Benbecula, page 9
You might wonder why Mrs MacLeod comes. I sometimes do so myself. Certainly it is not for money for I do not pay her and in any case the MacLeods have no need of it. Could it be that she comes out of kindness? That is possible for she is a virtuous woman and treats me with a good humour which I repay only with filthy thoughts. More likely she comes out of pity. Children are wont to administer to injured birds or animals they come across, and perhaps it is thus with Mrs MacLeod. But I am not an injured animal to be nursed back to health and in any case children soon learn that that the kindest thing is not to prolong the life of an injured creature but to put it from its misery at the earliest juncture.
It is also possible that she does not come here of her own volition but instead comes here to keep an eye on me, just as we once kept watch over Angus. I do not imagine that she undertakes this surveillance of her own volition but instead at the behest of those in authority in these parts – that is by MacGregor and MacSween – and that she afterwards provides an account to them of my behaviour and my soundness of mind, just as once Marion and I would report to one another on Angus. He seems calm today, or, He is wild, we must keep him tied. For they all of them take a keen interest in what they call my state of mind and none of them ever fails to enquire about it. Mrs MacLeod is the most cunning in her questioning. How are you? she asks when it is clear that I am in robust health. Well, I can be cunning too, which is why I do not reveal my thoughts to her but answer in a conventional way that I am quite well. I know that they are waiting for some excuse to remove me, but you cannot put a man out of his misery as you can an injured animal. It is not permitted. They are awaiting a pretext to have me incarcerated. They wish to rid Liniclate of the last of the MacPhees for I am a blight on the parish. I sometimes wonder if I should not take things into my own hands and make things easier for them. Things will in any case take their course. A man can only restrain himself for so long. If you put enough pressure on the handle of a tool it will eventually snap.
The cellar of the Creagorry Inn had a sort of cage behind which the landlord kept his supply of spirits. MacKenzie was not best pleased at the prospect of accommodating a murderous lunatic for however short a time but MacSween made it clear he had no choice in the matter. The spirits were moved upstairs and Angus, still tied around his wrists and arms, was shoved behind the metal grate. He struggled against his captors, all the time protesting his innocence. I did not involve myself directly. If I can say one thing for the men of Liniclate, it is this – from the moment Angus had been apprehended not one of them had abused or struck him, or at least no more than was necessary to subdue him. I do not think it was my presence that acted as a brake on them. Rather it was as if the gravity of his acts had created an aura around him. Had he committed some lesser misdemeanour, I have no doubt they would have used it as an excuse to set about him without mercy, but now that he was confined behind bars they looked upon him with a kind of wonderment. Word had been sent to the other parties that Angus had been found, and though there was no reason for them to do so these men gathered at the inn and took turns to go down to the basement to view Angus, as if he was an exhibit in a travelling show. You would think they had never set eyes upon him before. Now when they emerged into the light upstairs they commented on his demeanour and the way he moved or looked back at them. The magnitude of his deeds had elevated his status. Nevertheless, all agreed that he had an evil look about him, that they had always seen it and it had only been a matter of time before something like this happened.
It was decided that pairs of men should take turns to stand guard over him until such time as the authorities arrived to take charge of the situation. I did not recuse myself from this rotation as I did not wish to appear to take the side of my brother against the community. Nor, I confess, did I have any wish to return to a house full of cadavers. Following some discussion, lots were drawn, the result of which was that MacSween and myself would keep watch through the small hours of the night. That mattered little since no daylight penetrated the cellar. MacKenzie was in a fearful sulk. How could he open his doors when he had a madman in the cellar? Nobody paid him any heed.
I took myself away from the company and walked the short distance to the shore. The sun was shining and the water of the sound lapped the stones. I could hear the calls of gulls and from somewhere behind the faint mewing of sheep. A cormorant dived and emerged then dived and emerged again. Everything was precisely as it had always been and yet a mile or so away my mother, father and aunt were laid out with their heads bashed in. That they had ceased to exist had no bearing on the world. Everything continued just as it always had. There are men like Napoleon whose names become known far beyond the country of their birth. My father’s name was unknown beyond the district of Liniclate and even here he had been of no consequence. The only notable thing about him was the manner of his death. I took out my pipe and filled it from my pouch and lit it. It tasted just as it always had.
Back at the inn, the men were taking full advantage of the cases of spirits that had been removed from the cellar. MacSween had assured the innkeeper that he would be compensated from the parish coffers and this had the effect of dispelling his foul temper. Whisky and ale flowed liberally. There was an atmosphere of revelry and none of the men showed any desire to return to their families. For them, this was a day unlike any other and they wished to mark it by becoming so inebriated that they would have no memory of it. Munro and his son recounted over and over their role in the capture of the maniac and with every telling the violence of the tale and their own heroism grew. By the time night had fallen, Angus was Hercules.
