Wolf Land Book One: Bluebells: Wolf Land, #1

By Fiona McShane

Ireland 1652

During the spring festival of Bealtaine, Sorcha Moore shares a kiss with Rory Farrell, a kiss that makes bluebells spring up beneath their feet ...

The very next day, Rory leaves Wolf Wood. Has he really gone to Dublin, or is he closer than Sorcha thinks?

The year is 1652. Ireland is known as Wolf Land. Oliver Cromwell's army has arrived. Properties will be seized. Land will be cleared. Wolves will be destroyed.

But in the small village of Wolf Wood, Cromwell's men face far worse enemies than in the rest of the country. The wolves here are bigger, stronger, more intelligent. Could these wolves be forming an army of their own?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fiona McShane
• Release date: Feb 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386187813

Book preview

Wolf Land

Book One: Bluebells

by Fiona McShane

Text Copyright 2015 © Fiona McShane

All Rights Reserved

Cover Design by mvcoverdesign

Website: https://fionamcshanewrites.com

Table of Contents

1652

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Cormac

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Seven Years Later

Cormac

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

Rory

Sorcha

1652

Sorcha

Awolf may roam freely here.  He is mac tire, son of the land.  But such freedom could be coming to an end.  A few weeks ago the first English hunters arrived in our village to earn their bounty.  They will earn six pounds for every female they kill, five for the males, two pounds for the younger wolves and ten shillings for the cubs.  With so much money to be made, more hunters are sure to follow.

The settlers and the hunters call Ireland Wolf Land.  My own village, almost entirely surrounded by forest, is known as Wolf Wood.  I wonder: what will they call us if they succeed in killing every single wolf?

Rory

‘I t will soon be dawning ,’ my father said.  He stamped his feet on the ground and blew warm breath into his cupped hands.  ‘What say we rush through a few more traps and then get on home to our beds?’

‘To our beds?’  I raised an eyebrow.  ‘To work, I think you really mean.’

I rarely felt the cold, even in winter.  And in the early hours of a spring morning like this one, I was not especially eager to return to the heat of the forge.

‘Well, it is a good time to go about certain tasks, now you mention it.  We are safer making traps and weapons while the soldiers still keep to their beds.’

My father was called Brian.  He was a tall, well-built man who still had a full head of dark brown hair, the same shade as mine.  He was many things: a hard working blacksmith, a brilliant hunter and trapper, but most of all he was my hero.  He had never needed to raise a hand to me, because I did whatever he said, almost always without question.  That night – or morning, seeing as it was nearly five o’clock – was exceptional.  It was the last day of April, and food was needed for the evening’s Bealtaine celebrations.  My mother had promised to make enough rabbit stew to feed at least twenty.  So far, I had only one rabbit.

‘You get on home, then, and I shall not be far behind you.  If we are to worry about them catching us forging weapons, then we should be just as worried about poaching on his lordship’s land.  It is bad enough coming this close to his woods, without leaving the evidence behind.’

‘They are not his woods, though, are they?’  My father’s nostrils flared and he threw a twig into the air.  ‘They are ours.  They are everyone’s.  And I would not worry about waking him.  At any rate I would wager that Lord Tolbert is already awake.  In fact, if that man does sleep, then he probably sleeps with his eyes open.  A man like him must have countless enemies to fear.’

I glanced over at the huge castle: the home of Lord Tolbert, and his newly arrived wife.  The castle was a mile away, but its shadow seemed to cast over the entirety of the woodland, no matter what time of the day or night.  We knew, from hearing the talk of the English hunters and soldiers, that the castle was bigger than anything to be found even in London.  In one of the towers a light shone brightly, and in the kitchens at the bottom of the building, torches were flickering to life.

‘Has anyone seen her yet?’

‘The new Lady Tolbert?’  My father shook his head.  ‘Two weeks she has been at the castle, and not a man or woman in Wolf Wood has caught a glimpse of her.’  His expression turned from angry to thoughtful, as he mused, ‘They say he has survived a hundred rulers.  I wonder if he shall survive marriage so easily.’

‘A hundred?’ I scoffed.  ‘And I suppose there is not the slightest hint of exaggeration?’  I looked along the walls, wondering where Lord Tolbert might sleep – assuming my father was wrong and he did actually sleep.  Probably in a tower.  With guards at the door.  ‘At any rate, at least he is not an Englishman.’

He sighed.  ‘It is not about Irish or English.  Get that out of your head, Rory.  It is about them that work, and them that take.  He is a taker.  And one of the worst, mark my words.  At any rate I do not know what he is.  I cannot think of a man in the village – besides Lord Tolbert himself – who knows where he came from all those years ago when he was given the place by the king.’

‘Which king?’

