The Onion Eaters (5 page)

Voices in the great hall. Where Clementine tiptoes. Franz’s tripod erected in a different corner. Leaving in the one he has left four tiles removed and a pile of dug up clay. Percival standing amid a collection of luggage. A man of delicate stature and open necked shirt scratching his privates with one hand and holding a shepherd’s staff in the other. Next to him a tall, blonde broad shouldered woman, with a large head and bosoms giving the aspect of cemented masonry. To which one might take a heavy
hammer
and chisel. And not get anywhere. After a long sweaty battering. Quietly behind them three gentlemen with colourful ties and more of the blue pin striped suits. Faces peacefully composed, each with hands folded, looking up now and again at the distant ceiling.

‘Ah good person. These are my friends. Permit me. Mrs Lead Kindly Light and her husband.’

‘How do you do.’

‘How do you do. You will forgive my husband and I as you can see we are covered with spatterings from the roads. And we have been appallingly misdirected by the natives. We do appreciate your having us like this. My husband picked up Erconwald’s morse late last night and we motored
directly here. It is quaint. Don’t you think so dear. I do like the curve of the staircase. It’s quite clearly a later addition.’

‘Good person their three friends would prefer not to be introduced. And I took the liberty of suggesting to them that they be guided by your faithful Percival to chambers. I did not wish to disturb your scholarship in which you were engaged when I peeked upon you in the library.’

Nine people to lunch. Franz showing up late due he said to changing a bit in his drill. Rose changed from red to a bright yellow dress. Mr and Mrs Lead Kindly Light kept art books open at their places. The exprisoners inquired politely if I required anything from their end of the table. I asked for the salt. Which was passed. During the three course luncheon of tomato soup, fried bacon and egg and steam pudding, Percival poured away four magnums of claret down the eager throats. I asked after Putlog.

‘Ah, he is, if you listen carefully playing the organ. He does so much want to create for you any pleasure and thought music throughout luncheon would meet with your approval.’

‘Well thank you.’

Dinner brought the appearance of the apparition in the car. Who sat at the opposite end of the table, said nothing and stared at his plate. Candles were fuming from the … alls. Percival nudged me in the ribs in the wine cellar.

‘Ah God sir these are like the good old days.’

I struck from the cellar book six magnums of claret to be had with two hares and a sheep Tim had said was so near death on the far hillside that it was a pity not to put her cooked on the table. Guests swept the mutton down leg by leg with a gurgling of claret. Erconwald and Franz partook of their own onions and watercress from the stream. And the exprisoners between helpings heaped small
courtesies
and flatterings upon Rose. Till Mrs L K L said you do enjoy your food my dear, it’s nice to hear hungry jaws at work.

One felt that Rose would get up and put her large hands tightly around the sinewy neck which rooted deeply down into Mrs L K L’s bosoms now upright like heaving gun
emplacements ready to send out busty salvos. I had the most painful erection under the table. Having merely put the tip of my tongue into the donkey distillate. And I watched as Rose got up, went around the table and put her hands constricting around Mrs L K L’s neck.

Percival was serving seconds of the share. Oscar pausing in the dining room doorway with the remains of the mutton floating in the brown greasy gravy which began to slide as the platter tilted. Erconwald’s mouth open. To now receive a quartered onion. Ena pouring wine. Which she was doing down the shoulder of the silent mystery man at the end of the table. Who sat rigidly contemplating an empty area just beyond his plate. It has always embarrassed me to stand up in front of people with a bulge in one’s trousers. About to plan as I was some lighthearted repartee. To quell the
presently
brewing social holocaust. And maybe thereby get round to the price of butter, four pounds of which
disappeared
at lunch.

Mrs L K L gasped and brought her hands up to grab Rose’s wrists. A large purplish vein swelling out on her neck. That, by God, could be the jugular. By which so many of us want to get others. Now a vessel protrudes on her temple. Even in this light she is beginning to turn blue. As her husband turns a page of his book. And the
exprisoners
rise. A swarthy one to take an arm of Rose. Another attempting a lighthearted headlock and getting promptly butted in the face. The remaining exprisoner is feeling her behind. For hidden strengths. Christ what a crew. All turning as the remaining mound of mutton slips from Oscar’s tray. The poor kid’s face torn with alarm. Erased suddenly by a victory roar from Rose. Certainly not of Tralee.

