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    The Wicklow Scarab
    The Wicklow Scarab
    The Wicklow Scarab
    Ebook105 pages1 hour

    The Wicklow Scarab

    By Andrew Walker

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    About this ebook


    With the theft of the Wicklow Scarab the most treasured jewel throughout Wicklow , King Dara one of the most powerful Leprechaun Kings enlists the help of a quiet and trustworthy leprechaun called Billy. His tranquil life is turned upside down when embarks on a journey with his old friend Declan.

    In this, the first part o

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBlueJ Publishing
    Release dateMay 28, 2021
    ISBN9781838082116
    The Wicklow Scarab
    Author

    Andrew Walker

    Andrew T. Walker (PhD, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary) is associate professor of Christian ethics and public theology at the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary and an associate dean in the School of Theology. He is a fellow with the Ethics and Public Policy Center and managing editor of WORLD Opinions. He resides with his wife and three daughters in Louisville, Kentucky.

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      Book preview

      The Wicklow Scarab - Andrew Walker

      1.png

      THE WICKLOW SCARAB

      Andrew Walker

      First published in Great Britain 2020 by BlueJ Publishing

      ISBN pbk: 978-1-8380821-0-9

      ISBN ebk: 978-1-8380821-1-6

      www.BlueJPublishing.com

      Copyright © 2020 Andrew Walker

      Andrew Walker asserts his moral right to be identified as the author of this book.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

      Scarab illustration by Max Barker

      Design and typesetting by www.ShakspeareEditorial.org

      Dedication

      This book is dedicated to

      Kim Cooper

      She always had time for others

      Was never without a smile

      Had an infectious laugh

      Time spent in her company would make anyone feel happy

      To be able to say I knew Kim was an honour and a privilege

      Acknowledgements

      I would like to thank Jean Dunning, Clare Grant, Louise Holton and Gaynor Barker who gave up their time to read the first draft. Their support and honest comments have been priceless.

      Max Barker who designed the scarab from scratch rather than from scribbled drawings provided by the author

      Alison Shakspeare, whose expertise in getting everything together has been invaluable.

      And finally, Fiona, my ever-loyal wife who, over the years, has had to put up with tales of leprechauns and fairies, has offered her suggestions and provided a rock to lean on. Her continued encouragement has given me the motivation to carry on.

      Thank you one and all, without you none of this would be possible

      Andrew Walker

      Prologue

      The moon shone brightly over Mount Lugnaquilla. The occasional cloud created eerie shadows over the rocky peak. Far below an owl hooted, which echoed across a countryside shrouded in the dark veil of night, interwoven with the silver threads of moonlight.

      Just below the summit a dark figure edged its way along a grassy plateau towards a large cave. Across the entrance was a moss-covered oak door that looked extremely old – as indeed it was.

      As a cloud skipped across the moon the figure took a silver key from a rucksack, found the keyhole, placed the key inside, turned it and pushed. The door creaked open. Checking to make sure it was still alone the figure slipped quietly into the dark silence, closing the door behind it.

      The visitor took a small lantern from the rucksack. It magically came alight and the figure walked softly down the long passageway. Deep in the mountain it finally emerged into a vast chamber.

      As the lantern shone more brightly the dark figure paused. On the walls were painted scenes from past and present, of the countryside, of people dancing and having fun and of animals, especially horses.

      In the centre of the chamber was a giant stone slab, held up at each corner by four huge stone figures of knights holding gold and silver spears. Their mere presence was meant to deter intruders. This one had no fear of them.

      On the slab was a plain wooden box with a gold clasp. The visitor stepped forward, lifted the clasp and gently opened the box. A beam of light shot out, lighting up the chamber as if it was day.

      In the box was a golden medallion on a silver chain. In the centre of the medallion was a silver stag with gold antlers. This was the Wicklow Scarab. It belonged to the Wicklow leprechauns and was said to be older than the oldest oak tree in the county.

      The visitor smiled, removed the scarab, wrapped it in a piece of fine yellow and white silk, placed it carefully back in the box and closed the lid. The figure placed the box in the rucksack and carefully slung it on its back.

      The dark figure left the chamber and set off back down the passage, holding up the lantern.

      At the entrance, the intruder stepped out to find that the moon had gone and now the early morning sun was rising over a mist-covered mountain top. The silent figure closed the door, being sure to lock it, popped the lantern back into the rucksack and stood for a moment. Then, with a clap of hands, disappeared in a flash.

      Far below, the countryside was waking up, unaware of the happenings on Mount Lugnaquilla that night.

      1.

      The Knock On The Door

      Autumn was not far away. Birds gathered in readiness for their trip to warmer parts, squirrels and mice were busy building up a store for what could be a long winter. Other woodland creatures enjoyed the last rays of the summer sun.

      In the shadow of Mount Tonalegee stood a small copse, with many of the trees showing that it was an ancient wood. A large oak tree bore signs of a long-ago great storm. It was surrounded by ferns and ivy and beneath it appeared to be a woodland creature’s hole.

      If you had the time to push past the sharp brambles and avoid the nettles to inspect it more closely you’d have been surprised to find: a well-tended lawn and stone borders around weed-free flower beds; wisps of smoke rising from the chimney of a small cottage and mingling with the early morning mist; and a gravel path leading to a splendid front door, complete with polished brass knocker. This was the entrance to a secret, but altogether friendly, home. If you did decide to visit, you’d receive one of the best welcomes in the whole of Ireland.

      Once inside you’d not fail to notice the large black-leaded range upon which was a bright and highly polished copper kettle, above the range, on a shelf well away from the fire, were a fiddle and a bodhran (that’s an Irish drum). There was a large amount of sheet music arranged neatly on a black metal music stand. It’s obvious that this was a happy home – as they say, music broadens the mind.

      In a large bay window was a polished oak table and four elegant high-back chairs with four velvet cushions for comfort. For extra comfort, two large and soft-looking armchairs sat either side of the range. To the right of the front door, an overfilled bookcase encouraged visitors to pick a book and sink into one of the armchairs. The owner of these books was exceptionally well read, in fact, he liked reading as much as he liked music.

      A green coat and a green hat hung on a peg to the left of the front door. A pair of shiny black shoes with silver buckles sat neatly underneath.

      To the right of the range and up a small step was a workshop, with two tidy benches and tools all neatly hung up. In the far corner, a small furnace glowed bright red. Tiny pieces of metal covered the top of one workbench, the other was covered in strips of different coloured leather. A craftsman worked here, one skilled in both leather and silver at that.

      To the left of the workshop the smell of freshly baked scones came from a rather small (by leprechaun standards) kitchen. It too was especially tidy, with nothing out of place. Had you popped your head in, you would have noticed one of the biggest frying pans you are ever likely to see in a house of this size, hanging on a hook on the wall.

      The sights and smells in this home all made for a welcoming atmosphere for any visitor who turned up, expected or not.

      A whitewashed back door opened on a well-stocked vegetable garden. The many fruit trees (mostly apple) made the whole scene tranquil. Such surroundings would make you think this was the home of someone of status, who was held in high regard by the community – and you’d be correct.

      This was the home

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