Kindle Edition
Amazon
Amazon
Category:
Historical Fiction
Publisher: Dr Bob Rich
Type: Fiction
Pages: 333
Copyright: May, 2017
ISBN-13: 9781521212677
Price: $3.93 (eBook)
Child of the land, fruit of an evil deed, instrument of Love: how a girl in Victorian times conquered hate and disdain.
A superior Person has been assigned as guardian angel for people on earth, but first needs to live as a human. For Her first life, She chooses to be born as the daughter of Glindi, an Australian Aboriginal woman who had been raped by a white man. Instead of dark brown, the baby is the colour of a mud frog. Glindi names her Maraglindi, meaning "Glindi's sorrow," and her loving nickname is Froggie.
It is 1850, the times of Queen Victoria. White invaders consider the native people to be animals, and impose dreadful living conditions on them.
During the fourteen years until she dies, Maraglindi encounters everything that intolerant, cruel Victorian society can do. On one occasion, seven white boys set their dogs on black toddlers, killing one. Six of these boys die from the magic man's retribution. The seventh, Gerald, is transformed by the experience, and becomes a friend and advocate of Aboriginals.
Glindi becomes a wet nurse for Alice MacCaffery's baby, and "Mrs Mac" comes to love Maraglindi. Impressed by the little girl's intelligence, Alice sends her to Mrs Talbot's Ladies' Academy in Newcastle.
Kirsten Petersen and her friends are outraged that "a half-caste Abo slut" could have been admitted to the school they are so proud of, but by the end of her first year, Maraglindi has conquered the hearts of all those capable of love.
Maraglindi is killed by a drunkard in horrific circumstances, but even then, in a twist of the tale, she has the last word and promises him a chance at redemption.
Having finished her education, Kirsten Petersen is back home in Griscombe. Her father has arranged a marriage to Luke, who has been bullying and torturing her for the past 14 years. Now, he thinks to overcome her resistance by raping her and getting her with child.
Gerald is appointed as Deacon to Griscombe, and saves Kirsten from Luke in his first week there. But Luke is the only son of the town's ruler, the wealthiest man and magistrate.
Maraglindi's ongoing Spirit wants Gerald and Kirsten as her second pair of parents. But can they overcome the opposition of the town's two most powerful men?
This meticulously researched book of historical fiction is very relevant to our current world with its new infection of hatred, discrimination and fear of those different from us.
Excerpt
Mick opened his eyes to see the doorway as a faint rectangle, with a bit of a breeze fluttering the makeshift curtain. He rolled to his feet, quickly dressed and walked out into the pink of dawn. Somehow, something was wrong. He heard a sound that should not have been there, a faint drumming in the soles of his bare feet. Galloping horses.
Then it was too late to do anything. Five horses charged into the little collection of huts. Five hated men rode them, shouting and yelling now.
A brown gelding with Archie McTaskill on it shouldered into a hut, knocking it sideways. Screams came from inside.
A terrible, sharp sting struck Mick's chest. His already tattered shirt split in two.
Whiskey bottle in his left hand, whip in the right, Harry Highfield shouted, "We're having a hunt. Run, ya black bastard!" Mick's blood stained the end of the whip.
Richardson, coming in last, yelled, "Nah! Not yet, it's no sport that way. Line up five bucks, and we'll give 'em five minutes' start."
The two Geery brothers rode together, as always. Each held a gun, and their eyes looked crazy. Jim Geery said, "Everyone out or we'll start shootin' into the hovels!"
Mick knew that people would be huddling within their homes, and many understood little English. So, he shouted in the language, "You must come outside or they start killing. Come out now."
People did. Mick saw scared faces and tense bodies, as they slowly emerged. Glindi walked out from their hut, already swelling a little with the next child, carrying Maraglindi. Jila supported her with a hand on her other arm. The three older children huddled close to them. Within minutes, the terrified little crowd stood there, waiting.
Richardson nudged his horse into a slow walk, and pointed his gun at Riso, then in quick succession at Tiri, Mick's younger brother Tako, Harodim, and finally at Mick.
"I have a wife and children," he said.
Tom Geery lifted his gun, and Mick saw little Kohli's head explode. Red gore splashed Glindi and the other children. Kohli's body flew back against the hut, then slid to the ground.
Silence followed the bang. Then Tom laughed into it as he started to reload his gun. "One less, ya black bastard. Argue, will ya?"
Mick's inside froze. He had never been this angry in his life, but it was a cold, calculating anger. "I will run," he said, surprising himself with the level tone of his voice. He then turned to the other four, and said in the language, "Start running now. If I can, I'll delay them for a little while. Go!"
They took off at a lope, toward the forest, maybe half a mile to the north.
"You too!" Jim Geery said with a sneer, pointing his gun.
Mick said, "What your Jesus think about this, ey?"
Richardson waved at Jim to stop him from shooting. He sneered down at Mick. "Jesus is fer people, not fer monkeys. Now run ya black bastard or I will let him shoot ya."
