The Emerald Key

Epilogue





Kilkenny, Ireland, 1887


Jamie Galway waited outside the medieval gates of St. Canice’s Cathedral under a glorious blue summer sky. The street was busier than usual. The market across from the cathedral was infused with the aromas of fresh food. Large crowds were taking advantage of the unusually warm day as they shopped among the maze of colourful stalls. Many passing on the sidewalk said good morning to him and Jamie politely returned the salutation. On most Saturdays, he would have joined the crowd in the market to soak in the wonderful sights and smells of harvest time. But today was different. Today was a day he hadn’t been sure would ever arrive. Unsure of what to do, he simply watched the happy crowds until a tall, slender woman wearing a fancy brimmed hat and long bustled dress strolled up to him and smiled.

“Excuse me, Cardinal Galway?”

“Yes,” said Jamie. “May I help you?”

“I certainly hope so. I was supposed to meet you here in precisely two minutes’ time.”

Jamie did a double take. Those clear grey eyes suddenly seemed so familiar. He gripped her by the hands as a grin broke across his weathered face.

“Beth, is it really you?”

She laughed. “Yes, underneath all of these wrinkles and greying hair, it’s really me.”

Cardinal James Galway wrapped his arms around the finely dressed woman, bringing curious stares from passersby. “I’m so happy that you finally made it back to Ireland! How was your trip across the ocean?”

“Much better than the one our families took to Canada.” She smiled. “Unlike those old slave ships, today’s large steamers are more like floating hotels! You should come and visit Canada sometime and find out for yourself.”

“Perhaps I will.” Jamie grinned. “I would love to come and visit Canada again.”

Beth laughed. “I’ll see what I can do about making your next visit more relaxing.”

He took her arm in his. “I’m looking forward to hearing all the news, but I’m afraid it will have to wait for a moment. Time is of the essence.”

Jamie led Beth around the cathedral’s graveyard and into the west wing of the abbey. Inside the massive stone building, Beth was stunned at the elegant beauty of the huge arched ceilings and stained glass windows, but Jamie kept up a quick pace. This was not intended to be a church tour. They went quickly down a short stairway, then out another door, which led into a small stable. A driver waited patiently on the bench of a polished coach. Jamie opened the door for Beth and helped her climb in. He nodded to the driver and as soon as the coach door was closed, the driver shook the reins to the pair of horses. They quickly accelerated down the cobblestone alleyway.

“I apologize for the covered windows,” Jamie said as he took his place on the back bench of the darkened coach. Beth sat across from him.

She smiled. “I completely understand all the secrecy. So tell me, how does it feel to be a cardinal with your own cathedral?”

“My new position as cardinal has a great deal of responsibility, but it certainly has its rewards too. Besides doing the Lord’s work here in Ireland, I’ve also been to Rome and the Vatican several times. Rome is such a marvellous city. Perhaps I might get a chance to show you around its ancient streets some day.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “You know, Jamie, I could never understand how you became a priest in the first place. You are so handsome and now with your talk of sweeping me off my feet to far away cities … if it weren’t for that collar around your neck, I would almost think that you are proposing something far grander than just a lovely vacation with me.”

Jamie chuckled. “I’m sorry, but the only ring I can ever offer you is the one that is already on your finger.”

She held out her ringed finger and took his hand so that it could be next to his identical ring. “The ring is one of my favourite possessions. Did you get in trouble when you returned without it?”

He shook his head. “No. This is Ryan’s ring. Just as yours reminds you of our time together, this ring will always remind me of my brother.”

“And how is your brother?”

”Remember, I wrote to you about Ryan leading the three-thousand-strong Irish militia across the Niagara River and into Canada, where they defeated the British Army in the Battle of Ridgeway? Well, during their retreat to Buffalo, New York, he was captured by the U.S. Army. Instead of being charged for his invasion of a neighbouring country, the U.S. Army was quite impressed with his tactical skills and instead promoted him to a U.S. colonel! He’s currently based in Fort Jackson, South Carolina.”

Beth leaned forward in shock. “Ryan leads an Irish invasion into Canada from U.S. soil and, instead of throwing him in jail, the government made him a colonel?”

Jamie shrugged. “It seems the Americans were still angry at the British for supporting the South during the Civil War. They simply look the other way on Irish rebel activities to teach Britain a lesson.”

“And what of Ryan’s Irish militia?”

“Well, the movement is still alive and well, but they are now fighting a direct war with British troops here in Ireland. Many Irish Americans are sympathetic to the rebels and support them with large amounts of money and weapons.”

“I’m not surprised about the lingering anger in the United States. Do you think the rebels will help make Ireland a free nation?” asked Beth.

