WARRIORS Page 14

  They did however recruit Knights to go to the Holy Land. Many joined to relieve financial burden to their family’s estates. The Templars also had a profitable farming enterprise in Ireland.

  On February 2, 1308, the Templars in Ireland were arrested and placed in Dublin castle. The Orders’ lands were seized by King Edward II. The trial didn’t take place until February 6, 1310 and ended on June 6, 1310. The trial was at St. Patrick’s Cathedral just outside the wall of the city of Dublin.

  The Templars were charged with denying Christ, spitting on the cross, homosexuality, and worshipping idols. Torture played a big role in France to secure confessions, but in Ireland it seems it wasn’t used. The Templars never admitted guilt and none were found guilty.

  Templers Burned at the Stake

  Von der Schöpfung der Welt bis 1384

  In 1312, Pope Clement V disbanded the Order. In France, the Grand Master Jacques de Molay and a dozen other Templars were burned at the stake in 1314. In Ireland, the Order was simply dissolved and the Knights were released. Portugal was the only European country where the Templars were not persecuted and arrested.

  There were three divisions of ranks in the Templars: The aristocratic knights, the lower-born sergeants, and the clergy. The clergy were required to be of knightly descent and to wear white mantels.

  The knights wore a white surcoat with a red cross and white mantle. The sergeants wore a black tunic with a red cross on the front and back, and a black or brown mantle.

  The red cross was the symbol of martyrdom, and to die in combat was considered a great honor, assuring their place in heaven. The Knights were equipped with heavy cavalry, with three or four horses and one or two squires.

  There were seventy-two clauses defining the ideal behavior of a Knight. A few of the clauses were: Eat meals in silence. Eat meat no more than three times a week. Do not have physical contact of any kind with women. This included contact with members of their own family.

  Heart of the Warrior: Behind the Scenes of a Goddess’ Tale.

  For my story, Heart of the Warrior, I wanted a goddess who was both strong and passionate. Scáthach was the perfect choice. She was once mortal and was touched by the Tuantha de Dannan, giving her the status of goddess. She searches the battlefields for the souls of the slain and guides them to Tir Nan Og, the land of eternal youth and beauty. The warrior goddess also ran a school for young warriors. The school is located in Scotland on the Isle of Skye. She initiates the young men into the arts of war, as well as giving them the friendship of her thighs. (I wonder if any of the young men refused to sleep with a goddess? Hmm…probably not.)

  Now that I had my strong warrior heroine for my story, I needed a hero. I wanted to try something different. Instead of a macho, strong alpha male for the lead, I chose Trey, a man battling cancer. He’s dying, but Scáthach takes him to the mystical Isle of Skye. As you know in this world, she teaches him to be a warrior and of course she comforts him after a long day on the field. She is a passionate goddess after all and Trey could do with a little loving.

  Heroes and brave warriors come in many forms. A man battling a disease and winning definitely deserves the title: Heart of a Warrior.

  I hope you enjoyed the tale as much as I did penning it.

  The Storr on the Isle of Skye with the pinnacle of the Old Man of Storr at the right.

  What inspired The Devil’s Wolf?

  Reivers

  Between the 13th and 17th century, Border Reivers were raiders who lived along the Anglo-Scottish border. These reivers stole from their neighboring clansmen. These clans were both Scottish and English families that raided the entire border country. They were ruthless and did not care who their victims were. Nationalities did not matter.

  * * * * *

  The Maxwells and the Johnstones

  The Maxwells were the strongest family in the Scottish West March until the Johnstones reduced their power in the sixteenth century. The feud between the Johnstones and the Maxwells was the longest and the bloodiest in history. I thought it appropriate to weave a tale around these two clans and perhaps finally bring them peace.

  * * * * *

  Hideout

  The Devil's Beef Tub is located north of the Scottish town of Moffat with a deep dramatic hollow formed by four hills: The Great Hill, Peat Knowe, Annanhead Hill and Ericstane Hill. The Border Reivers, who hid their stolen cattle there, gave the place its name.

  * * * * *

  Reivers and Their Names

  Many of the reivers had colorful names such as Archie Fire-the-Braes, Out-With-the-Sword, and Cleave-the-Crune. The Devil's Wolf seemed appropriate for the hero of my tale.

