The Dolocher (19 page)

Saturday morning. Mullins had been in bed only three hours when he was back up for a new day. Without pausing to rethink his plan, he had whisky first thing on an empty stomach. He was going to get drunk this morning and use this as his way to get through the fight he had agreed to with the Liberty Boys.

As he drank he thought about his futile run of nights where no sign had been spotted of the Dolocher anywhere. He let Cleaves drift into memory and he focused on the day that he heard about his murder, remembering the nods and looks in his direction as he had made his way to work and how he knew the gory details before he knew who it had been who was taken that night. He could hear a couple of children outside arguing about something trivial, and he thought of the love the children had for Cleaves and the time he game to them with jokes and stories. This was starting to make him melancholy so he tried to focus on the murder again, and he saw images of blood stained laneways, and then he saw Kate being attacked down by the boats and how lucky she was to escape, and this made him really angry; Mary Sommers bent and scarred body made itself visible now and again the anger grew. He stood up and took hold of one of the large heavy chairs in his room and he squeezed it, feeling the thickness and how satisfying it would be to smash it to pieces against the wall or even throw it through the window. He resisted this urge; he’d thought himself a lesson about the cost of such things when he thrashed his shop a while back.

He stormed out of the house and headed for Lord Muc’s place with red descending all around him, and he had no idea of the weather or people around him. He pushed through crowded choke points where sellers were gathered, and he pushed past the first layer of Lord Muc’s men who were taken by surprise.

“Come on let’s go!” Mullins shouted from outside the workshop where he had met Lord Muc the previous week.

Lord Muc appeared in the doorway and smiled at him.

“You’re keen.”

“Let’s go now and get this over with.”

“We can’t go now; there’ll be no one there if we do.”

“Can you not arrange it earlier then?”

“That’s not the way we do things blacksmith. It’s only an hour away so you won’t have to wait long.”

Mullins was losing the worst of his fury now, and he felt a little tired and lightheaded.

“Come in here and have some sausages,” Lord Muc said, and that sounded just about right to Mullins then. He went inside, and the shed was warm with cooking and body heat. The smell of frying sausages was intoxicating, and he was handed a plate with three thick ones on it.

“That’ll be enough to see you through the battle today,” Lord Muc said as he bit a large chunk from one of his own. Mullins bit into one and some fat splashed out and burned his lip. The men laughed, and Mullins gave them looks that silenced them all except their leader. “You’ve been drinking I see” Lord Muc said giving him a once over.

“So?”

“Nothing wrong with it I suppose, some men do that, but I find it dulls my senses and I don't enjoy what I am doing as much during the battle.”

“Well, I don’t plan to enjoy myself.”

“You feel that way now, but I promise you it will be a different story when I ask you after it all.”

“I doubt it,” Mullins said and to change the subject “How long will this go on today do you think?” Lord Muc thought for a moment and then said,

“They were humiliated the last time and it was over in a flash so they will be looking for both revenge and to save face so I imagine they will be fiercer than usual today, and it will go on a bit. We won’t surrender and they are on home turf so they can't surrender so it could be all out today” His men were nodding at this, some looking into the frying fire and seeming to realise that today’s battle was going to be a different one. “This could be a very sad day blacksmith, you may be involved in the last battle between the Liberty Boys and the Ormonde Boys, if they lose badly enough today it could be the end of them” Lord Muc looked sad at the thought.

With half an hour to go Lord Muc began to rally his men with mentions of the last battles and the wounds those still with them had received and invoking the names of the dead and crippled. Mullins had been given a top up on his drinks and he found himself getting into the group frenzy as they filed out and onto the street to head to the north side of the River Liffey where they would fight their enemies for perhaps the last time.

When they arrived at the site where the fight was to take place, the enemy was already there, and they were a sight to behold. They had taken a leaf from Lord Muc’s book and invoked the Dolocher themselves, they were covered in strange garments and wore crudely made pig head dresses as they taunted the Liberty Boys.

In Mullins' current state of mind this was a taunt too far, he was exhausted from prowling the streets at night looking for this beast and he was drunk now and emotional and even though the Ormonde boys would have no of way of knowing the he was single handedly trying to catch the Dolocher every night for all of their benefit he was furious at their insult to him. He looked at Lord Muc and seeing that he was not ready to get going yet Mullins made the decision to fly at them on his own.

“Bastards!” he shouted as he ran at them, towards the dead centre of them where the leader most likely was. As he ran he was vaguely aware of Lord Muc shouting something at him but Mullins was focused ahead, and he could see the look of shocked fear in the faces of those he was about to engage. They had never seen him before and in full drunken, enraged flight, the blacksmith was a sight to behold. He crashed into the front row of men with no weapon in his hands and sent many of them tumbling to the ground with his force. He felt searing heat at his shoulder and across his chest, and he knew that one or two of them had managed to cut him with their weapons as they tried to defend themselves.

