The Travellers - 4. Kyle

But who was Kyle?

Kyle was the second-born child of Liam and Emily Elliot, but it was their only surviving child. His sister, that should have been one year older, succumbed early to the ever-present child mortality, which prevailed widely in those days, especially when the parents were poor. To confirm their position in the social pecking order of the day the vicar had decided to put the little girl in a simple hole in the ground, like she was refuse. No coffin, no funeral, no grave, no nothing! Because Liam and Emily Elliot were poor.

The only thing they had was their small crofter’s farm. They grew some vegetables, had a horse, a cow, a very small flock of sheep and some hens. It was all on rented land, owned by the Laird of Kirkstile, like all the land for miles around. And the laird came to visit once a year to collect the money.

To earn some extra money Liam enlisted in the Volunteer battalion of one of the old and proud Scottish regiments, but he didn’t like soldiering very much. He wanted to be with his family, his animals, the small farm and on “his” land. Maybe he was poor, but at least he felt happy there. And if meat was scarce at home, he took up the favorite Scottish national sport of poaching.

Poor or not, Liam Elliot was also a proud Scotsman, not totally devoid of nationalistic sentiments. He descended from the group of his clan, that didn’t flee to Ulster under the pressure of the English invaders. They had stood firm and survived the ordeal. Liam was also determined not to flee for anything. And if he went to church on Sundays, he went in Elliot tartan kilt with all accoutrements. Not even his poverty could change that.

But above all Liam Elliot was a gentle, even sweet man, who would give everything for his little family. When Kyle was still a small boy, he insisted on bringing the boy to bed himself. As soon as the child was under his blanket, Liam told him bedtime stories of trolls, invented on the spot. His little son loved those stories, absorbed every detail with large, gleaming eyes and believed every word of them: didn’t his dad saw it all he told?

Liam taught his son everything he knew about animals. He explained to him how to handle the horse, how to milk the cow and how to herd the flock of sheep and how he should shear them. He taught him everything he knew about animal diseases and how he could cure them with herbs, which could be found in the countryside. But he also gave the boy the gift of knowledge how to play the bag pipe and taught him all the old Scottish songs and tunes. Despite his parents’ poverty Kyle was a happy, a very happy child.

Kyle was an easy child. He never made problems at school and was always ready to lend a helping hand at the farm, taking care of the animals or helping out with the harvest. If more problems might have developed at school later on remained an unanswered question, because for poor children like Kyle all education ended after a few years of grammar school.

He developed into an exceptional handsome boy. This thought always brought a smile on Liam’s lips: aye, that is what every father said of his son. But even when he looked at the boy in the most objective way he could, he had to admit that the boy was very handsome and looked like his mother.

When the boy entered his puberty Liam started to worry. First of all, there was the annual visit of the laird. It had always been a day of stress and headache on itself, since the family had problems to lay the rent sum on the table each and every year. But when the laird also started to cast undisguised interested glances at the boy, things started to rumble inside Liam’s head. He would love to report the old bastard to the police, but he knew he would ruin the already poverty-stricken existence of his family to even higher levels of despair. So he did nothing: the absolute power of the gentry and the land owners smothered every seed of resistance before it had the chance to blossom.

But knowing the gossip about his landlord he swore, that if the man ever laid hands on his beautiful son, he would kill the dirty old fool. It would bring him a lifetime in jail or he would be led to the gallows, but nobody was going to molest his son!

But it got really worrying when the boy reached the age of 13, 14. When father and son went to the village for whatever reason, Liam noticed something strange. All lassies were very interested in his son. But it worried him deeply that it seemed as if his son had no interest what so ever in the lassies, although some of them were very beautiful and attractive. That was something the man couldn’t understand and what kept him awake for many nights to come.

Then the year 1914 came. Live changed, also for the Elliots. One of the most devastating wars, that was ever fought out on the continent, had started. It was a war, that was passionately pursued and meticulously planned by the politicians and the generals, who wanted to satisfy their over-inflated egos, beaming at the prospect of being mentioned in all history books. But it wasn’t the scum of the earth in power, who paid the ultimate price. No, that was the fate of the masses of poor people, who went as sheep to the slaughterhouse, to be torn apart by machine gun- and artillery fire, who suffocated in the gas attacks at Ypres and Neuve Chapelle or who drowned, when their flimsy submarines crumbled like old paper when they went under their crush depth. Of course, this fate was for the masses: politicians and generals were needed to govern and defend the country in times of dire need and danger.

Initially nothing changed for the Elliots. Life was just a little harder than before. But once large numbers of young men had been massacred and the army was bleeding to death, some smart general came on the brilliant idea that they might as well call up the older men. Only then life changed for the Elliots in a small village in the Scottish Lowlands, of which no politician or general had ever heard of.

