The Unyielding Future Read online

  “A couple of miles down the path, Liam heard the muffled sounds of a man struggling. He stopped and listened, but he couldn’t locate the source. Fearing for his own safety, Liam hurried on, but the struggling became less furtive and more desperate, which once again stopped him. He called out softly and the struggling stopped. All Liam could hear was the wind in the reeds and the buzzing of the insects; even the birds had become quiet. He called out a second time, and this time he was rewarded with an answer.

  “‘Who are you?’ a voice asked in Gaelic, but it was muted, as if coming from under a thick blanket.

  “‘Father Liam of Oranmore. Who might you be, and where are you?’ He tried to follow the voice, but it was impossible to locate. A pause followed. ‘I said who are you, and where are you?’

  “A bright beautiful Gaelic curse followed, and it finished with ‘I am in a hole.’

  “Liam understood immediately and after a few minutes of searching found the entrance to one of the many pits that had formed when the bogs were rechanneled. A dark and dirty man stood no less than a dozen feet below Liam’s sandals. His head was turned up towards the priest. ‘For the love of God, can you throw me a rope?’ the stranger asked Liam, who of course had no rope.

  “‘I have no rope,’ he answered, and then started to look for anything that would reach the stranger. He tried stripping the few local trees of their branches and then weaving them together, but they were not nearly strong enough to bear the weight of the trapped man. Next, Liam tried to weave some of the vines into a thicker rope but had an identical result. They broke the instant the man tried to climb. After much colorful exposition by the trapped man, Liam blessed himself, stripped off his cassock, lay on the gravel, leaned into the hole, and dropped one end of his only worldly possession down to the stranger. For a moment, it seemed to be working. The stranger was no more than a foot from Liam when a loud screech announced their third failure. As the garment split, Liam lunged for the man and for an instant they grasped hands, but then gravity took over. A nearly naked Father Liam of Oranmore fell on top of the stranded man. Now there were two men in a hole.

  “After the two pushed and pried each other they were both able to regain their feet. Father Liam wrapped himself with what remained of his tunic, which was split down the middle, and unwittingly invented the bathrobe. He then took stock of his trapped companion. He was a thin, small man, underfed but with no obvious contagious diseases or open sores that Liam should avoid in such close quarters. He looked to be in his early twenties, and in the semidarkness Liam thought that the younger man had the look of an Ulster native. ‘Sorry about that, my son,’ he said. The two could just stand without touching; sitting or lying down was out of the question. The younger man wore a look far past exasperation, and Liam thought that once again the only thing that saved him from a beating was his priestly calling.

  “The young man turned away from Father Liam and let loose with another long string of beautifully formed profanity while simultaneously beating the walls of soft dirt that would broach no purchase. After several moments the young profanity artist regained enough composure to turn back to Liam. ‘Shamus Cormorach,’ he said while offering his hand, which Liam accepted. ‘Any thoughts on what we should do now?’

  “The good Father turned around and in the process bumped Shamus into the wall. ‘Not much room, but perhaps you could climb up on my shoulders and reach the edge.’ Both looked up into the sunlight and the soft dirt that formed the rim of their prison. The pit was narrowest at the top and only opened the last six feet. ‘Doesn’t look very promising, but I see no other way. How did you get in here in the first place?’

  “I was hiding from the English.’ He slurred the last word derisively.

  “So you’re the man from the North they’re looking for.’ Shamus nodded his head while Father Liam tried to fit the young man before him into the description of a ruthless bandit. ‘You don’t look like a ruthless bandit.’

  “Only to the English and Scots.’ Without warning Shamus put his hands on Father Liam’s shoulders and tried to squeeze his way up. It didn’t work, and for the next hour they tried every conceivable position, but the cone-shaped hole prevented the needed acrobatics for escape. ‘Will your absence be missed by anyone?’ Shamus asked, finally accepting the futility of self-rescue.

  “Not for many hours. I was on my way to the cathedral in Galway, but they would not expect me until after midday. They probably won’t start looking until the morning, and I fear it will rain long before then.’ Both men instinctively looked to the sky and found what little was available to them remained bright and blue. ‘Still, I am confident someone will be along directly,’ Father Liam added. ‘So how long were you down here before I came along?’

