Brigid of Kildare (30 page)

“I hope to assist him in that regard.”

“Then we ask this of you. Remember this book and let it remind you of what the men and women of the Irish Church are capable when free from outside rule. And ask yourself what your Welsh Church might have accomplished—might still accomplish—without the yoke of England.”

A second monk appeared, holding the blindfold in his hand. Before he drew too near, Giraldus asked the woman, “May I know your name?”

“It is the book that is important. I am only the keeper.”

While I was writing my first two books,
The Chrysalis
and
The Map Thief
, I came to realize that what truly intrigued me was the notion that an object—be it a piece of artwork or an artifact, real or imagined—can tell a story, and that the story can resolve a monumental historical mystery as well as divulge something secret about the creator of the object. I became fascinated by the idea that I could answer those historical mysteries through fiction.

So when I began researching my third book, I undertook a voyage through time’s riddles and characters. I’ve always been partial to Irish history, and in my readings, I learned about the lost Book of Kildare. The last recorded sighting of this mysterious, very early medieval Irish illuminated manuscript was by twelfth-century Welsh historian and clergyman Giraldus Cambrensis, during his tour of Saint Brigid’s Abbey of Kildare in Ireland. Giraldus became so entranced by this manuscript—“the work of angelic, and not human skill”—and its legendary creation at the guidance of Saint Brigid herself that he wrote:

As I read Giraldus’ description of the book, I became captivated by the idea of the possible rediscovery of this lost masterpiece and the historical questions it might answer. For the Book of Kildare might have possibly contained some of the very first images of the Virgin Mary. The question of how these initial pictures of Mary originated in, and proliferated from, remote Ireland when Mary played a relatively small role in the accepted Biblical canon is a source of debate, particularly in the context of the famous Book of Kells, which seems to bear a striking similiarity to the Book of Kildare.

Placing this legendary book into its historical context, I became even more intrigued by the Book of Kildare and its possible ability to address this question. If one credits Giraldus’ narrative, the book was written and illustrated during the late fifth or early sixth century when the Roman Empire teetered on the edge of destruction at the hands of barbarian tribes. Some of Rome’s outcasts began fleeing the crumbling kingdom to the recently built abbeys, monasteries, and scriptoriums in the newly Christian Ireland. These exiles brought with them many classical and religious texts, and in scriptoriums such as the one found in Brigid’s Abbey of Kildare, the religious folk set to reading, preserving, and copying them. What if the Book of Kildare—and the first Marian portraits—were influenced by the texts flowing in to Ireland’s scriptoriums at this time? Brigid and the scribes of Kildare would have had access to a wide range of ancient manuscripts and in fact might have had familiarity with certain gospels banned by the early Christian church, such as the Protoevangelium of James, which paints the Virgin Mary in a strong, powerful light and offers much detail about her life.

Viewing the Book of Kildare through this historical prism, it seemed that the rediscovery of this lost masterwork might reveal much about why one of the first portraits of the Virgin Mary appears in remote, early medieval Ireland. It also appeared that the manuscript might illuminate just how Mary’s image and persona—indeed the true influential roles of many women of the early church, both Brigid and beyond—were altered
and suppressed by society over the centuries. So I delved into the histories and legends of the formidable Mary and Brigid.

Indeed, unearthing the Book of Kildare might answer a more personal question, one raised by the wonderful woman who sparked my interest in this period and place—my late aunt, Sister Therese Coyne: “Why must Mary be so passive?” Perhaps the historical Mary wasn’t passive at all. Perhaps the times and people that followed shaped her so. As they did with Brigid.

Thus,
Brigid of Kildare
was born.

Brigid of Kildare
would be as lost as The Book of Kildare if not for the encouragement of so many people. I want to begin by thanking my indefatigable agent and champion, Laura Dail, who unfailingly provides indispensable advice, tireless brainstorming, and humor. Starting with my talented editor, Paul Taunton, I would like to express my appreciation to the amazing Ballantine team for their constant efforts, support, and enthusiasm: Libby McGuire, Kim Hovey, Christine Cabello, Brian McLendon, Lisa Barnes, Rachel Kind, Jane von Mehren, Scott Shannon, the art department, the promotion and sales departments, and the managing editorial and production departments. And I am so thankful for the Pittsburgh book community, especially Mary Alice Gorman, Richard Goldman, and the many book clubs, libraries, and organizations where I have been invited to speak.

Family and friends offered unremitting optimism, including but by no means limited to: my parents, Coleman and Jeanne Benedict; my siblings, Coley, Liz, Lauren, Sean, Courtney, Christopher, and Meredith, and their wonderful families; my in-laws, particularly Catherine, Alison, and Marilyn; Illana Raia; Ponny Conomos Jahn; the Sewickley Book Club Ladies; the Six; Michael Volpatt; and Patti Vescio. And I reserve
a special debt of gratitude to my late Aunt Terry, who is responsible for
Brigid of Kildare
in more ways than I can begin to express.

Yet,
Brigid of Kildare
truly
belongs
to my husband, Jim, and our sons, Jack and Ben. They provided me with such boundless love, unwavering faith, and steadfast support during the writing process that
they
made
Brigid of Kildare
possible. Thank you, thank you.

H
EATHER
T
ERRELL
is the author of
The Chrysalis
and
The Map Thief
. A lawyer with more than ten years’ experience as a litigator at two of the country’s premier law firms and for Fortune 500 companies, Terrell is a graduate of Boston College and the Boston University School of Law. She lives in Pittsburgh with her family.