A Son of Aran Read online

  Little more than a month following their return from Spain, Father Corley called on Peadar one evening bearing a letter which had been directed to him for want of a more definitive address. The envelope of fine parchment, bore the name of Educanto & Tarbutus, Salamanca. With trembling hands Peadar opened the letter. It was in Spanish. Father Corley haltingly translated its contents:

  Dear Mr O’ Flaherty,

  It is my painful duty to inform you that our client, Carlos Montmorency de Tirelle, departed this life on the thirtieth day of October, nineteen hundred and fifty two. According to his last Will and Testament you, Peadar O’ Flaherty and your daughter Eileen O’ Flaherty, are named as beneficiaries to his estate. I request that you contact me at your convenience, when I shall supply you with details of your inheritance.

  I am, Your faithful servant,

  Vasco de Marcelano (Educanto & Tarbutus),

  Esplanad de Zamora,

  Salamanca, Espagne

  ‘What are we to do about this letter?’ Peadar asked Eileen when he met her in Galway two days later. ‘Carlos, in his benevolence, has seen fit to leave us something in his Will. I suppose for a start we should try to ascertain more details. Because of the language difficulty we will have to enlist the help of somebody who has knowledge of Spanish. Whom would you recommend?’

  ‘The only persons I know who are conversant with Spanish are my lecturers in college. Because of the confidential nature of the bequest, I would be reluctant to ask for the assistance of any of these. Initially, perhaps we should deputise Father Benedictus to act on our behalf? When we have been made aware of the contents of Carlos’s Will, we can make any further arrangements that may be required through an Irish solicitor. One way or another we should respond to the letter from Salamanca without delay. Father Corley will advise us.’

  Father Benedictus perused a letter he had received from Ireland:

  Gort a’ Chloigín,

  Aran Islands, Co. Galway,

  Ireland

  Dear Father Benedictus,

  We wish to express our sincere thanks for your kindness and co-operation during our recent visit to your country. We are especially grateful to you for acting as interpreter in discussions with the native people, and for introducing us to Carlos de Montmorency. Without your assistance we would have encountered serious difficulty in getting to know the area around Estat de Tirelle and its people. We have since learned with deep regret of the death of Carlos. We pray that the Good Lord has shown him mercy and forgiveness. May he rest in peace! We are surprised to receive the enclosed letter from the firm of Educanto & Tarbutus informing us that we are named as beneficiaries in his last Will and Testament. The solicitors have requested that we contact them for details. You will appreciate that, in our lack of knowledge of Spanish, we are presented with great difficulty in this regard. May we again trespass on your kindness by asking you to obtain from the lawyers on our behalf, a copy of the aforementioned document, translate its contents, and forward the details to us. A Letter of Authority bearing our signatures is enclosed.

  We remain forever in your debt and look forward to hearing from you.

  Peadar and Eileen, O’ Flaherty

  PS. Father Corley wishes to be remembered to you.

  The November mid-term break from studies allowed Eileen to return to Aran for a week. She and Seosamh spent many hours together walking the island roads, gathering fossilised stones from the sea shore, and riding the waves aboard Peadar’s hooker.

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful what education can reveal,’ Seosamh exclaimed as Eileen explained how tiny creatures became fossilised in limestone millions of years ago.

  ‘Geology—the science of rock formation,’ she told him, ‘is an essential part of the study of geography. If you were near to me in Galway, I could introduce you to night courses that would be of interest to you. I know you have a very enquiring mind. Someday I’ll take you in hand and together we will explore many of the subjects that are on my course of studies—don’t you think that would be fun?’

  On the day before she was due to return to college the eagerly awaited reply from Father Benedictus reached them:

  Collegio d’Irlanda

  Salamanca, España

  Peadar and Eileen O’Flaherty,

  Gort a’ Chloigín,

  Aran Islands,

  Irelande

  Dear Friends,

  I am pleased to be of service to you in the matter of the Will of Carlos de Montmorency. Educanto & Tarbutus have supplied the following details which I have translated for your benefit:

  I, Carlos de Montmorency, being of sound mind, hereby dictate this, my last Will and Testament. I hereby revoke all previous testaments made by me in reference to disposal of my worldly goods and possessions.