My father shrugged.  ‘I could not rightly say.  Before my time.  It may not have been a hundred rulers he has seen off, fair enough.  He does not look to be more than fifty, I suppose.  But whether it is the King, whether it is Cromwell, or whether it is our own lot, he will still be there, lord and magistrate of Wolf Wood.  I cannot remember a time without him.  Right now he has the army garrisoned in barracks as fine as the best quarters in his castle.  In the rest of the country the New Model Army are in tents, battering down town gates, forcing their way in.  But here?  Here they have near enough been welcomed with open arms.  He handed Wolf Wood over to them without so much as a fight.  But as soon as a king is back on the throne, it will all be forgotten.  He shall be the King’s man again, and it will be as if all of this never even happened.  You mark my words.’

I walked to a trap.  ‘There is nothing in this,’ I said, carefully examining the trap I had laid the previous morning.  ‘But it has been sprung.  Could have been a fox, I suppose.  Or wolves.’

‘Or one of the wolves.’

I laughed.  ‘The wolves.  The infamous wolves of Wolf Wood.  Hark – ’  I put a hand to my ear exaggeratedly.  ‘I think I hear them howling their immortal howl in the distance.’

My father laughed along with me.  I doubted that even he believed the stories he told.  But still he told them to me night after night as we hunted or, more accurately, poached.  The special wolves of Wolf Wood.  The immortal ones.  The ones he knew he had seen as a boy.  The ones who had almost caught him, during more than one full moon.  Larger, faster, more fearsome than the average wolf.

All I had ever seen were average wolves.  They were fearsome enough, I thought, without imagining monsters.

‘It will more likely have been the soldiers at the traps, do you think?’ I asked.  ‘I hear they have been going after traps all over the country.  If the rebels cannot eat, they cannot fight.’

‘I have heard the same,’ said my father.  ‘But those that want to find food will find it no matter what the soldiers do.  Trapping is hardly the only way to go about it.  For now, though, we shall have to make do.  There might be a bit less rabbit than usual in your mother’s stew, but we will tell her it is just as tasty without.’

I looked at him.  I was nearly as tall as him, and just as broad, but he always seemed bigger and stronger than me.  He always seemed like he could pick me up and carry me away from any danger.  If one of the soldiers came to arrest us he would know what to do.  If one of his wolves came bounding towards us, he would deal with that, too.  He would know what to do about anything.  I took a deep breath, and asked a question I had been avoiding the whole night long.

‘Is it true, this business about Lord Tolbert and Peggy Moore?  I have been afraid to speak to Sorcha about it, in case I should upset her.’

He looked at the ground and, when he did speak, his voice was not his usual confident boom.  He sounded hollow.  ‘Peggy is not his first, and she will not be his last – whether he has a new wife or not.  Believe me, if there was anything I could do, I would do it.  Peggy has refused my help.  Does not want anyone’s help, she says.  Her mind is made up.’

I sighed.  ‘I suppose I knew she would be that way about it.  It will break Sorcha’s heart if Peggy goes through with it.  They always come across like ... well, like more than just sisters.  Peggy acts almost like a mother to Sorcha.  It will be torture for Sorcha, to have Peggy leave the farm.’

My father squeezed my shoulder.  ‘Well, perhaps you will have to think of some way to un-break the heart of Sorcha Moore.’

I blushed, and decided the best tactic was to change the subject.  ‘She says Lord Tolbert makes her head ache.’

I thought that my father would laugh, but he looked at me intently.  ‘Sorcha says?’

I nodded.  ‘A ringing, she calls it.  Ringing in her ears and her mind, whenever he is near.’

‘And Peggy?’ he pressed.  ‘Does she say any such thing?’

I shook my head.  ‘Not that I know of.  I was not expecting you to take this so seriously.  You are worrying me, with your reaction.  You cannot really think that the stories about them are true, can you?  I mean, do you not think that if any of it was true, then they would have done something to Lord Tolbert by now, so that Peggy would not have to go through with it?  Turned him into a frog or some such.  It is nonsense, all of it.  They are not what their father thinks they are.  Even if they were ... I hardly think it would matter much.’  I looked at my father.  ‘Do you?’

‘No,’ he said, emphatically.  ‘If they are like their mother before them, then I for one would not think it such a bad thing.  Peter Moore would do well to realise what he has in his life before it is all taken from him.  Any other man would be thanking his lucky stars to have such daughters as his.  But Peter?  No, he would rather work their fingers to the bone and then sell them off to the highest bidder.’

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and I swivelled around, looking at the tower.  The light had gone out.

‘I think you were right,’ I said.  ‘We should get off home.  I will collect the other traps tomorrow.  They will be empty, I fear, in any case.’

‘Thanks be to God.  I was beginning to feel like that tower was watching us.’  He laughed self-consciously.  ‘Did you ever hear the like?  I am scaring myself out of my own skin with the stories I tell.  Remind me to keep my mouth shut next time, will you.’

‘Father?’

‘Yes?’

‘Keep your mouth shut next time.’

