The Knight of Slaughtaverty

Chapter 1 - Island of Mist and Shadow

Present Day

Clouds had been rolling in, gathering ominously, even before Billy Doyle picked me up from the harbour, and we started the car journey to Slaughtaverty, one of the island's secluded villages.

The sun has not set yet, but darkness is creeping in with the rising weather, casting our surroundings in deep shadow and watery light. To the right of the pitted old stone road, the island ends in sheer rock, plunging itself into the angry ocean far below, and to the left, an overgrown forest skirts the road, cutting it off from the village nestled at the foot of the hill.

Ahead, breaking away from the dense forest and towering darkly over the ocean, perched loftily on top of the cliffs, is Slaughtaverty Manor, our destination.

I nervously brush the palms of my hands over the wrinkled material of my most professional-looking, calf-length brown skirt, my heart filling with apprehension as I take in the turrets and contours of my soon-to-be home etched against the dying light of the defeated sun. Of course, I've seen many photographs, but none prepared me for how eerie the mansion could look with a storm brewing overhead, embracing it in secretive shadows.

The island was called Peace Haven because, historically, it provided a refuge of peace for many families fleeing their countries in the hopes of finding a place where they could live in peace and safety, untouched by politics and war. Since its discovery in the 1600s, the small island has belonged to the Slatherty family, with the first owner being the Duke of Ulaidh in Ireland. Although the Slatherties permanently left Ireland in the 1700s, the dukeship, though in name only, technically still belongs to them according to all the sources I could find, making the current Duke of Ulaidh, Alaric Slatherty, my new employer.

Some say that the village the manor presides over was named Slaughtaverty in honour of the Slatherties, but the locals misspelt it. While researching the island, I came across many opinions on the matter, but nobody was entirely clear on how the town got its strange name. It doesn't really matter; all I care about is the fact that Alaric Slatherty hired me to appraise and document all the treasures hidden in the halls of Slaughtaverty Manor.

It is a dream come true!

No appraiser has ever even entered the mansion, let alone looked at all the antiques hidden there and documented them. I'm thrilled that the honour of doing so fell on me. Photographs have occasionally surfaced, hinting at the splendour the Duke of Ulaidh sits on, as did his ancestors for hundreds of years. The treasure trove of antiques is not the only thing that doesn't appear in the public domain. Searching as much as I liked, I couldn't find any proper photographs of the Slatherty family online, except for some blurry ones where they were just unidentifiable blobs, among many others at functions and events.

So far, though, the island has not met my expectations; the experience has been cold, stormy, and rather depressing. I imagined something entirely different, perhaps because I'd been floating on a cloud of pure joy and relief ever since I received the wonderful news that I was chosen for the project based on my credentials and a warm recommendation from my mentor. Well, the nasty weather shaking the car as it drones along explains why the island isn't a sought-after holiday destination; besides, the inhabitants are rumoured to value their privacy. So far, I could testify to that.

Travelling through the village felt like going back in time. If it weren't for the modern dress of the few people I saw scurrying around, getting ready for the storm, the cars, and the electric streetlights, I would've believed that time stood still there. Still, it was a quaint town, rather pretty, and I have enough fondness for history to appreciate the beautiful old buildings, the ancient fountains, and the moss-covered stone statues.