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Authors: Delaney Rhodes

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BOOK: Celtic Storms
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Everyone had taken the missive to be a foretelling of the arrival of the three soldiers from the O’Malley clan who had arrived last eve, well past dusk. They were promptly gathered in Laird MacCahan’s solar, and hadn’t been seen since -yet most had figured that Jarvis had attended to them, and set them up with chambers on the servants’ side of the fortress.

Even Braeden had managed to garner the names of the O’Malley clansman, as was customary, his queries unyielding until some reluctant maidservant had relented. They were Ruarc O’Connell, brother in law to Laird O’Malley and captain of the O’Malley soldiers; along with Deasum MacNaultey, Carbry O’Quinn, and Aengus O’Connell, another brother of the late Lady O’Malley.

What on earth do they want with the MacCahan’s? They are one of the wealthiest clans in Ireland. Surely, they’ve no need for a Laird’s son,
thought Patrick as he winded the staircase.

“Father, I a-a-a-am here.”

TWO
 

O’Malley Castle- West Coast, Ireland

 

Darina O’Malley paced back and forth in the great hall with such fervor that her best friend and younger sister, Dervila feared she would wear holes in the rugs that lay about the stone floor. “What troubles you Darina”? Dervila asked.

“What could Ruarc be thinking?” replied Darina. For as long as Darina could remember, she had trusted her uncle Ruarc – and he had never let her down – or mishandled her trust. But this new development, the one he refused to discuss with her before heading out with his men, had her puzzled.

It had only been three nights since their father Dallin O’Malley had succumbed to his heart issues. He had lived a long and noble life, and yet, the stress from his own wife’s untimely death of the fever had taken its toll. He was seemingly in good health, having survived many battles and squirmishes over the years; but still his fifty-three summers had proven too much for him.

With no sons to speak of, Dallin had loved his 5 daughters like none other. Darina, his eldest, was seventeen summers, but in no way capable of leading a clan. Although he wasn’t sure what choice there would be if the alliance with the MacCahans was not forged.

That’s when he sought the counsel of his brother in law, Ruarc. Ruarc was a man of few words, but wise beyond his years, and known in the village as a fair and just leader. He had a close relationship with his sister’s family and took great care with the O’Malley lasses from the day they were born, as if they were his own.

Dervila O’Malley was a bright and inquisitive girl of seventeen summers, who enjoyed working with the clan’s scribe and map-maker. Just ten months younger than Darina, she was close to her sister in ways that could not be described.

Daenal, Darcy and Dareca O’Malley were always together; joined at the hip and busy managing the day to day affairs of the keep. Daenal had a keen interest and proven talent in the kitchens, while Darcy was familiar with dress making, having shipped much of her trade to export in her short fifteen summers. She was known far and wide as the best dress maker in Western Ireland, and in fact, some English noblemen had commissioned wardrobes for their ladies on more than one occasion.

Dareca, at only thirteen summers, showed promise as a weaver and the great hall was adorned with several of the most richly constructed tapestries in their region.

“I simply cannot believe that father has instructed Ruarc as he said,” stated Darina.“Why wouldn’t he have at least consulted with me? An arranged marriage to a MacCahan?”
There is no need
.
No need indeed.

The O’Malley clan was one of the wealthiest of the Irish clans; a plethora of industry with their rich soil that combined with their sheep, pottery, stone and iron works made them wealthy beyond contemplation.

The O’Malley castle itself, sat upon a rock shelf above a cliff overlooking the bay. From the towers, the twin islands sat nearly one fall to the northwest of the village. For as long as she could remember, Darina had spent her evenings in the tower watching the sun set over the bay. Yes-the O’Malley lands were formidable. Situated between the Partry Mountains and the sea; the castle was a fortress nigh impenetrable by any foe.

