Authors: Alex Shearer
We glided in to tie up at the jetty, where he stood waiting, big and fearsome and slightly unhinged-looking.
The Toll Troll was in, all right. And in a bad mood too. But then perhaps he was never in anything else.
4
Peggy, being so old, often doesn't seem so bothered about things that rightly ought to worry a person. I mean, I'm not a worrier. I've never really had anything to worry about â except for that time when we were small and we didn't have anyone and everybody kept calling us orphans (and usually poor ones too, as the words
orphans
and
poor
are kind of inseparable).
But even with a whole bunch of carefree years behind me, I was worried now. I'd never seen anything like this. The so-called, self-styled Toll Troll was even bigger close to than he'd seemed far away. He was immense. He was twice as tall as Peggy and as broad as a rock. He looked down on us like somebody contemplating his dinner and thinking that the helpings looked rather mingy. But Peggy just acted like she was the big muscly one, and he was the one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old sky-shrimp.
âWell?' she said, with a very sharp tone to her voice. âAnd what do you want?'
âWhat do you think?' the huge man said. âWhat does it look like?'
Only he didn't exactly say it like that, as he had a very odd accent, not like anything I'd heard before. He said it more like: âWhit dee yee thunk? Whot daes it luuk lyke?' But his accent fluctuated. At first he was calm and clear, but then the more irritated he got, the more impenetrable it became.
âWhy's he started talking funny, Peg?' I said. But I didn't get a proper answer. Peggy just glowered at me, Gemma kicked my shin, and the big guy kind of tensed up and started clenching his fists.
âWill ye tell yon brat tae hold his tongue before I rip it oot his mouth for him?' he said.
âMartin â'
But I'd heard.
âGood,' he said, when I clammed up.
âSo what do you want?' Peggy said again.
âThe toll. Whit else?' he said.
âToll?'
âAye.'
Peggy looked at him, up and sideways.
âAnd why should we pay you any toll?'
âBecause I'm asking for it.'
âAnd what entitles you to ask?'
The big man looked around with a kind of false innocence, and then he slowly raised his big fist and he waved it under Peggy's nose.
âThis,' he said. âThis does.'
âI see.'
âGood.'
âYou're a crook then,' she told him.
The big man got indignant at that.
âI'm nae a cruk!' he said (his variable accent suddenly thick as cream). âYe want to use my airspace and sail between my islands, then ye have to pay.'
âWhy?' Peggy said.
He stared at her, as if no one had asked him this before.
âTo pay for all the maintenance,' he said.
âWhat maintenance?' she said.
He got angry again.
âThe maintenance!' he repeated. âMaintaining the highway and keeping it in good repair.'
âIt's sky,' Peggy pointed out. âYou don't have to do anything to it. It's just there. So what are you maintaining exactly?'
The giant of a man thought about this for a moment; he stood winding bits of his straggly red beard around his fingers, then said:
âI'm keeping the sky clean and free from debris.'
And that was when I heard Peggy mutter something that sounded like
bullsh
â But I'm not supposed to know expressions like that, let alone use them.
The man looked down at her. The insects went on swarming around his head, like some kind of a halo. Some of the midges were even nibbling at his hairy legs, which poked out like tree trunks from his kilt. I wondered if maybe the insects had driven him mad.
âNo toll,' he said, âno go.'
âWell, that's too bad,' Peggy said, âbecause we've nothing to give you.'
The man sneered.
âEveryone's got something,' he said.
âI'm an old woman with two children; we've no money and just enough food and water to last the journey. We're heading for City Island so they can go to school and get an education. And that's it.'
âBairns!' the man said. âNothing but trouble and nothing but expense. That's bairns.'
Peggy sat down on the jetty. The giant looked down at her with outraged surprise.
âWhat are you doing?' he said. âWhat do you think you're doing?'
âSitting down,' Peggy said. âI get the arthritis.'
âShe gets the arthritis,' Gemma said, backing her up. âAnd she can't be on her feet too long without a break.'
