Amy disappeared into the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. By the time she returned, Sam was in bed, head on his pillow, with no thoughts of trying to seduce her. He may have been mildly pissed off, but he may have been tired. It had been a long day with a frustrating ending.
Amy sat next to him. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s sightseeing,” she said tentatively, hoping to diffuse the situation.
“Me too.” He smiled.
Not pissed.
“I’d rather be knocking on my sister’s door, but we’ll have fun.” He pointed at the dresser. “I got some information on the Kinsale forts, the Drombeg Stone Circle, and those… prom… promontory forts you saw on the map. Grab my notes.”
Thankful for the distraction, Amy retrieved the papers he indicated. He sat up and discussed his findings.
“The lady who owns this place, Cathy, helped me a little. I didn’t feel right asking her if I could print copies of everything, so I took some notes.” He pulled a brochure out of the pile. “And here’s a pamphlet from Charles Fort. Cathy suggested we’d enjoy this.”
The pamphlet showed an aerial photo of a star-shaped fortress on the edge of a cliff overlooking a bay. Its ramparts and dividing walls now covered in moss, the serene image veiled the intensity of the structure’s turbulent history.
“This is beautiful,” Amy whispered.
“I know. Let’s go there first. They open at ten. Then I thought we could drive to the stone circle.” He returned his attention to his notes. “It’s about an hour’s drive from here. Maybe have lunch on the way.”
Amy unfolded the map that included Drombeg. “Can we look for a couple of these castle and holy well sites along the way?”
“Of course. Not all the spots marked as castles are full castles. Cathy told me that this map series is very detailed. Sometimes all that is left is a fragment of a castle, but it’ll still be fun.”
“Oh, even more fun. We’ll have to search for them.”
Sam pointed to one of the red dots on the coast. “And these promontory forts are interesting.”
“Yeah?”
“They can date back three thousand years, but they were used possibly up through the Middle Ages. The people who created the forts would take advantage of a cliff as a natural defense site. Then they built ditches and berms, as well as stone walls or concentric stone walls, for protection from the landward side.”
“Cool.”
“Fascinating. It’s hard to imagine living amidst history numbering in the millennia.”
“Same with the stone circle?”
“Definitely numbering in the millennia and mysterious according to the information I read. Clearly used for some ritual practice, sacrifices perhaps, maybe even human sacrifices… or astronomical observation.”
“Whoa. Those are radically different objectives.”
“Might have even been all of the above.”
Amy shuddered.
Sam touched her forearm. “Although I doubt there is any active sacrificing going on in the twenty-first century.”
“You think?” She pulled her arm away and he started laughing.
“That’s the real reason I brought you, Amy. I need to offer a sacrifice to the gods so they’ll return my sister.”
“Very funny.”
“But I’ll show you a fort and a couple of holy wells along the way, so your last day will be memorable.”
She grabbed her pillow and whacked him over the head.
“Ow,” he shouted, and he put his arms up to protect his face. “That hurts.” He wrestled the pillow out of her hands and hit her over her head with it. Then they struggled with the pillow for several minutes until Sam became the victor. He threw the pillow across the room and almost toppled a lamp.
“Knock it off. You’ll break something.” Amy got up and retrieved her pillow, laughing.
“You’ve got a lot of energy for someone who has a headache.” Sam raised his eyebrows and gave her a sly smile.
Amy composed herself and touched her head. “You didn’t help.”
“All right. Let’s get some sleep.”
Amy approached the bed and tentatively slipped in beside him.
He was out in a matter of minutes, but she stared at the ceiling and prayed that sleep would come eventually. The click of the clock seemed louder with each passing second and the bottle of Drombeg Whiskey whispered some ancient ritualistic chant from its hiding place, beckoning her to meet her doom. She ignored it and forced her eyes shut. It was well past three when she finally succumbed to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
After a full Irish breakfast – consisting of eggs, sausage, beans, potatoes, fried ham, brown bread, and tea – they drove to Charles Fort. Sam pulled into the parking lot at just a little after ten. A gray haze gave the landmark an eerie quality. In response to a light wind, Amy grabbed a sweater.
The impressive structure contained guard towers, storage rooms, and military quarters divided by rank. Sam and Amy walked from room to room, making note of how small and dark many rooms were. One of the rooms had been converted into a museum that housed uniforms and period furnishings. Historically informative recordings played, relaying the fort’s strategic significance and violent past.
They wandered on walkways along the top of the ramparts and came to a small turret. It was linked to the main wall by a very narrow path carved into the land.
“I’m not going in there,” Amy said, and she took a step back.
“It’s not that dark inside,” Sam observed.
“I get claustrophobic just looking at this path.”
“The walls? They’re two feet high at the most.”
“I know, but they make me nervous.”
“Seriously? Come on. Then you can say you’ve stood in a turret.”
Amy glared at him. “That’s not on my bucket list.”
“It’s the size of a closet.”
“That’s my point.”