  The lands of Estat de Tirelle, apart from fifty hectares mentioned below, I leave in trust to Father Benedictus, Collegio d’Irlanda, Salamanca, to be administered by him for the benefit of smallholders living in the region. Income, arising from leasing of the lands to accrue to my friends, Peadar O’Flaherty, and Eileen O’Flaherty, of the Island of Aran, Ireland. My residence, together with fifty hectares surrounding it, I bequeath to Eileen O’Flaherty for her personal use. To Eileen O’Flaherty I bequeath an annual payment of two hundred thousand pesetas until she reaches the age of twenty-five. To her also I bequeath the residue of my estate to be used by her as she sees fitting for her own use and benefit.

  May God have mercy on my soul!

  Carlos de Montmorency

  Signed, in the presence of witnesses.

  Twenty-seventh day of September, Nineteen Hundred and Fifty Two.

  ‘Glór do Dhia (Praise to God), Eileen, what did we do to deserve this windfall? When we decided to go to Spain to sort out Carlos we didn’t know that events were going to turn out this way. When he asked us to make contact with him he had no idea that we were coming or that his death was so near. Was it by chance we were there at the time he was ambushed—was it the hand of the Lord? Were it not for that we might never have met. See what has come our way as a result. Buíchas do Dhia a dhírigh gach rud ar ár mhaith. Níl aon dabht ann—is ait an mac an saol.’ (Thanks be to God who has directed all things for our benefit. Life is strange—of that there is no doubt).

  ‘What on earth are we to do with all the wealth that is coming our way?’ Eileen asked. ‘Is it going to destroy our chosen way of living? Great riches are for the upper crust of society; we’re not used to dealing with money, apart from what you earn by the sweat of your brow. Winning the Irish Sweepstake has been known to cause people to go wrong— drinking to excess, gambling, doing all sorts of soul-destroying things. Their winnings were a mere fifty thousand pounds—chicken feed compared to what we have inherited. Do you think we are wise in accepting it?’

  ‘I can’t answer you that, Eileen; I’m too stunned to think straight. What would happen to Carlos’s estate if we didn’t accept? He doesn’t appear to have any immediate relatives. If we don’t accept, I reckon the Spanish government will acquire the lot. From what I have been told, that establishment doesn’t deserve to benefit. It hasn’t done much to relieve poverty among the smallholders who live outside the boundaries of Estat de Tirelle. Carlos, in his last days, has been magnanimous enough to make provision for these people by renting land to them through Father Benidictus. I reckon they deserve to be given that opportunity. If we don’t go along with the terms of the Will, they may not get the chance. Those we met were gracious and generous with what little they had. Remembering how our own tenants were evicted from their lands and homes by heartless, greedy landlords who preferred cattle to human beings, I’d like to assist those poor people in Spain to earn a better living without having to resort to violence. Landlords in Ireland got their ‘come-up-ins’ fifty and more years ago when tenants became united, refused to pay them rent, and burned the mansions over their heads. Not long after that, they surrendered their lands to the State for division and fled the country. Is gaire ca
bhair Dé ná an doras. (God’s help is nearer than the door). He is on the side of the poor and oppressed if we trust in Him.’

  ‘From what you say, Dad, it would appear we don’t have much choice other than to accept, but how on earth am I going to utilise Carlos’s mansion and fifty hectares of land? I still have three more years to spend at college. We could go there during summer vacations, but what will happen to the place for the remainder of the year? You and I have no knowledge of cultivating vines or olives; we don’t know enough Spanish to effectively converse with local workers. Wealth and property can bring problems! I’ll have a long think about it all when I get back to Galway. I wonder if I should tell Seosamh about our inheritance. What about you Dad,—will you tell Máirtín?’

  In the sunny land of Spain the November air was sharp and cold as Peadar and Eileen emerged from the offices of Educanta & Tarbutus in Salamanca where they had been given formal title to their inheritance. A chill wind blew down from the Pyrenees, carrying with it miniature flecks of snow.

