A Son of Aran (32 page)

‘Better by far than watching the bullfight,' Chrissie remarked. Nobody disagreed. With Seosamh as pilot, the Taurus purred softly on the long journey home. Tired and weary, all hit the sack for an early night. It had been a memorable experience, a story to relate to their friends on returning to Ireland.

Peadar had a story of his own for Eileen and Seosamh: ‘As I arose from my afternoon siesta, looking from the bedroom window I observed a heavily constructed ex-army type vehicle being driven slowly away from the precincts of the house. Its occupants, a driver and two passengers, were coloured people. From the slowness of their movement, and the degree of curiousity they displayed, it would seem that the people in question had more than a casual interest in the house and its surrounds. I spoke later with Jago; he confirmed that he too had seen the vehicle as it travelled slowly along the road outside the estate where a number of smallholders live. The occupants didn't stop to converse with any of the villagers—having circled the area, they drove away in the direction of Zamora. I was puzzled by this invasion of our privacy. I wonder who the visitors might be, and what they found so interesting.'

‘Could be any of a number of groups,' Seosamh suggested, ‘government agents, revenue, guardia civil, university personnel, competitors of the community co-operative—in the absence of more precise information it is impossible to determine.'

‘I hope what has occurred is as simple as you say,' Eileen replied. ‘I have a strange feeling we are not the flavour of the year with everybody in Valladolid and Castilla y Leon. What we have done for the smallholders is widely known and appreciated, but there may be some people who are agrieved at not sharing in the spoils. It's the old story of human nature and its attitude to the success of others.

A wise man once said, ‘We can please all the people some of the time, and some of the people all the time, but we'll never please all the people all of the time'. Government agencies, supporters of the Franco regime, have spies everywhere—we cannot hope to be excluded from their scrutiny. They are, no doubt, well informed about the involvement of anarchists in promoting the smallholders' case; they may even view us at Estat de Tirelle as accomplices. I sincerely hope that yesterday's uninvited visitors don't have anything sinister in mind. I wish the telephone company would hurry with installing our phone—it would make me feel more secure. ‘Manana', the man said, when I asked him some months ago how long it was going to take. Quite a few tomorrows have elapsed since then. Without a phone we are isolated and vulnerable.'

‘Can you ride, Chrissie?' Vincent asked. ‘Seosamh is taken up with his work today. I thought we might ride out together to the low hills—the scenery there is fabulous and you haven't had a chance of seeing it. What do you think? We could take a picnic and spend the whole day.'

‘Sounds good, but there's one snag—I rode a horse one time on a friend's farm in Moycullen. The horse bolted; I fell off and broke my arm. I never had the courage to try again.'

‘Too bad, Chrissie, you should have got back on that horse as soon as your arm had mended. Go for it again, is standard advice when one becomes involved in an accident of any kind. How about riding behind me? If you hold on tight, that will help you to get over your fears.'

‘The hold-on-tight idea sounds interesting. What will happen if we both fall off?'

‘Let's find out. A lot of herbage on the hills consists of sedge and moss—if we fall we'll have a soft landing.'

The glow of early morning sunshine lightened their spirits as Chrissie, riding behind Vincent, held on for dear life until the sensation of falling off had abated. Holding on was, in itself, sufficiently pleasurable to outweigh any terror she might have otherwise felt. At a moderate trot they soon drifted into open marginal land in the foothills which, undisturbed by cultivation, presented a paradise of wild flowers and native plants that both of them admired but neither could identify. Vincent was ecstatic:

‘From my agricultural education,' he said, ‘I am familiar with most wild plants in Ireland but I would need a special qualification in botany to come to terms with the plethora of beautiful specimens we find here. As Chrissie spread a cloth and laid out the picnic, Vincent disappeared out of sight; he came back with a sheaf of colourful blooms which, with mock curtsy, he presented to her. By way of appreciation he received a gentle peck on the cheek.

‘Why don't we tie the horse to a bush and walk for a bit?' he suggested; ‘it would be more comfortable than sitting astride the saddle in this midday heat.'

