The House In The Valley

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Title:     The House In The Valley
Author: Seumas O'Brien [More Titles by O'Brien]

Down in the valley squirrels were busy climbing the hazel trees; rabbits made bold and ventured from their hiding places to gambol in the autumnal sunshine; weasels sported among the ferns; birds sang and insects buzzed, while nature looked on and smiled. Larch, birch, oak, and sycamore were altogether mingled, and perfect harmony there was in bower and hedgerow. Everybody came to the valley and everybody enjoyed coming, because there was no place like it. There was no color that you could not find there; but if you searched all day and all night too, only one house could you find in all its leafy splendor. Nor was it a large house. Just two stories high, with medium-sized windows below and small dormer windows on top. The roof was made of thatch, and the thatch, from being bleached in the sun, had turned to a golden hue. The walls, no one could tell what they were made of, so well were they covered with ivy and other green creepers. In the garden in front there were roses, pinks, and geraniums; and in the garden behind, nasturtiums, money-musk, and golden feather grew on a rockery made of large stones that were brought from Conlan's Strand, where the children of Lir (before they became swans) used to play and watch the great ships sailing over the seas. It was a beautiful place to live, was this house, and whosoever looked upon it never forgot the house in the valley.

"This is a wonderful place, surely!" said a stranger, as he looked down from a crag and surveyed the winding valley beneath.

"A more wonderful place you could not find in a lifetime," responded Micus Pat, as he lit his pipe.

"I believe you," said the stranger. "Sure, 'tis ten years of my life I'd give to own that house," as he pointed to where blue smoke was curling skywards. "Who built it at all, I'd like to know?"

"Sit down there," said Micus Pat, as he pointed to a fallen tree, "and I'll tell you."

And this is what he told:

 

"Well, it all happened when His Royal Highness the Czar of Russia came on a visit to the Mayor of Cahermore."

"That must have been a long time ago," interrupted the stranger.

"Of course it was," said Micus. "But, as I was saying, when His Royal Highness came to the town, there was great excitement entirely. Every man, woman, and child put on their Sunday clothes, and never before nor since was there such eating and drinking, nor such dancing and singing. Flags were flying from the windows and the housetops, and the birds in the cages and the birds in the trees sang until they got so hoarse that they couldn't sing any more. The Czar himself was delighted, and some say that he grew two inches taller from all he had seen: but he wasn't much of a man at that. He was just an inch or so bigger than yourself, and maybe a bit better looking, but who'd be boasting about such things, anyway? Well, though the Czar was neither big nor small, good looking nor bad looking, all the Grand Dukes and Grand Duchesses were the sight of the world. They too were delighted with themselves and everybody else, and all went well until the Czar was making his speech, and Bryan O'Loughlin taking it down in shorthand."

"What did he want taking down the speech for?" said the stranger.

"I'm surprised at your ignorance," said Micus. "Sure you ought to know that the Czar gets all his speeches printed and gives them to his children to read during the cold wintry nights in Russia. There's so much frost and snow there that His Royal Highness never leaves his children run about the roads to warm themselves, like other children, for fear of their getting chilblains and toothaches."

"He must be a good father, then," said the stranger.

"Of course he is," said Micus, and he proceeded. "Well, the speech was wonderfully worded and loudly applauded, and nearly ended, when a loud report rang out like as if some one was trying to blow up the world--"

"The Lord save us!" said the stranger.

"Amen!" said Micus. "And when the silence was resumed, some one shouted at the top of his voice. 'Anarchists! Anarchists! Anarchists!'"

"What is an anarchist?" asked the stranger.

"An anarchist," answered Micus, "is one who don't know what's the matter with himself or the world, and cares as little about his own life as he does about any one else's."

"There are a lot of fools in the world, I'm thinking," said the stranger.

"There are, thank God," replied Micus. "Well, as true as I'm telling you, every one in the place took to their heels when the great noise came, except Bryan O'Loughlin and the Czar himself. And if you looked out through the windows of the Town Hall, you'd see for miles and miles and miles along the roads nothing but Grand Dukes and fair ladies, soldiers and sailors, and they flying helter-skelter as though the Devil, or Cromwell himself, was after them."

"And what did the Czar himself say?" queried the stranger.

"'The pusillanimous varmints,' ses he, as he trod the floor with disdain; and then, lo and behold! another blast rang out, and the Czar with all his swords and medals fell into Bryan's arms, and cried out! 'I'm a dead man,' ses he. 'Bury me with my mother's people!'

"But he was no more dead than myself, for he only stepped on a blank cartridge which was dropped by some of the Grand Dukes in the scrummage for the doors--and that's what nearly took the senses from His Royal Highness the Czar of Russia.

