Beautiful small castle on a tranquil bay,
Of beauty seldom seen on any shore,
Museum now of artifacts of old,
From Roman digs and our Celtic ancestors.
Treasures displayed from my Galician soil,
The lost kingdom's uncovered still,
Yet nary a manacle, or bar seen,
Of a fascist makeshift prison once here.
My grandfather tortured, condemned to death,
But set free by a jailor/patriot.
My maternal grandfather was a supporter of the failed Republic before and during Spain's Civil War. He never took up arms as he hated violence, but he wrote and delivered speeches in his home town of Sada, in Galicia, Spain. He also translated news from the British and U.S. newspapers as he had lived in New York City (Number 10 Perry Street in the Village) with my grandmother from about 1918 until I believe the early 1930's prior to the start of the Civil War in Spain. Although he had good friends among both the Republicans, monarchists and Franco's supporters, he was an outspoken critic of fascism and ardent supported of the Republic. He was eventually imprisoned, tortures and sentenced to death. He spent some time in this castle turned military headquarters during the war and was held there awaiting execution in La Plaza de Maria Pita where he was to be shot with others by a firing squad for treason--read, opposing the fascist forces. I don't know whether his remaining friends who supported Franco, including a judge who prized my grandfather's friendship and integrity above their opposing political beliefs, politics intervened or paid off one of his military jailers or whether the jailer may have been a Republican sympathizer not yet excised from their ranks, but he was set free by his jail door being unlocked in the middle of the night and his being told to swim to shore despite his bad physical condition. My grandmother always claimed he swam more than a mile across the bay to freedom, though I doubt he would have had the strength and think it more likely he swam ashore closer to the city but away from the surrounding area of the castle--perhaps 100 yards or more. The castle itself is accessible from the shore as it is only a few meters into the water, though he certainly would not have been able to walk out the foot bridge as one does today. I've written about this and his prior and subsequent life in my "Unsung Heroes" longest ongoing poem about my grandparents and now my parents who have also passed away--all leaving behind the treasure of their noble examples that is my legacy and which I prize above all that I own, am, or will ever be,
