A Place of Meadows and Tall Trees Read Online Free Page B

us. Elal. Great one. By looking after his land so we look after ourselves.
    When I saw the big swan on the ocean I knew that Elal had not sent it. Even though I know Elal is used to swans and first learnt to shoot his arrows through her feathers I could see this was not his bird, not his carriage. Of course I have heard of such things before: large birds that bring men. But I had never seen one, not in front of me, not like this, even though I am old and have seen much of the world and am wise to its ways. I watched it grow big and bigger still and then voices came to me, calling, shouting, words I didn’t understand, not even the words the Mapuche use or those whiter men from the north. I am used to their words from my father and even speak them a little, but these words were full of spit, clearings of throat and growls. Later they told me it was the tongue of heaven, but no one has ever heard the stars speak.
    But even before I saw them I knew they were there. I could feel them coming. Strange creatures in the air. Their spirits and their helpers making the other world restless. Disturbing my sleep. Making the rou skittish.
    By the time they came close enough to see, the sun was high: a weak sun, doing his best to warm up the air and the wind blowing his efforts away.
    From the shore there was a boom, like a small thunder, and then they detached themselves from the swan. Like fleas. No, larger than fleas. Like rats. Rats disturbed from a nest. Falling into the water and crying out when the water grasped them, swimming like rats do, frantic and clumsy, their heads above the water and then one of them stepping on the land first, jumping up and yelling to the rest who were going back to the swan. Trouble, I thought and wondered if Elal knew. Trouble, I thought then and I was right and wrong. Nothing is all one thing or the other. So it was with these men and their women, especially their women.

Five
    They unload their possessions onto the beach. There isn’t much; most families have easily packed all they own into a single large trunk. They haul them up the beach to the shelter.
    Silas unlocks his and peers inside – thirty-eight long years on this earth and so very little to show for it. He riffles through baby clothes, rolls of cloth, rugs, pots and pans until he finds what he is looking for – a couple of old blankets. He pulls them free and with them comes something else – a roll of old bills and orders. He briefly glances through them: small sums marking triumphs and then larger sums with accompanying demands, threats and denials. One paper is caught by the wind and carried towards the sea. He runs after it, catching it just before it reaches the water. It’s nothing more than an old bill; the ink a little faded but still legible. He snorts – if he could only read it. Yet he knows every word. He walks back slowly, glancing round to check that no one seems to have noticed his sudden frantic movement. No need for anyone else to see – even though each man here will have similar secrets.
    The doctor’s boy had chased after him at the market. The shrill ‘Mr James’ had forced him to stop and look around, and the boy had thrust the bill into his hand with a short small bow of his head.
    He had waited until he was alone before breaking the seal: the doctor’s scrawl had meant little to him, but the long line of figures and the sum underlined twice at the end had meant rather more: more zeros than he could ever remember seeing on a piece of paper before. They’d wobbled in front of him while the rest of the world had retreated, like a column of hungry mouths exclaiming O, O, O.
    Even Elinor’s placid words failed to reassure him.
    â€˜We can help you out, bach .’
    He’d shaken his head. He couldn’t bear the thought of his father-in-law smirking as he reached into his cash box. He would do this himself. ‘Don’t tell any one.’
    â€˜I