An Irish Christmas Feast (40 page)

At this stage Hiccups beckoned to Fred who was now drinking a pint of stout in the company of Dr Matt Coumer, a routine to which he was addicted every single night of the week.

‘Same again Fred!' Hiccups called as he examined the faces of his listeners.

They were enraptured not having heard a decent ghost story since their childhood. For the first time since his return Hiccups noticed a smile on his wife's face. It was a smile of sheer delight and it was directed towards her errant husband. The smile said that she was still mindful of his amorous skills and would not be averse to an embrace or even a kiss or even a hug or even a squeeze of longer duration culminating in a major make-up. She was still a fine-looking woman and he often wondered why he had stayed away seven years. The answer came to him at once. Too many black eyes from the brothers as a result of her infernal complaining about him. If her smile was anything to go by she would desist from such reckless behaviour from now on.

When the drinks were delivered he found his hand being shaken by Matt Coumer who congratulated him on his safe return. There were others too who came forward and patted his back and spoke about the sad effect his absence had caused in all quarters.

‘I hope you won't be as long away the next time you go,' said an innocent who had just entered. He retreated quickly due to the ferocity of the snarls and growls escaping from the porter-stained mouths of Mick, Dick and Slick. When all the well-wishers had retreated the storyteller and his listeners made themselves comfortable. They quaffed from their fresh drinks and gave the nod to Hiccups indicating that he was to proceed with his tale.

‘Where was I?' he asked as he scratched his head.

‘You was in the middle of getting drowned,' his wife reminded him.

‘And were you drowned?' asked the three brothers in unison.

Hiccups did not answer at once. The wrinkles furrowed his forehead as he tried to accurately record the occasion.

‘Ah yes!' he said to himself, happy that he remembered where he had left off.

‘There I was at the bottom of forty fathoms of bog-water, not able to swim, not able to see an inch, my lungs bursting for air when the waist-coat somehow inflated itself and brought me to the surface of the bog-hole.'

Apparently when Hiccups surfaced he found his hands paddling towards shore. The night was now master of the scene and the full moon played its role in lighting the hill and bog-lands. The stars twinkled over-head and it was at this stage that Hiccups found himself shivering with the cold. What with his wet clothes and the frost all around he concluded that pneumonia was inevitable.

‘We have no time for that now,' the waist-coat seemed to say as it tensed and shook the water off before restarting the chase. Off they went, all three, at a frenetic gallop, the hare ahead by a yard or two all the time and Hiccups in hot pursuit with beads of sweat slowly replacing the beads of water on his brow. He began to huff and to puff and to fall and rise and roll over and tumble like an acrobat so fierce was the determination of the waist-coat at whose mercy he found himself.

Now came a furrowed field which they traversed at phenomenal speed. Now came a river which they leaped as though it were a rill. Now came a gate, over which they jumped as though they were steeplechasers. Now came a hollow, deceitful and deep. They descended like steeple-jacks and when they hit the ground they sped over a mushy swamp till they were fit to collapse with exhaustion.

Then of a sudden the white hare stopped without warning of any kind. The waist-coat stopped as well. She was enjoying the hunt too much to move in for the kill at that stage but the white hare seemed genuinely spun out. Feeble, heart-rending cries, almost human in their intensity, escaped her sagging mouth. Waist-coat and man looked on in amazement as the hare began to call a name. The place where the hare had stopped was rich in the most luxurious, multicoloured growth, heavily scented and of druggish potency so that waist-coat and wearer were very nearly overcome.

The name that the hare was calling was that of the queen of the local fairies Been-been of Coolnaleen. A long tongue of fire arose from the over-grown spot and a cave opening was revealed. The fire gave off no heat, merely a sleep-inducing warmth and an incense-like odour. Then bells began to tinkle all over the hill behind them, wraith-like under the moon's pale glow. It was an enchanting time if ever there was an enchanting time. As the white hare seemed to fall into a deep trance the waist-coat came to life and would have moved in for the kill had not a tall stately female of indeterminate age but of blinding beauty and disarming manner appeared near the very spot where the white hare lay. Weak as the creature was the whispered name of Been-been of Coolnaleen still carried from its lips.

