Gather round young children as I tell you a tale of the two McDerbin
brothers. In the Early nineteenth
century Ireland was a lush and beautiful place to be. The people were happy and
they sang songs of joy to how great their lives were. Now many have heard about
the Irish ability to imbibe copious amounts of spirits, but it was not known
that at this time nery a drop of intoxicating drink would pass the lips of any
Irishman. There is even a saying from the time, “By avoiding liquors, lagers,
and ales, one can be sure to be happy, wealthy, and wells.” Let us look now on
the hamlet of Claouth where the brothers live happily with their mother.
“Shamus! Darbish! Come inside. I need help.” Erin called to
her boys. She was old and frail, life had been mostly kind to her, but the
years were easily wearing on her by this point. The two young men entered the
house, they were breathing heavy from tilling the farmland behind their
cottage. Shamus, who always seems to have a perky glint in his eyes, looked
around the room and saw his mother standing over a large pot on the stove.
Darbish, the elder by a year, pushed Shamus aside as he entered.
“What is it yah need ma?” Darbish asked with a slight
annoyance in his voice. “We still have half a field to till before sundown if
we are going to get a good crop this year.”
“Watch how you talk to be boy!” Erin exclaimed as she
painfully turned to him. “I need help moving the pot off the stove to cool your
supper.”
“Absolutely ma,” Shamus said as he ran over to the stove and
pulled the pot off. Erin smiled at her youngest son, and then shot a pensive
look at the other.
“You could learn some manners from your younger brother, Darbish.”
“Oh aye, I could.” Darbish said in a playful way, “or I could
get the fields done so that we will have more supper to eat in the future.”
“One day we will figure out how to have many riches and we
won’t have to worry about fields anymore.” Shamus said dreamily.
“Corse, an I hope that day comes soon. I can get supper from
here,” Erin chided, “Go and get the fields done with yah.”
For the McDerbins, life was going well. But, as they say, not
all things can stay great forever. Then one day, the crops began to die off all
across the land. The people had no idea what was happening, fear and doubt was
working its way into the collective psyche. Erin, whom was already quite frail,
came down with an affliction. The doctors that came to see her were bewildered
by her condition, as it wasn’t just the normal passing of time on her and it
wasn’t anything else they had seen before.
The townsfolk took this as a serious omen and convince
themselves that the failing crops and Erin’s malady are connected. Rumors began
spreading all around the village and with each retelling become more and more
blown out of proportion. Within days most of the residents believe that Erin is
a witch and she is causing the crops to fail as she is passing. In the middle
of the night the villagers formed a mob and with pitchforks and torches
assembled in front of their home to satiate their aggressions and fears.
-V-
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