Mullins fell to the ground with his own velocity and took another two down with him as he punched hard into their faces. He could hear the stampede of feet as the Liberty Boys joined the fight behind him. The two men he fell with were unconscious, and Mullins sat up and looked about him. There were weapons flashing in the light everywhere, and the tearing of flesh and costume was all around. Lord Muc slashed his huge boar tusks across the face and chest of a man who fell at his feet in agony and then he was standing over Mullins.

“You should have waited for my go ahead blacksmith!” he said angrily as he lashed out at someone else who had approached him. Mullins didn’t say anything, stood up and finding a discarded club he began to swing it around his head and bring it down on any of the people around him who were wearing the pig costumes. Men were falling all around him and the carnage was unbelievable, Mullins found himself stepping over people as he hunted down the last of the dolochers who were doing their best to avoid him while trying to fight off their Liberty boy’s opposite numbers.

Soon and with bated breath Mullins had to stop swinging the heavy club and as he dropped it to the ground he noticed for the first time the blood and pulp on it that was god knows what part of the men he had waylaid with it. He looked around and saw some of the costumed men run away, very few though as the rest of them were either crawling around on the ground in agony or else they were lying still and possibly dead.

Lord Muc was beside him now again, and they looked around the scene together.

“You looked like you enjoyed that blacksmith; there was barely anything left for the rest of us today.” Mullins looked at him, and he felt disgusted with himself.

“I didn’t enjoy one second of that, and I won’t ever be doing it again,” he said.

“There mightn’t be a chance to do it again; that may very well be the end of the Ormonde Boys today. A good few of those on the ground there will never be able to fight again,” Lord Muc said nodding the crumpled bodies in the mud.

“I’m going home,” Mullins said trying not focus on what he had just done.

“Be careful on the way, the troops will have wind of this by now and you could be stopped anywhere on the way back.”

“I don’t care,” Mullins said and he walked away back towards the river.

As he walked, he could feel now that his hands were shaking, and he was feeling ill in his stomach and felt like he was going to vomit. He kept seeing the eyes of the men, those terrified eyes, behind the Dolocher masks, and he heard again the cracking and crunching of bones as he smashed into one after the other. What had he done, were any of those men dead?

He couldn't think properly, and he had senses that he had caught the Dolocher, had, in fact, killed it, and this whole ordeal was over. He thought of Kate, and he knew that the Dolocher being gone had something to do with her but what? He was tired, and the cold was starting to come in on him. He had no idea what he had just done or what he was going to do. He walked.

Kate knocked lightly on Mullins’ door and waited for an answer. She could feel the eyes of neighbours and local children on her back as she waited for an answer. None came so she knocked a little louder this time in case he was in bed. She really needed to see him right now or else she knew she would lose her nerve. There was still no answer, and she tried looking in through the window but it was impossible to see inside as a thick brown blanket hung over the window to keep in the heat.

Just as she was about to walk away she saw him turn the corner from Ushers Quay and come into his own road. She smiled when she saw him, but it dropped quickly when she saw his demeanour and then she saw the blood on him. She ran the short distance to him, and he didn’t see her coming and was taken by surprise when she grabbed him asking what had happened to him. She wondered had he been out all night, had he been attacked by the Dolocher, was it dead? He pushed her gently away as he winced in pain and said nothing but continued on to his house. She followed him and when he went in she followed there too without waiting to be invited.

“What happened to you?” she asked again but louder

“I was in a fight,” he said

“With who?”

“The Ormonde boys.”

“A gang fight!”

“Yes,” he took off his shirt and there were a few slash wounds that still oozed blood on his back and side. She grabbed a bowl of cold water and a cloth and began to wipe at him

“What the hell were you doing in a gang fight?” she said and her anger made her rub the more roughly.

“Ow,” he said and he stopped her hand and took the cloth from her “I can do that.” She let go of the cloth and stood back a little.

“Why were you fighting with them?” she asked again

“They’re helping me at night looking for the Dolocher.”

“And this is the price you have to pay for it? To nearly get yourself killed and make yourself useless to anyone?” she could hear the tears in her voice before she felt them in her eyes.

He looked at her on hearing her upset, and he had the confused look of an animal on his face. He didn’t understand why she was so upset.

“If you go looking for the Dolocher with wounds all over yourself and tired from fighting he will kill you for sure,” she cried.

“I’ll be ok,” he said and he dabbed at another of his cuts, this time on his arm.

“You won’t be ok!” she said, “I know I asked you to do this but now I am asking you to stop, please.”

“I can't stop until it’s done!” he shouted back at her and there was an immediate silence in the room. He looked away first and went back to his wounds.

“If you keep on doing it you’re not doing it for me anymore,” she said

“It’s only now that I am truly doing it for you Kate,” he said in a serious voice and he looked at her. “Before I was doing it for revenge, out of anger but now I’m doing it because I want you to be safe, I need you to be safe,” he said. She stepped forward and took his hands.

