She nodded wearily. “Be my guest.”
Peter’s smile vanished and he suddenly emitted a piercing whistle from between his teeth. The kids shrieked but immediately stilled. Some of them even put their hands over their ears. The entire group of thirty-three of them turned to the bald, middle-aged man with the shrill whistle. When Peter saw he had their attention, he smiled thinly.
“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen,” he said formally. “My name is Peter Ward and I will be your guide today. How many of you have been with us before?”
A few hands lifted and Peter acknowledged them. “Good,” he said, his manner growing clipped. “Then you know that this is a place of culture and learning, not a schoolyard. Keep your voices down and your hands to yourself, or you can go back and sit on the school bus until we are finished. Is that clear?”
The kids nodded with uncertainty as Peter waved then onward. “Excellent,” he said. “Now, we can get started. Our very first stop will be the Medieval exhibits. Can anyone tell me what Medieval means?”
The children followed Peter as he led them across the cavernous foyer towards the first floor Medieval exhibit section. One or two raised their hands to his question. Peter, walking backwards, pointed to a serious young man with a crown of reddish-blond hair.
“It means Medieval times,” the boy said. “It means Middle Ages.”
Peter nodded his head, impressed. “It does indeed,” he said. “It means the High Middle Ages, or at least the section we will be attending does. This was a very important time in Ireland’s history. Can anyone tell me why?”
No one seemed to know. They were entering another room now, a big exhibit room that had a variety of displays. Peter drew the children into the center of the room and had them gather around him as he continued.
“The High Middle Ages was a very important time in Ireland’s history because it was the time beginning with the Norman conquest of England,” he said. “The Normans were very greedy people from France; once they began to spread all over England, they came to Ireland as well and claimed lands.”
“Didn’t the Irish fight them off?” a boy from the crowd yelled.
Peter grinned and pointed over to an exhibit near the south side of the room. He began to move in the direction of a series of cases and a large, imposing display sign over them that said “BLACK SWORD”.
“Take a look at this over here and that will help answer your question,” Peter said. “This is an exhibit of an Irish rebel known as Black Sword. He was one of the great freedom fighters in the fourteenth century against English rule. Now, if you take a look at the first exhibit, it shows a map of Black Sword’s family territory. He came from the de Bermingham family which was, interestingly enough, Norman. The family married into the Irish nobility over the centuries so much that they were essentially Irish. By the time Black Sword was born, he was so Irish that he bled green.”
The kids giggled as many of them, mostly boys, began to crowd around a display that had things like an old dagger and other warfare implements. Peter pointed to the display.
“This display holds items that were dug up in an archaeological dig around the turn of the last century,” he said. “Devlin de Bermingham, or Black Sword as he was called, lived at Black Castle in Wicklow, just south of here. It was his castle from around 1320 A.D. to 1351 A.D. as far as we can tell. There aren’t a lot of records to tell us what happened during these years but we do have records from the English settlements to the south that recorded a peace treaty with Black Sword. We know that Black Sword was a great man because rather than use mostly warfare to gain his ends, he was very good at negotiating treaties with the English that kept them from grabbing more Irish land in the Wicklow area.”
A boy with dark hair and freckles raised his hand. “Did he really have a black sword?”
Some of the kids giggled. Peter smiled. “Well, we never found one, if that’s what you mean,” he said. “Who knows why he was called that? People back then earned nicknames and reputations for reasons that have become lost to history. We do know, however, that he married an English bride and that they had eleven children, ten of whom lived into adulthood, and out of that group, nine of them were boys. Can you imagine having all those brothers?”
The kids giggled and joked with each other. Before it got out of control, Peter lifted a hand to quiet them.
“It was important back then to have a lot of children to help with the household or with the fighting,” he said. “In Black Sword’s case, he had nine sons to help him with his fight against the English. Several of those boys grew up to be great warlords in their own right, and two of them, as far as we know, went to England and actually served in the court of Edward III and Richard II. Like their father, they were said to be great knights.”
The children were growing increasingly excited about Black Sword, which is how Peter had planned it. He usually took children’s groups to the Black Sword exhibit first because the thought of a great Irish knight usually got their attention. But it was time to move on because there was much more to see, so he began to move slowly past the rest of the exhibit, pointing to the last case as they moved out.
“Here you can see some other things that we found during our excavations of Black Castle, but I want you to notice this one item in particular,” he said as he paused by the case and pointed to a small scrap of material, very old and stained, but with faded green stitching on it. “Do you all see this piece of fabric?”
The kids were climbing all over each other to see it. They started shouting in the affirmative so Peter continued.
“This piece of fabric actually has a very interesting history, much richer than Black Sword’s short history,” he said. “Black Sword’s wife evidently gave this to him on their wedding day and it’s a very special piece; it’s said that whoever possesses it will have luck in love. It was passed down through Black Sword’s family, from father to son for generations, until it ended up in the possession of Marie Antoinette. The legend says that one of Black Sword’s descendants was Marie’s one true love and gave it to her. She kept it until she was executed and the piece somehow became lost in the French revolution before reappearing, centuries later, with Wallis Simpson. Does anyone know who she is?”
