An Irish Christmas Feast (41 page)

Hiccups felt that if he had known what his brothers-in-law were driving at he would have said that it was a heifer that jumped over the moon and not a cow. Under the glare of the inquisition however he had lost his composure.

‘Now that I come to think of it,' put in a pale-faced Hiccups, ‘I think the veterinary surgeon said that it was a heifer jumped over the moon and not a cow.'

‘Too late to back-track.' Slick placed a beefy hand around the slender neck of his brother-in-law and held him like a vice.

‘We've heard what you said. You said it was a five-year-old cow, not two, three or four but five. A cow is what you said you rotten liar what wouldn't know the word of truth from a sneeze.'

Mick was next to cast judgement. ‘You're a registered liar, a department liar, a perverted liar and if you lied in one thing then you lied in all things. You never spent seven years in a trance you sacrilegious belch. You spent seven years hooring and touring in England and France and maybe America and Australia too. You soon got tired of that peroxide blonde you took with you and you took up with others and left our poor sister in the lurch.'

‘Well we're happy now,' Delia trembled as she said her piece.

‘Let him go,' Mick instructed his brother Slick. ‘My glass is empty and there's no way he can call for a drink while you have a hold of him like that.'

While the drinks were being delivered Sam Ruane addressed his sergeant in a whisper: ‘I don't like it boss,' he said.

‘Neither do I Sam,' said Bill, ‘but I wouldn't worry too much. We'll bide our time and play the tune by ear when the last dance is called.'

‘These birds have changed,' Mental Nossery whispered into his beautiful wife's ear after he had first nibbled its lobe. ‘Ever since word went out that Hiccups and Delia were thinking of adopting a baby,' Mental continued, ‘the brothers McCraw have assumed a different air of menace. If a new baby comes in, it means that they go out, and sooner or later Hiccups' life could be in danger.'

Blossom seized her husband's hand, her poet's hand. ‘You mean that they might kill him!' she asked tremulously.

Mental whispered into his beloved's ear a second time but left the lobe alone. It was not an occasion for levity and Mental with his poet's insight sensed that there were dark clouds on the horizon.

‘I'll tell you this and no more,' he told her, ‘wherever there is disputed land you can't rule out a killing.'

‘What can we do?' she asked fearfully.

‘Worry not my pet, my peach,' Mental told her after the fashion of poets through the ages. ‘Hiccups is not without friends as you shall see. He who rides the white steed of chivalry will carry the day and the sun will shine on a better world.'

‘You're so brave my warrior poet,' Blossom whispered.

Blossom Nossery, formerly the lovely Blossom O'Moone, liked Hiccups. He never made passes, having too much regard for her husband Mental. Once he had given her his umbrella in a downpour and told her it was an honour. He had been corner forward on the cherished Ballybo team which won two titles in a row and most important of all he was godfather to her oldest son and his wife Delia was godmother. She watched him now as he looked with a mixture of terror and hope at her bardic warrior, her writer of epic poems, her shield and her champion, her sweetheart and her lover.

After Fred Crutley had deposited the fifth round of drinks on the table he was asked by Hiccups for the correct time.

‘There is plenty of time my friend,' Fred informed him.

‘Are you going some place?' Slick asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.

Before Hiccups could answer Mick posed a second question: ‘What are you hatching Hiccups? It isn't eggs and that's for sure and you are hatching for I seen that look on a goose many a time.'

‘Maybe,' Dick broke out into a rare laugh, ‘he's catching a train and don't want to be late!'

‘Another blonde maybe!' Slick guffawed.

Hiccups was sorry for his wife. The embarrassment showed clearly on her face. He wished he could place his arms around her and assure her that he would never again leave her but the brothers-in-law were demanding another round of drinks.

Most of the patrons had already left the bar. With New Year parties in the offing they wanted to be fresh for the festivities. One by one they drifted out into the night. A sickle moon hung limply overhead and a magnificent array of stars twinkled in the heavens.

Normally Fred would approach Hiccups' table on the stroke of midnight and remind the occupants that they could no longer stay. Tonight it was different. When Slick asked if there was any hope of another round of drinks Fred told him that there was every hope. The only reason that Slick had asked for drinks in the first place was because he thought he would be refused. He instructed Hiccups to pay up or else.

