The Memory of Stones by Barbara Henderson

Give me a stone castle and I’m happy!

When I moved to Scotland in 1991, I was smitten with stone. It stirred something in me – the hulking, heavy-hewn rocks of Edinburgh Castle, the smooth-stepped cobbles of the Royal Mile, the rugged volcanic rock of Arthur's Seat. If you narrow your eyes in these places and let your vision blur, tourists and townsfolk simply fall away. You can imagine how the city may have looked a hundred, two hundred, three hundred years ago and beyond. It doesn’t take much more than that to get my imagination going. I began to visit other places – stone circles, old dykes, castles and courtyards, ruins and rambling walls. The fascination is the same.

I couldn't put my finger on it. In the end, it was a quote from Scottish writer Neil Gunn which articulated what, I think, has drawn me to such places for as long as I can remember. He talks of ‘the memory of stones’. That expression nails it, doesn’t it – what have these stones seen? If they could talk, what could they tell us? A few weeks ago, I was fortunate enough to visit Spynie Palace (also called Spynie Castle) near the Moray town of Elgin, roughly halfway between Inverness and Aberdeen. Not only is the palace the largest surviving medieval bishop’s house in Scotland and residence of the bishops of Moray for 500 years, but kings and queens stayed under its roof throughout the centuries. According to Historic Environment Scotland, ‘the bishops of Moray may have established their residence at Spynie in the late 1100s. Around 1207, Bishop Brice chose the church of Spynie as his cathedral. His successor, Bishop Andrew, built a new cathedral in Elgin, but the bishops still lived at Spynie.’

The palace's mighty David’s Tower is the largest tower house by volume to survive in Scotland. First and foremost, it is a strong-house, designed for defence. After all, bishops used to be wealthy noblemen with lands and property to lose. The scale of it is very impressive, and it took little imagination to picture the fighting and feasting which may have gone on here. I took some photographs of the coats of arms of all three bishops who contributed to building the tower house: Bishop David Stewart (1462–76), Bishop William Tulloch (1477–82) and Bishop Patrick Hepburn (1538–73). Presumably they were carved in order to protect their memory for generations to come, and I am writing about them now, so it clearly worked. Bishop Patrick Hepburn was related to Bothwell, second husband to Mary, Queen of Scots, who visited often while young. Famous visitors included kings and queens: in 1362, David II fled here from Edinburgh to escape the Black Death, the plague which was tearing through the country at the time. In 1390, the notorious villain known as the 'Wolf of Badenoch' burnt most of Elgin, including its cathedral, but was warned by the king to leave the palace untouched. Destroying such a fortress was often unwise as they were expensive to rebuild. Much better if those inside were besieged until they surrendered (as happened in the Siege of Caerlaverock Castle) – then the winning side could simply move in and use the castle for themselves. Both James I and James II of Scotland took advantage of the bishops' hopitality here, too. In the latter's case, he feasted on salted Spey salmon over the Christmas period 1456-7. Perhaps most famously, Mary, Queen of Scots spent two nights here during an eventful royal progress which saw the downfall of the rebellious 4th Earl of Huntly in 1562. Even her son, James VI of Scotland, called in twice at Spynie during hunting trips.

Writing Challenge: Back to the memory of stones. Is there a stone monument or ruin near you, or one that you know well? Do you know anything of its history? Even if you don’t, you can rely on your imagination instead! Write from the perspective of the castle or monument – who has touched you, leaned against your walls, shed a quiet tear in your tower? Have you been bombarded by missiles from trebuchets? Have you seen flaming arrows rain from above? Have soldiers tried to ram your gate? Have you spotted enemies in the distance while those within your walls remained oblivious until it was too late? What creatures nest amid your cracks? What storms have battered your ramparts?

Barbara at Holyrood Palace where Mary Queen of Scots lived I am sure you won't be short of ideas. Happy writing, be it poetry or prose!

Crumbling castles and spooky atmospheres - by Barbara Henderson

It’s Halloween week!

As I happen to live in the eeriest, spookiest, foggiest and darkest part of the country - the Scottish Highlands - I wanted to do something on crumbling castles and spooky atmospheres for this week’s blog post. Luckily, I visited just such a spooky castle last weekend, and took the opportunity to film some footage for our Time Tunnellers YouTube channel and our writing challenge for schools. 