The kids shook their heads even though the teacher nodded. In fact, the teacher seemed more interested in the piece than her students did.
“She was the wife of a former king of England,” Peter said. “In fact, she gave this piece to her husband, the former Edward VIII, who actually gave up the throne in order to marry Mrs. Simpson. I would say they had great luck in love, indeed.”
“But how did it get here?” one of the children asked.
Peter gazed at the faded piece of cloth. “The British royal family donated it to the National Museum of Ireland because we asked for it,” he said. “We knew what it was and the significance of it. It belonged to one of the greatest Irish figures in history and we wanted it back, so they were gracious enough to comply.”
The children gazed at the cloth for a few seconds longer before their short attention spans had them looking elsewhere. Peter took it as his cue to move on.
“Let’s come over here, ladies and gentlemen,” he called out to the crowd. “There are some swords over here we will take a look at.”
The children followed him in a group, surging forward towards the weapon display, but one young man hung back. He had bright red hair and a dusting of freckles across his nose, a big boy for his age. He was still looking at the piece intently. The teacher, seeing that she had a straggler, went to retrieve him.
“Come along, David,” she said.
Young David looked up from the case. “That thing is very old,” he said.
The teacher nodded, her gaze falling on the faded piece of embroidery and feeling a romantic tug to her heart. “It is indeed.”
“It has words on it.”
The teacher bent over to see what he was seeing. “It does,” she said. “But it
’s hard to see what they are.”
David stared at the piece. “It says ‘everything leads me to thee’.”
The teacher looked at him with surprise. “How can you tell?”
“I just can.”
By this time, Peter saw the dawdlers and was waving them over, but the teacher motioned to him instead. Leaving the wild animals lingering by the sword case, Peter scurried over.
“Yes, ma’am?” he asked quickly. “Did you have a question?”
The teacher pointed at the case. “He says that there are words on that piece of fabric.”
Peter nodded. “There are, indeed.”
“Do you know what it says?”
“It says ‘everything leads me to thee’.”
The teacher looked at young David with shock. “That’s what he said,” she exclaimed softly. “David, how did you know that?”
David gazed up at the teacher and the docent with his dark blue eyes and shrugged. “I just do,” he replied. “He carried it with him all the time, didn’t he?”
Peter was impressed with the young man’s apparent knowledge of the Irish rebel. “He did,” he confirmed. “Do you know much about Devlin de Bermingham?”
David shook his head as he looked at the cases with all of the items that seemed oddly familiar to him. He had no idea why and, being nine years old, didn’t give it much thought. But he had an odd sense of déjà vu. Still, it wasn’t particularly concerning. He wanted to go see the Medieval weapons.
The boy wandered off, leaving the teacher and docent standing at the case, looking rather perplexed. Peter wriggled his eyebrows.
“How on earth could he see what that cloth says?” he wondered. “You can’t tell that just by looking at it. It’s very faded and torn.”
The teacher shook her head, a lingering gaze on the case. “Who knows?” she said. “He’s always been a bit of an odd duck. He’s had violent outbreaks at times and when we’ve met with the mother to discuss them, she says he has violent dreams as well. Battle, death, destruction, and a particular hatred for England.”
Peter shrugged and they began heading back over to the Medieval weapons case. “Perhaps he’s just a good Irish rebel,” he said.
The teacher grinned as they came upon the children, who were very excited by the Medieval swords and weaponry. “I suppose that’s true,” she said. “Maybe there’s a little Black Sword in every Irish boy.”
The End
Author’s Note
I hope you enjoyed Black Sword’s story!
The Celtic tribes of both Ireland and Scotland are closely connected, with subtle differences. In my research for this novel, I discovered that the term clan, used for both Irish and Scottish family groups, was actually spelled clann in the High Middle Ages when referring to the Irish as a plural for the collective group of families usually with a surname beginning with “Mac”. After the seventeenth century, the term clann was changed to sept, which sometimes scholars still refer to them as.
As with Scotland, the term “Mac” meant “son of”, and “og” meant “of” – for example, MacKinnon (son of Kinnon) or og Michaleen (of Michaleen, usually the father). They wore tartan, too, but they had a specific tunic that was identified as strictly Irish, a long garment called a leinte.
What else as different with Medieval Ireland as opposed to Medieval England? Well, they ate very well – evidently, the Medieval Irish were culinary experts and they very much enjoyed their well-prepared dishes, especially fowl. No potatoes, of course, because they didn’t come along until centuries later, but there were cabbage, carrots, onions, beans, peas, and other vegetables that were common in England, too.
I have taken liberty by placing Kiltimon Castle into the story about two hundred years before it was actually built. There is some speculation that there was some kind of fortification on the site prior to 1500 A.D., but not the castle we see today. Black Castle, however, is a real place with a real history. Check it out sometime – it really did belong to Kildare!
And what about Devlin and Emllyn… their beginning was rough, no doubt. Did he rape her? That depends – at the time, that wasn’t considered abuse. It was considered claiming a prize, so you have to take it in the context in which it was intended. That’s how wives were claimed in many cultures. But did Emllyn have Stockholm Syndrome, relating to her captor as she did? Absolutely not. She figured out how to survive, and then she figured out what made de Bermingham tick. After that, she discovered the man beneath the legend and fell in love with him.