‘Sounds fine by me,' Chrissie replied with enthusiasm. ‘I hope that, while we are out of sight, nobody decides to nick our transport. In that case riding would again become top of my list of preferences.'

As they strolled, arm in arm, through the lush growth, or sat for a time in the shade of a bluff, they regaled each other with stories from their respective lives in Ireland, their experiences, and characters they had met on the way—the discussion threw up interesting comparisons between urban and rural living. Vincent recapped on his chat with Seosamh about the possibility of following a career in farming; Chrissie told of her ambition to become the proprietor of a tourist hotel in some western seaside resort.

‘A pipe dream,' she added; ‘probably it will never happen.'

‘Well then, let's dream our dreams together while we have the opportunity,' Vincent said as they stretched on the grassy sward, and he enfolded her in his arms. Chrissie did not resist.

‘What have you two been up to all day?' Eileen called from the veranda when, later that evening, they strolled slowly up the avenue, deep in conversation, leading the horse by the halter.

‘From here,' she added, ‘I can't be sure whether the horse or you appear the most exhausted. Come inside and have a cool drink. Chrissie, I want you to tell me all about your day.'

Eileen entertained the Coughlan sisters, taking them, in turn, to Salamanca where they viewed the magnificent central plaza, ornate cathedrals, the museum, the ancient façade of university buildings, and the site of the former Collegio d'Irlanda. They visited Palencia and Zamora with their plethora of ancient churches and mixture of Celtic, Gothic, and Byzantine architecture, all of which fascinated her visitors who had never before been to Spain. L a c k of the language precluded them from interacting with the native population but Eileen, acting as interpreter, led forays into fashion stores and market stalls where they bargained for leather goods and souvenirs to take home with them to Ireland. The weeks of holiday were quickly evaporating—in a few more days they would be bidding
‘adios amigos'
to their hosts—(they had learned two words of Spanish during their stay).

‘Before you leave you must experience a flamenco session,' Eileen suggested. ‘Although this type of music and dance is widely performed, tomorrow, if you wish, we will pay a visit to its traditional home in Andalucia.'

The passion of performance displayed by singers, instrumentalists, and dancers, left her friends in a hypnotic state. One act dovetailed into another, spectators clapping hands to the accompaniment of the music, girls flashing long frilly dresses and shawls, men in tight black trousers and broad hats, all circling and linking one another in a frenzy of music and dance. Agreement was unanimous: ‘This is the highlight of our vacation; we wouldn't have missed it for anything.'

For the farewell meal, on the eve of their departure, Santa Clara and her young assistant served a suckling pig flavoured with olives, herbs, and garlic, roasted on a spit over the broad hearth fire. Starting with a white albarino as aperitif, the meal was simply served with tapas, bread, and Rioja wine.

‘Appetising, ample and thoroughly enjoyable,' was the all-round verdict. Speaking on behalf of the visitors, Vincent paid tribute to their hosts and thanked them for their hospitality. He pondered how they might reciprocate their generosity. ‘Sometime, perhaps—who knows?' he concluded, to rapturous applause from the others.

‘The house seems so empty without our visitors,' Eileen remarked on the day following their departure. ‘In the short time they were with us, we had become quite a family. I hope the liaison that started between Vincent and Chrissie will blossom when they are back in Ireland. A pity we weren't in a position to provide male company for Mary and Seona—such beautiful and talented girls—I feel sure they will both meet their chosen partners in due time. Now that I am free, I must devote more of my time to Carl—will you accompany me, Seosamh, while we take him for a walk in his baby carriage?' Seosamh was unusually silent as they set out on their walk.

