Chapter 5 No Good Deed…

 

Chapter 5 No Good Deed…

In which we meet Aoibheann Cúan’s sister again and in which there is a tragedy.

Aoibheann sat on Leah her big grey mare at the start of her event. Nobody knew why the slim red-haired girl astride her mare was so good at eventing. She slim but also strong and wiry, but where some people socialised with air kisses, fake tan, concert tickets and boys, Aoibheann was happiest galloping around a forest path or race-course astride Leah, leaping fences, spanning streams, climbing hills or dropping down a descent and nothing, nothing excelled that moment when she and Leah took off from the earth over a high fence of six or seven feet as free as a lark in the air.

Today was a Leinster regional competition in Clara Lara in the Wicklow Hills. There was a lot riding on doing well in the competition, competing in the national finals was at stake but for Aoibheann it was the bond between rider and horse that made all the difference, her tone urging and directing or calculating and slowing Leah as they approached each jump. “Easy girl, now up! Well done, gallop, gallop, my dear girl!” And Leah responded willingly, joyfully as excited and strong as if she too would have chosen eventing if she were asked.

On the last way in to the close there was a tricky down hill jump over logs into a stream and an abrupt right turn which Aoibheann and Leah executed perfectly. Aoibheann knew to lean well back on the jump to avoid being tossed violently in the river, and to take it slowly understanding that after seven minutes of hard racing and jumping Leah would be tired and more error prone. The time was important but not as important as the health and welfare of Leah. A bad landing or a fall could result in a broken leg leading to death. Nothing was worse than that. As soon as Leah felt Aoibheann relax the reins her leap hung that extra long second giving her time to assess the drop. She did not need the light right tug of the rein to avoid the stream but wheeled neatly right to the path where the hoof marks of previous riders indicated the proper turn. Aoibheann leaned into Leah’s right ear and said, “Well done, good girl, ears up let’s go.” And they flew through the remainder of the course setting a new record for this course of seven minutes fifty seconds.

As Aoibheann swung down from Leah she noticed Maeve Naughten her wealthy rival from the big house on the main road ‘Connaught House’ with her large black stallion ‘King Arthur’ entering the starting area. She observed the pretty blonde ringleted girl who was in the same year and the same school as her. Maeve was perfectly made up with shining saddle and tack with silver tips and she was even wearing neat pearl studs. It was as if she thought this was a beauty pageant. King Arthur was snorting lustily. My, he’s eager Aoibheann, I hope he’s not too eager or she won’t be able to handle him. Aoibheann thought of the last obstacle which if the horse sailed over blindly, the rider would need to curb the horse’s wild instincts. Maeve’s investment banker daddy was very rich but spent a lot of time in London. As a result Maeve got everything a girl could want but very little of what every spoiled girl needed, a parent. In truth, Aoibheann felt sorry for this poor little rich queen bee before her. “Good luck, Maeve!” she called over, “And mind that last drop!” Maeve pretended not to hear her but heard the count. Five, four, three, two, one! She kicked her heels into King Arthur’s sides, and he leapt forward into a gallop straight away and they were gone.

Suddenly the sky darkened, and a murder of ten or twelve chattering crows wheeled around her head and distracted her. They were large and settled in a tall oak tree nearby. All they did was hop and caw and look down at her with their beady black eyes. Aoibheann ignored them, remembering that the Irish for crow is préachán which almost sounded like their harsh, guttural calls. They were scavengers too, feeding off the dead. “Ignore them, Leah.” She said brushing down the greys shuddering sides, briskly. The horse turned her big eyes toward Aoibheann and snickered contentedly.

After seven minutes a shout went up and her mum, Gráinne shouted, “It’s the Naughten girl, she’s down.” Immediately Aoibheann tied Leah to the horse box by her bridle and started running to where the course stewards had set up a whistle for help.

She arrived on the scene to see King Arthur collapsed and whinnying in pain with a broken leg. A vet was examining the animal who was whinnying pitifully. Maeve was slouched upon a rock dripping wet with her helmet gone and blood flowing from a cut on her cheek. She was furious and was looking daggers over at the injured stallion. Her expression said it all and told the whole story. There was no care or concern, no shame or humility, nothing, but anger and blame written in her mouth expression and fiery eyes. The vet stood up, reached into his bag and looking down ruefully down at the horse, drew a pistol and shot the horse in its head putting it out of its suffering. Maeve leapt up and screamed, “Why did you do that!” “Because I had to.” Answered the vet. “Do you know how much that horse cost?” screamed Maeve. “No,” replied the vet, “but I know what it cost me.” He then turned on his heel and, picking up his bag, trudged back up the bank.

Aoibheann was horrified. Something of her expression caught Maeve’s eye. “And what are you looking at?” she said. Aoibheann shook her head and said nothing. “Why did you have to get such a good time?” questioned Maeve. “What do you mean?” answered Aoibheann. “Your big mare made me push King Arthur to the limit, it was your fault!” said Maeve hotly. “I’m sorry.” Was all that Aoibheann could say while she thought ‘it’s true that no good deed goes unpunished.’ This girl was blaming her and accepting no blame for her own poor judgement. “Sell me your horse!” challenged Maeve.

“No way!” answered Aoibheann,“buy another horse.” “It’s all your fault and I want your horse.” Said Maeve coldly. “I’m not selling Leah and especially not to a spoilt brat like you. You wouldn’t know how to care for her,” said Aoibheann looking Maeve steadily in her deliberate stare. “You will sell me your horse if you know what’s good for you, I know where you live Aoibheann Cullen and if you don’t sell me your horse, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

The threat hung in the air like an unsheathed weapon. Aoibheann set her jaw, realising that she had nothing in common with the bully in front of her. “I wouldn’t part with Leah out of greed and I’ll never part with her out of fear. I don’t take any joy in seeing your fine animal put down, but you’ll find that you can’t always get what you want. I warned you about that last jump out of the goodness of my heart, but I see now that no good deed goes unpunished. The best advice I can give you Maeve Naughten is, walk away, cry for your stallion certainly but think before you buy another one. As for your threats… I forgive you.”

And with that Aoibheann turned and followed the path that the vet had taken up the bank and away. Behind her the crowd closed in around Maeve to comfort her and gradually they too made their way up the back as someone threw a waxed jacket over the horses, head. When it was all quiet a large grey hooded crow flapped down and picking up a dead leaf splashed by some of the rich girl’s blood flapped over to a quiet pool by the stream and disappeared through its surface without making a single ripple. Bird, leaf and blood, slipping out of this world, into the next.