This historical story takes you to the town of Castletown on the Isle of Romance. If you like Allegories, you can learn how Mariot finds answers to the secrets of her past.
Allegory Elements
Did you think tree fairies existed or gnomes or talking sheep? In this story, anything is possible.
In a Teacup
I looked in the tea, and I was there.
The Bracelet
Mariot holds the key to her past all along.
Medieval Castles
There is a place for every season...
A sneak peak...
The ship heaved in the raging nighttime to the north and to the south and all around. The wind had died, but the roll of sea waves lifted the vessel to great heights and depths as the beam of the ship’s hull wailed and groaned. The deck floundered unendingly, and the porthole in the side wall beneath the tossing waves was black as an iron buckle on a captain’s boot.
“The lass was not speeritie enough. The cough got her more than the birthing of the wee one after coming from England tae cross oor stormy Irish Sea. The quarters here are so very crowded, she’d little room tae breathe, apart from the sickness that has ravaged nearly all on board.”
The young blonde maid, with a pretty yellow cotton dress and a white apron, lifted the tiny baby from the dead woman’s arms and put it in an ornate handmade cradle covering it with thick, warm blankets of soft wool. “She has no mother, now, but there’s an English father at the Isle of Man, and he’s no joskin. He’s as rich as a king. I daresay his money will soften the blow.”
She lifted a sheet over the dead woman in the cot. “Rest in peace, dearest lady.” She turned. The small, dark-haired woman, who was with her, stared with a ghastly pale and resigned face in the light of a lantern glowing against the wall.
The blonde maid sighed. “Will you tend tae the babe until I return? I should get some salt tae put in the little one’s mouth tae ward off the evil spirits, and we’ll need a straightening board tae lay the mother on and some extra salt and a candle for that. I won’t be able tae get fresh flowers, but we must do as we’re able on the ship.” She looked at the other woman curiously. “When I’m back, I’ll see that her body is delivered tae her father.”
“Do what you have tae.” The dark-haired woman tipped her head. “My own wee one and I are right fine in this grand cabin lookin’ after the child. We’re out of that ill-kindit squalor, below, wi’ only biscuits and sour beer for oor bellies.”
The maid curtseyed her eyes a warm brown. “I appreciate it, miss. I’ll rest easy knowing the wee one will be safe.”
She went into the hallway and closed the door.
The woman, in the room, looked down at her own wriggling baby which she held in her arms. She dusted off the child’s dirty wool gown, thick and wrinkled and loosely fitting on her thin body. “Your shivering. I wish you had an outer wrap tae comfort you like that rich baby has. Hers is a thick, wooly blanket.”
The young heiress would soon reach her father’s grand estate on the Isle. Her wrap covered her like a shield from the harsh, unforgiving world raging around them. Despite the loss of her mother, her existence was better than any seafaring child below the ship in the lower quarters. This one would have servants tae tend tae her needs.
The woman rocked her child, kissing her soft neck. “You’ll be lucky tae find shelter in a tattered hut when we get there.” She sighed as the small babe in the cradle let out a soft coo.
“Us poor folk live in harsh times, my bonnie one, and if I were tae iver die, you’d get no more than half a blanket and one scrawny Loaghton sheep for your inheritance. She’ll have much more.”
The woman pulled her ragged shawl closer around her shoulders and drew her baby into it. She turned to the closed door.
She touched her daughter’s forehead and smoothed back her hair. “My little missie, you deserve good things in your life, like this one, instead of the ill-faured life your papa and I have tae offer.”
She touched her baby’s tiny exposed fingers, reddened by the cold ship air, and sighed while observing the other babe lying content under her soft, warm wrap gurgling and cooing and closing its eyes in a contented sleep.
The woman smoothed out the edge of her age-worn tunic. She pushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “My bonnie wee one, your place here on this earth is a burden and a dreich affair. I would give you more if I could.”
She shivered, and then she suddenly looked from her child to the one in the cradle and back again. Her brow twitched, and her mouth drew open. “Hmm.” A momentary thought had crossed her mind that was shameful. “Indeed. I could not.”
She pulled her baby closer gently gripping the back of the child’s head. “It wouldn’t be right or proper.” Her heart raced in spite of her misgivings.
“But, oo ay, my bonnie wee lass! I cannot stop thinking of it.” There was an opportunity here to give her child a better life.
She gulped, staring at the door.
The dark deed would strip the bairne in the cradle of her rightly title, and the benefits that came with it, but her own daughter’s life would rise tae one of distinction and ease. Someday, her little girl might even ride a sleek horse and marry well, if she were given the chance.
“I could raise the other child in a proper enough manner, as my own, and no one, but me, would know the truth,” she whispered to herself.
A cold sweat broke out on her forehead and upper lip as the damp, brisk air tore through her. She tightened her grip on her cold, shivering child, kissing her tiny forehead. Her daughter was thin as a newborn with her lip puckered into an endearing pout very much like the beautiful heiress child.
“It would be a great sacrifice on my part, but the benefits for my child would surely outweigh what I would suffer for it.”
The maid, who’d seized the responsibility of seeing the babe safely tae its father, had found the mother only moments before in her sorry state, and by candlelight, in the shadows of the room. She’d only been a short time with the newborn, and most of it had been in the care of the mother.
The father of the ocean-born bairne had never seen his long-awaited daughter, and the mother was no more.
“It is possible that this could be done, and no one would know the truth but me,” the woman whispered under her breath. “My child will have so much more, if I do this.” Then she let out a soft cry and moaned. “I’m willing tae sacrifice my own loss for the sake of my child.” If the deed was tae be done, there was no time tae waste.