‘I’ll strangle you you fucking bitch.’

Erconwald did not include among his many descriptions of self and associates that they were to a man adherents of the doctrine that it is desirable and possible to settle
acrimonious
miff and bitter huff by peaceful means. And they moved not a muscle. As Rose contorts in the rather over-familiar grasp of the exprisoners. And giggling now pressing away hands from under her armpits. Music in the distance
increased in tempo and crescendo. Only need a stage and box office. One or two ancestors there on the wall might by the rate of their eyeball movement even pay admission.

Percival with a new nimbleness since his midnight
collision
with Fred the pig, making a flying leap. Towards Mrs L K L raising a small pearl handled pistol taken from a mesh evening purse. Bang bang bang. Lead sprinkling the walls. Sending moths out of the tapestry. Bang bang, two bullets pinging upon an armorial knick knack.
Exprisoners
painfully levering off Rose’s fingers sunk into the neck of Mrs L K L whose mouth’s open and tongue out, gasping. One arm outstretched, hand clinging to the gun, her robust sinewy qualities no match for Rose. Who is better at strangling than singing.

Lead Kindly Light the husband perused his book throughout, taking from a side dish thin cross sections of onions upon which he squeezes a liquid from a plastic
replica
of a lemon. With a delicate flourish of the wrist he puts them in his mouth. And now I see he wears sandals over white socks just visible through the other crouched figures under the table. Must call for port to be followed by cheese and cantos. With demi tasse and desperation in the chapel. Where there is an altar to permit premeditated injury and maim among the guests. And be near the organ music as well.

With my secluded feelings spirited away within me I bid the guests goodnight. Mrs L K L was led sobbing from the dining room escorted by the three exprisoners. When Percival appeared with port I instructed it to be placed by my bedside. The mystery man came up to me and with the saddest face I have ever seen, put out his hand to shake mine. Two enormous scars went down both cheeks under the eyes. And one sensed he was trying to smile. Erconwald kept bowing low as he backed away, feeling with one hand to his rear and I confess I was waiting for him to step
backwards
over one of those lines drawn by Percival. Which sent the victim downwards.

‘Abjectly good person I tender my apologies. No balm hath die calm that I do wish I might anoint you with.’

‘I certainly don’t want to get bitten by one of your god damn snakes.’

‘Ah. You have spoken.’

‘You’re damn right I’ve spoken.’

‘And I’m saddened to note that you do so with alarm.’

‘You bet you do, those things are dangerous just bringing them into someone’s house like that. And then digging up the floor. What kind of behaviour is that.’

‘I am deeply wounded.’

‘With your friends carrying guns. Attacking each other. Turning the castle into a circus, I’m really mad, no kidding.’

‘Good person my utmost assurance. I understand your concern. But most of the mambas have had their fangs
removed.’

‘You’ve got real live poisonous snakes.’

‘Most noble person, there is no need for qualm, only three of the fourteen can inflict a fatal bite. Franz is in complete control, so swift of hand he can grasp a mamba in the act of striking. I had much hoped had not the dinner ended with an unfortunate misunderstanding that Franz assisted by Rose would demonstrate his dominance over one of the most deadly of reptiles.’

‘What. Let them loose.’

‘Ah please, unburden yourself of misgiving. Quick as the mamba is to anger Franz often inspires moments of
tranquillity
and upon occasion even strokes the serpent under the chin. Enclosed in their container they are perfectly harmless. Fear not good person.’

‘Fear. That’s all I’ve known the last two days.’

‘I am grieved. Truly I want for an untroubled stillness to cushion your spirit, where no ravage ruin or thuggism may hatch out chafe or gall upon you. Good person, please. Peace. Perhaps you are not a pagan, as am I.’

‘I believe in God.’

‘Then you are with peace.’

‘I’m scared shitless.’

‘Have you tried our laxative.’

‘Not on your nelly.’

