His Bloody Project

by Graeme Macrae Burnet

  My father said in a sly tone, ‘So we are now under your jurisdiction, are we?’

  Lachlan Broad replied, ‘You are under the jurisdiction of the laird, and since his factor is entrusted with the management of the estate and I am now the representative of the factor in these townships, then, yes, you are under my jurisdiction.’

  He then gestured towards the table with his right hand and said, ‘Am I not to be welcomed into your house?’

  My father indicated that he should take a seat and instructed Jetta to take her knitting elsewhere, but he did not offer Broad a refreshment as he would to another visitor. Lachlan Broad watched Jetta withdraw to the back chamber before taking a seat on the bench and bidding me good evening. I returned his greeting in as civil a manner as I could muster, as had I said what was truthfully in my mind, he would surely have levied a fine against us.

  When my father had taken his place at the head of the table, Lachlan Broad began by stating that he was gratified to have gained the support of the community in securing the position of constable. He then discoursed at some length on the responsibility of individuals to comply with the terms of their tenancies. The regulations, he said, did not exist for the amusement or profit of the laird, they were for the benefit of everyone in the community. ‘If there were no regulations,’ he said, ‘we would be living in a state of anarchy, would we not?’

  As he spoke he drummed the middle three fingers of his right hand on the table, so that they made a sound like the distant galloping of a pony. His fingers were thick and chafed, the nails chipped and ingrained with dirt. Throughout his speech, his gaze remained fixed somewhere between the top of the dresser and the roof-trees as if he was addressing a parish meeting. He paused for a few moments as if to give my father an opportunity to respond, but when he did not do so, he continued.

  He was of the opinion that, of late, our community had brought shame upon itself through its lack of adherence to the regulations, and by the laxity with which they had been enforced. We had been behaving, he said, like schoolchildren when the teacher’s back is turned, and had been indulged in this by an authority who, in wishing too much to be liked, had ill-served his community. However, he took his election as constable as a sign that the people wished to mend their ways. He was thus taking the opportunity to remind all tenants of their responsibilities under the terms of their leases. If things did not change for the better, measures would have to be taken. He was silent for a few moments before adding, as if as an afterthought, that he spoke with the full authority of the factor.

  My father’s expression had not altered since the beginning of Broad’s speech. But he now took his pipe from his mouth and set about refilling it from his pouch. This done, he lit it and took a few slow puffs.

  ‘You have no call to remind me of my responsibilities, Lachlan Mackenzie. I have never transgressed any regulations and have never had a black mark placed against my name.’

  ‘I regret to say, Mr Macrae, that your response only confirms the state of anarchy into which we have lately fallen, such that we have so disregarded the regulations we no longer know when we are breaking them.’ He then added, ‘In any case, it is not for you or anyone else to know whether there are black marks against their name.’

  My father puffed steadily on his pipe. It was rarely possible to know what he was thinking, but at that moment I sensed from a certain hardness in his eyes that he was displeased. Lachlan Broad’s fingers ceased their drumming and he placed his left hand, which until then had been resting on his lap, flat on the table. I interpreted this action as a sign that he meant to stand up and take his leave, but he did not do so. Instead, it transpired that his remarks up to that point had been a mere preface to the real purpose of his visit.

  ‘Aside from these generalities,’ he said, ‘there is an additional matter which concerns your household in particular.’

  His fingers resumed their drumming. I assumed he was about to re-open the matter of the killing of the sheep and use his newly-acquired powers to increase the fine against my father, or at least demand its immediate payment. But in this I was mistaken.

  ‘It has been decided,’ he continued, ‘that the extent of your croft should be reduced.’

  My father’s expression did not alter.

  ‘Since your wife’s death, your household has decreased in number and, assuming you have no plans to re-marry, this reduction must be permanent. Your allocation of land is therefore to be reduced by one fifth. There are other larger families whose crofts are smaller than yours and the land will be allocated to one of those.’

  ‘You mean to yourself,’ said my father.

  Lachlan Broad tutted softly and shook his head as if he was offended by the suggestion. ‘Certainly not to myself, Mr Macrae. That would be an abuse of my office. The land will be allocated to an appropriate family.’

  ‘None of my neighbours will accept it,’ said my father.

  Lachlan Broad pursed his lips. ‘We shall see,’ he said. ‘It would be in no one’s interest for the land to lie fallow.’

  ‘My father and grandfather worked this land before me.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Broad, ‘but it did not belong to them and it does not belong to you. It belongs to the laird and it is at his discretion that you have the privilege of working it.’

  ‘What about the rent?’

  I inwardly cursed my father, as his question clearly signified his intention to yield on the matter of the reduction of the croft. If my mother had been alive, she would have immediately ejected Lachlan Broad from the house with an earful of insults, but my father was not made of such stuff.

  ‘What about the rent?’ said Broad.

  ‘If the extent of the croft is to be reduced, then so, surely, should the rent,’ said my father.

  The constable gave a little laugh through his nose, to indicate the absurdity of the idea.

  ‘Your rent, I believe, has been in arrears for some years,’ he said. ‘If I might offer you some advice, I would not provoke the powers-that-be by asking for a reduction.’