When our turn to watch over Angus came MacSween approached me and indicated with a motion of his head that we should go down. I had by that time taken a good deal of whisky myself. It was possible to descend to the cellar without making oneself visible from behind the metal gate and this I did because we had been told that Angus had been calm for a while and I did not wish my presence to agitate him. Nor did I wish for him to embark on some entreaties to me to free him from his unjust imprisonment. I took a chair and placed it with its back to a wall where I could not be seen. The cellar was lit by a single candle and, despite the mild temperature above, the air was frigid. I pulled the collar of my jacket tight around my neck and set my feet on a crate in front of me. MacSween sat himself on a second chair in front of the grate. There was no sound from within for some time – I could not say for how long – save for the occasional loud exhalations. Then after some shifting around, perhaps Angus manoeuvring himself from a prone to a sitting position, he began to speak.
It’s yourself, MacSween, he said.
Aye, it’s myself, MacSween replied.
I don’t suppose you could do anything about these ties, said Angus.
No, I don’t suppose I could.
There was a period of silence. I had the sense that Angus was now standing close to the gate.
It’s a terrible thing you have done, Angus, MacSween said.
Well, said Angus, that might be but they had it coming. It was coming. Could you not loosen these ties? They are cutting my wrists.
I saw MacSween shake his head. Then he asked, And how was it they had it coming?
Ach, said Angus. I’d had enough of the lot of them. But it was my mother’s fault. Yes, it was all my mother’s fault. I was thinking to ready myself to go to the shore to help my brother with the seaware for I’ve always had an awful fondness for that pony and I asked my mother for some porridge. She said that if I had wanted some porridge I should have had it when the others had it, that she was not about to get up and make porridge for me when it was not the time for making porridge and I said but there is surely still some porridge in the pot and she said that there might be some porridge in the pot but I could not have it because the time for porridge had gone and she was not there to be at the beck and call of an idle good-for-nothing. An idle good-for-nothing she called me. And she who never shifted her arse from the fire. So I told her that she was a good-for-nothing herself for all she did all day was warm her cunt by the fire. And she then said that if I did not mend my tongue she would warm my cunt by the fire which was a stupid thing to say as I do not have a cunt. But my mother is a stupid woman who is wont to say such stupid things and was in general no stranger to abusing me. So I stood up and told her that if she did not get me some porridge I would smash in her head. And she said that if I smashed in her head I would certainly not be getting any porridge. I stepped across the apartment and stood over her and told her that I was only wanting some porridge and that everyone else had had their porridge and she replied that that was true but that the others had had their porridge at the proper time and I said, So I am not to get any porridge, am I? And she answered that if I wanted porridge I could get it for myself and I said that I wanted her to get me my porridge. Then she leant forward and took up the poker to prod at the fire and I took her wrist in my hand and wrested it from her and struck her a blow on the side of the head. It was not such a hard blow and she looked at me with an angry expression and then I remembered that I had said that if she did not get me some porridge I would smash in her head. There were some big stones arrayed around the fire and I took up one of those and then brought it down on her head. At this she fell off her stool and I went to where she lay and stood over her. Then I raised the stone above my head and brought it down on her face. It was a big stone and her face was quite flattened but I did it again and then realised she was dead. I had killed her. You should understand, MacSween, because you’re a decent sort of fellow, that if she had only given me some porridge like she had given to the others this would not have happened. She provoked me just as she was always provoking me even though I have not been myself these days. I stood looking at her for some time. It was not something you want to see. I then dragged her body to the back chamber. I tried first to pull her by the shoulders but she was heavy so I held her by the ankles and as I dragged her across the floor her skirts came up around her midriff and I had to turn away my face for a son does not want to see what was then displayed to me but I dragged her to the back chamber and pushed her body under the bed where my parents sleep. Then I drew across a wooden chest to conceal her and I thought myself quite a clever fellow for no one would likely find her there, nor if they did would they think that it was me that had put her there. I then stepped back into the apartment and made myself some porridge for I was hungry and I know fine well how to make porridge, it was only that my mother had made porridge for the others and not for me. And I ate the porridge and left the house. My father was some distance away on the rig. He is always at the potatoes even though the potatoes come regardless. You need only plant a potato and leave it in the ground but he was always at the potatoes because he had an awful fear of feeling that he was useless and when he dug up the potatoes it was as if they had sprung from his own arse and we should all be grateful to him for shitting potatoes for us. I did not want to speak to him for I was in a strange temper so I went then to my aunt’s house. She is a stout woman, my aunt, and not one for the talk but when she saw me at her door she asked me what it was I was wanting, for I was not in the habit of calling on her. And I said that I was not feeling myself and I would be thankful if she would lie with me a little. And she looked at me and said that she would not lie with me and I should make myself useful and go to help my brother and sister on the shore. I said that my siblings did not want my help as they did not like me and that I was not feeling myself and that I would like her to lie with me and have her tit. And then I stepped inside her house which is a very small house which is meant only for sleeping as she generally takes all her meals with us. She said then that she did not want me in her house and I said again that I only wanted to lie with her and have her tit. I then held her by the shoulders and pushed her to the ground and I lay next to her but she was struggling to get away from me and in my pocket I had the handcuff that had been made for me and which I had broken as they were of poor construction and I took it and struck her across the face with it. Her cheek was cut open and blood flowed out but she still tried to squirm away from me. When I was a boy I liked to turn up stones on the shore and under them would be eels that would slither around when exposed and I was put in mind of this. She was now making a fearful racket and I was angry because of her screaming and because she did not want to lie with me so I struck her again with the handcuff and this time she sank back onto the ground and her breath came in short gasps. I then went outside and found a good-sized stone and went back inside and did her to death.