Erconwald bows. Comes slowly erect. Tears in his eyes.
Which avert downwards to my right. His hands hang lonely, a faint green gleam from his emerald caught in the candle light. The rumpled fabric of his tweed coat and whiteness of his skin at the open neck of his shirt. Forlorn and godless. He stands in this testicle chilling chamber. The great door bolted and pinioned shut. With levers, bars and chains. Locking us all in. With no way out. Unless you want to sail down a dungeon tunnel skidding on a sea of rodents.

‘I’m sorry Erconwald I did not mean to upset your
feelings.’

‘My hope was good person to add pleasure to your life by our presence.’

‘With dangerous reptiles, exprisoners and one of your associates digging up the front hall over there. What kind of pleasure is that.’

‘Your thrust sir, pierces deep. I undertake to disturb and trouble you no further. Your humble and most obedient servant withdraws.’

‘Hey now wait a minute.’

‘Sir.’

‘I don’t want to make anybody cry.’

‘I merely weep. In sorrow. Not anguish.’

‘Why.’

‘Not least of all for news that you might treat as good. Should it come.’

‘Now what do you mean by that.’

‘Pray, trust me.’

‘Trust, my God. I don’t even know where my next meal is coming from.’

‘That indeed may be the very problem we shall solve.’

‘By snake bite. O boy.’

‘I ask but to be given the opportunity to prove that our present labours will bear fruit. Already one feels an
expectancy.’

He stands with a patience monumental. His calm voice echoing and reasonable face gently saddened. Every few moments he shivers. I feel an icy cold pressing my feet. Tell the bunch of them to go and they could start jeering.
Or digging into the foundations. Even now they may be sifting through the silver plate and planning to throw me out.

‘Can I sleep on it.’

‘But most certainly good person.’

‘Good night.’

‘Sleep pleased, good person.’

‘Thank you.’

A chunk of red cheese, decanter of port and a stack of tomes from the library on my bedside table. Things look warm but feel cold in the firelight. The stone hot water bottles make damp patches on top of the bed. Only that the chapel is over in their wing I would stop in to pray. Erconwald said Putlog had tuned the organ and cleaned the rat nests from the pipes. He would give a recital
anytime
I liked. Come to this barren waste and over night it’s one cavorting albeit cultured holiday camp.

Winds whining and the sea pounding out there. One might sleepwalk. Off battlements into deeps. Percival said there was a black ice cold bottomless lake just up the
mountain
side. Full of strange thin fish, some so sharp they could swim through a stone. But at the end of the sea tunnel opening out from the cliffs and down six fathoms was the great conger. Lurking in a cave. Percival said ah now sir I didn’t want to worry you with an old eel. But for many years they were dropping off terrible things out the end of the tunnel, the like of heads and thighs and it’s said Clementine of The Three Glands was shoving off there his discarded females in one screaming piece. Tim now throws off the odd dead sheep if Miss Ovary isn’t in need of one for dinner. That thing down there devours bowels and
entrails
by the wheel barrow. And I’m telling you now it’s thought that that’s the way old Clarence’s mother and father went as well as Paddy the butcher who wandered off the cliff drunk and none has ever been seen since except that in the bright sunshine pelvic girdles are obvious on the sand below. Rumour has it that the great conger
remained
mild enough feeding on the odd lad stumbling off the edge and that it never added to the huge creature’s
viciousness till a protestant rose growing land owner was ate by the conger while trying to fish for him out of a little dingy and was dragged to his doom. The conger has been mean vicious and evil to a degree ever since, demonstrating quite clearly a catholic is sweet to the taste just as a
protestant
is sour.

A low growl from Elmer. During the fracas downstairs he lay quietly by the fireside. And polished off the mutton before Oscar tugging at one end could get it out of his great grey jaws. Which means he won’t need a nightcap of my billiard slippers washed down by a few pairs of socks. He contentedly looks up at me propped shivering in bed. No floor board to squeak in this room. Anyone could tiptoe in a good quality pair of sneakers and get me round the neck. And unless they were mutton Elmer might not mind. That’s a knock. On my door.

‘Come in.’

‘I don’t want to disturb you. But could I borrow a
toothbrush.
I was wandering around this morning and saw your collection.’

‘Of course. But all of them are used.’