"Well, when he came to himself some time after, he ses to Bryan: 'You're a brave man,' ses he, 'and you must be rewarded for your valor,' and Bryan felt as proud as the Duke of Wellington and he after putting the comether on poor Napoleon; and to show how little he cared for danger, he trod on every cartridge he saw on the floor, and if you were there you'd think 'twas at the battle of Vinegar Hill you were.

"'Be careful,' ses the Czar, 'one of them cartridges might be loaded. I can see you are a brave man' (and he was too, for he was married three times, and he a widower, and he but three and thirty). 'There's nothing like discretion,' ses the Czar, 'if you want to keep alive and out of trouble.'

"'I'm afraid of nothing,' ses Bryan. 'And I'll always befriend a stranger in a foreign country.'

"And when the Czar heard that, he ses: 'Bryan O'Loughlin of Cahermore, come here to me,' and Bryan came. 'Sit down there,' ses he, 'while I fill my pipe,' and when his pipe was filled, he up and ses, as he drew a lot of photographs from his pocket: 'These are my seven daughters,' ses he, and Bryan was delighted and surprised, so he ses: 'And is their mother living too?' 'She is, indeed,' says the Czar, and without saying another word he pulls her photograph out of another pocket, and when Bryan sees it, he ses: ''Pon my word, she's a fine, decent, grauver looking woman, and I wouldn't mind having her for a mother myself, only she looks too like a protestant.'

"'She was the Duchess of Skatchachivouchi,' ses the Czar.

"'Is that so? Well, then, she comes of a real decent family,' ses Bryan.

"'Now,' ses the Czar, 'I want to reward you for your wonderful courage, so you can have your choice of my seven daughters,' ses he, 'and I'll make you Duke of Siberia besides.'

"But Bryan neither hummed nor hawed, and only asked him for the fill of his pipe, and when both were puffing away together, ses Bryan to the Czar: 'I can see you are a decent man, and I must thank you for your kindness, and indeed I must say also that your daughters are fine respectable-looking young women, and I'm sure that they would make good wives if they were well looked after. But I promised my last wife, and she on her dying bed, that I would never marry any one again but the King of Spain's daughter.'

"And when he had all that said, the Czar looked very sad, and turned as pale as a ghost, and all he said was: 'Well, I couldn't do any more for you,' and then ses he: 'Is there any place down here where we can have a drink?'

"'There is,' said Bryan, 'down in the glen at the Fox and Hounds.'

"So off they marched together, and after they treated each other to three halfs of whiskey each, the Czar looked very tired and forlorn, and said, as they made a short cut through St. Kevin's boreen, and observed the clouds of night coming on from east and west, and south and north, and not a friend nor an enemy in sight: 'Well,' ses he, 'how the devil am I to reach the shore in safety? I'm a mighty monarch, and I must have a bodyguard.'

"To all this, and more besides, Bryan listened, but never a word did he say until he smoked nearly all the Czar's tobacco, and burnt all his matches; and then all of a sudden he ses, 'Leave it to me,' ses he. 'I can get you a bodyguard.'

"'I wouldn't doubt you,' ses the Czar, as he slipped him a guinea. 'You can have this,' ses he, 'as you wouldn't have any of my daughters and be made the Duke of Siberia. But we'll none the less be friends,' ses he. 'Life is a tragedy or a comedy according to the way you look at it.'

"'The world's a stage,' says Bryan, 'but most of the actors don't know how to act: they are only supers at best!'

"'That's so,' ses the Czar. 'But what about my bodyguard?'

"'I'm thinking of it,' ses Bryan. 'Do you know my brother Larry?'

"'No,' says the Czar, 'the pleasure isn't mine.

"'Well, he's a second corporal in the Ballygarvan Lancers, and he's a great friend of the sergeant's, and between us I think we can find a bodyguard.'

"And as true as I'm telling you, after supper that night the Czar of Russia marched through the streets of Cahermore with a bodyguard of the Ballygarvan Lancers behind and before him, and Bryan out in front leading the way, with a gun on his shoulder and a sword by his side, and everybody taking off their hats to him as he passed."

"And what happened to the Czar?" inquired the stranger.

"He went on board his warship and sacked all his generals, admirals, and Grand Dukes, and when he went back to Russia, he sent over his architect and masons to build a house for Bryan, and that's the house in the valley beyond."

"And was that the end of Bryan O'Loughlin and the Czar of Russia?"

"No," answered Micus. "Every Christmas his Royal Highness used to send Bryan Christmas cards from himself and the wife and children, and a box of blessed candles besides, and a bag of birdseed for the linnets, and sweetpea seed for the garden also; and there was no happier man in the whole world than Bryan till the day he died. And that's the end of my story."

"I think 'tis time to be going home now," said the stranger. "The swallows are flying low, and night will be overtaking me before I will be over the mountain."

"Don't get wet, whatever you do," said Micus. "It's bad for the rheumatics."

[The end]
Seumas O'Brien's short story: House In The Valley

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