Please find all of my novels online. Please visit my website and www.kathrynleveque.com and sign up for my blog.
Thank you for reading!
The Lords of Eire Series is of Irish nobility. The name de Bermingham appears in Devil’s Dominion, but is a distant relation. The name Connaught also appears in Black Sword, a distant relation to the hero of The Darkland.
Click here to purchase Devil’s Dominion
Click here to purchase The Darkland
For more information on other series and family groups, as well as a list of all of Kathryn’s novels, please visit her website at www.kathrynleveque.com.
About Kathryn Le Veque
Medieval Just Got Real.
KATHRYN LE VEQUE is a USA TODAY Bestselling author, an Amazon All-Star author, and a #1 bestselling, award-winning, multi-published author in Medieval Historical Romance and Historical Fiction. She has been featured in the NEW YORK TIMES and on USA TODAY’s HEA blog. In March 2015, Kathryn was the featured cover story for the March issue of InD’Tale Magazine, the premier Indie author magazine. She was also a quadruple nominee (a record!) for the prestigious RONE awards for 2015.
Kathryn’s Medieval Romance novels have been called ‘detailed’, ‘highly romantic’, and ‘character-rich’. She crafts great adventures of love, battles, passion, and romance in the High Middle Ages. More than that, she writes for both women AND men – an unusual crossover for a romance author – and Kathryn has many male readers who enjoy her stories because of the male perspective, the action, and the adventure.
On October 29, 2015, Amazon launched Kathryn’s Kindle Worlds Fan Fiction site WORLD OF DE WOLFE PACK. Please visit Kindle Worlds for Kathryn Le Veque’s World of de Wolfe Pack and find many action-packed adventures written by some of the top authors in their genre using Kathryn’s characters from the de Wolfe Pack series. As Kindle World’s FIRST Historical Romance fan fiction world, Kathryn Le Veque’s World of de Wolfe Pack will contain all of the great story-telling you have come to expect.
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BONUS CHAPTERS from one of Kathryn Le Veque’s latest releases, SERPENT. This novel is the sequel to the #1 Best Seller in Medieval Historical Romance, THE WOLFE. Serpent is rated 4.8 stars out of 71 reviews and is one of Amazon’s Top Rated novels. Enjoy these bonus chapters!
A knight, he traveled, lone and weary,
Upon a road so nigh.
Upon this road, a wraith came leery,
And moved the knight to by.
“Behold,” said he, “I clearly see,
Your heart is not content.”
“Be wise,” it replied, “and know, forsooth,
That all is not as it seems.
Your road is long, and your path is wrong,
For you have entered the realm of the Serpent.”
~ 17th Century Welsh Chronicler
Chapter One
Year of Our Lord 1283 A.D., the Month of April
Reign of Edward I
Castle Questing, Northumberland, England
“She did not simply disappear, but I would wager to say she is holed up somewhere in the castle. Woe betide the man who finds her for she shall not make capture easy.”
The grim prediction came from an elderly man, big and d
ark and battle-scarred, and a patch over his missing left eye. He was old, that was true, but the gleam in his one good eye was as youthful and strong as it had ever been. The Wolfe of the North, Sir William de Wolfe, gazed at the men surrounding him, his expression wrought with tension. There was battle in the air.
“We checked all of the usual places, Father,” a big, brawny man with blond hair and hazel-gold eyes informed him. “She is nowhere to be found.”
“She is somewhere,” William repeated steadily. “I would suggest you are fully armed as you search. If I know my youngest daughter, and I believe I do, she is armed and lying in wait for one of you hapless souls to come across her. She does not wish to be captured so heed my advice; she has a tendency to go for the neck so if I were you, I would take all steps to protect myself should you happen to find her. She will fight like a caged beast.”
The brawny blond man grunted, perhaps in disapproval, and glanced at the men around him; four of them were his brothers, including his twin, and they all had the very same thought when it came to their youngest sister, the Lady Penelope Adalira de Wolfe. Mayhap you should not have raised her as a knight, Father. She can best every one of us if she puts her mind to it. They were all thinking the same thing but no one had the courage to speak it.
No one dared lecture The Wolfe; to do so was a sign of disrespect and all of them had the very greatest esteem for their father. But even infallible men sometimes had a weakness; in William’s case, it happened to be his youngest child. A surprise baby that was born when both of her parents were well past their prime, she had been doted on and spoiled ridiculously, and when she had shown interest in doing what her older brothers were doing, William had not the heart to tell his cherubic little Penelope that she could not do what the boys did. He let her do it. The older she grew, the more strong-willed she had become and now he was facing the results of his lack of parental control. It was about to bite him in the arse.
“’Tis yer own fault, English,” came the softly uttered voice of their mother, her words infused with a heavy Scots accent. “Ye taught Penelope well and now ye must pay for yer sins. She has yer cunning and she willna be snared. If she truly wishes tae hide from ye, then ye’ve taught her enough that she can stay away quite adequately.”
Lords of Ireland II Page 37
