Darcy Dancer, the brown and green flecks of colour in his tweeds. Boots up over his stockings, stepping lightly. Deer stalker set square on his head. Hear the sound of the saw. Makes one’s feet hurry to save every chip of wood. Were Mr Arland here he could have written one of his marvellously threatening letters. You rogues desist. Or something to that effect. And I must try to convey the distinct or indistinct appearance of a landowner who does not intend to be trifled with. And is capable of giving a good account of himself to anyone attempting to get too tiresomely tricky or impertinent. Pop them with a fisticuff or two on the jowls. Use footwork. To avoid them grabbing me. Some of these workmen are deucedly strong and can lift the weight of a weanling as they would a kitten. And just over there, and when I was just a tiny boy. Sean the arm, he was called, because of all his strength, went sawing a branch high up an oak broken in a storm. And sawed it off under himself to go crashing down swinging into a tree where he was impaled by the spoke of a broken branch going right through his heart and out of his back. Just like one of my grandfather’s butterflies in his trays stacked in the back of the cupboards in the ballroom.
Darcy Dancer moving up along the edge of parkland. And past a wild growth of rhododendrons. Approaching the grove of tall straight oaks. Where they grew on a gently rising ground. Wheel ruts criss crossing the mud. Three draught horses and a big heavy cart. A ramp and poles. A man smoking a cigarette. Wearing a grey weather beaten trilby hat. And long black coat. Two men with long staves levering a log towards the cart ramp. Two men at the foot of an oak. Each on the end of a great long saw. Their backs and shoulders swaying back and forth. At the foot of this majestic tree. Two great oaks already with branches smashed and their long boughs prostrate on the ground. And now another one nearly sawn half way through. As Sexton says. You can hear the screaming.
‘Stop that. Stop that sawing at once. And get off this land.’
‘Now who in heaven’s name might you be. As if I didn’t know.’
‘I am the owner of this land.’
‘Ah I didn’t know that now is that so.’
‘That is so.’
‘Is it the son of the house himself who would be telling me to stop sawing and to get off this land.’
‘Yes.’
‘Ah me is it. Sure I’ve bought these trees. And having bought them, I will saw them down. And having sawn them down I’ll take them away. And not a soul will stop me.’
‘You’ll get back your money you paid.’
‘I will not have my money back. I’ll have me trees, that’s what I’ll have.’
‘You’ll have a sudden stream of swan shot tickling your bloody damn nose my good man.’
‘What. What are you about at all. Threaten me. With a firearm. You damn buckeen. I’ll put you across me knee and give your pelt a good hiding with the palm of me hand.’
Bang. All five men ducking. And just above your sixth man’s grey trilby, a branch severed cleanly from the tree. And falling crashing upon his head. Aside from crushing his already battered hat it made his knees buckle. As he angrily tried to knock it away with his arm.
‘What are you mad. Kill me is it. You madman. Fire at me. I’ll have the guards.’
‘You’ll have yourself, your tools, men, horses and cart off my land or the next barrel will, I regret to say, travel close enough to save you shaving your whiskers off for a lifetime.’
‘It’s assault with a deadly weapon. Grevious bodily harm and attempted murder. Sean, Billy, Mick you saw by god what happened.’
‘And if you have to be told again to clear off you’ll see more of what will happen. And not one more piece of insolence out of you.’
‘By Jesus, what are you Darcy Thormond Kildares coming to. Raising little maniacs. I’ll report this to the guards. You can bet on that. I’ll have you in the courts. And put in prison. You can bet on that too.’
‘Shut up you gombeen bastard. And get off my land.’
‘I’ll shut up alright but you haven’t heard the end of this don’t you worry. You’ll hear from me.’
‘And if I do I’ll come and blow your fucking head off.’
‘Hear him. There are witnesses here. I know my rights. I have it in writing, I’ve got it down in black and white with the agent. And no buckeen is going to deprive me of my rights. You wouldn’t be that bold without a gun.’
Somewhere high above the oak tree tops a crow was squawking. And the bright blue of sky was closing over with clouds. The smell of gun powder out on the air. Foxy said it was always good to use the word fucking in your threats. Then they always fucking well knew.
That you
Fucking well
Meant it
18
With black darkness closing down on a rainswept countryside, Crooks this day later came with the message into the front parlour where Miss von B and I were taking tea. Following a game just played of chess. In which I literally crushed her. By casually abiding her overconfident reckless attacks during the middle game and then exercising a blistering positional cross fire of my bishops with a knight and castle overseeing the plunging blade of my queen into the heart of her king.
‘Master Reginald. There are two gentlemen from the Garda Siochana in the hall. I did say that I did not know whether you were receiving but they say it regards urgent and serious matters.’
‘Show them in Crooks. And do fetch some whiskey.’
‘Very good Master Reginald.’
Two uniformed damp looking guards. Hats in hands. One had to dip his head to walk in the door. And the other nearly to turn sideways. Both massive apparitions standing there in the shadows. Who nod greeting. And to which one must present one’s very best dazzling entitlements.
‘Guards, allow me to present you to Her Royal Highness.’
‘Sorry your majesty to disturb you at your tea.’
‘It is quite all right.’
‘Now guards do please. Come in. Sit down.’
‘We’ll stand for the moment. As you never know that what we might have to say may not be welcome. And I’ll get to the point. We have had a complaint of a serious nature from a certain timber merchant. And I’m sure you know now to what I refer. He claims this morning that sometime in the vicinity often o’clock, that you let fly a shot gun at him while he was in pursuit of his lawful right cutting down some trees.’
‘Please, gentlemen, sit. Ah. Crooks. Good. Now will you gentlemen have a drink.’
‘Not while on duty. There are a couple of very serious matters. The first concerns yourself and is a serious charge. Discharge of a firearm in a fashion so as to endanger life.’
‘Well as a matter of fact, it was all a complete reflex action and horrid accident. I in fact was shooting a pigeon. That happened to be flying out over this gentleman’s head. Quite high above it you know. They’re the devil in the summer with our oats and barley. The sight of one instantly put me in mind to shoot it. But I do think I rather gave him a fright when it knocked a branch out of the tree which fell on him. For which I was very sorry.’
‘The timber merchant said nothing about a pigeon. If you don’t mind now, we’ll take that statement down.’
The sergeant, his cap tucked under an arm as he held open his notebook. While Miss von B miraculously captivated both of them with utterly devastating smiles. A good bit of scribbling was done. With the sergeant requesting me to pause until his pencil caught up. Of course one spouted out a lot of old rubbish. Of a quality however, which did not make the guards look too foolish pretending to believe it. Yes. I was of course, telling them to vacate my lands. Of which I was the absolute freehold owner in trust perhaps. But still no one has a right to take property without my leave. Yes all guns in the household were properly licensed. And indeed if either of the guards enjoyed a shoot now and again. Do please let me know. Plenty of snipe down on the edge of the bog, pheasant, plover, duck. Anything in fact a sporting man likes to see on the wing ripe and ready for later delectation and needing only to be blasted out of the sky.