The freshly arrived fairy, for fairy no doubt she was, placed a finger on her lips intimating to man and waist-coat that they must preserve the silence which now dominated the land. She withdrew from her garments a satchel woven from golden threads and the like of which Hiccups had never seen in all his travels. Even the waist-coat was stilled as the glow from the golden satchel cast its mellow light on the sleeping hare. She stroked the creature gently behind the ears until it began to purr like a kitten. Then she placed it in the satchel and cautioned Hiccups and his waist-coat.

‘Nevermore will ye hunt on Crabapple Hill,' she told them. Her tones were far from being stern but there was a finality to them that made the hair stand on the head of Hiccups.

‘The hare ye have chased,' she told them, ‘is really a princess who was deprived of her human form by an evil witch who reigned on the hill until she was blasted by thunder and lightning and destroyed for evermore. The princess will regain her human form when the wild geese return to the flat lands of Coolnaleen and that should be very soon since they have been sighted close by for some time and it would not be any great wonder were they to appear next year or the year after.'

So saying she commanded a circle of fire to surround her as she disappeared into the hill-side. When she was gone there was no sign that the place had been visited by flame or by a queen from the other world or that a brave white hare had vexed a human and his hound that very day. As soon as she was gone the dawn, pale as death, came slowly to life and tinged the eastern sky with a multiplicity of delicate pastels. Hiccups fell to the ground and remembered not a single thing, and he gave his word on this, until he woke up in the middle of a fairy rath seven years later.

‘Fred!' he called, ‘be bringing us another round like a good man.'

Fred landed shortly thereafter and placed the drinks on the table. Then he withdrew with a trayful of empty glasses and the price of the drinks. They quaffed from their glasses and toasted the courage and endurance of the white hare.

‘Now!' said Hiccups, ‘where was I?'

‘You was after waking up in the middle of a fairy rath,' his wife told him, ‘although 'tis a mystery to me how you stayed alive for seven years.'

‘I was in a trance woman,' he explained.

‘What do you think boys?' Mick asked Dick and Slick.

‘I'll say nothing against fairies,' said Dick, ‘although this man has the face of a born liar and I'll say that our brother-in-law wouldn't know the truth from a rumble in his belly.'

‘As for me,' said Mick, ‘I'll say nothing until we drink more, for the way I judges is to judge when I'm sober and then when I'm drunk. I've already judged sober and it will take five or six more drinks before I'm drunk. I will say his tale was uncommon enough and worth hearing out but I'll have to wait till I'm soused.'

After that the drink flowed freely but never once did Mick or Dick or Slick test the material of their trousers' pockets so that the monies therein, if monies there were, were in no danger of being jingled or removed.

As soon as Mick had consumed the six extra pints he belched like a fog-horn and announced that he was about to pronounce judgement. ‘I found the defendant guilty as hell for the first part of his story while I was sober and for the second part of his story while I was drunk I find him not guilty which is a blessing to our sister for she went very close to being a widow.'

‘And the verdict?' his sister asked.

‘The verdict is that he tells us a story once a week from this day forth in this very pub for the remainder of his natural life. Otherwise all charges against him are dismissed and he may go home with his wife to have and to hold from this day forth, wet or dry, windy or still.'

Hiccups' wife threw her arms around him and thanked her brother Mick and the good God too. When Dick and Slick started to
crónán
and grumble they were silenced by Mick.

‘We must forgive,' he said, ‘especially since the twelve days of Christmas are not yet over. A ram has returned to the fold and for this we should be truly thankful.'

‘Do you know what they remind me of?' Sergeant Bill Ruttle addressed his companion, Garda Sam Ruane, in low tones. The sergeant was referring to the brothers Mick, Dick and Slick McCraw who sat at a nearby table with their sister Delia and her husband Hiccups O'Reilly.