âBreak?' the giant of a man said, speckles of froth appearing on his lips and on the fringes of his beard. âI'll give you a break. I'll break your necks. I'll break your skulls open with the hilt of my claymore â' And he indicated a long-bladed, heavy-handled sword, covered in rust, that stood stuck in the ground nearby.
His indignation rose like steam until it was all but puffing out of his ears.
âYou dinnae sit down when the Toll Troll's talking. You quake in fear, that's what you do. You quake and tremble and beg for mercy. That's the style you need. I've never been so bloody insulted!'
âNo swearing in front of the children, if you wouldn't mind,' Peggy said.
âNae swearing? Nae swearing! I'll give you swearing â'
But Peggy just reached out and said, âI wonder if you'd mind giving me a hand up now. I can't sit down too long either or I start getting the cramps.'
âShe gets cramps,' Gemma explained, âas well as the arthritis. She's a hundred and twenty, you see, and not as young as â'
âWill ye all shut up!' the man said. âAll of ye. Just shut up and let me think.'
While he was thinking, I got curious. Peggy says curiosity is my trouble, but I can't help it. These questions just form in my mind, and when they do, I have to ask them, as I like to find things out.
âExcuse me,' I said. âMister Troll â'
His eyebrows moved like a couple of those sun caterpillars you sometimes see on the rocks â the furry, poisonous ones that'll kill you if you brush against them.
âWhit did you just say?' He looked at Peggy. âWhit did he just say? I thought yon brat was supposed to be keeping his teeth together and his mooth shut.'
âI was just wondering, Mister Troll,' I persisted, âif you had another name. Like, a real name. And what it was.'
The eyebrows went on working. I really did think for a moment that they might come off and attack me. But then they came to rest and they arched into a look of, well, perplexity, I guess.
âMa name?' He turned to Peggy. âNo one's ever asked me ma name. And I've robbed â that is, I've needed to take toll money from â hundreds, no, thousands who've passed by here. And no one's ever asked me ma name.'
Peggy just looked at him and gave him one of her old smiles. Her smiles are full of wrinkles and crows' feet and leathery skin and a hundred and twenty years of living.
âOut of the mouths of babes and children,' she said.
âWell, I'm nae telling you ma name!' the Troll said. And he sounded a bit peevish, like
he
was the spoilt brat â instead of a massive man with a sword and bagpipes and a kilt and a big chip on his shoulder from somewhere.
âMy name's Peggy. This is Gemma. This is Martin. So there. We're introduced.'
âWell â then â' It was plainly an effort for him to let the words come out. âThen ma name â might be â though I'm no saying it is â but it might be â Angus.'
âThat's a nice name,' Peggy said. âAngus. Very nice.'
One of the caterpillars came back into action and it arched itself up into a quizzical sort of shape.
âAre ye trying to be funny?'
âNo. Not at all.'
But then the brief thaw turned to ice again.
âIt makes nae difference!' he boomed. And he went and yanked the claymore out of the ground. It was a huge sword. It took both of his hands to lift it. âMakes nae difference what anyone's called. You have to pay the toll or you don't go any further.'
And then he swirled the sword around his head. But whether it was to frighten and intimidate us, or whether it was to try and get rid of the insects that were tormenting him was hard to know.
Something puzzled me then. Why
did
the insects bother him? They weren't bothering me, or Gemma, or Peggy. The just seemed to like eating him. They left us alone completely.
I looked past him. The island wasn't that large and it looked mostly barren. There was a vapour compressor next to a small stone house and behind the house a greenhouse, where he must have grown a few vegetables to supplement a diet of sky-fish â as I couldn't see what else he might have lived on. A sign on the door of the house read Bonny Banks. There was a small outside lavatory too, and that had a door-sign reading Bonny Braes.
To the right of the house, at a short distance, were some small mounds of stones â cairns, I think they are called. I'm sure that's what Peggy told me once. But I might have been wrong.
âI may have to sit down a moment again,' Peggy said. âI get dizzy if I'm up on my feet too long. I suffer with the poor circulation.'