Those who remained on in the bar were strangely silent. Not even a whisper was to be heard. Mental and Blossom still remained as did Bill Ruttle and Sam Ruane; so too did the Badger Loran and his wife Nonie. Maimie Crutley had earlier joined her friends Badger and Nonie at a table near the main doorway. A few regulars sat discreetly out of range of the main table which was occupied by Hiccups and his tormentors. The only absentee of note was Dr Matt Coumer. Earlier in the evening he had been seen driving out of town at a pace far faster than usual.

‘It couldn't have been a patient,' the observer said, ‘because Matt would never drive like that on his way to see a patient. It must have been something really important.'

All of a sudden the lights were dimmed in the bar and the sound of eerie music drifted downwards from somewhere in the ceiling. It was undoubtedly the soundtrack from a horror movie.

‘What's it from Sam?' Bill asked his colleague.

‘It's from
Dracula's Daughter meets the Werewolf's Son,
' Sam answered without a moment's hesitation.

‘All knowledge is useful,' Bill pointed out as he lifted his glass and concentrated his vision on the main doorway.

Just then the bar lights were extinguished altogether and the pub's only spotlight shone on the doorway which seemed to hold so much interest for the sergeant. The music ceased and a roll of drums sharpened the interest of everybody present, most notably the three McCraw brothers. Cowards at heart they dreaded the darkness even when surrounded by other humans.

The roll of the drums intensified and there was the sound of a protracted scream from the doorway. The pub cat, a fat and less than frisky tabby, shrieked her way out of doors and was not seen for days. Silence again prevailed.

Nervously the McCraw brothers raised their glasses but lowered them untouched when a low and ghastly moan came from the direction of the doorway. Enter a dark stranger. He wore a black beard and moustache and was garbed like an Elizabethan gentleman. Slung over his shoulder was a large satchel woven from golden threads. When he laid it on the floor one couple could plainly hear the mewing and the bleating and the aforementioned moans coming from within.

Delia slipped silently from her chair on to the floor in a dead faint. Her exit from consciousness went unnoticed so absorbed was every watcher by the unbelievable goings-on at the doorway.

The table where the McCraw brothers sat began to shake as the trembling wretches transmitted their terror to the lifeless wooden surface where the glasses now tinkled and jumped and rolled over as though electrified. The brothers could have exited in a flash but so overcome were they by terror that their legs refused to move. On the other hand Hiccups was elated and quite carried away by recent events.

Hot on the heels of the Elizabethan satchel-carrier came a tall, stately if somewhat gaunt woman dressed completely in black with a ruff round her neck and a silver comb thrust deep into the bun of her tightly drawn hair.

‘Is she ...' Mick asked in terror, his voice shaking, ‘is she Been-been from Coolnaleen the queen of the Crabapple Hill fairies?'

‘None other!' came the proud response from Hiccups.

‘And is the creature in the satchel,' Mick asked, ‘the same hare yourself and the waist-coat coursed that first time you climbed Crabapple Hill?'

‘She is one and the same hare!'

Again there was pride in Hiccups' voice.

‘And, and, and,' Slick asked brokenly, ‘will she be changed tonight into a princess.'

‘Yes. Yes,' Hiccups answered impatiently.

‘Hear ye! O hear ye!' came the awesome and ponderous voice of the Elizabethan satchel-carrier. ‘Behold the transformed white hare of Crabapple Hill.'

The words had no sooner left his lips than the queen of the Crabapple fairies knelt on one knee and opened the golden satchel. Extending her hands she commanded the creature in the satchel to come forth. Forth she came, a dazzling and beautifully shaped young lady with a glittering diamond tiara on her brow and golden slippers on her shapely feet.

‘Behold!' said the Elizabethan satchel-carrier, ‘the Princess Awlingal, rightful sovereign of Cunnackeenamadra and all parts west.'

The McCraws could not contain their shuddering and agitation. When Mick spoke his speech was slurred and broken.

Meanwhile Hiccups had noticed his wife's plight and placed her on a chair beside his own. He poured brandy into her mouth and she regained consciousness. They looked into each other's eyes and wondrous smiles appeared on their faces.