‘Is something on your mind? Eileen asked. His response was studied and deliberate:

‘Do you think, Eileen, we made the right decision when we came to live permanently in Spain? I have heard rumblings that disturb me. The incursion of the party that Peadar saw last week was not accidental. Franco's attitude towards persons who pose a threat to his autocratic regime, is well known. He has ruthlessly suppressed the Basques and other subversive groups, his hand-picked goons arrest, murder, and indiscriminately mistreat those he suspects of plotting against the establishment—guilty or innocent doesn't appear to matter. The rebels who unilatterly took control of a major porton of Estat de Tirelle some years ago despite Carlos's protestations and divided the lands between their friends, are obviously some of the factions that oppose Franco—in consequence, those affiliated to them are also considered non-grata. Because of our assistance to the smallholders, in official circles we may be tarred with the same brush. Even though Carlos and his father were favoured sons in the earlier Franco regime, that same patronage does not extend to us foreigners who now own the greater part of the estate. I don't wish to sound alarming, but I feel we should hold ourselves in readiness for a quick exit if trouble arises. I'd prefer that you didn't tell Peadar any of what I have said—his impetuous nature might cause him to react in the wrong way.'

‘Now you have me worried,' Eileen replied. ‘In the light of what you have told me maybe, Seosamh, you should detach yourself gradually from your advisory role with the smallholders and stay more around the house until the situation crystalises. I need you here if we are visited by government agents—you know how their henchmen can take advantage of a lone woman. Carl also has to be to be considered—evil minds would see a baby as a bargaining factor if an altercation should occur. Let's pray that such never happens.'

Misfortune raised its head sooner than expected. As Seosamh, Eileen, Peadar, and the baby, returned from an afternoon outing to Zamora they found a window on the ground floor had been shattered by a brick to which a note in bold Spanish capitals was attached.

SALGA A LOS ESTRANGEROS

There was no signature.

‘Now, who can be responsible for this outrage?' Peadar asked. ‘It reminds me of the sort of threat that was issued to landlords in Ireland during the land war. Many of them deserved that kind of treatment for the way they harrassed their tenants but surely, Eileen, we cannot be looked upon in the same light. All we have ever done is help the local people to improve their lot. You inherited this land—you own it. Why should you be labelled a trespasser? You don't deserve to be intimidated like this.'

‘The line between what is right and wrong in this country is very thin,' Seosamh commented. ‘This might well be a private vendetta. Remember the African trio that accosted Jago and me one day. We haven't been troubled by them since we related our experience to Jago's father, but I am told they are still around. On the other hand this may be a warning from some of Franco's henchmen that they intend to appropriate the estate. Again it may be an attempt by someone who would like to scare us into leaving so that they could acquire a stately mansion at their own price. One way or another, we'll know soon enough—the brick episode will, no doubt, be followed by a visit from some of those gentlemen. If what I suspect is the case, we cannot expect protection from the Guardia Civil. They will not confront such intruders—in fact they may well be in league with them. We have no option but to wait and see; as non-nationals we have no influence that we can call on; we are powerless to resist. Meanwhile we should be on the alert at all times.'

‘The prospect of more trouble arising really frightens me,' Eileen said. ‘If it were only my safety that was at stake, I could endure the suspense. I am more worried for baby Carl and what evil people might do to him. On top of that, I am carrying another child. Do you think perhaps that Carl and I should take refuge in Salamanca until the problem blows over?'

‘I reckon that would be a good idea,' Peadar interposed. Seosamh wasn't so sure.

‘Won't that allow them to think they have succeeded?' he said. ‘I'm all for calling their bluff.'

‘Seosamh, do you not think the safety of your wife and baby is more important than standing on your dignity? I am not one for running away from trouble, but I fear that ………………' Eileen broke into tears as she spoke.

‘OK, Eileen—take it easy—let's do as you say. We'll go to Salamanca tomorrow and talk to the nuns about accommodation for you and Carl. We might have a word with Father Benedictus too—he has his ear to the ground on the activities of movements such as we mention. I'd like to have his opinion on our predicament.'

The priest was in no doubt whatsoever. ‘You have done the right thing,' he assured them. ‘There is considerable unrest among people at present due to the repressive actions of Franco's government. Priests are not immune from harassment; the Jesuits have been banned from operating publicly; we ourselves are keeping a low profile in order to avoid similar treatment. This is not the Franco that we knew during the civil war when catholics from several countries, including Ireland, rallied to his cause against forces of the left. Since then he has shown himself to be a despot in many ways. Eileen, I am confident the nuns will facilitate you and your baby. You will be safe in their care until the storm blows over.'