"Ah Milo would you say now we were only behooving."
"Insults is it. The Bishop will fix your waggon. Jimmy, come down here. Bring the gun."
"Ah now none of that madam. Being behooved is one thing. But being violent is another. Are you pressing charges concerning the alleged interference with your person."
"I'll get the likes of you fixed fast. Just wait.'
Sucking in her breath. Turning her stout build in its own tracks madam of the rape ran back into the house. The sound of her feet pounding up the stairs. Her voice coming out the open window from the lighted bedroom. Her shadow on the ceiling. Down in the damp dark silent greenness the accused mute and numb. The three waiting Garda Schicona staring at the stucco suburban house.
"Ah Jimmy, Jimmy me dear what did I do to you at all. Speak to me. Speak. O Lord God what have I done at all. Saints I have him kilt. O God what is he doing dying and he's not due for pension yet."
"I don't like the sound of that one bit Milo. I'd better get up there and investigate. Sure this is beginning to sound more like a war than a Mohammedan loose in Donnybrook. Take the accused and wait for me in the car. Don't panic. If not back in two minutes come in after me.' Balthazar B marched between the two garda. They fell into step one in front and one behind. Left right, left right over the gravel. Milo first opening the door, giving a salute and bow as Balthazar crouched into the small black vehicle. A rug pulled up over his knees. Milo taking out a packet of Woodbines and putting them to Balthazar. Refuse the nearest.
"Ah now Sean what do you make of this at all. Sure your woman has done something to your man up there in the bedroom. By the sound of it a blow upon some part of the higher learning delivered with the maximum from behind while the innocent gent was dancing in his sleep with a Hollywood movie star."
"Ah I wouldn't want to be on the wrong side of that one meself."
"What do you make of your mute man here Sean. He seems decent enough when you get a good look at him in the light. I mean you'd have to put him down as a member of the gentleman classes dressed as he is. Sure that woman's out of her mind, how would this slender dignified gent here rape the likes of her. He'd have more chance strangling the Loch Ness monster. He may be lost on the highway or something. Isn't the Ailesbury road full of embassies with foreign gentlemen dining there of an evening. I think your woman is out of the asylum over beyond if you want my shilling of information."
"Ah you may be right Milo. You may be right. She'll be giving Seamus the swipe of her tongue in any event. And that tongue of hers is the size of an ironing board. O Jesus what's that."
"It's Seamus, the poor man is running for his life, with that one after him. Ah God hasn't she got a hurling stick aimed at your man's head. This is an awful night for the Garda Schicona I'm telling you. Jump to now helmets on and give your man some aid."
"What about the prisoner."
"He's content enough. Sure he's safer in here than outside be the look of things."
Milo and Sean jumping from the car. Seamus running from the building. Out of a cloud of pillow feathers the lady of Donnybrook environs emerged swinging a long stick round her head. Seamus ducked and side stepped. Madam's kimono flying open. Heaving rolls of breasts and bellies.
"Men make back for the car your woman's the maddest thing on three wheels. She has the husband nearly kilt. Quick now."
The huge bulk of Seamus as he bent to squeeze into the front seat of the car. Two handed blows of the hurling stick raining on his shoulders. Milo slipping in beside him and Sean getting in the back. The slam of car doors. Revving the engine. Backwards towards Dublin.
"What kind of woman is this at all."
"Sure let's get the hell out of here and find that out later."
"Watch it Seamus, watch it, she's coming at the windscreen. Sure God help us we'd need all the Mohammedans we could muster to save us from that one."
"Eegits. Eegits. Buffoons. Get that rapist out of my life."
"Sure I think your woman is mental if you ask me."
"Ah Jesus I'm not asking anything but to get the hell out of here fast. Would you put the accelerator to the floor. She'd hit the pope in the haggis, that one would."
The vehicle reversing along the curving gravel drive. Sean with the torches shining rearwards out the back window. Your woman in the headlights. Smashing blows on the bonnet with the hurling stick. A palm tree passing calmly. A sign on the gate. Happiness. The little car backing now out on to the road. Back in the shadows madam stands. Her eyes looking wild. Her last gesture suggestive.
"Now what would your man have married a one like that, would you tell me Seamus."
"Sure the heart does a lot of strange things. Who knows he might have married her for her beauty. She would have been a stout heifer in her time."
"Ah now, none of that."
"Sure praise God there's got to be some kind of amenability between man and woman, as between a bull and heifer, or none of us would be here at all."
"Your woman back there was verging on the obscenity. It's been a hard enough night. How's your man Sean, is he bearing up. Poor chap. We got there in the nick of time. The likes of her would have killed us all. Try the Gaelic on him Sean."
"Mise le mas."
"Sola juvat virtus."
"Ah that's grand, he's talking, your fearsome woman must have struck him dumb. And isn't he speaking the language of the pope. He's a white Italian gentleman, sure as your foot."
The light of a grey dawn. The moist air blowing in the open window. The police car passing along a river. Dear me the Dodder was not so far away. Just down those green banks. Over there, walls of a flour mill. These cross roads and they say Ballsbridge.
"How do you like that Seamus, the woman says she's a member now of the Royal Dublin Society. Why the place would be a wasteland by now if your woman was let loose in there."
A clanging bell. The sound of the tram. There it is. All lighted and yellow and warm. Squealing on its tracks. Stopping for its little group of passengers. To take peacefully into town. The toy city awakes. As I sit here apprehended by police. Jail bars ahead. Uncle Edouard said, be always handsome witty and brave. To police and lawyers and many others too, my dear boy, make no sound that can be used against you. Try never to teach the world a lesson, for they will forget it within the week. Be honest till the temptation comes to tell the truth. Then dear boy it is time, believe me, to say nothing. Keep your wine cellar cool. The bowel clear. The foreskin clean. Use soap perfumed of the fern.
Merrion Square. Odd windows lit. Past Lincoln Place. The back lonely gate of Trinity. Down there just a little bit. The Landship moored. I am far too young to start a criminal career. Hold back my voice. Through the wet streets of Dublin. Just some little time more. Kneeling so many years ago. On a carefree carpet of the Palais Royal. When all Dublin and Ireland came as sunshine to me. Through the little green windows of Bella's eyes. Her soft hand touching my face. And Bella you ran from me. On my way here when all I found was rain. Crossing college squares huddled in one's gown. The moisture dripping dropping down. The chill creeping across the floors. Seeping out of walls. I screamed once a dark lonely Sunday in Grafton Street to stop it, stop it. I can't stand more. I prayed in college chapel with others cold and shivering. Singing out against the mortal cold. I hoped that candle light would help. No hell is under Ireland. Of that they're surely right. They say instead, a dark daughter. The country at the end of the earth. The oldest place.
Of the great
Long hair
That hangs
To cover up
All shame.