Chapter 76: The Conspiracy Clause

I sat at the table with the page in my hand and the whole of the afternoon in front of me.

“Four wolves from the north,” I said. “In this village for a week before the fire. They set it and they went out in a boat the night after and they have never been named.”

“They have never been named and they were never looked for,” Padraig said. “The village had a fire and a dead Alpha and a new Alpha in the morning and not one wolf in it asked who the four strangers were.” He sat down across from me. “And there is a thing about the north that you already know. The woman Eileen has been in the north for twenty years building a pack out of wolves this territory has thrown out. And before her, her mother was in Galway and before her there was a family in the north that took children out of this village and brought them up to be claimants.” He put his hand flat on the table. “There has been a family in the north taking wolves out of this village since 1961. They took Eileen in 1975 and they took the boy Korkut in 1975 and they were in this village in 1961 with a boat and a can of paraffin.”

The cottage was quiet.

“And there is a thing that follows from that and it is the thing that matters,” I said. “The fire in 1961 was not a thing that happened in this village. It was a thing that was done to this village by wolves from outside who wanted the shore. And the wolves who did it are the wolves who have been in the north for thirty six years and who are still there and who sent Eileen down that shore road this morning with a pack at her back.”

I got up and put my coat on.

“Where are you going?” Padraig said.

“To the church. To read the second charter again. There is a clause in it about a conspiracy and I read it on the first night and I did not understand it and I am going to read it again.”

The church was cold and the vestry was full of the smoke smell from the hall and Father Byrne was at the table with the green book open and the parish chest beside him.

“I have been reading it all afternoon,” he said. “I have read it twice and I am going to read it a third time and I am going to read it to you now because there is a thing in it that I have never seen in fifty years of the priesthood.” He put his finger on a page. “The conspiracy clause. If a wolf of this pack conspires with a wolf of another pack to take the seat or the territory, that wolf is a traitor and the co-op shall try the wolf and the penalty is banishment. And if the wolf who conspires is the Alpha, the co-op shall set aside the seat and try the Alpha and the penalty is banishment and the seat shall pass to the next of the blood.”

“The next of the blood,” I said. “Not the claimant. The next of the blood.”

“The next of the blood.” Father Byrne looked at me. “And there is a thing about the line of Maeve that no one in this village has said out loud since 1961. Maeve had one daughter and the daughter had two daughters and one of them is your sister and the other is you. And your sister has no child and you have no child.” He was quiet a moment. “So the next of the blood is you.”

I sat down on the stool.

“Then there is a thing I have to ask,” I said. “And I am going to ask it and you are going to answer it and it is going to stay in this room. My sister was in the north in April and she was in Athlone from April to this morning and before that she was in this village for fifteen years. And there is a thing about her that no one has said out loud since she came back. She is forty four years old and she has no mate and no child and she has never spoken of either.” I looked at him. “Is there a child?”

Father Byrne was quiet for a long time.

“I do not know,” he said. “And there is a thing I have never told a living soul and that I am going to tell you now because you are going to stand on that headland tonight and because I am an old priest and I have been keeping a secret for twenty two years that I should have kept for one. In 1975 your sister came to this church in the winter and she was nineteen years old and she was frightened and she sat where you are sitting and she said, Father, I am going to have a child and I do not know what to do. And I said, who is the father, and she said, it does not matter, and I said, then you must tell your mother, and she said, my mother is dead and my father is dead and I have a sister in Dublin and I have nothing. And I said, then you will have the child and the parish will help you. And she said, no. She said, there is a woman in this village who takes children and she has taken children before and she has taken them to the north and she has brought them up and she is going to take mine.” He put his hand over his mouth and took it away. “And I said, that is a sin and I will not have it. And she said, then you will tell the co-op and the co-op will tell the Alpha and the Alpha will put me out of this territory and I will have nothing and the child will have nothing. And I did not tell the co-op. I told her I would pray for her and I let her go out of this church and I have never seen her since.”

The vestry was very quiet.

“Then she had the child,” I said.

“She had the child and the child was taken to the north and I have never known whether it was a boy or a girl and I have never known where it went.” Father Byrne sat down heavily on the stool. “And there is a thing about the woman who takes children that I did know and that I have never said. Her name was Eileen and she was the woman who was going to Galway and who took the girl in 1975 and who named her after herself. And she came back to this village in 1976 and she took another child and she took it to the north and she has been taking children out of this village since 1961.”

I stood up.

“Then there is a claimant,” I said. “A claimant who is the child of my sister and who was taken to the north in 1976 and who is the next of the blood after me. And there is a clause in the second charter that says the seat passes to the next of the blood if the Alpha is banished for conspiracy.” I looked at Father Byrne. “And there is a thing about the fight tonight that no one has said. If I fight her on the headland and I lose, the seat goes to her and the conspiracy is buried. But if I put the conspiracy clause in front of Ahern and the co-op and I prove that she conspired with the wolves from the north, the seat is set aside and the co-op tries her and the seat passes to the next of the blood. And the next of the blood is not my sister. It is a child who was taken to the north in 1976 and who is forty one years old and who does not know what they are.”

The door of the vestry opened and Cormac was standing in it with his face white and a paper in his hand.

“It is from the enforcer,” he said. “He wants to see you before the moon is up. He says he has a thing to offer you and he says it is the only thing that will keep this village alive.”