Mick ran.
He didn't know what a monkey was, but this monkey had teeth. His three spears and the launcher were hidden under the fallen log, a few steps within the forest.
As he ran, his heart's eyes kept seeing his daughter's headless little body, slumping down. They could do nothing worse than this. He would kill them.
He reached the trees, and as soon as he was under cover, he turned left and found the mossy old fallen log. He picked up his weapons, then stopped on the north side of a tall tree. He called on the Spirits, as on a hunt. They can't see me... they can't see me, he kept chanting without sound, over and over.
This magic worked on kangaroos and emus. It worked on the white men. He felt the vibration of their coming through the ground, heard the hoof beats and the men's drunken shouting. Two charged past, then two more. Being heaviest, Richardson was the last by more than a horse's length.
Mick had a spear ready, its end snuggled into the launcher. He drew back his arm and hurled true.
The force of the spear threw Richardson forward. He slid to the ground on the right side of his horse. The animal slowed, and then stopped well beyond.
Mick was there in an instant. The spear had struck the back of the man's fat neck and exited through his mouth. Mick jerked it out, then turned the big body over. Blood gushed from Richardson's mouth, and his eyes looked puzzled. Mick placed the point of the spear on his chest and put all his weight on it. Through the heart. Good, he thought. This one was for Glindi.
He knew the big mare, he'd trained her himself before Richardson had bought her. He clicked his tongue, and the horse came to him. He mounted, and then got her to run. If he'd had the time, he'd have killed the monster slowly, but four others waited...
He lay down flat over the horse's neck, holding his spears horizontally, and once more invoked the magic: They can't see me... They can't see me...
The other white men had spread out, riding among trees as they were. Mick used his knees to steer the horse toward Harry -- payback time for the whipping.
Harry must have heard his coming, for he turned in the saddle. "Hey, Isaac, where are ya?" he asked, then louder, "Richarson's off his horse!"
Close enough. Mick sat up, right arm already drawing back. Harry's mouth opened, whether to shout or in surprise, Mick didn't care. His spear entered that open mouth, with enough force that its broken tip lifted the man's hat off his head.
Harry crashed to the ground as Mick galloped past.
"Whatya sayin', Harry?" came Archie's high-pitched voice from the left. He rode into sight, and like Harry Highfield, his look of amazement was comical, but Mick wasn't laughing.
Archie lifted his gun as the two horses approached each other at a great rate. Mick had his next spear ready, but too slow. He threw as he saw the gun's recoil punch into the white man's shoulder.
The bullet went someplace, nowhere near him, but the spear flew true. Archie was thrown backward as the two horses raced past each other.
But now the Geery brothers were coming at him, side by side, guns raised. He threw himself to the right and jerked the horse's head around too. Instantly, he pulled her left. He heard the two guns shoot, almost at the same time. A frightening whistle went past him, then he rode for the brothers again.
Jim was raising his right hand. It held a short gun.
Mick fitted his last spear and threw. He saw it penetrate Jim's chest.
Tom, the one Mick really wanted, wheeled his horse to the south and kicked it into a gallop. Back to town...
No time to retrieve a spear. Mick urged his horse forward, with kindness as always, not like the wretch ahead who used whip and spurs to torture more speed out of his mount.
Go horse! He killed my daughter! Go horse! He killed my daughter! Mick's inner chant carried him closer and closer to his quarry.
Tom was heavier than Mick, and Mick could always get the best out of any animal.
At exactly the right time, he stood on the saddle and leapt. Hands around Tom's neck, he dragged the two of them to the ground. He landed with Tom under him and they rolled over and over.
Finally they stopped moving, Tom underneath again. Mick stared into his terrified eyes as he squeezed the last bit of life out of him.
He was unable to move for a long time, just lay in the long grass, exhaustion and grief and the last remnant of anger weighing him down.
At last, he felt the running footsteps from the north, and then his four friends were with him.
Tako said, "Brother, ey, you have killed them!"
Mick struggled to his feet. "I have killed all five of the monsters. May their spirits rot forever."
"That's wonderful," Riso, the eldest, said. "But now what will they do to the people, ey?"
"What were they doing to the people already, ey? This rotten shit" -- he kicked Tom's head -- "killed my darling little Kohli."
"I know, Mikadaragutara." Riso's use of Mick's full name meant serious business. "Now we must protect our people from payback."
Harodim started to laugh, although the sound was savage rather than happy. The others looked at him.
"Risobanda, your Father and his Father before him and his Father before him were magic men, all the way back to the Spirit Ancestors, ey?"
"Yes, and I also know the magic."
"Then you have used it. These white men hunted us. We went into a secret place in the forest, and there you used your magic and turned them into black ravens and they flew away."
Tako said, "We first have to get rid of the bodies."