‘What do they remind you of boss?' Sam asked out of the side of his mouth so that nobody would hear save the party for whom the question was intended.

‘They remind me,' replied Bill, ‘of three starving mongrels waiting for their scraps.'

Sam laughed loud and long, not out of loyalty to his sergeant but because he found the sergeant's comments in nine cases out of ten well worth laughing at. As Sam's guffaws subsided Fred Crutley approached the brothers' table with a tray upon which sat four pints of stout for the menfolk and a gin for Hiccups' wife Delia.

As always the drink was paid for by Hiccups who was fulfilling the conditions laid down by the brothers on the very same night of the previous year which was the night before New Year's Eve. The conditions were that Hiccups would purchase all the intoxicating liquor that might be required to make the night a tolerable one and that he and his wife would meet with her three brothers once a week over their life-time for no other purpose than the telling of stories especially those relating to the time Hiccups spent on Crabapple Hill while under a so-called trance.

‘To date,' Bill confided to his friend, ‘he has told fifty-one stories and it is my understanding that his three brothers-in-law are not at all pleased with the contents. On that first occasion this night last year he told a colourful and compelling tale and was acquitted of infidelity, absence without leave and what have you. Since that time,' Bill continued in a sad vein, ‘the quality of the stories has deteriorated and the brothers have come to the conclusion that his version of events on Crabapple Hill is nothing but a collection of outrageous lies. They will surely kill or maim him unless he pulls one out of the hat tonight.'

‘Well he won't be killed or maimed while we're here,' Sam assured his superior.

‘Agreed, but the problem my dear Sam is that we won't be around all the time and our beloved superintendent is of the belief that placing a bodyguard on Hiccups would be a waste of time and money. He is convinced that the very most that can happen to Hiccups is maybe a fractured jaw or a few kicks on the rump or a black eye.'

‘How does he know what will happen,' Sam asked, ‘can he see into the future?'

‘Exactly my friend.' Bill was serious now. ‘As I see it those McCraw boys are capable of anything, maybe not outright murder but how many times have we seen bad beatings turn into killings! We'll play it by ear Sam and see what happens.'

‘Maybe he'll come up with a masterpiece tonight,' Sam suggested.

‘Don't bank on it my friend.' Bill's voice was filled with foreboding.

At Hiccups' table there was an air of unease. The brothers Mick, Dick and Slick were jumpy to say the least. Their brother-in-law Hiccups was desperate. If his performance on this occasion was a flop like all the others in recent weeks the jig was up and it could well be the end of him.

Hiccups was a wealthy man, having inherited several substantial fortunes from uncles and aunts in America. If anything happened to him the money would go to his wife which was as good as saying that it would go to her brothers. Hiccups' wife Delia sat apprehensively by her husband. In the intervening year they had grown closer. She had forgiven him the long absence although she did not believe a single word about his ghostly sojourn on Crabapple Hill. She had to concede however that he had been a perfect husband since his return. He had showered her with presents. She had her own account in the bank and her weekly allowance was more than adequate. He was a loving and caring husband but she suspected that he had also been loving and caring with many other women. When Delia first found out about his philandering a few years into their marriage she had carried her troubles to her late mother who consoled her at the time by informing her that all men were the same in this particular respect, that it was the way they were made and if they did not behave thus there was something seriously wrong with them.

The couple were not blessed with children but Hiccups had promised her faithfully that if he did not raise a flag before the end of the springtime he would consider adopting a child. This had pleased Delia no end but it had not pleased Mick, Dick and Slick who felt that they had special claims to Hiccups' considerable wealth. Hiccups traded in horses and cattle when he was not at race meetings or football matches. Very often he took Delia with him but of late she had expressed a fancy for housekeeping and intimated gently to her sports-loving husband that she was readying the house for a very special visitor.

