Cardoness Castle

I called at Cardoness castle in southern Scotland’s Kirkcudbrightshire this autumn. Though ruinous, it is a typically Scottish fortress. A certain Member of Parliament for Wigtownshire, Sir Andrew Agnew, recorded in his 1864 History of the Hereditary Sheriffs of Galloway about a likely member of the Fleming family who called this castle their home:

During twenty years of married life his wife had borne him nine daughters; but this did not satisfy his now increased anxiety to perpetuate his name, and he threatened his lady that, unless at her approaching confinement, she produced a son, he would drown her and all her nine daughters in the Black Loch, and look out for another wife. The probability of his carrying out this threat was not doubted for a moment, and hence great was the joy of the lady and her neighbours when she actually presented her husband with a boy. It was now mid-winter, and the lake firmly frozen over, whereupon the laird announced his determination of giving a grand fete on this same Black Loch. In accordance with his orders, on a certain Sunday his whole family was there assembled excepting one daughter, who was unable to join the party. The revels were at their height, when suddenly the ice gave way, and the old sinner was plunged himself into the dark waters and perished miserably, with all his family, only excepting the one young lady, who, having thus narrowly escaped the same fate.

Whether this is an accurate record of an ancient tragedy, a mere local legend or a nice piece of Victorian moralising, I cannot be sure. It certainly proves that residing in a fortified tower cannot keep us safe or deliver us from all eventualities. There is only one great stronghold which may shield us from even death itself:

The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe. Proverbs 18:10