Most Uncivil War , livre ebook

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152 pages

English

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'Over the course of the long, hot summer months Marianela is never far from the young man's thoughts. Pedro had been using his monthly trips to the market in Zaragoza as an opportunity to visit a gypsy girl in a brothel there, but from the moment Marianela arrives, neither the bordello nor the prostitute hold quite as much fascination for him.'Beginning in 1917 and running across the twentieth century, A Most Uncivil War tells the story of a young man, Pedro, struggling with his position as a landowner and head of the house. Giving in to his adolescent desires for one night, he sets the family on a path that culminates in estrangement, irreconcilable lies, brutality, glimpses of utopia, executions and eventual tragedy.A Most Uncivil War is based on the true story of the hundreds of thousands of people that gambled their lives during the Spanish Civil War, fighting for a just and equal world, and who eventually paid the ultimate price in the first line of defence against the fascist axis. It tells the ideological struggle of the 20th century projected on to a canvas of a simple farming family in rural Aragon.A Most Uncivil War represents the trials and tribulations of the Spanish population at a time when fascist insurgents and revolutionary anarchists were at war in the villages and cities. This book offers a view into the Spanish Civil War that is often overlooked in fiction, and will appeal to fans of historical novels, as well as those with a strong interest in Spanish history.

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Historical fiction

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Publié par	Troubador Publishing Ltd
Date de parution	10 juillet 2018
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781785896675
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

Copyright © 2022 Martin Parsons

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the
publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781785896675

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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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With eternal gratitude to the people of Spain who paid the ultimate price showing us that another world is possible.

Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22

Epilogue

Chapter 1
In the east of Spain between Teruel and Reus there is a small village. It is similar to many of the villages in the region and as the midday sun looms high overhead, the whitewashed walls hold the stifling heat amongst its narrow, dusty streets. Separating the bleached buildings from the cloudless, blue sky high above, red tiled roofs perch on the top of each house like a beret. On one side of the village, within a walled garden, stands a stately home overlooking the industrious villagers in the streets and fields. Branching off from the fast-flowing Rio Guadalope to the east, the circulatory system of tributaries and irrigation channels keeps the fields surrounding the village lush.
The cool, fresh waters from the distant mountains soak through the orange earth ensuring that the peaches are juicy and the olives are sweet, before they take the train to Zaragoza or Barcelona. For many of the villagers 1917 will be no different to previous years. But for a few it will be very different.
Outside the church Pedro stops and ties his horse up. It whinnies and shuffles its poorly shod hooves. The baking summer sun beats down on the back of his shirt. He looks up towards the sky and shades his eyes as he takes a red neckerchief from his pocket. He wipes the sweat and dirt from his neck. Two barefooted children run past him, kicking up clouds of dust. Pedro watches them and smiles before entering the cool sanctuary of the village church.
Pedro looks up the aisle between the pews and sees his mother, dressed in black, kneeling at the feet of the young priest. He ties the damp neckerchief loosely around his neck and watches the priest rest his hand on his mother’s bowed head. He can only just hear the priest’s Latin blessing as he bends his knee and crosses himself.
Pedro watches the priest and his mother walk down the central aisle towards him. The priest nods his head in greeting, “Good day, Pedro. I have noticed that you have not joined your mother in morning mass recently. I hope the godless communists don’t have you questioning your faith.”
Pedro bows his head. “No, Father; thankfully with your blessed lessons no one could stray from the righteous path. I have been busy with work in recent weeks. Nothing more than that. I will, of course, be here on Sunday.”
The priest smiles and clasps Pedro’s shoulder. “Good, and it is fine work that you do.” The soft, fleshy hand is more used to counting the collection and gains little purchase on the shoulder sculpted from years tearing at the baked clay in the fields. The priest allows his eyes to scan the man in front of him. He successfully hides his contempt for all the evidence of a life toiling in the sun staring back at him: the sun-leathered skin, the crow’s feet, the scarred and calloused hands and the mud-caked sandals. Unaware of the priest’s disdain, Pedro thanks him for his goodwill and turns to leave. His mother follows him.
Mother and son walk through the streets, the horse’s hooves gently padding beside them. Each house they pass has closed shutters in the windows and curtains hanging over the doors. The black of her mourning stands out from the dust-stained whitewash surrounding them. She links arms with her son. “Remember the new girl will be arriving today. You will need to clear a space for her in the storehouse.” Pedro nods his head.
As they turn the corner into their street Pedro sees her for the first time. Standing in the sun with one bag at her feet and an address in her hand, Marianela’s sixteen-year-old eyes fix his gaze. She quickly looks down at her feet with embarrassment as his studious stare dances across the contours of her body, clearly evident under her simple dress and apron.
His focus is broken as his mother hits her across the shoulder with her stick. “Stupid girl, what are you doing just standing there? Get inside the house.” Red faced and with eyes moistening, she runs into the house, scolded and feline.
Pedro takes the sack of vegetables from the saddle and follows them in. His mother takes the sack from him and pushes Marianela towards the back door with the end of the stick. She turns to Pedro who is still standing in the doorway. “Go and get washed. I won’t have you saying grace and breaking bread with the soil still on your hands.” Without waiting for a response she follows the girl through the house.
Before turning to leave, he glances back toward Marianela just in time to catch her doing the same towards him. He watches her pull back the curtain over the door and the sun rush across her, pouring into the shadows of the hallway behind her. He turns, leaves the hallway, and takes the horse to the storehouse at the back of the building.

