Beyond the Cliffs of Kerry (3 page)

Etienne was an attractive man with curly brown hair and the dark complexion of his French-Moorish ancestors. He had a mole on his lower right cheek, which added interest to his pleasant face, along with a perpetual twinkle in his eye; a mischievous twinkle which seemed inconsistent with the severe garment of the Jesuit.

As Father Etienne came down the steps of the cottage, he expected to see Darcy bending over the fire making breakfast. A fire was glowing in the hearth, but the room was empty. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, the door opened and Darcy stepped into the room.

"Good morning, Father. Your breakfast will be ready in moment.”

She stepped to the hearth to prepare some oatmeal. She did not look at Father Etienne, and he knew that she was anxious about something.

After a moment, she scolded, "Now why did you go and sleep on the floor last night? Surely you knew that the bed was for you."

"I am much more comfortable sleeping on a hard surface. Your brother needed the bed more than me," he replied.

She pulled the pan off the spider trivet where some potatoes had been frying and scooped some oatmeal into his bowl. "I am sorry to hurry you, but we must be ready to go before sunup. Liam told me last night that we must move you to the caves first thing this morning. I wish there was some way we could keep you here. The caves are not very comfortable."

"Please don't apologize. I would never want to put you or your brother in any danger."

After eating he wiped his mouth on the coarse homespun towel, gave thanks to God once more then disappeared upstairs, returning with his bag and a few books under his arm.

"Darcy, I was wondering if I might ask a favor of you. Caves are not very friendly to books. The moisture puts a rot into them, one can never remedy. When Liam brings my crate of volumes, may I store them here?

"Of course, we will put them upstairs." Darcy swallowed hard, and then said, "Father, this may be unpleasant for you, but I'm going to have to sew you into a funeral shroud before you make your journey up the bluff."

His jaw dropped, and then he laughed, "Well! This sounds exciting!"

“What! You can’t be serious," she gasped. "Oh, begging your pardon, Father."

He chuckled and touched her arm. "Please, you must realize that I am not stuffy. I believe life is a grand adventure, and Jesus smiles on those who laugh and enjoy it."

Darcy smiled. "You are a most unusual man, Father Etienne."

She picked up her sewing kit and lantern and walked out the door where Liam's donkey was hitched to a cart. Except for a dim light to the east, it remained dark.

Darcy raised the light above the bed of the cart illuminating a shroud. The priest put his foot on the wheel and hoisted himself upon the shroud and lay down. Darcy folded up one side, then the other, and asked, "Are you going to be all right?"

He winked, and she laid the cloth over his face. It was a curious sensation being sewn into the bag. The linen lay heavily on his face, and he was concerned that his breathing may move the cloth. Darcy snipped open several stitches by his nose and mouth and whispered, "I was afraid you couldn't breathe. Liam is here now. I will come to the cave later. Are you still having a good time?" He could see her smiling in the lantern light.

Father Etienne felt the cart jostle to the side as Liam climbed aboard. He snapped the reins and they were off with a jolt. Liam settled into his usual hunched-over position, and to the village it was just another day in the life of a gravedigger.

Streaks of sun steamed across the sky as Darcy watched the cart make its slow ascent to the abbey. She shuddered. The feeling of being trapped inside a shroud struggling for air was not her idea of a “grand adventure”.

She turned and walked to her plot of potatoes and began pulling weeds. Even her most diligent efforts yielded small inferior potatoes, and every year brought renewed worries about the crops. Everyone lived in constant fear of another poor harvest, and anxiously studied the growth.

Darcy stepped inside the cottage, returning with peelings for their two pigs. They pushed and snorted excitedly as she arrived. Once more she looked up at the bluff. The cart continued its tedious progress up the hill, and she sighed. Darcy rehearsed the story Liam had fabricated about who had died. She had survived repeated questionings by the British soldiers, regarding everything from smuggling to worship, and it taught Darcy that bearing false witness was the least of her worries on earth.

Returning again to the cottage, she gathered the dirty breakfast dishes and grabbed a pottery jug for water. She stepped out into the yellow morning sunlight and started for the town well. Every woman in Kilkerry appeared there in the morning and Darcy knew, if she hurried, she might miss their interrogation about the identity of the deceased.

The McBride cottage was on the edge of town, where the abbey bluff began. The village was small and most of the mud cottages clustered around a narrow slope down to the sea. Few of the homes had windows and many of the residents resided with their pigs and chickens.

Darcy stole a glance over her shoulder and saw that Liam had reached the crest and was passing through the churchyard. She waved to her neighbor, Paid Lillis as she passed by his cottage. He looked up briefly from his weeding to return her wave. It was a relief that he did not invite conversation.

Darcy spied the large cross rising above the well. No one was there. Quickening her pace she arrived at the well, pushing the hair from her face and looking around.

She lowered the bucket, her heart pounding, and then looked up at the abbey one last time. The churchyard was empty, Liam was gone. They had made it to the other side safely. Darcy sighed and pulled the water bucket up. The caves, which had sheltered her and offered her asylum during the famine, were once again giving refuge to someone who needed a home.

A gravelly voice behind her barked, "Who died, McBride?"