  My father stood up and, placing his knuckles on the table, leaned towards Lachlan Broad.

  ‘I shall seek an appointment with the factor to discuss this matter,’ he said.

  Broad remained seated and spread his hands out in front of him. ‘You are quite free to do so,’ he said, ‘but I can assure you I speak with the factor’s authority. I’m sure you do not wish to gain a reputation as one of those who seeks to agitate against the smooth running of the estate, the management of which, I remind you, is carried out for the benefit of the community rather than any individual. As you have yourself stated, you do not wish to have any more black marks placed against your name.’

  At this point Lachlan Broad stood up and said in a matter-of-fact way, ‘The re-allocation will take place in spring so that you will have the opportunity to take this year’s crops from the land. You may decide yourself which portion of land you wish to give up and tell me in due course.’

  He then informed us that in future we should address him as Constable Mackenzie or simply as Constable, this in order that we should not forget that he was acting in an official capacity.

  My father did not seek a meeting with the factor and in spring the portion of the croft furthest from the house was given to our neighbour, Duncan Gregor, who lived with his elderly mother, wife and four children. Mr Gregor called on my father to assure him that he had never sought to obtain this portion of his croft and had no wish to profit at my father’s expense. He proposed that the two families work the piece of land in common and share the harvest between them. My father refused this generous offer, saying that he had no wish to cultivate land that was not his to work and that, in any case, Mr Gregor’s needs were greater than his. Mr Gregor spent some time putting various arguments to my father, but he would not be moved. Nor would he accept any other compensation for h
is loss.

  * * *

  The nature of Lachlan Broad’s regime quickly became clear. In previous years, whoever held the post of constable had done so reluctantly and only performed their duties when pressed to do so. Lachlan Broad, however, threw himself into the role with the fervour of a fox in a hen house. He strutted round the villages under his jurisdiction, notebook in hand and a pencil behind his ear, most often accompanied by his imbecilic brother, cousin or both. The upkeep of crofts and the condition of the paths, ditches and tracks were all subjected to his scrutiny. Nor did he confine his inspections to communal areas. He thought nothing of marching unannounced into his neighbours’ houses and scribbling notes in his little book, the contents of which he would not divulge to anyone. These notes did not result in immediate fines. People knew only that the constable had taken note of something and that it might be used against them at some time in the future. Consequently, Lachlan Broad found people acquiescent when asked to work on his croft or carry out other tasks from which his self-imposed duties kept him.

  Lachlan Broad decreed that the roads and tracks connecting our houses and villages had been allowed to fall into an unacceptable state of disrepair. A general programme of works was drawn up and the able-bodied men of the parish were mandated to give ten days’ labour at a time dictated by the constable. Those bold enough to question this obligation to provide their labour free of charge were informed that they were required by the terms of their tenancy to keep the communal roads and tracks properly drained and in good repair. It was thus a matter of leniency that villagers were merely being asked to carry out responsibilities they had previously ignored, rather than being fined for their neglect. Despite the grumblings about the high-handed nature of Lachlan Broad’s methods, it was widely accepted that the improvements he instituted were for the general good.

  In maintaining his good name, the constable was assisted by the large number of his kinsmen who resided in the villages under his authority. Like those of other clans, Mackenzies were naturally inclined to spring to the defence of one of their own and it became commonplace, or at least it was believed to be commonplace, for disparaging remarks about Broad to be reported back to him. People thus saw the wisdom of keeping their thoughts about the constable to themselves.

  One evening my father was taking the air on the bench outside our house. Kenny Smoke joined him and the two men sat in silence for some minutes sucking on their pipes. Lachlan Broad was making his way along the track which led from the road to the village, making some minute inspection of the ditches. Kenny Smoke took his pipe from his mouth, leaned in towards my father and muttered, ‘Lachlan Broad is a great arse, but there is no denying the improvement in the upkeep of the place.’

  My father did not reply. He did not approve of language of this nature.

  Lachlan Broad’s influence extended into every aspect of village life. The end of the black months is, in these parts, signified by the cutting and drying of the peats, which takes place as soon as the weather permits. This is a task performed by the village as a single entity, as it makes no sense for families to cut peat only for themselves. It is arduous work, but generally takes place in a good-natured atmosphere, with singing and communal refreshments. This year, however, despite the fact that the peat-cutting had been successfully accomplished since time immemorial, the constable took it upon himself to oversee the process. Work rotas were drawn up and deputies (invariably one of Broad’s own kinsmen) appointed to oversee the work in each of the villages under his jurisdiction. These deputies did no work themselves, but spent the day prowling around the bogs, barking orders at the cutters and determining at what time refreshments would be taken. This caused a great deal of resentment, as it appeared that labour which villagers had previously undertaken of their own volition, was now being carried out only at the behest of the authorities. There was thus none of the singing and good humour that normally accompanied this work. I was subject to special scrutiny, as, since the incident with the sheep, it was said that I could not be trusted with a peat iron. I was thus forced to work at some distance from the others and if I paused so much as to mop my brow, Aeneas Mackenzie would bellow at me to stop idling. I confess that I would have happily taken my tool to his skull, but not wishing to bring any more trouble to my father I worked as hard as I could, returning each evening from the mountain with arms and calves aching from my exertions.

