny, on the other hand, it becomes the monopoly of priestcraft, being tolerated by the ruling power only for the purpose of keeping the oppressed in ignorant awe. In the latter case, religion becomes an evil and mysterious force, to be approached by free men with the utmost caution.”

  Elizabeth and Lettice came into the room at that moment, arm in arm. They both looked very excited.

  “Raoul,” said Elizabeth, “these young people have something very important to say.”

  “What is it now?” said Raoul.

  Lettice broke away from Elizabeth and ran over to Michael. She took his hand. He looked at Raoul and blushed deeply.

  “What is it all about?” said Raoul, becoming irritated.

  “My brother is not really an ogre,” Elizabeth said to Michael. “Don’t be afraid of him.”

  “Lettice and I love one another,” Michael said at length to Raoul. “We ask your consent to our marriage.”

  Raoul put the tips of his fingers to his beard and sighed with relief.

  “Upon my word!” he said. “I thought something dreadful had happened. So you two people love one another and wish to be married. Excellent.”

  He bowed to them and added:

  “I congratulate you both on being in love.”

  Lettice rushed to Raoul, threw her arms about his neck and said:

  “Then we have your consent, father?”

  “Of course,” said Raoul after he had kissed her affectionately. “With my whole heart. You have chosen a man who is brave and noble of spirit. What more could I ask of you?”

  Michael then came and shook hands with Raoul, as Elizabeth again put her arm around Lettice’s waist.

  “There is even greater news,” Elizabeth said to her brother. “Lettice has decided to become a Catholic.”

  Raoul started. Then he remained silent for a little while, staring at Lettice in wonder.

  “Very interesting,” he said at length. “Very interesting indeed.”

  He suddenly turned to Elizabeth and cried excitedly:

  “You know all about these things, Lizzie. Is it true that converts have to receive certain instruction prior to being accepted into the Catholic Church?”