  “Shamus paused. His mood was dark and he didn’t feel particularly chatty finding himself stuck in a hole with an oversized priest. ‘Maybe an hour or two. I climbed in after the English spotted me. The walls gave way and I fell.’

  “‘Bad luck,’ Liam said. ‘Well, let us make the best use of our time. Tell me why you came to Galway?’

  “‘To find food and drive the English back to their . . .’ Shamus bit off the rest of his remark. ‘I have no need for confession, or priests, or for the God they serve. He has forgotten his people and turned a deaf ear to their suffering.’ His tone was bitter and aggressive and for a time it was enough to stifle any conversation, so the two men simply stood and stared up the hole.

  “Eventually Liam could stand the strained silence no longer. ‘This is ridiculous, and my neck is starting to get sore. Do you like riddles?’

  “‘No,’ Shamus answered sharply, but he too had dropped his head and started to massage the muscles of his neck. ‘Why don’t you wear anything under that, it’s freezing outside?’ Shamus pointed to Liam’s torn cassock.

  “‘The discomfort brings me closer to Jesus. It reminds me of his suffering.’

  “‘He must have been Irish then,’ Shamus sneered. ‘But what would you know of suffering? You and your kind live like lap dogs for the English. Happy in your enslavement, so long as your masters occasionally throw you a bone.’

  “Not many things could get old Liam’s Irish up, but sure enough Shamus Cormorach had found one, and a moment later he found his feet dangling above the dirt floor and his head rammed into the soft ceiling. ‘I don’t think I appreciate that,’ Liam said into the surprised face of Shamus. ‘You have the luxury of freedom because you have no responsibilities beyond yourself. I have an entire village whose lives and souls are my responsibility.’ Liam’s words were liberally marinated with spittle.

  “‘That freedom was bought for the price of my family, lost to murder, the plague, and starvation all brought by the English,’ Shamus spat back. Liam held him pinned to the wall a moment longer and then unceremoniously dropped the smaller man.

  “‘I’m sorry for your loss, but that doesn’t give you the right to say things you know nothing about. You’re a simple naïve boy in the body of a man who hasn’t realized that others pay the price for your ill-conceived and completely futile acts. Two years ago, a band of you Northerners came to Galway and burned an English skiff. It wasn’t even armed; it was little more than a raft with a sail. For that the English burned all the crops ten miles round, right up to the gates of my town. Dozens died over the winter and spring. When we get out of here I can take you to their families so you can see how happy they are.’ Liam had rounded on Shamus again and had to restrain himself from throttling the smaller man. ‘We don’t want the English here anymore than you do, but we use the brains God gave us to not make the situation worse.’

  “‘Where was God when the English raped and slaughtered my sister, or while my children starved?’ Shamus pushed Liam back, although their accommodations prevented it from being anything more than a gesture. ‘Where is God when an entire country begs for deliverance?’

  “Liam paused. He had no ready answer, or any answer at all. He had spent many night
s pondering this very question and still couldn’t explain God’s seeming indifference. ‘I don’t know why God allows us to suffer. All I know is that He allowed the Israelites to suffer under the Romans and never interceded. But I do believe with all my heart and soul that justice not delivered in this life will be more than repaid in the next.’

  “‘Then I shall find out soon enough. I have nothing left to give but my life, and when I get out of here I will offer that as well. No matter how futile, the best thing I can achieve in this life is a righteous death.’ Shamus took a step back and rose to his full height, resolve steeling his spine.

  “You would waste the very thing the English stole from your family? There can be no greater insult to their memory. Are you a coward, too afraid to live, or are you just to simple to see?’

  “‘I’m neither. I am a realist. It is only a matter of time before the English find me. I have nowhere to go and no way of getting there. I would already being dangling from the end of a rope if it wasn’t for this hole. Soon I will find death, but it will be on my own terms, not theirs. I don’t fear it, I have seen things far worse.’

  “‘I don’t doubt that you have seen terrible things, but there is nothing worse than the death of an unredeemed soul.’ Father Liam put his hand on Shamus’s shoulder and an idea struck him with the force of a mule’s kick. ‘It may be that God needs you elsewhere.’ Father Liam smiled as inspiration filled his heart.