  One morning, some days into the cutting of the peats, I realised that I had forgotten the bannocks which Jetta had set out for me. Without a word to my fellows, who were resting around the edges of the bog, I set off down the hillside. It was a warm, sunny day and the morning’s work had raised a sweat on my back. As I strode down the hillside I thought I might take a few moments’ rest on the bench outside our house with a cup of milk. The village was quiet. Most of the menfolk were on the mountain and the women were likely occupied with their own household chores. My father, who by that time lacked the strength for a full day at the peats, was labouring at the foot of the croft with his cas chrom and, observing his feeble efforts, I reflected that when the cutting of the peats was done, it would be my next task to properly break the ground of what was left of our land.

  I stood for a moment at the threshold of the house. After the bright sunshine, my eyes took some time to adjust to the gloom inside. A faint glow emanated from the smouldering fire and a thin shaft of light penetrated the window. I was taken aback to see a figure standing with his back to the door at the end of our table. My surprise increased when I discerned from his proportions and from the yellow neckerchief around his neck that it was Lachlan Broad. He appeared to be struggling to shift the table, his hands gripping the sides and his legs and body straining against it. This puzzled me as I could think of no reason for the constable to be attempting to move our furniture; and moreover, our table is not of such weighty construction that a man of Lachlan Broad’s stature would struggle to lift it. I was about to announce my presence when I saw two legs projecting from either side of Lachlan Broad’s hips. These legs were suspended in the air, slightly bent at the knee, roughly parallel to the earthen floor of the house. I could tell by the black boots on their feet that they belonged to my sister. I then discerned midway along the table, a second pair of hands, exerting a firm grip on the rim. I stood silently at the door and watched for some minutes as Lachlan Broad continued to strain with increasing intensity at the table. He commenced to make some animalistic noises and then, all of a sudden, quit without having moved the furniture more than a few inches. He stepped back from the table and turned towards the window. I saw his member protruding from his breeches, greatly engorged and rigid as a broom handle. He took it in his hand and pushed it into his trousers. He was breathing heavily from his exertions and there was sweat on his forehead. I had made no sound, but he turned his head towards me, as if he had all along been aware of my presence. He bid me good morning, as though there was nothing unusual in his presence in our house. He then untied his neckerchief and used it to mop his brow and neck, before unhurriedly smoothing back the hair from his face. He glanced down at Jetta, whose hands had now released their grip on the table, and walked towards me. I stood aside to allow him to pass.

  He paused at the doorway and said, ‘Should you not be at the peats, boy?’

  I have always disliked being called ‘boy’, as this is how my father addresses me when he is displeased, and I blurted out, ‘I am not your boy, Mr Mackenzie.’

  I immediately regretted this outburst, thinking he would inform my father that I had spoken disrespectfully to him and fine us a shilling. But instead he clasped the back of my head and pushed his face close to mine and said, ‘When you’re older you’ll realise that a man has to satisfy his needs somewhere. Especially now that your dear mother is no longer with us.’ Then he laughed raucously and left. I watched him stride along the village, twirling his neckerchief in his right hand, and felt a dreadful loathing for him.

/>   Jetta remained on the table, her own chest rising and falling, and my eyes were drawn to the dark region between her parted thighs. Without raising her back from the table-top, she pushed down the skirts and petticoats which were rucked around her waist. Then she pulled herself into a sitting position and sat there for some minutes, her feet dangling above the floor. Her face was flushed and there were beads of perspiration on her brow. I did not know what to say, so I said nothing. Eventually she stood up and smoothed down her clothing. She asked me what I was doing there and I told her that I had forgotten my bannocks. She fetched them from the dresser and brought them to where I stood by the door. Her cheeks were glowing as if she had been running or dancing. She told me to say nothing to Father about what I had seen. I nodded and asked if there was a cup of milk for me.

  I took my bannocks and sat down on the bench outside the house. Jetta brought me a cup of milk and went back inside without a word. My father had his back to the house and did not look up. I watched him as he struggled with the plough, his foot frequently slipping off the peg. He worked methodically, but with little impact on the ground. I cannot say whether he had seen Lachlan Broad entering or leaving our house. Certainly for the few minutes that I watched him, he did not once look up from his labour.

  When I returned to the peat-bog, Aeneas Mackenzie called me to him and told me that he would be reporting my absence from the mountain to his brother. I replied that there was no need as I had already seen him and I heard no more about the matter.

  * * *

  It was around this time that I made the acquaintance of Flora Mackenzie, the eldest daughter of Lachlan Broad. We had attended school together, but my unsociable nature in those days meant that to all intents and purposes we were now meeting for the first time. She was a year or so younger than me, and on account of this and the bad blood between our families, we had had little contact. At school Flora sat at the front of the classroom and, although I was unable to see her face, I imagined it to be a picture of rapt attention. She was always first to volunteer to clean the blackboard for Mr Gillies and was inordinately proud of herself when he granted her this privilege. If I had any impression of her at that time, it was of a silly girl, over-anxious to please those in authority.