Adventures in Medieval Ireland
Have you ever wondered how life would be back in 1601, living not far north of Kinsale town in County Cork (Ireland). When I was at school, Christmas Eve 1601 was one of the key dates I was supposed to learn for my history exams – the time when Irish Chieftains marched the length of the country from the Northern Coast right down to the South Coast and many succumbed on the way to the freezing conditions. The remainder made it to Kinsale, only to fail to link up with the Spanish army and were defeated at that critical battle. It marked the end of the rule of the great Irish families and many fled to France never to return.
While it was a pivotal historic moment for the Irish and Ireland, if I was living only a stone’s throw from that battle, what would life be like for me, would I care?
This is the story of the Ó Laoire family who lived a peasant life around that time. It is a gentle read that brings us back in time. We get an insight into family and clann life where the characters come to life brining us into their Christmas trials and tribulations.
Although originally written for my grandchildren for Christmas 2024, others have found it to be a lovely read. If you would like to have a read, it is a available on your local Amazon website.
ISBN-13 : 979-8301858987
Chapter-1
Winter’s Chill
Ireland 1601
The winter in medieval Ireland of 1601 was no ordinary season—it seemed to settle deep into the stones, fields, and bones of the villagers, painting the hills a cold grey beneath a blanket of frost. Snow dusted the rooftops of the little village nestled between rolling hills, and the bare trees stood like sentinels, silent against the chill. Cormac and his younger sister, Caitlín, lay awake in their bed, wrapped tight in woollen blankets, with only their eyes peeking out, watching their breath rise in tiny puffs in the cold air.
“Cormac, I can’t feel my toes!” whispered Caitlín, shifting closer to Cormac under the covers.
Cormac chuckled and nudged her with his elbow. “You’d better hide them before they freeze off, Caitlín! Or else you’ll have to walk on your heels all winter.”
Caitlín giggled, clutching her feet in her hands as if to keep them from the cold. Their mother, hearing the little voices beneath the blankets, came over to their bed and tucked the covers around them tighter.
“Hush now, or you’ll wake your father. He needs his rest for the morning,” she said with a warm smile. “Besides, you’re letting all the cold into your bed!”
“But Mam, my toes are like little stones!” Caitlín insisted, curling her legs up under the covers. “How can we be warm in a house made of stone?”
Her mother laughed softly. “Ah, it’s true, a stone house is a chilly place in winter. But a stone house can stand through many winters, and it keeps us safe when the storms come. Now, let’s keep the warmth in, and tomorrow I’ll have an extra shawl for the two of you.
She pressed a gentle hand on Caitlín’s forehead and then on Cormac’s, feeling the chill of their skin. Cormac felt a swell of pride—he wanted to show his mother he was old enough to be strong through the winter, just like his father.
“It’s all right, Mam. I’m not that cold,” he said, holding his chin high. “I can even go out and help Dad fetch some turf tomorrow!”
His mother chuckled, ruffling his hair. “Oh, you’re a brave one, Cormac. But we’ll see if you’re still brave when you’re up at dawn with the frost on your nose!” she teased, making Caitlín giggle again.
“Come on, Caitlín! I want to see if the world’s frozen over!” he said, excitement glinting in his eyes. The thought of a winter wonderland outside their door made him feel as if they were part of some ancient story.
‘Oh no’ thought Caitlín, her toes still like blocks of ice, but Cormac tugging her out of the bed she landed on the earthen floor with a bang and a yelp.
“Hush will you, you’ll wake Dad” Cormac whispered
“Hush!?” Caitlín says through gritted teeth, “I’ll hush you all right”
“Ok, Ok, I’m sorry” Cormac whispered realising what he had done. Trying to make amends he offers Caitlín a large shawl to keep her warm.
Together, they tiptoed to the window, pressing their noses against the cold wooden shutter to see through the gaps. Outside, the village lay still under a thin blanket of frost, and their breath fogged up the pane. Each small house sat nestled between patches of frozen fields, smoke curling from the low chimneys as villagers began to stoke their morning fires.
“Mam, come see!” Cormac called. “Everything’s covered in silver!”