That was not a problem. Mick answered, "We tie stones to them and throw them into the river, well downstream. I have watched them clean their guns before, so I am sure I can do it. We clean their guns so it looks like they have not been used, except for this Tom monster's, because he used it... at our place." He had to stop a moment to gather himself. "And we make sure the horses look exactly the way they should, no trace of blood or anything but sweated up from running, then let them wander off. They are sure to get to their homes some time or other. Then, Risobanda, you need to put on a convincing storytelling for the white men. Trick them into believing. And you know Sergeant Dawson is a good man. He'll be angry with them for killing a child."
"Sure. I can do that."
It was nearly night by the time the five bodies were safely at the bottom of the river, and the five men were able to go home.
Mick saw Glindi, sitting on the ground, cuddling a little shape wrapped in one of their sleeping blankets. Her eyes were swollen and red, but she was no longer crying.
She looked up and a brief smile came to her lips. "You're still alive. Good."
"I have killed all five."
"Good."
Maraglindi was snuggling against her mother's side. Now she stood and held out her arms. Mick picked her up and was instantly comforted. He felt the tension go from his shoulders. The little girl took hold of his beard and turned his head. Her green eyes gazed into his, and then she spoke the first words he had ever heard her say: "Kohli happy now. I look after her." This made no sense to him whatever, but all the same, a feeling of peace and acceptance soothed his spirit.
The police came the next morning. Sergeant Dawson rode in, with two troopers behind him. He came to Mick's hut and dismounted. "G'day, Mick."
"G'day, Sergeant."
"I may need your tracking skills."
"What happen, ey?
"Five men must have gone out yesterday, but their horses came back without them."
"Sure thing. I help. Who, ey?"
"The Geery boys, Harry Highfield, Isaac Richardson and Archie McTaskill."
"Then Sergeant, I happy they lost. All cruel men."
Dawson looked shocked. "Archie is a Church elder. Richardson is one of the richest men in the district. You cannot make such a statement, my lad."
"Sergeant, I know people from what they do. These are not kind to my people. You, fair man. Hard if needed, that is good, ey? But you are not cruel."
"Thanks for the reference, lad. Now I'd like you to come to Richardson's, that's the nearest, and backtrack their horses to see where they've been."
Mick had to think fast. If he showed the white man the tracks, they would lead back to the village, right here. Then he'd be caught for not telling the truth. Should he tell the Sergeant about yesterday's hunt, and then use Riso's magical demonstration? He knew the magic man was ready with his show. But would it be safer to mislead the police?
Dawson looked at him. "Somethin's on your mind, Mick." Mick looked at the solid strength of this man. He is smart. He will know if I track wrong. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Sergeant, no need to track. I tell you what happen yesterday."
He looked around, to see the whole little village in a semicircle, watching, listening. Mick touched eyes with Riso, who signalled 'yes.'
"Those five men. At dawn they rode right into here. I can show you the tracks. They had guns, and were drunk. Prob'ly drink all night. Mr Highfield hit me with a whip." Mick lifted the front of his shirt, showing the long scab over split skin.
The sergeant looked angry, clearly sympathetic to Mick.
"Mr Richardson chose five men. Me and four others. When I argued, Mr Tom Geery killed my little daughter." Mick had to stop for a moment, gathering himself.
And now, Mr Dawson was furious, as Mick had expected. He wished all white men were like this one.
"But Mr Richardson make mistake. He chose our magic man. In the forest, magic man turned them into ravens. They gone. Never people again. And they not know how to be ravens. They not know how to fly. They will slowly die, no food. That is good."
He made sure to say this in a level, matter-of-fact tone of voice. He could see that the two young troopers were impressed. One had his mouth half open. But Sergeant Dawson looked sceptical.
"Oh yeah, your magic man can turn a man into a raven? This I'd like to see."
"All right. I ask, maybe he will show you." Mick waved to Riso.
"Make me a smoky fire," Riso commanded, speaking English for the benefit of the three white men.
While several people obeyed, he painted intricate white marks on his face and chest, taking a paste from a little cane basket he had hanging from a leather thong around his waist. He started to dance around the fire in slow, jerky steps. The fire grew into a yellow roar of flames, and then a couple of people threw green leafy branches onto it. Smoke billowed high and swirled around. Riso stepped into the smoke -- and a raven flew free. It circled above the village once, then flew off.
It took no more than a few breaths for the smoke to clear. When all the area around it was visible, the white men could see that Riso was no longer there.
Mick said, "He know how to be raven. Also, he will change back to man when he want to. Tomorrow maybe he will come back. But those white men not come back. They dead raven."
He saw that all three white men had gone paler. One trooper tried to hide the tremble in his hands, but Dawson demanded, "He could light a fire in the forest? While being hunted?"
"Of course not. But he still have magic paint. Always with him. Fire help. But when need is great, can do with no fire. Even can do with no paint. Magic comes from Spirit Ancestors. And need was great."
Dawson lifted his hat and scratched the back of his head. "Well, Mick, I've always found you to be a good bloke, and nobody should hurt children. I'll be seeing ya."
The three policemen mounted and rode off toward the town.
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