A letter came, ordering Liam to report to his regimental depot. He didn’t fancy the idea to take the risk to die for “King and Country” and angrily he threw the letter on the floor, exclaiming:

“Why should a Scotsman die for an English King?”

“Hold yer tongue, Liam Elliot”, his wife called out, “This nationalistic nonsense might bring ye into trouble”

Liam shrugged and answered with a wry smile on his face:

“Really, love? And what would they do to me? Send me to the front?”

For a short while he considered to take refuge in the hills and moors, that he knew as the back of his hand, to evade his service obligation. But it really didn’t matter. Whether he went as ordered or faded into the land, he was separated from his beloved family, from his animals and from his farm. And if he fled into the Scottish hills, he ran the risk of being caught as a deserter, even after the war would be ended. It would bring him a long time in jail in the best case, still separated from the ones he loved so much. So he went, as ordered. In that way he had at least a fair chance to survive and return to his family and his village.

The evening before he had to go, he and Emily were sitting in the kitchen. Kyle was already in bed. After he had stared to the wall with a gloomy face for a while he started to speak.

“Emmy, I’m worried about Kyle. Actually, I have been worried for some time now, but I think I must discuss it right now, before I have to leave”.

Emily looked up in surprise:

“Worried about Kyle? Why that? The boy never causes any problems”.

Liam told her what he had noticed the last months and finished saying:

“I mean, God didn’t give us a faggot, I hope? How do they call that…a homosexual?”

“No, don’t be daft! Don’t ye worry. He finds a way with the lassies, he just needs some more time. I mean, he is a very sensitive and shy boy”.

“Hmmm, I hope so!” murmured Liam unconvinced.

To Liam’s detriment Emily was not only a beautiful woman, but also a strong one. She certainly wasn’t content with the role that the average woman had in these days: that of unpaid farm hand, washing girl, cook and housekeeper, and, if desired, as children factory. When she had a point of view or an opinion, she made damned sure that other people knew it as well.

She looked at her husband with piercing eyes and said:

“And even if he were a homosexual? What then? Wouldn’t ye love him any longer? Would ye deny that he is yer flesh and blood? Or would ye even abandon him and leave him to his fate?”

“But Emmy…the neighbors…the village…I mean….”

“Hold yer tongue right now, Liam Elliot, before ye go too far and listen very, very carefully because I’m going to say this only once”, she said with fire- spitting eyes, “If ye are going to abandon yer son because he is homosexual, then I will abandon you! If he has another disposition, then it is God’s will, but he will still be my son. Yes, I will feel a lot of pain in my heart, but it remains my only son and I will stay right behind him, homosexual or not. Now, let this get through yer stubborn Scots skull and remember every word of it!”

Liam knew his wife long enough to know what the fire-spitting eyes meant: she meant business and she would keep to her word, no matter what happened.

“I just wanted that nobody finds out about it and that he ends up with some years of forced labor because of his…disposition! That is what I worry about!”

The fire in her eyes didn’t disappear and Liam wisely decided to leave the matter rest. He might discuss it in all calm after he got back.

At a very early hour the morning after he left for the regimental depot in Berwick-on-Tweed, as ordered.

Life really got hard now for Emily and Kyle. They had to run the little farm and make ends meet. It was especially the boy who carried most of the burden and as time went by, it seemed that the little farm ran as it had always done. Because Kyle wanted, that his father could take over when he got back and could carry on like nothing had changed during his absence.

But Liam didn’t come back. Only a telegram came, stating that he had fallen while serving King and Country.

Emily and Kyle had to survive financially one way or another. They sold all animals, with the exception of the horse. They changed the rent to just the little patch of land on which their cottage stood. With the horse and a little cart Kyle worked as wagoner, taking haulage jobs in the area. Together with the small widow pension they received from the government they could just make ends meet every month.

But disaster struck again. It was the year 1918. The war was finally running on his last legs with Germany drawing the short straw, so it seemed. A lot of people in the village became ill and most of them died. Emily also fell ill.

Whatever her son attempted with herbs…it didn’t work. She weakened more and more in a very rapid tempo and her fever ran higher and higher. Kyle was at a wit’s end what to do, so he sold the horse and the carriage and with the money he sent for the doctor. The old man diagnosed Spanish flu and shook his head in resilience. It was a disease, for which no cure or medicine existed. He could only wait for the inevitable end and make it as bearable as he could.

Kyle did what he could…he took care of his ever-weakening mother. He prayed, he cursed, he railed at God and he begged the same God for help. But apparently God wasn’t at home or he was stone deaf.

One night Emily died in the arms of her son, drowning in her own blood that had accumulated in her lungs. Kyle felt utterly alone and deserted. Totally bewildered he kept his mother’s body in his arms for a long time, his shoulders shocking uncontrollably, tears of intense grieve and desperation running over his cheeks.