The high castle rivaled that of Roman temples with its many domes, vaults and arches. The towers themselves were rounded domes, rather than the traditional squared off boxes which were more common. Laird O’Malley had commissioned the plans from a Roman architect he had met in Edinburgh and it had taken near to four summers to complete construction. Although it maintained some of the standard Irish elements, it was profoundly unique. Nearly three dozen hired Norseman had aided in the construction, at a costly coin, but Laird O’Malley insisted it was necessary.

At fully five floors high at its peak, the high castle was an imposing site atop the cliffs and was surrounded on three sides by twelve foot high stone walls with archer stations positioned every thirty paces. The detail in the castle was intricate. Laird MacCahan had imported an untold amount of stained glass art which adorned the outer castle walls and entry ways. Most of the bed chambers contained actual glass windows as opposed to skins which covered the openings in the villager’s huts.

The high castle was enormous. Quite possibly one of the largest three in all of Western Ireland and the O’Malley sisters each had their own bed chambers and attached ante-chamber sitting rooms. The O’Malley family proper and special guests were housed in the main part of the keep on the Western side overlooking the rocky cliffs and bay.

There were five floors in the Western wing. The top floor belonged to the Laird and contained the master’s solar and bed chamber, meeting rooms and private banqueting halls. The servant’s quarters were in the south tower; three full floors of them. The unmarried soldiers maintained quarters in the eastern wing, and the central portion of the castle was maintained as a common area for the clan’s use - containing the great hall, the kitchens, the brewery and the storage housing.

Weapons were the O’Malleyclan’s chief industry and because their strong house was situated on the Western Coast, their exports had nearly quadrupled in the previous ten years; lending the O’Malley’s to a formidable and wealthy status. There were four black smiths in the clan and they remained busy with commissions from merchants and neighboring clans.

“It’s the curse, the damnable curse! I tell you, had it not been for the nonsense of the curse, Father would never have agreed to this”, exclaimed Darina.

“You can’t tell me you don’t believe the curse is real, Darina, can you?” asked Dervila.

“Of course I can. It’s nonsense; we have just had a streak of bad luck. There is no truth at all to the curse, and I cannot let some old wives tale rule the rest of my life. Now help me figure out how to get out of this!”

It had been twenty-two long years since a male child had been born to the O’Malley family. Twenty two years. Story had it that the Burke priestess had cursed Dallin O’Malley when he refused her to wife. No doubt she was a beautiful girl, but Dallin only had eyes for Anya. And Laird O’Malley wasn’t about to force his son to marry Odetta Burke; even if it meant foregoing a major alliance with a neighboring clan. Odetta Burke had a reputation and none of it good.

Darina’s grandsire had a deep appreciation for the affairs of the heart, having been joined in love for nigh to forty summers with his own wife. Darina’s mother, Anya O’Connell, was the first born of the hired ship builder and was a peculiarly attractive girl, with bright green eyes and long auburn hair that fell down to her waste in tight ringlets; although she wore it braided and covered most of the time.

Anya was every bit the lady of the keep and well respected by the warriors as well as clans people. She had a knack for making well with others and many came to her to judge minor disputes and issues, leaving the major issues to the Laird.

It had been Anya’s keen ability to manage the house hold and knack for turning industry into coin that had made the O’Malley clan into an impressive enterprise. Never had a woman been more loved than Anya O’Malley. Her untimely death had broken the heart and spirit of Laird O’Malley.

Anya’s brother Rory’s aptitude for boat and ship making had launched the clan into a profitable export industry that secured the future of the people for generations to come. He had joined his father in ship building practically since the time he could walk and oversaw the expansion of the piers and the port.

O’Malley castle’s location on a bay port ensured their import and export trade business and brought merchants and buyers from all over the coast lines of Ireland. With their prime location, the clan’s people had grown their enterprise and economy to near staggering size.

Rory’s wife, Atilde, managed the clan’s inn, which was situated along a path rising up from the piers just to the northeast of the furthest ship launch on the bay side. The three-story inn boasted sixteen chambers, a wash house, an ale house and stables for guests. There were also four small cottages that surrounded the inn that offered guest families more privacy. Many merchants who came for market days stayed over from time to time and there was always plenty of room and hospitality for others. Atilde saw to that.

