My People: Stories of the Peasantry of West Wales/Greater than Love
GREATER THAN LOVE
XIII
GREATER THAN LOVE
Esther knew the sun had risen because she could number the ripening cheeses arrayed on the floor against the wall. She threw back the shawl and sacks that covered her, and descending by the ladder into the kitchen, withdrew the bolt and opened the door.
“Goodness all! Late terrible am I,” she said to the young man who entered. “Bring you the cows in a hurry, boy bach.”
“Talk you like that, Esther, when the old animals are in the close.”
Esther knelt on the hearth and lit the dried furze thereon.
“The buckets are in the milk-house,” she went on. “Boy bach, hie you away off and make a start. Come I will as soon as I am ready.”
The young man shuffled across the floor into the dairy. He came back with two buckets and a wooden tub, and he placed the tub on the ground and sat on its edge.
“This is the day of the seaside,” he said.
Esther turned her face away from the smoke that ascended from the fire.
“Indeed, indeed, now, Sam bach!” she cried, “and you don’t say so then!”
“Esther fach, vexful the move of your tongue. Say to me whose cart is carting you?”
“Who speeched that I was going, Sam the son of Ginni?”
“Don’t you be laughing, Esther. Tell me now whose cart is carting you.”
“Go I would for sure into Morfa, but, dear me, no one will have me,” said Esther.
“What for you cry mischief when there’s no mischief to be?“ said Sam.
Esther tore off pieces of peat and arranged them lightly on the furze.
“Nice place is Morfa,” she observed.
“Girl fach, iss,” Sam said. “Nice will be to go out in Twmmi’s boat. Speak you that you will spend the day with me.”
“How say Catrin! Sober serious! How will Catrin the daughter of Rachel speak if you don't go with her?”
“Mention you Catrin, Esther fach, what for?”
“Is there not loud speakings that you have courted Catrin in bed? Very full is her belly.”
“Esther! Esther! Why you make me savage like an old rabbit? Why for play old pranks? Wench fach, others have been into Catrin. If I die, this is true. Do you believe me now?”
Esther plagued him, saying:
“Bring me small fairings home, Sam bach. Did I not give you a knife when I went to the Fair of the Month of April?”
Sam took out his knife, and sharpened the blade on the leather of his clog.
“Grateful was I for the nice knife,” he said. “Did I not stick Old Shemmi’s pig with it, Esther fach?”
“Well—well, then?”
“Look you, there’s old murmuring that you were taken in mischief with the Schoolin’ in Abram’s hen loft,” said Sam.
Esther rose to her feet and looked upon him. This is the manner of man she saw: a short, bent-shouldered, stunted youth; his face had never been shaved and was covered with tawny hair, and his eyes were sluggish.
Esther laughed.
“Boy bach, unfamiliar you are,” she said.
“Mam did say,” Sam proceeded,” that I ought not to wed a shiftless female who doesn’t take Communion in Capel Sion.”
“Your mother Old Ginni is right,” said Esther. “Keep you on with Catrin. Ugly is Catrin with bad pimples in her face. But listen you, Sam; a large ladi I will be. I don't want louts like you.”
The fire was under way; Esther rolled up to her waist her outer petticoat and she put on an apron.
”Why sit you there like a donkey?” she cried. “Away you and do the milking.”
”Esther fach, come you to Morfa,” Sam pleaded.
”For sure I’m coming to Morfa,” Esther answered. “But not with you. Am I not going to find a love there?”
Then they went forth into the close to milk Old Shemmi’s cows, and while they did so each chanted:
- “There's a nice cow is Gwen!
- Milk she gives indeed!
- More milk, little Gwen; more milk!
- A cow fach is Gwen,”
thereby coaxing the animals to give their full yield.
When the milk was separated Esther put on her Sabbath garments and drew her red hair tightly over her forehead, and she took her place in Shemmi’s hay-waggon. There were many in the waggon other than Esther and Sam, for the custom is that the farmer takes his servants and those who have helped him without payment in the hayfield freely on a set day to the Sea of Morfa.
Shemmi’s waggon reached Morfa before the dew had lifted, and towards the heat of the day (after they had eaten) the people of Manteg gathered together. One said: “Come you down to the brim now, and let us wash our little bodies.” The men bathed nakedly: the women had brought spare petticoats with them, and these they wore when they were in the water.
Esther changed her behaviour when she got to Morfa, and she feigned herself above all who had come from Manteg, and while she sat alone in the shadow of a cliff there came to her Hws Morris, a young man who was in training to be a minister. Mishtir Morris was elegant: his clothes were black and he had a white collar around his neck and white cuffs at the ends of his sleeves, and on his feet he had brown shoes of canvas.
