Anita Hendy

Books for Adults and Children


"The Magic of Irish Heritage"

Books by Irish Author Anita Hendy

The Magic of an Irish Castle

By Anita Hendy

Having been banished from the land of ‘Plenty’ by evil Vile Bazoo, King Maclore and his Queen, Leish and their servant Ide, come to live in a castle in Kildare. But tragedy strikes when their son Prince Uisce is born and the Queen dies.

Vile Bazoo’s nasty spell takes hold and the King is compelled to stay in the top room of the castle. He only appears on the roof for one hour every day. His son, Uisce, is only allowed out for the same hour of three o’clock. The king hides on the battlements and watches his son below on the earth.

The faithful old servant Ide looks after both of them and you will find she does a lot of mumbling and grumbling over the years. Prince Uisce is forbidden to climb the three flights of stairs in the Castle, so he does not know his father lives at the top.

Over the years the Prince, who is lame, finds many things to play with both inside and outside the castle. He has a great love of nature and one day while he is asleep under a tree, Mother Nature rewards him for his love.
From then on, a great many changes takes place, including Uisce's desire to climb the stairs.

With a great act of courage and suffering he breaks the curse, and makes it up onto the roof. Do the King and the prince have a happy ending? Well you will have to read this exciting book to find out.

Excerpt from ‘The Magic of an Irish Castle.’

‘ It was in this dark lonely room, at three o’clock every day, that the King grew restless. Wearily he would catch hold of the ivory sides of the ladder, and, kicking out his cloak, he would climb the snake-skin rope. Then, he would open the glass hatch in the ceiling and climb out. Over the years Maclore had changed too. His eyes had grown dark and his beard unkempt. He was no longer wise. His voice, grown soft and quiet now, never gave strict commands. His rich royal robes had become threadbare and dull. Instead of moving about with great prideful strides, he shuffled sadly from place to place. And even though the wind blew cold, the rain fell heavy, the snow made him shiver, and the sun burned his skin, in all seasons, the King had to come out onto the roof. Peering out from the shadows. he slipped quietly from one large stone to the next. His dark wrinkled eyes had grown used to looking down. He knew every inch of the large courtyard, the castle gardens and the fields beyond.

Because he had lost love from his heart, the King could not feel anything. He got no joy from the view, no sadness from the graveyard, no desire to ride. He forgot how to sail and hunt, never listened to music and could not remember what fun was. But worst of all, he did not want to be with his only son.

When the clock struck four the King heard it up on the roof. Then, pulling his threadbare cloak tightly around him, he scuttled across the roof, stepped through the ceiling and shut the glass trapdoor behind him. He climbed down the snakeskin ladder and back into his dull bedroom. there he stayed, all alone, until the next day, when the clock struck three. ’