Monday, June 24

 I wrote this story back in 2021 and called it Song of Ireland.  Later, I changed it to Steal Away, although I prefer the first.   It's still one of my favourites.  My grandfather's name was Alexander Donachie and he had a brother called Owen.  The Donachie family came from the Longford region of Ireland but, despite all that, the story is totally fictitious.

STEAL AWAY

Owen Donachy had never felt the pressure of being Head of his family as much as he was feeling it at the moment.  As itinerant farm workers, he and his brothers followed a familiar pattern as they moved from one part of Ireland to another.  Changes in their regular routine were rare and usually agreed to by consensus.  Tonight, however, he had called his brothers together to discuss a much more difficult decision altogether.  Owen Donachy was informing his brothers that, before they all left in the morning to travel to their next destination, he planned to kill a man.

The man in question was a priest, known as Father Patrick.  He was, in fact, the third son of a local landowner who had proved to be a disappointment to his family.  Returning from school in England, he had shown no aptitude to take his place helping to run the family estates.  The army had made it clear that there was no place for the boy as an officer so, in desperation, his father agreed that he would be ‘given’ to the church.  A generous donation to the local parish, and an even more generous endowment to the Bishop saw Patrick welcomed into the priesthood.  There were enough eager and enthusiastic priests among the local clergy to cover for Patrick’s laziness and lack of interest and he may have continued his indolent and useless life but for one severe failing: he began to take an interest in the young daughters of the local farmworkers.

 Owen Donachy told his brothers that evening that Father Patrick had turned his attention to Owen’s own daughter who was just 14 years of age.  Owen’s wife had wrung her hands and gasped at the thought of what would happen oif the child became pregnant: she would be ostracised by the community and accused of using her feminine wiles to tempt a holy man, and no blame would be levelled at the priest.  Worse, when she began to show her symptoms, she would be gathered up by the Magdalene Sisters and put to work in one of their notorious laundries.  Eventually, her child would be put up for adoption in Belfast or Cork.

 It's no small thing to kill a man, but Owen was arguing that this was the just solution to an on-going problem.  The Donachy family could move on, removing their child from the situation, but the problem of the priest would remain for the unwitting families who would follow.  What kind of man would he be if he left the predator to prey on other young women?

 

Thomas, the most conservative of the brothers summed up their reluctance. “Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.”  In a flash of insight, Owen replied, “But who is to say who the Lord might choose to be the instrument of his vengeance?”

 

It wasn’t much of an argument but it convinced the two younger brothers to side with Owen, leaving Thomas no option but to give his agreement.  Owen was relieved that he now had the full support of his brothers.

 

Owen knew that the girl had been instructed by the priest to meet him in a particular part of the forest just as the moon was rising that night.  The brothers arrived at the spot early and found appropriate hiding places.  When the priest arrived, he was annoyed to find that the girl was nowhere to be seen as he had been looking forward to a quick fumble, a satisfaction of his lust and a quiet stroll home in the moonlight.  Instead, he was shocked to see a bulky figure rising up before him.  He sensed another presence behind him, and one on his right and on his left.  A blow was struck, and another.  The priest was probably dead after the first blow but the brothers’ agreement called for four blows, one from each of them.  Efficiently, the body was buried underneath a fallen tree.  These men were agricultural workers, adept at moving wet earth around and soon there was no sign of anything amiss.

 

Hurrying home, the brothers gathered up their families and set off along the road to the coast.  It was close to midnight but the roads were already busy.  It was the time of year when itinerant workers would make the regular trip across the Irish Sea to Scotland where they would take part in the annual potato harvest there.

 

There were dozens of small boats on the beach, ready to set sail at dawn for the short voyage.  The Donachy family were among the first to leave and soon arrived in Scotland, heading south to the town of Mauchline where Owen knew a farmer who would give them work.  The family never returned to Ireland, choosing to make their home in this new country.

 

Because of the secrecy surrounding it, this story might never have been told but for a strange coincidence.  Many years later, a curious child from a different generation came across a sealed envelope between the pages of an old book.  Across the envelope was written: ‘Not to be opened until after my death.’  In the envelope was the detailed account of the incident and it was unsigned.  These words, if they had been known at the time would have led to the deaths of the four brothers.  It was right that it be kept secret.  But one member of the family could not bear that the truth be stifled and we should be grateful for his or her determination to value honesty.