“You can make me safe without killing yourself,” she said now crying more than ever. He took her into an embrace and pulled her against him, and she could feel the hotness of the naked strong torso against her and right now she did feel safe.

“If I don’t kill it I can never be sure you’ll be safe,” and this was said with the voice of someone who was final in their own mind, who had made the irrevocable decision that would guide their life from then on.

“What will we do when it’s gone?” she asked submitting to his will, knowing that she could do nothing in the face of that fog that she was now enveloped in as well.

“Anything you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“Does it involve me?” he asked and she could feel his body tense up for a rejection that he thought might come.

“That’s the only thing I do know for sure,” she said, and she felt that strong embrace once more and she squeezed back as hard as she could.

Four loud knocks on the door. This was how Alderman James always announced himself at premises. He was wary of knocking the tree times that felt natural to him because of its connotation with death and his own connection to death in the minds of the people. He looked to Edwards, who was with him.

“What do you suppose she will tell us?” James asked while they awaited the door.

“Lies,” Edwards replied smiling brightly

“And what of the husband?”

“Who knows at this stage Alderman; all the people who seemed likely culprits have turned up clean in all searches and questioning so it stands to reason that it is someone we haven’t come across yet.”

“There are an awful lot of people we haven’t come across yet,” James said as the door opened.

A plump woman with a red face, from being over a large pot most likely, peered out through the smallest crack in the door. When she saw that it was two gentlemen, she opened it wider and stood to almost military attention.

“Evening sirs, what can I do for you?” she asked, her voice trembling with the fear of the upper classes.

“Is Mrs. Caldwell in?” James asked politely.

“Yes sir, I’ll get her for you.”

“Is Mr. Caldwell home as well?” Edwards asked as she was about to go.

“I’m not sure sir, I can check if you like.”

“No, that’s ok, Mrs. Caldwell will be fine,” and she went back inside to get her.

Only a few moments later a good looking woman who James was sure was once a beautiful woman came to the door and stood before them timidly.

“Mrs. Caldwell?” James asked, and she nodded. “We want to ask you about the murder of the man who was killed at the laneway at Cutpurse the other night.”

She looked to them both in fright.

“Me?” she asked, teetering on hysteria.

“Yes you,” Edwards said harshly “We know you didn’t do it but we also know you, and he had a little arrangement.”

“He had an arrangement, and I just had to go along with it,” she said almost in tears now.

“Calm down now dear,” Alderman said, “We just need to know was he on his way to see you the night he was killed?”

“I don’t know, he just came when it suited him. I think he had people who told him when my husband was out in the taverns or the gambling dens.”

“Do you think you husband could have killed him?” Edwards asked bluntly, and she was clearly taken aback and already James knew they were on to yet another loser.

“No, have you not seen my husband? He has been crippled by his drinking and late nights; he couldn’t even kill me if he tried,” she said.

James indicated with a nod that he thought they should go, that they were wasting their time.

“Well, at least you won’t have to pay his debts with your body anymore eh?” Edwards said tipping his hat and walking away before she had a chance to respond. She looked to James and he too tipped his hat.

“Sorry to have disturbed you madam but we have to follow up on everything,” and he left her standing at the door dumbstruck after her ordeal.

“Why did you talk to her like that?” he asked Edwards when he caught up with him.

“Like what?”

“Like she was the scum of the earth.”

“Oh, I don’t know, isn’t she?” James didn’t quite know how to answer this. He felt sorry for her at the door but before that and now since they left he could feel his natural revulsion at what she was doing, had been doing, rise up again.

“I’m growing weary of this Alderman,” Edwards said stopping at a street corner.

“What?”

“This whole thing. It has been going on too long; there has not been enough drama to it.”

“Drama!”

“Yes, finding bodies in the morning is one thing but where are the eyewitnesses to tell the tales and for us to see the fear in their eyes as they do, the survivors who are so rattled that they can't even talk to us without jumping at every shadow?”

“I’ve told you before not to talk like this,” James said. Edwards didn’t reply, but he had the look of a bored child looking around the streets.

“I have the Dolocher!”

The cry came from streets away and for a moment James was not sure that he had actually heard it. Edwards was running, and then James was beside him and they saw others coming out of houses and looking out first floor windows. People were looking around and asking where the call had come from, and soon James and Edwards were in a group of people looking in all directions waiting for another call.

“Over here!” someone shouted and the crowd ran to a thin laneway not big enough to hold them. Edwards and James could not get through the throng, and they could see nothing though the focal point was clearly just up ahead.

“Let me through!” James cried, but there was no budge in the crowd.

Could it be? He wondered, was the Dolocher just up ahead lying there? Was it dead, alive, dying? What was it? Who was it? It was killing him, but his authority was holding no sway with the blinded people here and he had to push and push and push until he finally got to the opening.