Their mother, already stirring the pot over the fire, joined them at the window, wrapping her shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
“It’s a fine frost, all right,” she said softly, as if speaking too loudly might break the morning’s spell. “The land looks like it’s wearing its Christmas best.”
“Do you think there are fairies hiding under the frost?” Caitlín asked, her eyes wide with wonder.
Her mother smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe so. They say the fairies don’t much care for the cold, but on nights like these, even they might be out dancing under the moon, leaving frost trails for us to see in the morning.”
The children gasped, looking out at the frosty fields with new wonder. Cormac nudged Caitlín and whispered, “Maybe we can find a fairy’s footprint!”
‘But will it be a good fairy, or a bad fairy?’ she thought to herself. ‘How will we know?’
Their mother laughed, the sound as warm as the fire crackling in the hearth. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. But first, you two need breakfast before your father takes you with him to the reek of turf.”
At the mention of their father, both children quietened, sneaking glances over to the corner where he lay, his breathing slow and steady in sleep. He was a tall man, with strong hands roughened from years of work, and his deep voice often filled their small cottage with stories from the past, tales of warriors and legends of the hills.
As he stirred awake, he noticed the children watching him and sat up, scratching his beard with a grin. “What’s this? Two pairs of little eyes watching me like a pair of crows?” he teased.
Cormac and Caitlín laughed, rushing to hug him as he sat up. He patted them both on the head, his eyes bright despite the chill. “Ready to help me fetch some turf?” he asked, giving Cormac a knowing look.
Cormac puffed up his chest. “I’m ready, Dad!”
Caitlín, too, chimed in. “Me too, Dad! I can carry the cairán!”
Outside, the ground was iron-hard beneath their boots, and small puddles were frozen over, the ice glinting like glass in the morning light. The children carefully stepped around them as they made their way to the reek of turf – a tall stack of dried turf bricks that stood just behind their cottage. Peat was precious, cut from the bogs each summer and dried for winter fuel. The reek looked like a dark, towering hill, its edges dusted with frost, and the top was layered with a few green branches, a trick to keep the rain off as much as possible.
“Mind your step,” their father said, holding Caitlín’s hand as they left the house. He pointed to the corner where some moss and clay had come loose, leaving a small gap between the stones. “Come spring, I’ll need to patch this bit up; that moss won’t keep the cold out forever.”
Caitlín peered closely, trying to see the crack that her father was pointing to. “Will the cold get in through that little hole, Dad?” she asked, her voice curious and a little worried.
Her father smiled, squeezing her hand. “Not much, but every little crack lets in the chill. Best to keep things snug.”
*********
They continued round the side of the house to the tall reek of turf. He reached up, pulling down a few large sods of turf for Cormac, who stacked them carefully in his arms. Caitlín took some of the smaller cairán, her little hands carefully balancing each piece as if it were a treasure. Once their arms were full, they all made their way back inside, moving quickly to escape the morning’s bite.
Their mother was waiting for them at the door, brushing snow off their shoulders as they entered. She had a pot of water boiling over the fire, and was stirring in scraps of herbs to make a broth, thin but warm. She greeted them warmly. “Good work, you two. Now, put those down here by the fire and get ready, for today, you’re going on a little adventure with Dad,” she announced, her eyes twinkling.
The children’s faces lit up, and Cormac asked eagerly, “Where are we going, Mam?”
“To the forest,” she replied, “to gather some trimmings for Christmas. We’ll need holly and ivy to make the house merry, don’t you think?”
Caitlín clapped her hands, thrilled at the thought of the forest covered in snow, the holly berries bright against the frost. “Oh, yes, Mam! And maybe we’ll see a fairy or two hiding in the branches!”
Their father laughed, setting the last of the turf by the fire. “Well, then, you’d better keep your eyes open. The fairies won’t be easy to find!”
As the fire crackled, filling the room with warmth, the family prepared for their day, excitement bubbling up in the children’s hearts. They’d soon venture into the snowy woods, searching for the greens that would bring Christmas magic into their little stone cottage.
Ciaran Leamy - Author 