âShe suffers with the poor circulation,' Gemma said, backing her up again. âAlong with the arthritis and the cramps.'
âAnd then there's the gout,' Peggy said.
âAnd the gout,' Gemma said.
âBut we'll not go into that right now.'
âWe'll leave it for now,' Gemma said. âIt's not serious gout. Mostly twinges. I don't suppose you'd have a chair, would you? For Gran to sit on?'
Angus lowered his claymore and stood there open-mouthed.
âA chair? A chair!'
âIf you've got one?'
He raised the claymore and pressed the point of it right into Gemma's neck. She stiffened.
âLeave her alone,' Peggy said.
So he did. He stuck the point into Peggy's neck instead.
âYou pay, or you pay,' he said. âYou pay the toll, or you pay the troll. Your money or â' Then he struck a pose of what's-the-word-I'm-trying-to-think-of? â âOh aye. Your money, or your life. That's how it goes, isn't it?'
âJust told you,' Peggy said, âdon't have any money. Haven't had any money since I was eighty-three.'
âBlew it all, did you?' Angus said in disgust. âTypical. Didn't think of making any provision for your old age.'
âAnd as for life, I don't have much of that left either.'
âMaybe you don't â but
they
do.'
âWhat are you going to spend money on here, anyway?' Peggy demanded. âWhere are the shops?' She moved her arms to indicate the empty islands and the vast, empty space beyond. And the gesture encompassed everything â the giant's isolation, his loneliness, the pointlessness of his demands and the uselessness of money to him. Why did he want it? What was it for?
âI'm making provision,' he said. âIt's nae for me. I'm making provision for the wife and bairns.'
And he swatted so violently at the midges around his head that he almost decapitated himself with his sword â which would have solved our problems nicely if he had.
Peggy looked at me and she looked at Gemma; she looked sad, and old. She didn't look frightened at all, just ever so weary.
âWife and bairns?' she said.
âThat's right,' Angus said. âIt's not for me. It's the wife and bairns.'
And then Peggy asked him a question, though I'm sure she already knew the answer, just as I did, and Gemma maybe did too.
âAnd where are they? The wife and â the bairns?'
âThey're right there looking at you!' the giant said. âDo you not have the eyes to see? That's Colin there, and that's Nancy, and that's Fiona herself, taking care of them.'
I was kind of afraid to look. But really, I'd already seen. My eyes followed his raised hand and his pointing finger. And I saw â just as I knew I would â the three heaps of stones, the three little cairns, the mounds of pebbles and rocks.
âThat's them right there,' he said. âThey'd come over and talk, but they're busy. But they're relying, see. They're relying on me to provide. They'll be wanting to go to school one day and get an education. There's none to be had round here. City Island, see. That's where they'll be going, soon as they're the right age. So I'm saving up â for books and such, and uniforms and all that. So there's no choice about it. You have to pay the toll.'
And instead of protesting or getting angry or feisty or sarcastic like she could be, Peggy just looked really sad, and she reached out to him and she said, âWe'd love to give something to help the children, Angus. We'd love to do that.'
And he just looked at her, just looked, and the big, rusty claymore fell from his hands with a clatter, and Peggy took a step forward and she took his great, huge hand in hers. His hand made two of hers, easily.
âYou poor man,' she said. âYou poor man.'
And the great giant of an Angus didn't say a word; he just let Peggy hold his hand in hers, and a large tear, the size of a raindrop, rolled from his eye and down along his cheek and disappeared into his bushy red beard.
âWill you take payment in kind?' Peggy said.
âWhat kind?' he said gruffly.
âMartin,' Peggy said. âGo to the boat and fetch one of the bottles that Ben Harley gave me.'
âYou mean the private stash?' I said. âBut I thought you said it was lethal. I thought you said you should never â'
âJust get it,' she said. âAnd stop asking questions for once.'
âBut I thought you said asking questions was good, and that when we get to City Island we have to ask nothing but questions, as if you don't ask questions you never learn, and then â'
âAnother time, Martin. Just bring a bottle of Ben Harley's private stash.'