An excerpt....

"The room was small. The soft glow of a six-armed candelabrum shone on the wood panelling, gleamed on the pewter utensils on the side table and bounced off the gleaming gold crucifix nailed to the wall. A woman sang as she rocked the carved wooden cradle to pacify the child within. Matho released the breath he had been holding, and thanked the Lord that she sat with her back to him.
Unlike the plump, matronly servants who cared for the Carnaby children, this one wore a flimsy white nightdress with soft folds bunched and tangled around her slender feet. A crimson and gold embroidered shawl hugged her shoulders. Thick, glossy hair hung down her spine, and candlelight sparked on the jewelled pin caught in its strands. When she lifted her hand, a large purple jewel flashed in the flickering light.
Did they recruit maids from the nobility these days? Fingers, pink and tiny as a bird’s foot, waved above the cradle and plucked at the woman’s hand. Delight quivered in her voice as she sang.
Matho’s throat ached.
Christ! Harry would think him a soft-hearted beggar. He eased back from the doorway, aware that any sudden movement would betray him. Once safely in the corridor, he rested his shoulders against the cold plaster wall, blinked and swallowed the lump that threatened to fill his throat.
Harry, puzzled, watched him.
Matho shook his head, and jerked his thumb in the direction of the nursery."

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The snippet above  is from Abduction of the Scots Queen, out in both paperback and Kindle. The house was supposedly once Darnley's house in Stirling.

Not empathising enough

My latest chapter is flat. That means I need to go back and do something to lift it out of the doldrums where it currently resides. There are several points where my protagonist is not seeing things he ought to see, and the secondary character is so faint that she could have vanished into the pages and no one would miss her.

Sad but true. It's the chapter I didn't want to write, so it's obvious what is happening - my heart just wasn't in it. Writing misery topics is not for me. But somehow, I'm going to have to focus and empathise, and I'm going to have to do it soon. I might need a big glass of red wine to see me through...

The pic is of Darnley's house in Stirling. He's reputed to have stayed there, even if he didn't build it. The ground floor now harbours a neat little kitchen-type restaurant with an intriguing stone ceiling built on a curve. (I'm sure there's a term for it, but I don't know what it is) We enjoyed scones and coffee around this time last year.

Beheading Stone

Behold the beheading stone, in use on Gowan Hill

in medieval times. It took us ages to find it. Hunting for the stone from the Castle side of the hill proved a total failure, but gave us lots of exercise.

Driving into Stirling next morning from our B & B in Bridge of Allan, it was plain as a pikestaff on the hill overlooking the river and the eastern edge of the town. I nearly knocked dh and our car into the next lane by grabbing his arm while he was negotiating strange roads and shrieking something like There it is! in his ear. Two great cannons stood next to it. Good clue, really.

Dh's first comment when observing the stone: 'Its rather high. I wonder how they laid their heads on it. A stepladder perhaps?'

Anyway, its where three noble lords met their end in 1425. Imagine being led out of gaol and then having to walk about a mile, climb steep inclines - all to stand there and watch one or two men before you getting their heads lopped off. Imagine having to put your head where their's had been - the place now covered in gore, possibly with their bodies and heads still within sight.

Enough to give me nightmares.

There are no signposts to guide the tourist to the stone, so its a case get out on your own two feet and track it down. Helps to know where you are heading for though, as the hills get overgrown with brambles and thorn bushes. Fun in the summer, with lots of little tracks and dells where you may wish to munch your sarnies and contemplate the rich history of the our land.

Mars Wark

The facade is almost all that's left of a residence built in 1570 by the Earl of Mar. The fact that it still stands at all is due to the good folk of Stirling claiming that it stopped the wind blowing down Broad Street. By today's standards the stonework looks dour and grim, but when new, with all the shields and armourial bearings carved into the lintels painted in bright colours, it would look quite different. Probably looks different when the sun hits the sandstone, too.

I have finally reached the end of my first draft, so my first visit to Stirling in years has paid off. Now I'm ready to incorporate the detail, newly fixed in my mind, into the pages. The visit to the castle wasn't too expensive, perhaps because the Royal Palace is not part of the tour at the moment. The rooms are being refurbished to look as they did in the days of Mary of Guise and James V - almost exactly the time of my story. They should be ready by next April. Pity it wasn't this April, but never mind. The guided tours are free, and there's still lots to see. We spent a good four hours there, both with the guide and on our own, so goodness knows how long we'd have been there if the Royal Palce had been completed.

A frequent phrase in guidebooks and informative plaques around the place now seem to share doubt - statements claim that it was possible that....it may have been....it is likely that....probably with.... and I cannot help feeling that I want positives. I want to know for certain that something was painted red, or that a building stood there in 1472, or that Mary Stewart actually lived there for some time.

My picture of Broad Street looking up the hill to wards Mars Wark shows how effective it would be in blocking the wind!