The Field (10 page)

Bird:
More questions?

Sergeant:
You don't have to answer.

Bird:
I'll answer. I'll co-operate. That's one thing about the Bird – co-operation. None of us can get along without it. If there was more co-operation the world would be an easier place. Am I right, Father?

Fr Murphy:
The Sergeant wants to talk to you.

Bird:
You can depend on the Bird. Now, Sergeant what can I do for you?

Sergeant:
The night of the murder …

Bird:
Yes, of course …

Sergeant:
You say you were here at the time with Bull McCabe and his son … in their company.

Bird:
That is correct. Exactly what was spoken. Dead right there for a start, and a big change from the plain-clothes.

Sergeant:
As far as I remember, Bird, the Bull was never a friend of yours. How come, then, that you spent a night drinking together?

Bird:
I'll forgive any man, Sergeant … any man. Let bygones be bygones is my policy.

Sergeant:
You're sure you weren't anywhere near Maggie Butler's field over the river that night?

Bird:
Neither near it nor within it. Arrived here at Flanagan's pub, time … 9.25 p.m. Joined forces with my two friends. Did remain with associates on the premises till 2.45 a.m. Arrived home at 3 a.m. sharp. Fried sausages one pound and one half and one ring of pudding white. Made pot of tea for self, Bull McCabe and son, Tadhg. Did say goodnight to same who departed for home. Was in bed at 3.45 p.m. and that's my story, long enough, as told to seven different detectives on seven different occasions and as told to yourself and His Reverence right now on this day of our Lord, 1965, Amen.

Sergeant:
And very nicely put together, too! Do you have any ideas about who might have killed this man?

Bird:
I am of the opinion the crime was committed by tinkers or if 'twasn't tinkers 'twas done by persons unknown. They are the biggest blackguards of all, those persons unknown. You see they does everything unknown to people so no one knows who they are. Definitely, persons unknown.

Sergeant:
I see … and have you any proof of this?

Bird:
It's only my opinion, Sergeant … and it was only my opinion that you wanted. Opinions is not evidence, Father!

Sergeant:
I'll watch you night and day from this on, you dirty, little sewer-rat. I'll haunt you, because I know as well as you do who committed the murder … And I think you were present when it happened.

Bird:
If I was a big noise you wouldn't haunt me, Sergeant. You know who to haunt, all right!

Sergeant:
It is my opinion, Bird, that you witnessed this murder and that your silence was bought for a few pounds. How much did you get? £5 … £10 … £20? Look, Bird, I'll guarantee you £500, £500 in hard cash, if you'll give me a hint. No one will know where the information came from.

Bird:
If I took that £500, you'd be trying to solve a second murder, and you'd be no nearer than you are to solving this one.

Fr Murphy:
Who are you afraid of, Bird?

Sergeant:
The Bull, is it? Or Tadhg?

Fr Murphy:
Or both?

Sergeant:
£500.

Bird:
'Twould just about pay the expenses of my funeral.

Sergeant:
It wouldn't be your funeral!

Bird:
Are you guaranteeing that as well? I have to live, and what's more, I have to live in Carraigthomond, murder or no bloody murder.

[Bird turns to exit]

Fr Murphy:
Bird!

[Bird stops]

Sergeant:
Let him go!

[Bird exits]

Sergeant:
McCabe and his son killed this man. You know, I know and the whole village knows. Nobody cares and the terrible thing is that nobody ever will care.

[Enter the Bull, Tadhg and Dandy]

Bull:
How long more are you going to keep us stuck back here like prisoners of war?

Fr Murphy:
We're sorry, Mr McCabe. The rotation was accidental.

Bull:
Ah, that's all right, Father. We understand.

Sergeant:
Bull … Bull … Will you answer me one question?

Bull:
If I'm able.

Sergeant:
Which of you killed him?

Bull:
Well, now, I'm damn downright glad you asked me that because I have a fair idea.
[Becomes confidential]
The wits was often frightened out of me, too, many a night, not knowing the minute a band of tinkers would break out from a bush and hammer my brains out. Try the camp of the Gorleys and if it isn't one of the Gorleys, try the McLaffertys, and if it 'tisn't one of them, 'tis sure to be one of the Mulligans. Don't they kill one another, not to mind killing a Christian?

Tadhg:
God, yes, Da! Yes! They're a terror!

Bull:
Or whose to say 'twasn't an ass or a stallion. I heard of an ass kicking an oul' woman to death up the country somewhere. My wife was run out of the haggard by two Spanish mares of a day – two crotchety bitches who'd as soon eat you as kick you. And ask Dandy there, Dandy's wife was chased by a piebald ass, a stallion. Isn't that right, Dandy?

Dandy:
She lost her voice for a week from the fright she got. And she woke with nightmares nine nights running.

Sergeant:
Very touching! Thanks for the help, Dandy. You can go now.

Bull:
Good man, Dandy, mind yourself. And do you know another thing … and this might be the answer. Ask the ordinary man and that's where's the answer.

Sergeant:
Yes?

Bull:
What took him down there at that time of the night? What would take you down there, Tadhg?

Tadhg:
A woman is the only thing that would carry me.