Hiccups, against his will, was obliged to employ his brothers-in-law in a part-time capacity as cattle drovers and horse breakers on his large farm but so long as they did not intrude too much on his private life he suffered in silence. Now they were becoming out of hand but he reckoned that the arrival of his adopted son would change all that. The brothers would know exactly where they stood when his son and heir took up residence.

Just before Hiccups was about to commence his fifty-second instalment of the Crabapple saga his friend and sometime confidant Mental Nossery the poet arrived at Crutley's with his wife Blossom. The pair nodded civilly at the occupants of Hiccups' table and sat on a stool within a few feet of their friend. With snorts, scowls and other hostile emissions the McCraw brothers thumped their table and let it be known that they would prefer if the newly arrived couple sat elsewhere. The Nosserys ignored the brothers and ordered a drink from a passing barmaid. The pub was soon filled to capacity. The spirit of Christmas was still abroad and there were many seasonal holiday-makers on the premises.

When Mick thrust his empty glass under his brother-in-law's nose Hiccups was on his feet instantly and managed to attract the attention of one of the two circulating barmaids on duty. When the drinks were served Hiccups cleared his throat and started in a tone audible only to the occupants of his own table and possibly in a garbled manner to a limited few who sat close by. ‘The last creature I saw when I walked down the slopes of Crabapple Hill a year ago this Christmas was the queen of the fairies, the one and only Been-been of Coolnaleen. She barred my way and told me I was never to set foot on the hill again. I promised that I would do her bidding and to this day the heather up there, if it could talk, would tell you that Hiccups O'Reilly never sets foot there. She stood there for a while and passed her hand over me, not touching me but so near to my body that my flesh tingled and the hair stood on my head with each single rib extending itself and curling itself till it seemed that a thousand tiny antlers occupied my crown. It seemed to me too at the time that she was removing the spell that had been cast upon me at the beginning of my seven-year disappearance.'

When Hiccups paused to rejuvenate himself with a substantial swallow from his brimming pint the others did likewise. Hiccups took advantage of the lull to point a finger at Mick, the oldest and most superstitious of the three brothers.

‘Beware,' said Hiccups in chilling tones, ‘that you tread not on that part of the hill where I was waylaid by Been-been of Coolnaleen.'

‘And why shouldn't I?' Mick asked as though he cared not in the least about fairies, be they queens or commoners.

‘I'll tell you why you should care my good man,' said Hiccups in hollow tones. Hiccups went on to explain that Been-been, when she had fully removed the spell, placed her cold hands on his shoulders and looked with her flashing orbs into his own dazzled eyes. She then told him not to tell anything of what befell him unless his life depended on it.

‘She told me that those who questioned my version would come to bad ends.'

When asked by a fearful Mick what sort of bad end Hiccups told him that according to Been-been the heads of doubters would be cut of by freak accidents such as falling on scythes or upright saws or electric wires. Mick McCraw dreaded threats from the other world more than any threat in this. He vowed to himself he would remain silent for the rest of the episode.

‘Who else besides all those other wretches you told us about did you meet while you was up there?' The question came from Slick who was already yawning at the slowness and drabness of the Crabapple saga.

Hiccups paused for a moment to swallow from his glass and permitted himself one of the few smiles of the night. ‘I'm downright glad you asked that question,' he responded, ‘for on my third day under the spell and under the hill, as it turned out, who did I meet but a vet. He was surely three hundred years old with hair down to his boots back and front and it woven into a three-piece suit which fitted him like it was tailor-made. Wasn't he the very same veterinary surgeon who treated the cow that jumped over the moon when she landed back on terra firma. He was a fine decent man with a smell of whiskey off his breath all the time which he claimed was as good as any antiseptic when one was around animals.'

Hiccups swallowed from his glass and availed of the opportunity to see how his tale was going down. There seemed to be a positive revival of interest and he had been aware of several intakes of breath at the mention of the cow that jumped over the moon. The cow in question had intrigued the McCraw brothers for many a year. The remainder of the rhyme they felt was preposterous and should not be taken seriously.