“I don’t agree with their tactics. Killing and violence will only perpetuate hate in the younger generations. But there are others here in Ireland, such as our politician Daniel O’Connell, who are fighting for our cause within the halls of the British Parliament. I think there is hope that someday we’ll have a political solution and finally see a free Ireland.

“So tell me, what has happened since you last wrote?”

Beth removed her hat and placed it on the seat beside her. “Well, let me see. Colin is now a Member of Parliament for Simcoe County and is doing quite well in the world of politics. He has a beautiful wife and two young daughters. He and his family send their love to you.”

“Colin, a politician.… I would never have guessed. I’m so glad that he’s happy.”

“And all three of my beautiful children have now left home. Francis and Jamie are now working in Toronto, and my youngest, Johanna, married a lawyer, and she is now living in New York City.”

“Ah, New York City,” Jamie said wistfully. “I remember all too well Shane rowing me across the Niagara River and then the journey along the Erie Canal to New York City for the journey home. But how are you doing? It must be difficult for you, being on your own now.”

Beth nodded, taking a deep breath. “It’s been a year since my Richard passed away. It became simply too quiet for me in our large Dundas home. I sold the house and his lumber business last month. Then I told my family that I was going to take some of the money from the sale to visit an old friend in Ireland.”

He took her hand. “I am so sorry about your loss. Richard sounded like a good man.”

“He was, Jamie. Thank you.”

There was a moment of reflection before Beth changed the subject. “I still can’t believe that the Brotherhood has allowed me to join you here on this journey.”

“I’m not surprised,” he laughed. “It’s their way of thanking you for your heroics in Canada.”

Beth smiled. “I’ve dreamt about this moment my entire life. Does this mean that the treasure will soon be revealed to the world?”

Jamie shook his head. “It’s the same situation as it’s always been. When our entire island is under self-rule, the Brotherhood will reveal the treasure.”

“So the world still has to wait.”

“At least we still have a map to the treasure. You saved my life more than once, and in doing so, you saved the treasure.”

“You know I saved you only for the sake of the treasure,” she teased.

Jamie laughed. Beth was like a breath of fresh air into his usual stodgy existence as a cardinal. “I’m so glad you came to visit.”

The coach suddenly came to a jarring stop.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

“Do I trust you?” she repeated. “Of course, I trust you! I’ve only ridden in a window-covered coach alone with you for just over an hour. Why do you ask?”

“Because of this.”

He pulled a silk scarf from his pocket and covered her eyes. “I’m sorry about the blindfold. It’s for everyone’s protection.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “I completely understand. Just don’t you get any un-cardinal-like ideas while I’m blindfolded, young man.”

Jamie laughed. “I know this will be difficult for you, but there’s to be no more talking until I take the blindfold off.”

Beth laughed. “No promises!”

He took her hand. Beth couldn’t see a thing. Upon leaving the carriage, she could hear forest noises and the wind whistling through the trees. She could smell decaying wood and the slight nose-tickling smell of wood smoke. They walked for almost ten minutes before he brought her to a stop. The sound of brushing followed by the scraping noise of a stone made her think that some sort of passageway was being revealed. She then felt his hand take hers once again as he led her down a flight of steep stairs. She could hear a match being struck and then another. Suddenly, there were fingers behind her head, lightly touching her hair. The blindfold loosened and fell to her shoulders. She gasped at the underground vault sparkling with gold, jewels, and exquisite works of religious art. And the books! Hundreds upon hundreds of books were lined up along shelves that extended well into the distant gloom of the underground vault. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the ancient text they had rescued from the fires in Montreal. It stood prominently on a ruby-encrusted stand made of pure gold. She had never seen any collection like it before. She reached out and touched a bell that rested on a stack of books next to the entranceway.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“Jamie!” she breathed. “It’s incredible!”

“It’s not very often you get a chance to explore your nation’s soul.” He took her arm in his and, with his free hand, lifted up a burning oil lamp. “Come on, let me show you around.”





Author’s Notes


The characters in The Emerald Key experience many real moments in Canadian history. The Grosse Isle (or Grosse Île as it is seen today on most Canadian maps) quarantine station did, in fact, exist, and it was located just north of Quebec City in the St. Lawrence River. As in the story, the huge influx of sick and dying Irish trying to escape the devastating famine of their homeland disembarked at Grosse Isle and often overwhelmed the doctors and nurses at the station. Grosse Isle is now a National Historic Site and can be visited by ferry in the summer months. A large east-facing Irish cross has been raised on the island to commemorate the thousands of Irish graves on Grosse Isle.