  * * * * *

  Strongholds

  Catrione Johnstone and Waylon Maxwell are both fictional characters, but their strongholds were true homes to these clans. Lochwood Tower, the seat of the Johnstone Clan is located in upper Annandale. Unfortunately this historical pele tower is in an advanced state of ruin. Caerlaverock is one of the most beautiful and interesting castle in Scotland. The remains of the castle date back to the rebuilding that took place through 1400s. They offer tours daily.

  Caerlaverock in 1900.

  If you enjoyed these tales, you might also enjoy the full-length novel,

  Lost in the Mist of Time. Here’s a sneak peek…

  Chapter One

  Sixteenth Century Ireland

  “What is it, old woman? Why have ye summoned me?” He was civil though to anyone that knew Dougray Fitzpatrick, they would have known he was not pleased to be beckoned forth in the middle of the night. Neala, the woman of the glen was no fool. She was well aware that this man was strong enough to crush her with one powerful blow. Yet she stood there not afraid. She knew him better than perhaps he knew himself. He would grumble and threaten, but he would never raise a hand to do harm. Her high-pitched cackle was proof enough that she feared him not.

  “Milord, ye speak gruffly, but I will forgive ye. Come follow me, so only ye can hear what I have been destined to reveal.”

  Dougray could not help but roll his eyes, wishing he had stayed at the castle with the fire burning hot in the fireplace and his goblet filled to the brim. He sighed, knowing if he didn’t let the old crone speak her mind, there would be no end to this charade. Reluctantly, he made his feet move to follow her.

  She waved a crooked finger at him, so he would lean ever closer.

  “Well, woman?” He threw up his hands. “I lose patience.”

  “Then listen well, young lord, for ye will have to keep the wits about ye, when ye are cast from this place and time.”

  “What are ye blathering about?”

  She shook her head as she continued, determination lighting her aged-old eyes. “Ye will be sent to another place and time for it has been written. Learn what need be, so ye can save yer future born.” He was about to give her an unpleasant retort but she silenced him with just a look. “I have more to say to ye before ye go wagging yer tongue.”

  He gave her a rather unpleasant snort, letting her know just how annoyed he was with her prattling. When she folded her arms against her chest and narrowed her silver-gray eyes at him, he finally gave in with an irritated harrumph, nodding for her to continue.

  “Ye will meet a lass that will believe yer tale. She will be the vision, a dream. Do not rush what should not be. Listen to yer heart, and ye will find yer true love. Do ye understand me, Fitzpatrick?”

  “Aye, aye,” he said with impatience to be gone. He wasn’t one to believe in fanciful tales, and most especially if they involved matters of the heart.

  “Ye will do well, young lord.” She placed her gnarled hand on his. “Please pray ye will not tarry long in this other world.”

  Tarry in another world? Dougray couldn’t help but chuckle. “Humor me. How is it, old crone, that I will be thrust from this time and place?”

  “A mist like no other will appear, covering ye like it were a woolen blanket. When ye finally come out of its heaviness, ye
will be where yer destiny has sent ye.”

  Once more, Dougray’s deep vibrant chuckle filled the night air. “I will take heed, old crone. If ever I see such a mist, I will do as ye bid. Now if that is all, I would like to return to the warmth of my fire.”

  “I have spoken.” With a wave of her hand, she turned away from him with her dismissal.

  He shook his head, wondering why he allowed her to give him orders. He straightened his mantle and strode toward his horse, thinking no more of the old woman’s prediction. “Magical mists!” he exclaimed. “Dar Dia!”

  Murrough didn’t miss the Lord of Dunhaven’s scowl. He had known the man long enough to realize he was not troubled but rather perturbed.

  Obviously, the wise woman had not given him bad news, only information that thoroughly irked him. “So what did she say of our meeting wi’ the Butler?”

  Dougray shrugged his shoulders. “It seems, my friend, that we were summoned out here for no reason at all. She had no news. Rather she wanted to warn me of a magical mist.”

  For a moment, Murrough just sat there upon his horse, wondering if he were joking. Neala was known for peculiarities, but this? “Milord, surely ye jest.”

  “Ah, that I were. It seems the old woman has dipped into the spirits this night. She babbled about me finding my true love.” He chuckled, though it was the troubled laugh Murrough recognized all too well. Neala may have spoke nonsense, but she had hit a sore spot.

  Dougray had been married once to the beautiful fair-haired Ella, the daughter of his now hated enemy, Fingham Butler, the Lord of Castlehold. It had been a good match for the clans, ending the petty quarrels that had plagued the land. The marriage was even approved by the Tudor King, bestowing favor once more to the inhabitants of Dunhaven. By the stars, their love had been of youth’s strong devotion, but tragedy befell Ella only a few weeks after the blessed nuptials.