There was then a pause of some duration. MacSween did not say anything.
I lay down next to her for a while as I was out of breath. Then I got up and covered her body with some bedsheets and went outside. My father was still at the potatoes but I did not go to him. Instead I went and sat on a hummock nearby. It is a hummock I am fond of sitting on because it is dry and you don’t get a wet arse sitting there. I sat there for some time and no one would have thought anything amiss for I am often in the habit of sitting there. But as I sat there I realised that at some point my father or one of my siblings would go looking for my aunt or my mother and they would find them dead and they would think that I had done it because even my own family think ill of me. So I thought then that when the bodies were found I would say that when I had been sitting there on my hummock I had seen a tinker call at the house and it must have been the tinker that had done the killing for tinkers are a bad lot and very given to violence. And I thought myself a clever fellow for thinking up this story. Then it came a point when my father made to return to the house and I thought that I should prevent him from going there but he reached the house before me and when I went inside he asked me where my mother was and I replied that I did not know. And he said that it was strange because he had not seen her leave the house and she was not in the habit of leaving the house without good reason and that also the fire was out and my mother never let the fire go out. So I said that she must have gone to my aunt’s. Father looked at me and said, Where is your mother, Angus? and I said that I didn’t know. Then I said that she was maybe in the bed chamber and my father went into the bed chamber but he did not see her and he came out again and called out her name. Then he saw the blood on the floor by the fire where I had struck my mother and he went into the bed chamber once more and saw her foot protruding from beneath the boards. He asked what I had done and I said that I had not done anything and it must have been a tinker I had seen come to the house and go inside. Father said that he had not seen any tinkers and that if any tinkers had called at the house he would surely have seen them as he had been all day on the rig. I understood that he was right and that I would have to kill him as well so that I could say that they had all been killed by the tinker for then there would be no one to say they had not seen any tinkers about the house. He was in the doorway of the bedchamber and I took up the stone I had used to kill my mother and went over to him and struck him on the head. My father was a feeble man and he went down right away putting his hands across his face. He did not make any sound and I struck again until he was dead.
After a long silence MacSween asked what he did next and Angus said that he took fright at the sight of his father’s body and ran away.
Then MacSween asked him why he had done it.
Angus must have been standing right by the grate as I heard some rattling of the metal. He had described everything he had done calmly but he now became agitated.
Haven’t you been listening, MacSween? he said. I killed her because she wouldn’t give me my porridge. If she had given me my porridge none of it would have happened.
I heard MacSween exhale. I could see his profile in the candlelight. He was slowly nodding his head. Nothing more was said until the next men came to relieve us and at first light some police arrived from Lochmaddy and took Angus away. And that was it. I never set eyes on my brother again.
It is stone cold here but I have not the means to set a fire. I would kill for some whisky but there is no whisky to be had. There is a dim light and I can see the window of my skullhouse but I am unable to convey myself towards it. No matter, I can picture what is outside. There is the rig and beyond it the shore path. Beyond that is the sound and beyond that Lochdhar. Above that the sky stretches upwards. There on the shore path goes Munro with his dog by his feet. There goes MacGregor on his half-dead pony. There is Mrs MacIsaac with her red hair flying wildly about her head and the tinker with his gewgaws to sell door to door.
I see them coming through the eye of my skullhouse. They are approaching from the direction of Borve, the group clustered together so that it is not possible to say how many they number. It is an inclement night, the rain driving off the sound, so it is clear that they are not out to take the air as some folk are wont to do. As they draw nearer I count ten or twelve of them. MacLeod is at the head of them, MacSween to the right of him, Munro to the left. MacSween’s gun rests in the crook of his elbow. I have not seen this weapon since the morning we ran Angus to ground. They reach the foot of the rig and pause for a conference. MacSween points here and there and men disperse to various positions around the house. I push the door closed and drag the table against it. I take myself to the back chamber. I’m frightened. There is no question that they want to do harm to me and I do not want to be harmed. I must hide myself. I get under the bed and lie flat on my back. The boards are only inches from my face and I wonder if I am not under the bed at all but in a coffin. I hold my breath.