‘What in God's name are you blabbering about man?' Hiccups with a newly discovered confidence asked his distraught brother-in-law.

Mick McCraw asked if the woman at the doorway was the same Been-been from Coolnaleen he had met on Crabapple Hill and if the transformed hare was really Awlingal the sovereign Princess of Cunnackeenamadra and all parts west.

‘That's who she is for sure,' Hiccups answered still growing in confidence from watching the abject terror of his brothers-in-law.

‘There is one sure way to find out,' Slick put in as he found his coherency returning to him.

‘And what way would that be?' asked Dick who had been frothing at the mouth in fear a few short moments before.

‘You remember,' Slick reminded his brothers, ‘how Hiccups here told us he bit the back of the white hare as they coursed over Crabapple Hill and how he brought a clump of hair away with him. Now if that be so there surely has to be a mark on the back of the princess.'

As though their words had carried to all within the room the spotlight was turned off and the full bar lights turned on. Led by the Elizabethan satchel-carrier the queen of all the Crabapple Hill fairies and the Princess of Cunnackeenamadra and all parts west marched towards the table of the McCraws, the stout heels of their knee-length leather boots striking the timber floor in unison and bringing a sense of majesty to the occasion. The Elizabethan satchel-carrier raised a gloved hand imperiously and spoke in ringing tones: ‘Hear ye! Oh hear ye!' He cast his stern countenance in the direction of Slick.

‘Rise knaves!' he commanded at which the three brothers struggled terror-stricken to their feet and doffed their filthy caps in the direction of the royal pair.

‘Now speak lest I draw my blade and disembowel the three of ye,' the Elizabethan satchel-carrier commanded. The cowardly trio at once began to blame each other and denied having any interest in seeking the hidden evidence which would prove forever that the Princess of Cunnackeenamadra was indeed the rightful sovereign of the territories attributed to her. Suddenly there was a flash of steel as the satchel-carrier withdrew his sword from his scabbard. He pointed the blade at the Adam's apple of Slick and informed him that he would cut his head off if he did not speak.

‘All I want to know sir,' said the cringing Slick, ‘is whether or not there is a mark on the back of this girl, a mark made by human teeth to be exact?'

‘On thy knees thou most disrespectful of wretches where my hungry blade may relieve thee of thy head.'

‘Nay, nay!' said the princess in voice most melodious and with that she raised her dress and revealed a scantily clad but shapely posterior without blemish of any kind. A gasp escaped the audience. It was not occasioned by the undeniable shapeliness of the royal rump but rather by the fact that there was a dark red disfiguration on the small of the back just over the the right cheek of Princess Awlingal's rear.

‘What say you now sir?' asked the Elizabethan.

‘I say was it caused by the teeth of a human?' Slick was surprised at his own audacity.

‘If I may!' Sergeant Ruttle rose to his feet and handed his cap to Sam.

‘My Lord!' he addressed himself to the Elizabethan who graciously acknowledged his presence with an economical but respectful curtsy.

‘I am obliged to say at the outset,' Bill opened, ‘that the mark on this most attractive area was not caused by human teeth, by teeth yes but not by teeth that grow in the mouth of a human. Rather was the mark made by these.' He extended his hand towards Hiccups who extracted his dentures from his mouth and handed them to the sergeant. Bill ordered all the interested parties to gather round the Princess of Cunnackeenamadra. He held Hiccups' false teeth aloft and slowly lowering them placed them over the disfiguration at the top of the right buttock.

‘Are they a fit?' Slick asked.

‘They are,' said the sergeant triumphantly, ‘a precise fit and that concludes the evidence My Lord.'

Bill and the Elizabethan exchanged the most civil of nods.

When it dawned fully on the McCraw brothers that their brother-in-law had proven connections with the underworld they pushed their chairs back from the table in order to put as much distance between themselves and the
lorgadán
as possible. They eyed their sister with suspicion and for the first time began to perceive out of their fear and ignorance underworld subtleties and fairy-like fragilities transforming her placid features. Slowly, noiselessly, stealthily they rose from their seats and stood momentarily transfixed. Then at a signal from the oldest brother Mick they ran from the bar, overturning chairs, tables and stools and beseeching the great God of their fathers to save them.