Chapter 2
Over the course of the long, hot summer months Marianela is never far from the young man’s thoughts. Pedro had been using his monthly trips to the market in Zaragoza as an opportunity to visit a gypsy girl in a brothel there, but from the moment Marianela arrives, neither the bordello nor the prostitute hold quite as much fascination for him. It is not long before it is in his imagination that his desires are being realised.
*
The summer eventually gives way to the autumn, and the electric storms subside as the harvest nears. The weeks pass and the furtive glances between the two teenagers grow as they both refuse to admit their true feelings towards one another. His fear of rejection and her lack of self-esteem paralyse them both into inaction and the tension of their unrealised desires builds. Sensing an impending liaison, Pedro’s mother invites her widowed sister to live with them and help watch over the two teenagers.
With October fast approaching, the word from the cities grows ever grimmer and the morning newspapers talk of unrest at home and abroad. As the preparations for the annual fiesta take place, word of the impending second revolution in Russia reaches the village. In the tavernas, houses and fields the conversations grow increasingly tense. The labourers whisper of unionising, strikes and revolution; while the bosses speak of birthright, security and divine destiny.
Every evening Pedro goes to the Casino where he listens patiently to the other smallholders spitting angrily as they drink. At the back of the main square, the Casino, with its bar, restaurant and members fees is the main meeting point for the land owners. Every evening he nods as they describe the savagery of the landless peasants working their fields. He smiles as they explain how the workers grow more ungrateful on a daily basis. He tightens his lips and murmurs his agreement as the conversation inevitably turns to anger and then hatred.
When he can listen to no more he goes across the square to his favourite taverna, a far quieter and less busy end to his day, where he imagines a simple life working the land and raising a family with Marianela.
Over the course of the evening he continuously reminds himself to applaud the climbing tensions surrounding him in case one of his drinking companions catches a glimpse of the dreams running through his mind. Behind the mask he paints for himself Pedro feels ever more alone in a village full of strangers.
As the celebrations reach their climax on the first night of the fiesta, the main square is busy with the rich in their best clothes and the poor in their blue overalls. Family and friends from across the region have joined the villagers as they wander from one taverna to another. The music and dancing spill out of the buildings creating a melting pot of soundtracks filling the streets. The labourers drink cheap wine and eat simple foods while their wealthy neighbours drink foreign digestives and smoke cigars from recently-lost colonies.
Pedro accompanies his mother and aunt through the streets as they take in the sounds and smells of the festivities. The evening passes as they make their way around the square, nodding their heads in recognition of their neighbours. It doesn’t take long for P