Redemption - Leon Uris [64]
One day, Conor’s apprentice boy was ill. The Viscount Coleraine leapt into the fold and pumped the bellows, reveling in the sooty job. Stripped to the waist, he proved he would not be defeated by the demand of the bellows and soon his fetching and pumping and other bits of work became helpful.
What is not to like about Jeremy, Conor thought. How nice that a kid could grow up in such expansiveness and carry on a rapport with the staff, speaking to them as he spoke to his mother. His grandfather had been and remained a ruffian and adored Jeremy. He’s almost like a natural, normal Irish boy, Conor thought.
Conor told himself not to let a deep friendship take root. Their parting was inevitable and there could be little contact once he left. He did not want the boy to be broken-hearted.
After five months, Conor had completed what he set out to do. The mood of the place changed noticeably as he wound down to pack up. A night before his departure Caroline came to him, whiskey in hand, poured two stiff ones, and asked him to be seated at their “office,” the refectory table.
“I want you to stay and do a complete restoration,” she said right off. “If you can’t do it, it can’t be done. I am expressing Lord Hubble’s wishes as well, and certainly Jeremy agrees.”
“I feel quite good about what we’ve done here, but in truth it has only been a repair job.”
“Your modesty is only to be matched by the dazzling arguments you intend to make. How do we get twenty tons of Clanconcardy ore, you’ve got a forge to run in Londonder—er, Derry. You’ll have to destroy twenty molds to find the right one, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. It’s your fate, Mr. Larkin,” she said with a brogue. “Now, here is my problem. We are heading to the end of the century. I intend to have a series of celebrations unlike anything this part of Ireland has ever seen—”
“And you always get what you want and you want this more than anything in the world…m’lady,” Conor said coyly. “The whole thing would take on a different scant. To beat the end of the century, I’d have to put on a large crew, up to a dozen men, another master to carry out my basic plan, and myself to finish it.”
“Oh, I see you’ve been thinking about it.”
“Of course I’ve thought of it. Enough to know it’s time I leave.”
“It’s time you stay. I’ve read your poetry, as you know, I know you have misgivings about some symbolism of the screen, and I’ve taken you away from Celtic Hall. Are you afraid of living in two worlds?”
“I know what I want to be when I grow up,” Conor retorted.
“Three years here would not exactly make you an old man. You’ve all that insurrection before you. Or, are you afraid? Did you spend your bundle on the repairs?”
“Lady Caroline…”
“This restoration will make you a man of renown. You know you’ll never get another chance to work on anything like this again. If you walk out now, you’ll regret it all your life. You probably know Tijou better than he knew himself. What would poor Mozart do if future musicians balked at playing his symphonies?”
“Will you shut up for a minute, woman!” Caroline did as she was told as he blushed at his outburst. “Listen to me very carefully…please,” he said.
“I am.”
“This is a very difficult thing to express, so bear with me now. Tijou must have fallen madly in love with Ireland. Maybe it was a woman. The church records say he was quite, quite a boy with…well…the joy stick. Perhaps he executed this in a religious fever. See, he didn’t do this in Windsor Castle…or the Vatican…it was done in a remote place in a remote country. He didn’t care if the throngs came to pay homage. He didn’t care if it wasn’t seen again. This screen was between Tijou and God. He might not fancy me trampling on his grave.”
“I think Tijou would approve—no, adore it.”
“You’re not listening to my message precisely,” Conor blurted. “Let’s see now, how to express it. Most of your great religious