| II.7.082 |
|
Bluemud's speech convinced Carl that, however good the man's intentions might be he
simply did not care about the welfare of the people or even that their affairs be managed
in the most effective way. He decided, therefore, on that same day to visit Muriel to see if
she too could be persuaded to come into his scheme. 'You watch out for that woman!' said O'Grady when he told him what he was going to do. 'She's a tyrant. She'd turn us all in for spite.' To bolster his case Carl took Vincent with him on the visit. Vincent was a vain and stupid man but he had his uses. He did what he was told and he was the only man who was a well known and frequent visitor in the village. Muriel lived in an isolated cabin surrounded by fields on all sides. It was more affluent that most of the village houses and the yard was populated by scrawny fowl. 'See! I told you! SHE had eggs during the winter, ' said Vincent as they arrived. 'I could do with a few of them myself.' The door to Muriel's house was opened, not by Muriel but by a girl of about nineteen years, rather skinny though not unattractive and very shy. 'Hello Ruth, is Muriel in? Can we come in?' The girl said nothing, permitting their entry then drawing back into the shadows. Inside the house smelled earthy. It was a smell Carl had grown up with but which he had forgotten in his sojourn at the barracks. 'She's Muriel's daughter. A little... you know,' Vincent tapped his head. 'Anyway, she never speaks... do you Ruth?' Vincent ruffled the girl's mop of hair. 'She's not that bad looking though, is she?' Carl nodded, observing the girl. Ruth seemed unfazed by Vincent's attention and she stood her ground, watching the men with deep, sad eyes. 'I didn't know Muriel had a daughter.' Vincent laughed his sneering laugh. 'One you never heard of, eh, Carl? I'm surprised. One for you. maybe. Not a wife, though. You wouldn't get any kids. Yes, Muriel would be glad to get rid of this one, wouldn't she Ruthie? They say Bluemud had her sterilized. Of course, only she would know for sure.' Vincent was a fool and Carl did not bother to get angry with fools. Instead he cast his eyes about the room. 'She's a spider woman.' Vincent indicated a spinning frame in the corner. 'She doesn't do any farm work. Muriel won't let her. Says she's too good for it. Wants to keep her hands nice and smooth.' He lowered his voice. 'They say this Ruthie'll be a witch before she's ten years older. If she lives that long, that is. Not too much food about here these days! Fetch us some eggs, Ruthie.' They sat at Muriel's table for an hour awaiting her return. Ruth brought them no eggs but she did bring some tea and sat at the table watching them as they conversed. Eventually Carl found himself more interested in looking at Ruth than he was talking to Vincent. When Muriel finally arrived she looked even more tired and worried than usual. She did not appreciate these Special Days when hordes of men arrived with carnal intentions causing chaos everywhere. 'What do you want, Vincent?' she said aggressively, her hoarse voice coming with an effort. 'And who's this one?' She peered at Carl, her eyes still adjusting to the gloom inside the house. 'This is Foreman Relyt, Muriel, though everyone calls him Carl. You should recognize him. He runs the gang building the schoolhouse. Where your Alice got our Johnny shot?' By now Carl was thoroughly convinced that it had been a mistake to bring Vincent. However, Muriel ignored these taunts completely. 'Oh,' she said, 'Maybe I do recognize him. Well, I don't deal with foremen so he can leave.' 'This Carl's a very special foreman,' went on Vincent. His voice took on a slightly menacing tone and Carl broke in at once. 'My men are complaining that the food they get when they are working on the schoolhouse is not as good as they get at the mine. Also they are not paid enough.' 'I told you, I don't deal with foremen,' said Muriel harshly. She stood over Vincent and looked at him directly. 'Get out, the pair of you! Now!' 'I told you it'd be like this,' said Vincent irritably. He stood up to leave but Carl did not move. 'And no more food!' snapped Muriel, placing herself between Carl and Vincent, who was already halfway to the door. 'Them men get as much as anybody else. And they get paid what they're supposed to, which is the same as the food costs. Your people are no worse off than ours.' 'Better,' said Vincent smugly. 'So I've heard.' Suddenly Muriel was deflated. 'We did a better job of keeping people alive than you did last winter and without your help, thank you , maam.' Vincent gloated. 'Actually now, how many did you loose?' 'What's that to you, Vincent. It's more to the point to ask what would happen if certain people knew what was going on.' 'And what is going on, Muriel?' asked Carl, still seated, looking at Ruth. She turned to address his back. 'I've heard rumors, that's all. The serving women can't understand how those men stay in such good shape on the little food they get.' 'It was when they stopped eating that trash you put out they began to feel better.' Vincent laughed goading Muriel. 'I'm not taking that from you, little man,' screamed Muriel, turning on Vincent so that he backed away with fright. 'It was a bad winter and people died that wouldn't have otherwise. They died because we had no food and they blame it on me. I don't see why they should.' 'A Shopkeeper can't expect to be popular,' said Carl quietly. ' he shouldn't allow what people feel about him to upset him, provided he has been fair and just to all.' Muriel regarded Carl suspiciously, coming to the end of the table to stare into his face. 'Who are you, anyway?' 'As Vincent says, a foreman. But I was the Shopkeeper's eldest son in Dentonsville. Mr. O'Grady allows me to help Vincent with certain things. My men don't really need your extra food. It's just that they are worse off than most others in their food and pay. It makes them unhappy.' 'Then feed them out of your own pocket,' she blustered. 'It looks as if you can afford it.' Carl regarded Muriel intently. He did not desire just her cooperation. He wanted her as he had Vincent. 'I did not come here to ask you to help me, Muriel, but to offer you my help. The winter is three months over yet many of the women are still suffering from the effects of their hunger. It looks to me as if they have a lack of meat. This girl, for instance.' He indicated Ruth. 'We've got three cows and five pigs left. The bull died so we can't even get any calves. What are we supposed to do? Miss Elizabeth says don't worry, she'll get something to make calves without a bull but it'll have to wait 'till August. Can you believe that? There's not enough to go around and them at the house take first pick of what there is.' 'There's plenty of meat in the hills and rivers.' 'I don't want anything to do with that,' muttered Muriel quickly. 'The men eat meat. They are better for it.' 'Miss Elizabeth says we're trying to build a community that will grow all its own food and not have to be dependant upon anything on the outside. She says killing wild animals should not be necessary.' 'She is like her father: she has good intentions and no sense! She stops only to consider what is right for her dream, not what is right for the people in it. They would save us from War and sacrifice us to winter!' Muriel regarded her dumb daughter intently. Then she said, almost crying, 'Look at this girl, Ruth!' Ruth looked up at her. 'See! She's not deaf whatever they say. And she's not crazy, either.' 'As I said, your daughter is one who looks as if she would benefit from meat,' said Carl kindly. Then he got up and his movement broke the spell he had begun to cast on Muriel and she reverted to her aggressive self. 'We're wasting our time talking about this. Talking never got anybody anywhere. I don't want nothing to do with it. Get out! And keep your men away from my women. I don't want any trouble around here with unplanned babies. We're going to have enough mouths to feed after this day is over. And you should get them marshals to be more careful with those weapons Mr. Bluemud gave them. I don't want any of my people dead. Nor any more metal workers come to that considering the difficulty we're having getting the horses shod with that blacksmith gone to Mr. Bluemud's foundry.' 'Muriel is a hard woman to please,' sighed Vincent as they walked away from the house but, after they had gone two hundred yards, Ruth caught them up and pressed a package containing three eggs into Carl's hand. Two days later one of the marshals left a package containing ten pounds of venison on Muriel's doorstep. |
|
|