Laughing, but a little more easily, he put an arm around my shoulder and we walked back to the forge.

Sorcha

For the first time in weeks my sister asked me to help deliver the eggs.

‘Why?’ I asked.

‘No need to be so suspicious,’ Peggy replied, a little irritably.  ‘I just fancy the company.’

‘But it is too early!’ I complained, looking outside at the darkness.  ‘And we cannot both go.  One of us has to stay and get breakfast ready for the lodgers.’

‘Yes, and that is why we have to go now,’ she insisted.  ‘So we can be back in time to get their meal ready.  Together.  You should not have to do it alone every day while I go to the barracks.’

‘All right,’ I said, still not quite convinced I was getting the truth.   ‘If you are sure.’

She smiled – with a little too much relief – and I looked carefully at her.

‘That cap is your oldest,’ I pointed out.  ‘You have been wearing the prettier one the last few mornings.’

She bit her lip and, with a sigh, said, ‘Well, it is due time I learned some modesty.’

We went out into the darkness and began the short walk from our farm to the village.  I took in a deep breath of the spring air, beginning to feel more alert.  I suddenly remembered: early mornings had their advantage.  It had been days since I had a chance to get into the village.  It had been days, in fact, since I ventured much further than the kitchen.  I felt giddy, and it was because of more than just the air.  I tried to calm myself.  It would not do to smile too obviously.  But the doors of the forge were wide open.  I could feel the heat from the fire.  I must be ladylike, I must not stare, I must be ladylike, I must not stare.  Even as I mentally repeated the words, I feared I was already staring.  Had I really expected that I could do anything other than stare?  My eyes had a will of their own, where Rory Farrell was concerned.

He was at work already, standing in front of the fire.  I was always amazed when I watched him in the forge.  They stood so close to the heat all day long, Rory and his father Brian, and managed not only to withstand the temperature, but also to produce perfect pieces.  At just sixteen, Rory’s skill was becoming known for miles around.  But his concentration left him, that morning, as it always seemed to when I approached.  Before he could have even seen us, he turned around.  As we drew closer, Rory looked at me with a broad smile, and then came to the door.  Behind him, his father shook his head wryly as he went to check on the work that Rory had abandoned.

‘How are you this morning?’ he asked.

‘We cannot stop, I am afraid,’ Peggy told him.  ‘We have to get this food to the soldiers.’

Rory raised an eyebrow and grinned wickedly.  ‘Do you now?  Sure, they can wait for their breakfast a wee while longer, can they not?  Better yet, you could forget about their delivery altogether.  Let them starve.  Maybe then they will go home.’

I was about to agree with Rory, but Peggy put a hand to my arm, hurrying me along.

‘Will I see you tonight, Sorcha?’ Rory called after me.

‘I hope so,’ I called back.  ‘I shall be there if I can.’

I was almost walking backwards as we moved away from the forge, straining to keep him in my sight for as long as possible while he, too, stayed at the door and looked right back at me.  It was not until we turned a corner that I returned my attention to my sister.

‘Sorry,’ I told Peggy as I saw her shake her head.  ‘I am quickening my steps now, honestly I am.  But I seem to find it so hard not to look at him.’

There was a resigned tone to my sister’s voice as she said, ‘You know there is no point to it.  You will only hurt yourself in the long run, letting such feelings take a hold when nothing can come of it.’

‘How hopeless you make it sound!’ I exclaimed.

‘Well, it is hopeless, Sorcha.  You know father will never agree to you and Rory.  Even if he thought you were old enough, he is never going to change his mind about marrying you to Sean, and you know it.’

I rolled my eyes.  ‘Well, nothing has even happened with me and Rory.  And do you not think it a bit ... wrong ... my marrying Sean?  Father took him in as an orphan, after all.  He is very nearly our brother.’

‘You could do far worse than Sean, Sorcha.  He works hard, and he cares for you.  Very few of us get to be with the one we want.  Life does not work in such a way.’

‘I do understand the way that life works, Peggy,’ I said, slowly and carefully, hoping she would not grow angry at my words.  ‘Sometimes I think that we are doomed to learn yet another harsh lesson each and every day.  And I know that you can hardly have positive feelings about love, given what is soon to happen.  But ... when we spoke of Rory last week you had an entirely different opinion on the matter.  Last week you said I should never give up.  I remember what you said, word for word.  You said that no one should give up on love, no matter what.  You said love was precious, and if we were lucky enough to find it, we should grab onto it with all our might and never let go.’

She slowed her steps as the barracks came into view.  ‘Last week I had no idea what I was talking about.’

She bowed her head low, and walked around to the kitchen doors.  A tall man in an army uniform stood there.  I stopped to shake a stone from my shoe, and I think perhaps he did not notice me at first – bent, as I was, on the ground behind my sister.

‘Peggy!’ he cried.  ‘I am so relieved that