Bull:
And a woman it was, believe me! Isn't all the murders over women? 'Twas surely a woman.

Sergeant:
You think so?

Bull:
Some doxy with no grazing of her own. What brought him without his wife, eh? Another woman was the draw … maybe a married woman, in pardon to you, Father. There they were, hobnobbing and cronawning under a bush when the woman's husband arrived. Can you blame the poor man, Father? In all fairity can you blame him for murderin' a home-wrecker. Don't be too hard on him, Sergeant when you catch him.

Sergeant:
It wasn't tinkers, Bull. It wasn't a donkey and it wasn't a jealous husband. Now, was it?

Bull:
[Passionately]
And, by God, it wasn't Bull McCabe and it wasn't Tadhg and Tadhg and me are sick of your dirty, informer's tactics. You've been after us now, since the donkey was kilt. We're watching your shifty peeler's questions. The two of you there have the power behind you. Why isn't it some other man you picked, Sergeant, to go searching with you? Like the labourer or the servant boy? Why isn't it a ploughman or the Council worker? No … you picked one of the gang. If 'twasn't the priest, 'twould be the doctor or the schoolmaster or the shopkeeper. You have the law well sewn up, all of you … all nice and tidy to yourselves.

Fr Murphy:
[Hurt]
That's not true! You're deliberately twisting …

Bull:
Christ had no guard's uniform and He had no white collar around His neck. But He picked a gang of small farmers and poachers. They had their cross like all poor people, and that held them together. If a poor man does something wrong he gets a guard's baton on the poll and he's lugged up the barracks. But, if 'tis the doctor or the schoolmaster or the lawman, they say, 'tis tough on them but there's a way out and the law is law no more.

Sergeant:
See here now …

Fr Murphy:
Let him go on!

Bull:
I seen an ould priest last year, as called to our house outside. He sat down near me and spoke to Tadhg and me about hard luck, about dead-born calves and the cripples you meet among dropped calves. He ate with us and he got sick after it … fat mate but he ate it and by God, he had a shine of us and said he wished he was like us. I gave him a pound and Tadhg gave him seven and a tanner and if he wanted to stay with us for a year, we'd have kept him. But I won't pay you no Christmas dues, Father … not no more … and there's no law against that … Were we fond of him, Tadhg, of that ould priest?

Tadhg:
We were, Da, we were. He was one of our own.

Mick:
I'll have to ask you go now, Father. What will the village think if ye don't leave? We have a family to think of.

Sergeant:
You're a cleverer man than I took you for, Bull!

Bull:
The likes of us that's ignorant has to be clever.

Sergeant:
Did you see the dead man's widow at the funeral, Bull?

Bull:
I saw her … wasn't Tadhg and myself the first to sympathise?

Fr Murphy:
We can't beat the public, Tom.

Sergeant:
It's what the public wants.

Fr Murphy:
But they never really get what they want.

Bull:
Don't we now. You're wrong there, Father. You have your collar and the Sergeant, his uniform. I have my fields and Tadhg,
[To Tadhg]
remember this. There's two laws. There's a law for them that's priests and doctors and lawmen. But there's no law for us. The man with the law behind him is the law … and it don't change and it never will.

Fr Murphy:
Do you ever think of God … any of you?

Bull:
He's the man I says my prayers to, and I argues with Him sometimes.

Fr Murphy:
About what?

Bull:
Same as you, 'cos I'm the same kind of creature as you.

Fr Murphy:
The Sergeant asked you if you spoke with the widow and you said you did. Did you feel pity for her?

Bull:
I'm like you. I can't support her 'cos I'm married myself and you'll hardly throw off the collar and marry her … When you'll be gone, Father, to be a Canon somewhere and the Sergeant gets a wallet of notes and is going to be a Superintendant, Tadhg's children will be milking cows and keeping donkeys away from our ditches. That's what we have to think about and if there's no grass, that's the end of me and mine.

Fr Murphy:
God will ask you questions about this murder one day.

Bull:
And I'll ask God questions! There's a lot of questions I'd like to ask God. Why does God put so much misfortune in the world? Why did God make me one way and you another?

Sergeant:
Let's go, Father, before I throw up!

Fr Murphy:
You'll face the dead man's widow some day, McCabe … not here, but in another place.

Bull:
Indeed I won't, Father, because she'll have her own facing to do with another man by her side.

[Exit Fr Murphy and Sergeant]

Bull:
[Louder … after them]
No, I won't face her because I seen her and she's a pretty bit and the grass won't be green over his grave when she'll take another man … A dead man is no good to anyone. That's the way of the world. The grass won't be green over his grave when he'll be forgot by all … forgot by all except me!
[To Mick]
There's your other twenty. C'mon Tadhg.

[Bull pauses a moment. Then gathering himself, he throws back the remainder of his drink and leaves the pub. Mick gives the counter a wipe and returns upstairs. Silence.

The half-door of the cubbyhole we saw in the first act swings open, revealing Leamy. He has been there throughout the scene. He climbs out and stands centre stage. We feel that he is in the grip of torturous indecision, but finally he turns reluctantly to the table and begins clearing the drinks away]

[The End]