Startled, she turned to meet Edna O'Malley, the town busybody. Her fat, pinched face reminded Darcy of a prize pig.

"Who died?" echoed Darcy.

Edna impatiently motioned toward the abbey, shaking the fat on her arm. “Who did Liam take up?”

"Oh, just an old man from Granager, none of us knew him."

"Oh," replied Edna, disappointed. She wanted to be the first to bear news of a noteworthy death. This old man did not qualify.

Darcy despised Edna. When the solders had been in residence in Kilkerry several years ago, everyone suspected Edna of being on the payroll. She was shallow and self- serving and few loyal Irishmen were overweight these days. She would not have the benefit of clergy once Father Etienne’s presence was shared with the town.

"Any word from Bran?" pried Edna as she put her face close to Darcy.

"Considering he can't read, Edna, he probably wouldn’t write to me," Darcy said, turning on her heel.

Edna O'Malley was not deterred. Walking alongside Darcy, she continued her line of questioning. "Darcy McBride, you certainly must love that man. You've waited for him to return from the American Colonies for seven years now. You better be careful; you're approaching the end of your bloom, girl."

Darcy opened her mouth, and then reconsidered as Edna grabbed her arm. "How do you know that he's even alive?

Darcy said nothing. She wrenched her arm free and headed for home. As she walked back swinging her water jug, she thought about Bran. She knew that there was a good chance that he was dead. Life as an indentured servant in the American Colonies was severe, but she remained hopeful, looking for him every day. She looked up at the soft dark mountains of Kerry and then at the cliffs leading out to the sea. She knew in her heart Bran would return. If he were still alive, he would be drawn back to the land of his fathers.

Darcy reached home, and after several chores she began dinner. Her life seemed an endless cycle of making and cleaning up after a meal. She knew that marriage to Bran would make that fate permanent, but like every other Irish woman of the day, Darcy had few choices. In fact, marriage to Bran was quite an appealing future. He was handsome, capable and an experienced lover.

Ever since she was a child, the village had paired the two of them together. During the famine, Liam and Bran had taken care of her, and the three of them had lived for many years in the cave, eating what little they could forage from the surrounding area and the sea.

Darcy had been wild about Bran in those days, and right up until the time he was transported to the American Colonies for resisting arrest she had considered herself his future wife. Darcy knew that his seven year period for his servitude was over, and he would return any day, but she worried. He may have been lost at sea or succumbed to disease, anything was possible.

Nevertheless, she continued to snub overtures from the young men of Kilkerry. Bran alone held her heart.

She remembered how strongly he had held her when they had made love, and she was grateful that she did not breed. In fact, there had been so many moments of passion with Bran that she wondered if maybe the lack of food in her early years had left her barren.

Darcy wished they had wed before his arrest, but he insisted on having a few more years to pass before he settled down. Bran was a wild rambunctious youth, keeping late hours drinking and carousing with his mates.

Darcy awoke from her reverie when the stew began to boil. She swung the crane out into the warming position and set a place for Liam. After that she ladled some stew in a tin pail for Father Etienne. She would feed him well today, but after that she would have to ease him into a diet consisting of less meat and more potatoes. She placed the stout, soda bread and stews into a wicker basket and covered it snugly with a woolen cloth.

Darcy stepped out into the sunlight marveling at the glorious weather. In a land of drizzle and grey skies, sunny days are not taken for granted. She felt the warm earth under her bare feet. Even the abbey didn't look threatening today. Its jagged remains seemed innocuous as she climbed the hill and crossed the churchyard to the cliff walk. She followed the coastline along the cliffs until she saw an opening with some uneven moss-covered steps.

She remembered the day she had discovered those steps with her sister Mary Kathleen and their delight as they entered their own secret cave. Darcy stopped and looked out to sea thinking back.

The Hunger claimed Mary Kathleen's life first, and then the rest of the family followed, leaving Liam and Darcy alone. The soldiers told Liam and Darcy to leave their cottage and find lodging elsewhere. If you couldn't pay the rent, you had to leave so the two set out looking for a home. They sought refuge in this cave, and after several weeks Bran Moynahan joined them.

Darcy couldn't believe that she was back here again, and slinging the basket over her arm she climbed down the rugged steps knowing instinctively where to place each foot. The descent was perilous and one slip could mean death on the rocks below. As children these dangers never occurred to them, and even today Darcy had little concern for her safety. She hopped onto the ledge of the cave and encountered Father Etienne putting linens on an old bed Liam which Bran had constructed years ago. It was in poor condition, but it kept him off the damp floor of the cave.

"Why, Hello, Darcy! You are my first guest," he said, with a smile.

"I brought you something to eat," she said looking around. "They have done a fine job making it a home here."

Next to the bed, was a nightstand brought by the owlers, a large cask turned up on end for a kitchen table, a wooden chair and even braided rug. Darcy was glad to see that Father Etienne's lodgings weren't too Spartan.

She took a step and felt something crunch under her foot. When she looked down, she saw the broken remains of hundreds of snail shells, littering the floor of the cave. Darcy stared for a moment then slowly her memory returned, and the days of deprivation came back. All of a sudden, the air seemed stuffy, and she felt like she was going to wretch.