  “‘What are you thinking, old man?’ Shamus asked with suspicion, but Father Liam told me later that he recalled the slightest look of relief on the young man’s face. A sort of last-second-call-from-the-governor expression. ‘I won’t become a priest.’

  “‘No, you are no priest, of that I am certain, but I’m thinking that maybe you need a boat ride to a new shore.’ Before Father Liam could finish his thought a shovelful of foul-smelling dirt landed on his head. And then a second, followed closely by a third. Sputtering and coughing, he finally cried out. ‘Hello up there, we need your help.’

  “The dirt storm ceased and a tiny face blotted out the morning sun, which had just reached the lip of their hole. ‘Hey what are you doing down there? This is my bog, and you’re in my secret spot.’

  “‘We fell in. Do you have a rope?’ Father Liam stayed in the light while Shamus tried to hide in the shadows.

  “Of course I have a rope. Only a fool would go walking through a bog without a rope.’ His voice was odd and high-pitched.

  “Can you throw it to us?’ Liam answered after spitting out some of the muck.

  “The little man looked puzzled and muttered something to himself. ‘How do I know you’ll give it back?’

  “Now Liam looked puzzled. ‘What I mean is, can you throw an end down here and help us up? We really would like to get out.’

  “The face disappeared for a moment and Liam swore that he heard the little man ask himself, ‘Why did they get into the hole in the first place if all they wanted was to get out?’ Several moments later a fine-threaded rope dropped between Liam and Shamus. ‘I’ll go first and look around a bit,’ Liam said while testing the security of the rope. The large man climbed awkwardly out of the hole, scraping loose more dirt, which showered Shamus below. Finally, he emerged into the bright sunlight and rolled himself onto the damp moss. A half-sized man dressed in forest green stared down at him.

  “‘There’s nothin’ down that hole you know,’ he said as an introduction. ‘And you’re robe’s torn,’ he added.

  “Liam couldn’t help but laugh. The little man was the epitome of Irish, always zeroing in on the obvious. ‘I know that. I am Father Liam of Oranmore, and my colleague is . . . Father Shamus.’ Lying didn’t come easily to Liam.

  “The little green man tilted his head and squinted his eyes. ‘Didn’t know priests were allowed to lie to strangers, but I guess a lie to a stranger is better than a lie to a friend. Now get Mr. Shamus, or whatever name he wants to use, and get out of my bog. The English will be returning soon enough.”

  “It only took a few minutes to pull Shamus to freedom, and Liam returned the rope to their rescuer after untying it from a stump that Liam had somehow missed earlier. The little man dressed in green was eyeing Shamus suspiciously. ‘I’ve seen you before, out in the fields. You should be more discrete. Now get out of my bog.’

  “Shamus led the way down the path and Liam followed. Both men stopped to relieve themselves, and when Liam looked back the little man was nowhere to be seen. They returned to the path in silence and Shamus waited another five minutes before returning to their conversation. ‘You mentioned a boat ride earlier.’

  “Liam was pleased that the young man had at least been listening, and more important was open to possibilities beyond murder and futile self-sacrifice. ‘There is a ship arriving this afternoon in Galway. On the morning tide it will leave Ireland, and you should be on it.’ Shamus remained quiet, which Father Liam took as a good sign. ‘I believe I can pass you off as a young priest who has met some unfortunate characters on the road. This should get us into the town and as far as the abbey, where we can get you cleaned up and properly dressed, but getting passage . . . I haven’t worked that out yet.’

  “Shamus hesitated and then stopped. Liam turned to find his walking companion frozen in thought. The young man pulled his hand from his pocket and in it were ten solid gold pieces. ‘I found them in the hole’, he said almost dreamily, but I don’t remember them being gold, or that I had so many of them. The two men stared at the fortune. It was more money than either had ever seen, and enough to feed every inhabitant of Oranmore for years. ‘Why are you helping me, Father? I’m sure you can imagine all the things I’ve done.’

  “‘I can’t push the English back into the sea, or stop them from hurting our people, but I can help you. As far as what you’ve done, I’m more interested in what you will do.’

  “The following morning, April 20, 1691, Shamus Cormorach started his long journey to the new world, and Father Liam walked slowly back to his small church in Oranmore with a new cassock and seven gold pieces.”