On April 25, 1849, the parliament building of Canada was nearly burned to the ground by rioters protesting the compensation of those who participated in the rebellions against British rule in 1837 and 1838. The rioters refused to let firefighters battle the blaze and as a result, the building, which included the parliament’s two libraries, was completely devastated. Out of the 23,000 volumes of irreplaceable books stored in the libraries, only two hundred were saved from the flames by the brave action of James Curran. The exact location of the parliament building was unknown until 2011, when new construction in downtown Montreal happened to come across its original foundation.

Construction on the Welland Canal first started November 20, 1824, and the first version of the canal opened five years later, in 1829. It soon became evident that the canal needed widening and the building of the second canal, the one mentioned in this story, was completed in 1848. Two more improved versions of the canal were built in following years, including the one still being used today, which was opened in 1932. The Welland Canal continues to be an important link in the St. Lawrence Seaway.

There is plenty of recorded evidence illustrating how poorly the Irish were treated in Toronto, the largest town in Canada West at the time. The recently arrived Irish were described by local media as lazy, ignorant, bellicose, and unthankful paupers. Many of the new immigrants were simply sick, and in one year alone, 1,100 Irish were buried in Toronto graves, a huge number for the time. The surviving sick were rounded up and kept in guarded fever sheds and overwhelmed hospitals. Local politicians, spurred on by an angry public, gathered petitions for higher levels of government that stated Canada West was not to be considered by the British to be Ireland’s graveyard.

Although the famine years were devastating to the Irish Canadian population, it is said that those years also helped bond the survivors into a close-knit, supportive community. Since then, many Irish cultural values and traditions have flourished not only within those of Irish ancestry but also among Canadians in general. On the other hand, the anger felt by the Irish toward the British occupation of their homeland manifested itself in many ways. Some Irish Canadians and Irish Americans supported the formation of militant forces dedicated to freeing Ireland, a cause that first found its roots in the 1860s during the Fenian Raids into Canada, including the Battle of Ridgeway. Other concerned Irish approached the issue of Irish independence through more peaceful and political means.

For three hundred years, from circa 400 to 700 A.D., Ireland was the shining beacon of education in Europe. With the fall of the Roman Empire came the fall of the Roman educational system. Reading, writing, and math became lost arts and the Dark Ages in Europe began. The only large bastion of education still remaining in all of Europe was in Ireland. Early Christian monks first brought higher education to Ireland in the fourth century, but the island nation itself was never under Roman rule. When Rome fell, Ireland’s educational systems remained intact while the rest of Europe regressed into the dark depths of illiteracy. Kings and wealthy noblemen heard of Ireland’s universities and soon sent their sons to Ireland in order to learn. The Irish, in turn, became very wealthy themselves as they used their higher knowledge to craft the finest books, art, and jewellery in all of Europe.

The little island flourished, but their growing wealth did not go unnoticed. To the north, tales of riches on a far western island reached the most feared raiders of the time, the Vikings. Starting in the late eighth century, waves of Viking raids washed over the once thriving communities of Ireland. Villages were ransacked. Irish families were slaughtered or captured and enslaved. Universities were plundered and buildings were burned. Fortunately for the rest of Europe, Irish education had been exported continuously for two centuries, and the educational monasteries founded by Irish monks in both Scotland and mainland Europe were able to continue their teachings.

Although Ireland’s golden age came to an end with the Viking raids, those ancient Irish can be proud that their work helped bring the rest of Europe out of the Dark Ages and into the Renaissance.





Acknowledgements

I would first and foremost like to thank my amazing wife and front line editor Amanda for her unending patience when I frequently tucked myself away to write during the summer holidays.

To my wonderful daughters, Sarah, Johanna, and Stephanie for their constant encouragement and their willingness to slog through my rough drafts in order to give me early feedback on the developing storyline. It was much appreciated!

To Sylvia McConnell and Allister Thompson of Dundurn Press who believed in The Emerald Key. I would not be a published author if it were not for their encouragement. A huge thanks to you both and the rest of the Dundurn team.

There were many excellent sources of historical information while I wrote The Emerald Key. The Newmarket and Aurora Public Libraries in York Region are always my starting points for researching a new novel. The McCord and Pointe-à-Callière Museums in Montreal, the Huron-Wendat Museum, Parks Canada, the National Library of Ireland, and the St. Lawrence Seaway Corporation also provided crucial information so that the story could remain as historically accurate as possible.

To the students, staff, and schools of the York Region District School Board, the Elementary Teachers Federation of Ontario, and the Ontario Library Association, who were a constant, encouraging presence while I was writing. After each book, I always feel as if it might be my last, but their enthusiasm for my stories is a great reason to persevere.

I would especially like to thank my mom, whose unwavering love and support has been crucial in allowing me to pursue my goal of becoming a published writer.