For instance they had been training cattle dogs all their lives and they had never once seen a dog laugh not to mention little dogs or pups like the one that laughed in the rhyme. As for the dish running away with the spoon, well that was complete nonsense as was the idea of a cat playing the fiddle. The one part of the rhyme that made sense to the McCraws was the cow that jumped over the moon. The McCraws might not know their oats as their neighbours might say and they certainly would not know their catechism which their teachers would verify and they knew nothing at all about women as any self-respecting woman in the parish would contend without fear of contradiction. but there was one creature they knew better than any other authority in the entire region and that was the bovine quadruped known far and wide as the cow.

But what kind of cow was it that jumped over the moon! It could not have been a mature cow at the peak of her milking output. She would be carrying too much fat and too much milk. Neither could it have been an in-calf heifer. She would not have the strength to jump over a decent hedge if she was carrying a calf. They had always felt that the cow that jumped over the moon was a heifer and a young heifer at that. However they could not be certain, not until now at least. All their lives they had chased other people's heifers, contrary creatures capable of jumping Beecher's Brook if the notion caught them, capable of clearing dykes and drains, ditches and hedges, gates and stiles, shrubs and bushes no matter the height. the McCraws firmly believed that a young heifer was the most contrary creature in the known world. They had grown old before their time on the trail of lost heifers and now at last there was the hope of confirmation that it was a heifer and not a cow that jumped over the moon. They resolved to find out in their own circuitous fashion.

‘What sort of chap was he?' Slick asked.

‘What sort of chap was who?' Hiccups returned.

‘The vet you fool.' Slick banged the base of his empty glass on the table.

‘He was a nice chap if you liked chaps that picked their noses all the time and if you liked chaps that would fall asleep if you asked him more than two questions in a row.'

‘Was he good on cows and heifers?' from Mick.

‘He was.'

‘Would he tell the age of a heifer just by looking at her?' Dick enquired.

‘He would, he would,' Hiccups replied as he wondered what the brothers were driving at.

‘Had he a wife and children?' Delia asked innocently.

‘Shut up you fool,' her brother Mick shouted and gesticulated as though he would strike her.

‘All right,' Slick was continuing, ‘was she light in weight, the heifer?'

‘Light enough,' Hiccups assured him.

‘It wasn't a cow that jumped over the moon then was it but a heifer,' Slick suggested thrusting his thumbs inside his galluses as if he was a barrister.

‘It was a five-year-old cow,' Hiccups informed him.

‘You're a liar sir,' Slick roared. It was the first time that Slick had addressed Hiccups as sir. He hadn't yet shed his barrister image.

All the brothers were shouting together now but the essence of all the tumult was that it was not a cow that jumped over the moon.

‘How,' they asked ‘could a five-year-old cow jump over the moon?'

‘There is no way a five-year-old could do it,' Mick was insisting, ‘and you're insulting my intelligence by saying so whereas,' he went on, ‘whereas, whereas ...' he repeated the word, never having used it before and very much liking the sound of it. For Mick finding a new word was like an embattled soldier finding a new and deadly weapon.

‘Whereas,' Mick rose to his feet, ‘it would be no trouble to a two-year-old heifer to jump over the moon especially if she was on the road to a fair in the early morning and especially if she had never seen anything but hedges and grass before her outing. I've seen heifers jump over low clouds when the mood caught them.'

‘Me too,' said his brother Slick pounding the table, ‘I seen a bony heifer one morning jump over myself and I'm six feet.'

Dick was next to enter the controversy. ‘Anyone,' said Dick heatedly, ‘what says it was a cow jumped over the moon should have his nose broken and maybe his jaw.'

‘That settles that then,' Slick concluded. ‘The court finds,' he announced as he placed an ashtray on his head, ‘that it was no cow jumped over the moon but a heifer and he's a dead man that says otherwise.'