The clan had their own chapel, attended by a local Priest, Father MacArtrey; although some of the clan still revered the pagan history of their ancestors. Theirs was a jolly mixture of mythical beliefs and pseudo-Catholic doctrine that suited them well.

Indeed - they had grown - my how they had grown. There was near to five hundred lives in all that resided within the bounds of O’Malley castle, many were servants, many were hired soldiers and the rest were family. The O’Malley clans people themselves had exceeded three thousand at last count, yet less than one hundred adult males remained. The youngest was nigh close to twenty-five summers and the eldest was Lucian.

Lucian was nearly seventy-three summers and suffered because of a stooped back from all his years serving as the clan
Sgriobhadair.
As the clan’s scribe, Lucian had been responsible for keeping the clan genealogy records, death, marriage and birth records and making maps and charts for the ship captains. He had been more than happy to apprentice Dervila in his arts, having lost his own wife and daughter to the fever many years before.

Regardless that no male children had been born to the O’Malley clan for twenty two years; the clan survived, thrived and grew. There was no shortage of hands in the land, as the women had learned to perform all manner of duty and were treated as equals - and rightly so.

The look of surprise on the men’s faces when merchant ships came to dock at port and were assisted by women was seldom hidden. But – it took no time for such details to become irrelevant as many of the merchants learned firsthand just how profitable their business would be in O’Malley land.

Now – the sight of women in men’s apparel was another thing. It had taken some getting used to. In fact it had been Darina who championed the effort more than any other. It was simply impossible to work the docks and assist the merchants with unloading the goods and tying off the ships wearing women’s clothes. Mishaps resulting in plunges into the bay were worsened by the fact that the women’s attire was heavy and made it difficult to swim.

Dallin had given in to Darina several years prior, but had only agreed that women could wear tunics and truis that were clearly distinguishable from those worn by the men, either by color or texture. The truis was a type of trouser worn by the men that fit snuggly about the legs and tapered to just above the calves. Often fashioned of leather, the women opted for opulent colors made from rich velvet. Worn with a long tunic which draped well past the knees, with long enveloping sleeves that fell just past the wrist; the O’Malley women had been the first in Ireland to fashion a suit of trousers just for women. Darcy had out done herself. Combined with a knotted leather belt and often draped with a tartan; the attire was functional and attractive.

Yes, Dallin O’Malley had agreed reluctantly – but only because it was practical. Even then he ordered that the women could only wear the attire while working; and that feasting, banqueting and attending to services at the chapel required proper dress as was befitting an O’Malley.

There was not a single task that an O’Malley female couldn’t perform. In fact, some of the most avid hunters belonged to the O’Malley clan and often their tables were overflowing with the best venison and wild game that was available. There was also an abundance of fish and sea creatures with which to choose from and vegetables and fruit alike for which clans from all around would come to purchase on market day each week.

Except for the marked absence of youthful men in the O’Malley clan, one would hardly deem the strong hold as deficient. Over the years, the elder men had managed to teach the women to protect themselves and had fashioned for them daggers, swords and bows befitting a woman; weapons that could either be easily hidden under their skirts or carried in baskets, such that no man could take them by surprise. Although, many wore them sheathed to their belts in plain sight; Darina had opted to fasten hers about her ankle just over her boots.

The O’Malley’s were one of the first clans to train female soldiers, as was necessitated by the lack of strong young males. Dallin and Ruarc had also managed to gain the attention and loyalty of many warriors who worked for coin along the years and had put many to task. Most that came were young and virile but the vast majorities were already married and quickly brought their families with them.

After the high castle had been built, Dallin had seen to it that the former strong house become the quarters of the
bonnachts
. These commissioned soldiers, along with Ruarc, had taken up residence in the prior castle. Ruarc, and his family, occupied the wing which contained the master’s quarters. Soldiers of station also occupied the former castle, while those of lower ranks dwelt in cottages interspersed throughout the village at strategic points.

BOOK: Celtic Storms
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