  Dougray vowed he would never love again. As far as Murrough knew, he held strong to that promise.

  As for Ella’s father, he blamed Dougray for her death, and was determined to avenge her. The raids and skirmishes were now a weekly occurrence to that pledge.

  Tomorrow marked the anniversary of Ella’s death, and Fingham summoned a meeting. He proclaimed he just wanted to converse, but Murrough didn’t trust it. The men would be well prepared in case of trickery. If only he could convince Dougray to finish the deed, but his friend wouldn’t force Fingham to the death. He still insisted they try to find peace.

  “We best head home.” Dougray clicked his mount into motion.

  They rode in silence for a while before Murrough sparked a conversation, wondering if Neala wasn’t right to have spoken of a new love. “Are ye ever going to open yer heart to another?”

  “Why do ye continue to ask me this? You know Ella was the only woman for me.”

  “Aye. Ye loved her, but she is gone but one year now. You need to think of the future. What of an heir?”

  “An heir can be sought without love. When the time comes, I will choose someone who will make do this task.”

  Murrough shook his head. “Do ye not think a woman would want more than to lie down and take your seed?”

  “Perhaps.” Dougray chuckled, amusement lighting his eyes. “Maybe I will ask Fiona to do the honors. She has been more than willing to give in to my needs without the promise of more.”

  “Aye, and she is willing wi’ half of the keep.” This won him a sideways glare, which he chose to ignore as he continued, “Maybe this mist would be a godsend.”

  “Do not tell me ye believe the old crone?”

  Murrough sighed not knowing if he believed it or not. Neala was of the old ways and was known to have a second sight. “Stranger things have happened. In ancient times, an O’Donoghue of the Glens supposedly went wi’ the faeries. According to the legend on May Day, he glided over the Lakes of Killarney on a white horse. And the unearthly music could be heard while his troops of spirits scattered flowers.”

  “Dar Dia! I would loathed to go into battle, worried my back was not covered because ye are looking for the wee folk, or worst this mist the old woman speaks of.”

  Murrough’s red, bushy brows furrowed with irked displeasure. “I must tell ye, I take offence to your statement. Have I ever let ye down?”

  Dougray hadn’t meant for his teasing to offend him and immediately tried to make amends. “Never, my friend. Ye are the only one I have ever trusted. I know without a doubt, I have no need of worry as long as ye are at my side.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “Good. Now tell me Murrough, why have ye not married?”

  “I am not cut out for marriage. Women are from a troublesome breed,” he said with such venom, it caused Dougray to laugh.

  “Ye had another argument wi’ Rhiannon, aye?” Dougray accused.

  “Bah! The woman has a bite. I will tell ye. She was put out because I had forgotten to take home the shirt she had made for me. Come morning, I went straightaway to her door, and the foul woman nearly spit in my face. She said: I did not love her, that I did not care a wink about her feelings. Can ye believe this? Me?” He pounded his chest. “I do everything, but kiss that woman’s arse.”

  “Bring her flowers and she will surely welcome ye wi’ open arms.”

  “I am not crawling back to her. I have done so much groveling, that me knees are near worn thin.”

  Dougray let his friend vent, but he already knew Murrough would be at Rhiannon’s door as soon as they returned to the keep. It was Murrough’s way. He didn’t like any dispute to last more than a day’s time, and unfortunately Rhiannon also was aware of this. She’d pout for a while then she’d forgive him. He was sure that come tomorrow’s light, when they rode out to meet the Butler, Murrough would be wearing a satisfied grin.

  About the Author:

  Karen Michelle Nutt resides in California with her husband, three fascinating children, and houseful of demanding pets. Jack, her Chorkie, is her writing buddy and sits long hours with her at the computer.

  When she’s not time traveling, fighting outlaws, or otherworldly creatures, she creates pre-made book covers to order at Gillian’s Book Covers, “Judge Your Book By Its Cover”. You can also check out her published cover art designs at Western Trail Blazer and Rebecca J. Vickery Publishing.

  Whether your reading fancy is paranormal, historical or time travel, all her stories capture the rich array of emotions that accompany the most fabulous human phenomena—falling in love.

  Visit the author at: http://www.kmnbooks.com

  Blog: http://kmnbooks.blogspot.com

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  http://judgeyourbookbyitscover.blogspot.com/

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