Thomas de Burgh

As I meandered through the rooms and corridors and up the turret of the centuries old castle, my mind was fluxing. Who walked these stone floors before me? What was their story? Did they have a good life? What did they look like? How did they die? My digital camera is snapping non-stop. Me in front of the fireplace in the great room. Me on the roof looking over Galway Bay. In the hallways. On the lawn. Everywhere.

Back in the great room, my eyes are drawn to the green moss growing on the walls. How did I miss this? It’s a castle – I suppose green moss would grow on the walls of a 600-year-old building. I notice a bookshelf and mirror and thought, “There’s a neat picture – I’ll capture my reflection in the mirror.” I turned to snap a shot and noticed the castle keeper’s (is there such a word?) wife watching me as I clicked my Nikon.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asked me. Leonie was her name, “I am, yes. Thank you. I was admiring the walls and thought I’d take a picture with my image reflected in the mirror.” “Oh really,” she said. “May I see?” I handed her my camera and she was obviously adept at using a digital as she knew exactly what to do. “Is this the picture you just took?” “I don’t know," I said. "It’s the last one I shot." "Ah yes, I see it now," Leonie exclaimed. "The moss on the walls – with the mirror reflection. It’s a pretty picture. But that’s not your reflection.”

I suddenly got that “excuse me?” look on my face and grabbed the camera from her. “I don’t think you're looking at the right picture. This is the –” My voice trailed off. It’s probably still wafting around Oranmore Castle somewhere. I stared at the picture I just took. There’s the moss on the walls and the bookshelf and mirror. But that's not my reflection.

There was a smile in the lady's eyes as she spoke. “Thomas de Burgh – that’s his name," she said. "Was his name. His father was Richard de Burgh, 2^nd Earl of Ulster. The family lived here in the mid-1300’s. Thomas died very young – I've read he was only 24. I see him now and then. Inside the castle – never outside. He’s shy. This behavior is unlike him. He must be coming out of his shell.” She paused. I wanted to respond but found that I was at a loss for words. 

Leonie seemed empathetic to my current state. “I’ll leave you to finish your tour of the castle. If you need anything, just – find me.” She smiled and turned to walk away – then turned back. “The fever. Thomas died of the fever.”

Funny. I was feeling a bit feverish myself.

(Photo taken at Oranmore Castle, Co. Galway 2009. Pictured is Leonie Finn, one of the owners.)