  ‘I thought the weather here was always warm and balmy,’ Peadar remarked, as he pulled the collar of his great coat higher around his neck. ‘At least it’s dry,’ he added. ‘We’ll muffle up and bear with the cold while we take a look around this new property of yours. I’m already beginning to feel like a ‘buckeen’ farmer even though I don’t own a perch of it. To fill that role, all I need is a waxed moustache, a bowler hat, and an ash plant under my arm. How do you think I’d look in that kind of gear?’

  ‘I don’t care a fiddle how you appear,’ replied Eileen. ‘For me it’s enough to have you, my father, with me here as I explore the mansion of Estat de Tirelle. We’ll take a turn around the land and see if we can make any plans for it. Father Benedictus will have already related the terms of Carlos’s Will to the smallholders. I’m sure some better disposed of them will give us their advice; unfortunately my knowledge of Spanish is not good enough to enter into serious discussions with them.’

  ‘Wow, what a stately pile! It must have been glorious altogether when it was properly cared for,’ Eileen exclaimed, as she and Peadar stood between two tall pillars at the grand entrance and looked along the curved avenue now overgrown with moss and weeds.

  The ornate gates, scarcely identifiable among gorse and scrub, lay where they had been cast aside by the revolutionary group. The building itself had, apparently, not been subjected to vandalism while it was in the possession of the insurgents. Its portico pillars and steps of finest Carrera marble, undamaged but in need of a thorough scouring, emphasised the elegant stature of the house, throwing into relief its noble façade and large paned casement windows. Over the main arch an emblazoned coat of arms bore the title Castillo de Tirelle. Beyond the vestibule a short hall gave access to the high-ceilinged reception room where they had first met with Carlos. Memories of that fateful day remained poignant—how circumstances had changed in such a short space of time!

  The large sitting room window, its heavy brocade drapes drawn back, gave a panoramic view across broad acres of pasture dotted here and there with broadleaf trees that still retained a vestige of foliage despite the lateness of the season. A gilded centrepiece offset moulded frescos and ornate cornices on the surrounding walls. Embossed paper, of superb quality and design, showed the ravages of time and use. A heavily carved rosewood settee in the window-place was complemented by a low rope-edged table and upholstered carved footstool. A wide brass fender with fluted rails surrounded the white marble hearth stone. On the mantle shelf, two highly ornamented ceramic vases stood one on either side of an oil painting of an Arab racehorse. The oak- panelled library had many shelves but few books. A glass chandelier threw opaque light on a walnut reading table, upholstered chair, and bureau writing desk. A polished oak floor and matching oak shutters completed the sparse furnishing. In the dining room a long extendable table with accompanying carver and six heavily carved mahogany chairs, filled the centre of the room. Along the walls a mirrored sideboard, ornate drink cabinet and dumb waiter, completed the main items of furniture. The table was furnished with two candle holders whose lights had long since been snuffed; the sideboard had a display of silver—knives, spoons, forks, soup ladles and miniature silver nibble sticks—all sadly in need of polishing. On a side table sat a wine dispenser minus its complement of bottles. A corridor from the dining area led to the kitchen, servant’s quarters, and store room beyond, where buckets, brooms, and domestic utinsels were kept close at hand for use as required. A winding staircase and broad-railed balcony led to the upstairs suites. The master bedroom sported a four-poster king-sized bed, a mirrored dressing table, a carved blanket chest and an ornamented commode. On the floor a Persian carpet of intricate pattern matched the drapes of the bed and window. Three other bedrooms in more sombre décor were furnished with brass bedsteads, marble top washing tables and white delph basins, ewers, and chamber pots. Floors of plain unpolished pine bordered squares of heavy piled wool carpets; windows were fitted with chintz curtains of floral design. Ceilings of panelled wood gave an eerie feeling of darkness and gloom. Peadar and Eileen did not tarry before returning below. Despite the chill of the afternoon, open air soon dispelled the gloominess of the big house. Surrounding maple and chestnut trees had already shed the greater bulk of their leaves which rustled underfoot as they walked through unfenced parkland. Arid soil, hard and bare, gave little grass growth.