Nevertheless, Amy followed Sam down the narrow path and entered the turret. Side by side, they took up the entire space. The chatter of other visitors faded away.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
An unexpected calmness washed over Amy. “Yeah, actually. It’s kind of peaceful in here.” She placed her face in the small window and looked out over the bay to see what a watchman might have seen centuries ago. Amy envisioned a large ship entering from afar, and she shuddered, imagining the thrill laced with fear that must have overcome a soldier during such a moment.
Amy stood back and allowed Sam to take a peek.
“Now I’ve been in a turret,” she announced.
“Pretty cool. But I’m happy to realize that standing here for hours on end is not one of the jobs I experienced during the lost period. Would get tedious after a while.”
“I can imagine.”
Shortly after they exited the turret, the wind kicked up, so they returned to the body of the fort to seek shelter. Green grass dotted with clovers and dandelions graced the property between small buildings and interior walls. The sky lightened ever so slightly just before they decided they should get back on the road.
In the car, Sam inspected the map.
“We should take the R600 in the south. It will take us by the water here and there. Might be nice.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“Then maybe have lunch in one of these little towns. Clonakilty perhaps.” He handed Amy the map and buckled his seatbelt.
“Looks like we go past a couple of castles and a holy well also.” She grinned.
Sam smiled as he pulled out onto the road. “Just let me know when we’re close to one.”
“There’s a castle right outside town. Just past the bridge.”
They drove along a bay dotted with boats. In the distance, Amy thought she saw a turret.
“Is that it?” she asked, pointing.
Sam squinted. “Possibly.”
As they crossed the bridge, it became obvi
ous. It was indeed a turret, but it looked as if it stood alone. No defining walls were visible. Sam took a side road in an attempt to get closer, but high hedges blocked their view, and it appeared as if they would have to go onto someone’s property to get a better look, so they decided to move on.
About twenty minutes later, they approached an inlet. A very low tide left behind a large, long beach.
“You can have your castles,” Sam said as he maneuvered into a pullout by the side of the road. “I’ll take the beach at the end of the bay.”
Amy examined the map. “It’s actually a river. It comes down from the north and joins the sea.”
“Put the map down. Right here, it’s a beach. That’s good enough for me.”
“Ooh, look. According to the map, there’s a holy well just up ahead.”
Sam groaned. “Put. Down. The map. I’m going to the beach.”
“Of course,” Amy said, suddenly aware of her surroundings.
She balanced herself carefully as she stepped among the seaweed-covered rocks until they reached a patch of sand and looked downriver. To their left and right, green fields and houses bordered a long strip of grayish-brown sand and the remnants of the river it would become at high tide. Sam stopped, put his hands on his hips, and took a deep breath.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about.”
“It’s breathtaking. I’ve never seen any place like this.”
They dawdled on the beach for a spell, finding seashells and peering into puddles, before climbing back into the car. Amy wasted no time setting the agenda.
“On this side of Timoleague, there is a holy well,” she said. “And on the other side some standing stones.”
“What about a sitting stone?”
Amy punched him lightly on the arm.
“What? I want to see a sitting stone. In fact, a sitting stone on another beach would be perfect.”
“Humor me.”
He grinned. “I’m just kidding. I’m dying to know just what makes a standing stone so worthy of note on a map.”
“That’s more like it.”
They approached Timoleague, driving along the bay as large white houses and a field of cows drifted by on their right.
“This road is going to make a horseshoe curve up there,” Amy said. “Before it turns, take a right onto a side road. Then maybe a left after that.”
“Here?”
“Yes. Right then left. Stop.”
Sam brought the car to a rest in a small nook. He was still blocking the road. “I don’t see anything.”
“But it’s supposed to be on this side of the river where all these roads intersect.”
“Maybe it’s in that house,” Sam suggested. He looked in the rearview mirror to make sure he wasn’t holding anyone up.
“No. That house is from the seventies at the earliest.”
Sam pointed across the road. Tall trees and bushes lined the street. “In those trees?” he proposed. “If the map is correct, the river is right there. This holy well isn’t necessarily a well-groomed site like Saint Patrick’s Well. I mean, there are dozens of wells on this small map alone. They can’t all be frequented tourist spots.”
“Good point. Let’s look.”
“I’ll stay near the car in case someone needs me to move.”
Amy rushed to the trees and stood on her toes. The bushes were more like brambles. She couldn’t walk through them, but she got as close as she could.
“You’re right, Sam, it’s here. There’s like a small hut made of stone.” She turned her head. “Not a hut exactly. More like the walls of a hut.”
He walked up behind her. “I see it. That’s cool.”
“But we can’t get to it from here. Unless you want to climb through all this stuff.”
“Doesn’t look pleasant. And I don’t want to leave the car just sitting here. Come on. Let’s go see your standing stones.”
They continued along the bay at a leisurely pace. The clouds were a little higher now, but the sun had not quite broken through. Sam followed the white signs to Timoleague, and they passed a huge abbey with a graveyard. Amy rattled off directions to the standing stones.
“It’s getting pretty rural,” Sam noted.
