“That’s the rumor,” Gary said. He shrugged. “Forgive me. I try to take Mondays and Tuesdays off, but I’m here seven days a week sometimes. I grew up beneath the great castle on the hill—loving it. The family is like my own and naturally, I know what’s going on most the time. Sadly, Collum was like a bull—and his habits were not at all healthy. Dr. Kirkland said heart attack, and it’s not much of a mystery. But, if you will. Come—let’s head to the Karney Castle Pub. I’ll buy you a beer. You can entertain me a bit with a few or your tales.”
Rocky glanced at Devin. She realized that they’d both been looking forward to getting into the massive old bathtub—but they’d also planned on waiting to see Kelly and Seamus. It didn’t seem at all a bad idea to spend the time waiting with the man who supposedly knew the history of the castle better than any other.
“We’ll be doing the buying,” Rocky said, “after such a night of entertainment. In fact, we’d love to buy you dinner, if it’s available at this hour.”
Gary grinned. “Tour ends at nine; dinner goes ’til ten. I’d be deciding on fish and chips or shepherd’s pie as we walk!”
They did so. Some of the other members of Gary’s tour group, those staying at the castle, walked in groups ahead of them. The massive gates at the great wall were open—permanently, now that hostile invaders were no longer expected—and led into a vast courtyard where vendors had been setting up for the coming festival days; their carts and stations were now dark, many covered in tarps.
The central tower—stonework built circa 1000 over original earthwork foundations founded around the year 300—stood before them with the north wing—built circa 1200—to the left and the south wing—built circa 1400—to the right. The Castle Pub was in the right wing with the floors above it containing a museum on the second floor, and storage and household items on the third floor and in the attic. The guest rooms were all in the north left wing. The main hall of the oldest part of the castle, the central tower, offered check-in, and a lobby area while still maintaining historical truth. The coat of arms of the Karney family held prominence over a great hearth that stretched twenty feet. The crest was surrounded by mounted weapons from swords and shields to dirks, staffs, and more. Two mannequins in full armor—one from the eleventh century and one from the sixteenth—stood guard at either side of the hearth. There was no counter—check-in was done at a seventh-century desk that sat discretely just inside the double doors to the main hall.
They entered through the main door. A note on the desk advised guests to “Ring if ye must; bear in mind ’tis late! Pub that-a way!”
They followed the sign to the pub.
It was charming, with lots of carved hardwood, many of the images at the six small booths those of creatures and beings from Irish myth and legend. A long bar offered ten different beers on tap and a sign on the bar offered the pub’s limited menu of bangers and mash, shepherd’s pie, fish and chips, vegetarian salad, and vegan salad.
There was an especially atmospheric little cover of benches in the pub, right where the old family chapel—now deconsecrated—had once been; the Karney family had worshipped at St. Patrick’s of the Village for centuries now. Double wood doors—always open—led to the little section and beautiful stained glass windows that looked out. A small altar had once stood before those windows; now they offered a tinted and fantastic view of the courtyard. A small door near the great stained glass window was roped off; Devin knew that it led down into the castle’s catacombs, basement—and one time dungeon.
Once a year, the Karney family had a cleaning company head down to sweep out the spider webs and then they would allow tour groups down. The liability for doing it more than once a year was just too high.
Above ground, however, the tiny old chapel area was charming.
They chose a table there.
A friendly waitress with a white peasant blouse, ankle-length skirt, and wreath around her head came their way after tending to a group ahead of them. A lone, busy bartender stood behind the long bar pouring a number of beers at once, worthy of a reality show.
Devin noticed that little had changed since she had been to Castle Karney when she’d been about thirteen.
“Ah, Gary! So ye’ve tricked some new friends into dinner again!” the waitress said.
“Indeed, but these are special friends, Siobhan!” Gary said.
“Oh?” Siobhan asked, smiling, and waiting.
“I’m Kelly Karney’s cousin, Devin Lyle,” Devin said. “Nice to meet you, Siobhan. And this is my husband, Craig Rockwell.”
“Ah, very American, you keeping your name, eh?” Siobhan asked, grinning. “I’m Siobhan McFarley. A pleasure to meet you both!” She frowned. “Sorry about the latest troubles in the family, eh?”
“You mean Collum’s death?” Devin asked.
“Aye, that I do,” Siobhan said, and shivered visibly. “Scary, now, weren’t it? I heard it, you know, the banshee’s cry the night before. You heard it, too, right, Gary?”