  ‘It doesn’t look like this land would fatten an animal,’ Peadar remarked, thinking of his own little stony fields in Aran and the handsome beasts he raised there. ‘It must be good for something though,’ he added. ‘Maybe it would grow wheat or corn if it were ploughed and cultivated; I’ll ask some of the smallholders about that when we meet them.’

  ‘What do you think I should do with the house at Estat de Tirelle?’ Eileen asked Father Benedictus as they said goodbye before she and Peadar left for home.

  ‘Apart from using it as a holiday home, I can’t reside there for several years. When I graduate from college in Ireland I may consider doing further studies at the university in Salamanca in order to become acquainted with the lifestyle of people here. By then I should be in a position to drive a car—I reckon it would be feasible to commute between both places. In the meantime, if you can come up with a suggestion for use of the house I would appreciate your advice.’

  ‘There’s no doubt that some people have all the luck,’ Máirtín exclaimed when Peadar filled him in on the latest developments in Spain. ‘So you tell me that Eileen and you have inherited a gentleman’s residence and a huge acreage of land. How in the world are you going to make use of it? It’s a far cry from hunting shoals of mackerel and herring off Aran. Anyway I’m glad for you and Eileen—it couldn’t happen to nicer people. Maybe I should sell the hooker and join you in sunny Spain!’

  ‘Begorra, Eileen, you’re the lucky lady,’ Seosamh said when she told him the news. ‘When you and I were growing up here in Aran, we thought we were on the pig’s back if we got as far as Galway with a few shillings to spend. I never thought I’d see the day when you would become the lady of a stately manor in Spain and an heiress to boot. I reckon from now on you’ll not want to be associated with a clodhopper like me. Still I am happy for you—I wish you the very best in whatever happens to you in the years ahead. I’ll live with memories of the days when we mattered to each other.’

  ‘Now, Seosamh, don’t you go jumping to conclusions; I’m not going to disappear into Iberian mists for a little while yet. At this stage I don’t know what I am going to do about the property I have inherited in Spain. I must finish my studies at Galway University before I make definite plans. That will take three more years at least. In the meantime I intend to spend a couple of months in Spain every summer. Maybe you’ll come with me next year! You can be my bodyguard. I’d like to have your advice too on what I should do with the land that has been left to me—after all you are the farmer around here. Peadar is a fisherman; he and I know nothing about land. Come, le
t’s forget about Spain for a while; I’d like if we went for a ramble before the sun goes down? The moon is full tonight; why don’t we go skinny diving and stay out until morning?’

  In the first days of the New Year a letter arrived from Father Benedictus relating to ongoing developments at Estat de Tirelle since their departure.

  ‘Under the aegis of the Tenants Revolutionary League,’ he told them, ‘the smallholders have formed a co-operative association to which all subscribe. To regularise use of lands entrusted to me by Carlos, a legal document has been drawn up and approved. Members of the association are allotted ten hectares for their personal use, the residue being held communally in the short term for use of members and to allow for any additional allocations that may arise. An annual rent of one thousand pesetas per hectare is payable by the tenants on the first day of March each year—proceeds to accrue for the benefit of Eileen and Peadar O’Flaherty after essential expenses had been deducted. Tenants to be allowed to use their allotments for production of fruit, vegetables, and other crops as they see fitting—sale of produce to be organised for those who wish to avail of such a facility.’

  Father Benedictus had a proposal to make in regard to use of the buildings and appurtenant lands owned by Eileen: ‘The Department of Social Studies at Salamanca University, of which I am head, would be interested in using the lands as a centre of education and research for the benefit of rural people in that area with a view to assisting them in their choice of enterprises, providing expertise in cultivation of crops, and marketing of produce. If you agree, I will be pleased to draw up a formal proposal for lease of your property by the University and to send relevant papers to you for perusal. Provision can be made for occasional use of the property by you and your friends, and for continuous use of the mansion in the event of you wishing to dwell there. Finally, I send my very good wishes for the health and welfare of your father and yourself. I also want to convey the gratitude of the smallholders who are delighted at the upturn in their fortunes as a result of the provisions of Carlos’s Will.’