“Yeah. Sorry. This is a little further out of the way than I thought. But it has to be just ahead. On the left.”
“There,” Sam shouted. Nestled on the edge of a vibrantly green field, four tall stones – two of them five feet or more – stood in two groups.
Sam stopped the car.
“Can’t believe we don’t have a camera,” Amy said. “I mean, look at this. That’s someone’s property. I don’t want to go gallivanting through the field, but it’s so cool that the rocks just sit there. No one tried to take them down.”
“How could they? That one probably weighs a ton.”
“I know, but if someone really wanted to build there, they might take it down.”
“Or build around it.”
Amy nodded. “They’d probably build around it.”
“Who wouldn’t want a standing stone in their backyard?”
Amy tilted her head, trying to discern the nature of his remark. “Are you making fun of me?”
“No. Seriously. I’d love to have a chunk of history in my backyard. It would make for great party conversation.”
“You’re making fun of me.”
He seemed exasperated. “No. Seriously. I think it’s really, really cool.”
She looked at her feet and then back at him. “Thank you. And thank you for stopping.”
“It’s adventurous.” They stood together for a minute. Sam reached for Amy’s hand.
Eventually he said, “You ready to go? I’m getting hungry.”
“Me too. This Clonakilty is less than ten miles from here. Let’s see what they’ve got.”
The buildings of Clonakilty lounged at the end of a small inlet. Amy loved the pastels mixed with bright yellows. They found a little restaurant that served pizza and kebabs, and they enjoyed a tasty meal.
They were back on the road by just a little after two. Sam decided it made more sense to take the highway for this stretch, and Amy slid back into map-scouring mode the moment she buckled her seatbelt.
“There’s something on here called a ful… how do you pronounce this? Full-at, Full-ahk maybe. Then Fee-add.”
“Spell it.”
“F-U-L-A-C-H-T. Second word F-I-A-D-H.”
Sam whistled. “Okay, I’ll go with full-ahk fee-add. Works for me.”
Amy laughed.
“How far out of the way?” he asked tentatively.
“Oh, a bit. Let’s go to the stone circle first. The fulacht fiadh spots are all over the map. We’ll have plenty of opportunities.”
“Sounds good.”
Amy put the map aside and enjoyed the scenery for a spell. After about fifteen minutes, they were passing through Rosscarbery, and Amy directed Sam onto a rural road where he followed the signs.
Up ahead they saw a small parking lot. As Sam got closer, Amy could read the brown sign that said Drombeg Stone Circle. One other car was in the lot and a path led into the bushes. They parked, got out of the vehicle, and stretched. Only wisps of clouds remained, drifting slowly miles above their heads, allowing the sun to warm Amy’s skin. The temperature may have been around seventy degrees, the coziest she had felt all day.
Sam reached for her hand. “Shall we, my dear?” he said gallantly.
As Sam and Amy ambled down the path, three middle-aged women were returning to the parking lot. They nodded and smiled politely.
“Lovely day,” one of the women said.
“It certainly is,” Amy replied, smiling.
They reached the end of the path and paused in awe. The space opened up to reveal a view of vast stretches of farmland divided by stone walls and bulky hedges. In the distance, the sea sparkled and disappeared into the blue-white sky. Before them, an assortment of standing stones were arranged in a circle about thir
ty feet in diameter. Seventeen in total, several of the stones were worn down to about a foot high, but the others were in the neighborhood of five and a half feet tall, with the exception of a large waist-high altar on the far side of the circle.
They entered the circle near the tallest stone and turned around from the vantage point of the center.
“This is breathtaking,” Amy said. She walked up to one rock and placed her hand flat against its surface.
“A mini-Stonehenge with a view.”
“But the rocks aren’t stacked.” Amy hoisted herself up on the altar.
“You sure you want to be sitting there? The gods may still need appeasing.”
Amy scowled playfully.
Sam held up his hands. “I’m just saying. If I had to choose between Emma and you, well—?”
She jumped down from the altar and tried to tackle Sam.
He ducked and ran out of the circle.
Amy noticed another structure about a hundred feet away. This one was low to the ground. She gave up chasing Sam, and dashed toward the new item of interest. A snail-shaped coil of boulders surrounded a bath-sized, rectangular pool of water. To the left a hole in the stone wall created a cave which would be just big enough to crawl into, albeit a tight squeeze for an adult.
Sam stopped at a sign that explained the site.
“Here’s a fulacht fiadh,” he said. He read the sign aloud. “The fulacht fiadh consists of a trough with an adjoining hearth and well, which are all enclosed by a low stone bank with an entrance to the south. Water in the trough was boiled by rolling stones, heated by fire in the hearth, into the water.”
Amy knelt down and peered into the hearth.
Sam continued reading. “Experiments conducted during the excavation of the site in 1957 showed that seventy gallons of cold water could be brought to the boil in eighteen minutes. Meat was then cooked in the water which remained sufficiently hot for almost three hours.”
“I can picture it,” Amy said. “Very interesting.”
“Yeah.”
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