Hws Morris took off from his head his black hat, which was of straw, and said to Esther:
“Sure now, come you from Squire Pryce’s household? You are his daughter indeed?”
“Stranger bach,” answered Esther, “say you like that, what for?”
“A ladi you seem,” said Hws Morris.
Esther was vain, and she did not perceive through the man’s artifice.
“Indeed, indeed, then,” said Hws Morris, “speak from where you are.”
“Did you not say I was Squire Pryce’s daughter?” said Esther.
“Ho, ho, old boy wise is Squire Pryce.”
Esther turned her eyes upon the bathers. Catrin and another woman were knee-deep in the water; between them, their hands linked, Sam. She heard Bertha Daviss crying from the shore: “Don’t you wet it, Sam bach.”
Hws Morris placed the tips of his fingers into his ears.
“This,” he mourned, “after two thousands years of religion. They need the little Gospel.”
“Very respectable to be a preacher it is,” said Esther.
“And to be a preacher’s mistress,” said Hws Morris. “Great is the work the Big Man has called me to do.”
A murmuring came from the women on the beach: Sam was struggling in the water. Esther moved a little nearer the sea.
“Where was you going to, then?” asked Hws Morris. “You was not going to bathe with them?”
“Why for no?”
“See you how immodest they are. Girl fach, stay you here. If you need to wash your body, go you round to the backhead of the old stones and take off your clothes and bathe where no eyes will gaze on you.”
The murmuring now sounded violent: Lloyd the Schoolin’ was swimming towards Sam.
Esther passed beyond the stones, and in a cave she cast off her clothes and walked into the sea; and having cleansed herself, she dried her skin in the heat of the sun. When she got out from the cave, Hws Morris came up to her.
“Hungry you are,” he said to her. “Return you into the cave and eat a little of this cake.”
He led her far inside, so far that they could not see anything that was outside. Hws Morris placed his arm over Esther’s shoulders, and his white fingers moved lightly over her breast to her thigh. He stole her heart.
Esther heard a voice crying her name.
“Wench fach,” said Hws Morris to her, “let none know of our business.”
Sam shouted her name against the rocks and over the sea; he cried it in the ears of strange people and at the doors of strange houses. Towards dusk he said to the women who were waiting for Shemmi’s hay waggon to start home: “Little females, why is Esther not here?”
Catrin jeered at him: “Filling her belly is Esther.”
“But say you've seen Esther fach!” Sam cried.
“Twt, twt!” said Bertha Daviss. “What’s the matter with the boy? Take him in your arms, Catrin, and take him to your bed.”
“Speak you Esther is not drowned,” Sam urged.
“Drowned!” Catrin repeated loudly. “Good if the bad concubine is.”
“Evil is the wench,” said Bertha Daviss. “Remember how she tried to snare Rhys Shop.”
“Fond little women,” Sam cried, “say you that Esther fach is not drowned.”
“Sam, indeed to goodness,” Bertha said to him, “trouble not your mind about a harlot.”
“Now, dear me,” answered Sam, “foolish is your speech, Bertha. How shall I come home without Esther?”
“There's Catrin, Sam bach. Owe you nothing to Catrin? Is she not in child by you?”
Old Shemmi’s hay waggon came into the roadway, and Sam said to the man who drove the horse:
“Male bach nice, don’t you begin before Esther comes, and she will be soon. Maybe she’s sleeping.”
“In the arms of a man,” said Catrin.
Sam placed his hands around his mouth and shouted Esther’s name.
The people entered the waggon: Sam remained in the road.
“Find you her, Sam bach!” Catrin cried. “Ask the Bad Spirit if he has seen her.”
Old Shemmi’s mare began the way home.
Sam hastened back to the beach: the tide was coming in, and he walked through the waters, shouting, moaning, and lamenting. At last he beheld Esther, and an awful wrath was kindled within him. As he had loved her, so he now hated her: he hated even more than he had loved her. He had gone on the highway that ends in Llanon. At a little distance in front of him he saw her with a man, and he crept close to them and he heard their voices.
He heard Esther saying:
“Don’t you send me away now. Let me stay with you.”
The man answered: “Shut your throat, you temptress. For why did you flaunt your body before my religious eyes?”
“Did you not make fair speeches to me?” said Esther.
“Terrible is your sin,” said the man. “Turn away from me. Little Big Man bach, forgive me for eating of the wench’s fruit.”
Sam came up to them by stealth.
“Out of your head you must be, boy bach, to make sin with Esther,” he said.
Hws Morris looked into Sam’s face, and a horrid fear struck him, and he ran; and Sam opened his knife and running after him, caught him and killed him. He had difficulty in drawing away the blade, because it had entered into the man’s skull. Then he returned to the place where Esther was, and her he killed also.