 

Caerlaverock Castle 

Actually, I was there to do some research for a new book. But this is not the first time that I have set a story in a castle. The glorious Caerlaverock Castle, Britain’s only triangular medieval fortress, is the setting for my Young-Quills-shortlisted book The Siege of Caerlaverock. The opening of my middle grade novel describes Ada, a laundress at Caerlaverock, as she sneaks out at night to secretly feed a prisoner in the tower prison.

Even though my feet are bare, I feel the echo of every step along the corridor.

Don’t drop the candle.

Don’t drop the bread.

Don’t stumble.

Don’t cough.

The wind sings through the arrow slits and I hug my left hand around the tiny flame, pressing the hunk of bread against my body with my elbow. Back by the Gatehouse, the guards’ silhouettes stand outlined in the courtyard. I can’t tell which direction they are facing. No matter, I have to risk it. My conscience commands it.

My skirts flutter around my feet as I duck around the wash-house. Stooping behind barrels, stairs, sleeping horses and ladders, I run the last few steps and my candle blows out. I ease myself through the narrow gap and into the damp blackness of the tower. 

Let’s be clear: I absolutely love old castles and the atmosphere they evoke. Visiting Caerlaverock, I was able to research Ada’s route. I imagined the cold stone floor underfoot, the clammy dampness of the narrow stairs and corridors, and the smells and sounds of a castle courtyard.

I love reading this section aloud on school visits, often in no more than a whisper. Wonderfully, the book is based on a real and well-documented event in history, the real Siege of Caerlaverock in the year 1300. It happened during the Wars of Scottish Independence when the King of England, Edward Longshanks who loved to call himself The Hammer of the Scots, arrived at Caerlaverock with 3000 soldiers. Inside the castle were less than seventy, with the lady of the castle having to negotiate this tricky situation alone while her Lord was away. I thoroughly enjoyed imagining what these days would have been like for a girl and a young page boy, and I relied heavily on the contemporary poem which describes the siege for the plot of the book.

But walking around a castle after dark, on your own, as a girl? That would have been dangerous, verging on foolhardy. There surely cannot be a scarier, eerier or spookier atmosphere than a castle after dark, can there? How would you feel in Ada’s place?

Whether you believe in ghosts or not, there is little doubt that most people in the Middle Ages and the Early Modern period did. The castle I visited last week, Huntly Castle in Aberdeenshire, belonged to a notoriously fickle and disloyal lord called the Fourth Earl of Huntly. He plotted against the newly arrived Mary Queen of Scots during the 1500s, but when the Queen confronted him, he raised an army – while his wife turned to witchcraft. He will make a wonderfully vile villain for my next story, and I cannot wait to get started.

As I tiptoed along the corridors of Huntly Castle last weekend and peered down its old spiral staircases, I couldn’t help it: a shiver ran down my spine and I could feel my heart thump in my chest. It’s the castle effect.

So why not give yourself over to the castle experience? Visit a castle near you if you can, or support a heritage organisation which looks after such places. Explore the wealth of information about such sites that is now at our fingertips at the mere click of a mouse. And while you’re at it, whether you are young or old, why not try your hand at a story opening set in a night-time castle? I for one would be first in the queue to read it!

Think of echoing footsteps, the scraping of a sword out of a scabbard. The flickering light, the scent of rushes on the floor, the many tapestries behind which so much can be concealed. Think of the moonlight shining through arrow slits, an owl’s hooting, the rustling of rats and mice, the clanging of pots in the kitchen range, the rattling of an iron bucket in the depths of a well. Feel the rough stone underfoot, an iron chain cutting into your wrist, hear the chanting from the chapel at evensong.

Our heritage is rich, but it isn’t remote. All it asks of us is a little imagination.

 

 

Enemies within.

Enemies without.

Nowhere to hide.

 

12-year-old Ada is a laundress of little consequence, but the new castle commander Brian de Berclay has his evil eye on her. Perhaps she shouldn’t have secretly fed the young prisoner in the tower.

But when the King of England crosses the border with an army over 3000 strong, Ada, her friend Godfrey and all at Caerlaverock suddenly find themselves under attack, with only 60 men for protection.

Soon, rocks and flaming arrows rain from the sky over Castle Caerlaverock—and Ada has a dangerous choice to make.

 

Barbara Henderson in front of Huntly Castle 

Barbara's books are published by Cranachan. They are available from bookshops and online retailers.

For more information about Barbara's books visit barbarahenderson.co.uk

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