excerpt
“They’re frightened, Mother Ross.” Padraig’s lean body seemed taller as he stood looking down at her from his position in front of the hearth. His uninjured arm was folded across the arm in the sling; his collar bone was fractured and was hurting him. “The atmosphere you were aware of in here today simply seeped in from outside. It’s hanging over the whole country, North and South, like the damp heat before a thunderstorm.”
“Is there going to be a storm, Padraig?” Mother Ross was anxiously thinking of Flynn and Nora.
“I don’t know,” said Padraig, well aware of what was troubling Mother Ross’s mind. “But I have to admit I am not optimistic. This new Royal Irish Constabulary Reserve Force being recruited from England frightens me.”
“The RIC Auxiliaries or the men they’re calling the Black and Tans.”
“Either one,” said Padraig. “More undisciplined brutes than men, I hear. But what can England do? This man, de Valera, leading the military wing of Sinn Fein, has two thousand militants of the Irish Republican Army under his command. Or so the newspapers are reporting. They have taken up arms in bands of insurgents and what they call ‘flying columns’ led by the merciless Michael Collins and Richard Mulcahy. They have seized government buildings; they have carried out deeds of bloodshed against those who disagree with them. It is a war against British government forces in Ireland. And with luck it will be largely confined to the South.”
“God preserve us all,” said Mother Ross. “Men are such evil creatures.”
“They have lost the guiding light of love, Mother Ross. It has gone out, and the darkness over Ireland today is a result of it.”
“They never had it in the first place, Padraig. That darkness over Ireland has always been there.” Mother Ross looked back thoughtfully at the black fireplace. “They’ve never known the guiding light of love in Ireland. And I doubt they ever will. Guinness and hatred flow in the blood of Irishmen. They determine his moods and his deeds. The one makes him the world’s most lovable buffoon. The other makes him the world’s most spiteful villain.” Her eyes turned to Padraig again. “Poor Nora. Poor Caitlin. What future do they have, Padraig?”
“Caitlin and Michael should be happy together,” Padraig replied honestly. “I wish I could be as optimistic about Nora and Flynn. That young man is filled with a terrible rage that bodes ill, I fear.”
“Can’t you talk to him, Padraig?”
Libros Libertad 