Part 14

There came fear on the priests, and they went home; but they did not believe that their houses would be without a roof before morning.

About midnight, that night, there came a blast of wind under the roof of the houses of the priests, and it swept them into the river forenent the court. There was not a bone of the priests but was shaken with terror, and they had to get shelter in the houses of the neighbours till morning.

In the morning, the day on the morrow, the priests came to the river opposite the court, and they saw the roofs that were on all their houses swimming in the water. They sent for the friars, and asked them to go to Crinnawn and proclaim a peace, and say to him that they would put no more trouble on him. The friars went to the court, and Crinnawn welcomed them, and asked them what they were seeking. “We come from the priests to proclaim a peace on you, they will trouble you no more.” “That is well for them,” said Crinnawn, “come with me now until ye see me putting back the roofs of the houses.” They went with him as far as the river, and then he blew a blast out of each nostril. The roofs of the houses rose up as well as they were when they were first put on. There was wonder on the priests, and they said: “The power of enchantment is not yet dead, nor banished out of the country yet.” From that day out neither priest nor anyone else would go near the Court of Crinnawn.

A year after the death of Mary Kerrigan, there was a pattern in Cultya Bronks. There were plenty of young men gathered in it, and amongst them was Paudyeen, the son of Mary Kerrigan. They drank whiskey till they were in madness. When they were going home, Paudyeen O’Kerrigan said: “There is money in plenty in the court up there, and if ye have courage we can get it.” As the drink was in them, twelve of them said: “We have courage, and we will go to the court.” When they came to the door, Paudyeen O’Kerrigan said: “Open the door, or we will break it.” Crinnawn came out and said: “Unless ye go home I will put a month’s sleep on ye.” They thought to get a hold of Crinnawn, but he put a blast of wind out of his two nostrils that swept the young men to a _lis_ (old circular rath) called Lisdrumneal, and put a heavy sleep on them, and a big cloud over them, and there is no name on the place from that out, but Lis-trum-nail (the fort of the heavy cloud).

On the morning, the day on the morrow, the young men were not to be found either backwards or forwards, and there was great grief amongst the people. That day went by without any account from the young men. People said that it was Crinnawn that killed them, for some saw them going to the court. The fathers and mothers of the young men went to the friars, and prayed them to go to Crinnawn and to find out from him where the young men were, dead or alive.

They went to Crinnawn, and Crinnawn told them the trick the young men thought to do on him, and the thing he did with them. “If it be your will, bestow forgiveness on them this time,” said the friars; “they were mad with whiskey, and they won’t be guilty again.” “On account of ye to ask it of me, I will loose them this time; but if they come again, I will put a sleep of seven years on them. Come with me now till you see them.”

“It’s bad walkers, we are,” said the friars, “we would be a long time going to the place where they are.”

“Ye won’t be two minutes going to it,” said Crinnawn, “and ye will be back at home in the same time.”

Then he brought them out, and put a blast of wind out of his mouth, and swept them to Lisdrumneal, and he himself was there as soon as they.

They saw the twelve young men asleep under a cloud in the _lis_, and there was great wonder on them. “Now,” said Crinnawn, “I will send them home.” He blew upon them, and they rose up like birds in the air, and it was not long until each one of them was at home, and the friars as well, and you may be certain that they did not go to the Court of Crinnawn any more.

Crinnawn was living in the court years after that. One day the friars went on a visit to him, but he was not to be found. People say that the friars got great riches after Crinnawn. At the end of a period of time the roof fell off the court, as everyone was afraid to go and live in it. During many years after that, people would go round about a mile, before they would go near the old court. There is only a portion of the walls to be found now; but there is no name on the old court from that day till this day, but Coort a Chrinnawn (Crinnawn’s Court).

NEIL O’CARREE.

There was no nicety about him. He said to his wife that he would go to the forge to get a doctoring instrument. He went to the forge the next day. “Where are you going to to-day?” said the smith. “I am going till you make me an instrument for doctoring.” “What is the instrument I shall make you?” “Make a _crumskeen_ and a _galskeen_” (crooked knife and white knife?). The smith made that for him. He came home.

When the day came—the day on the morrow—Neil O’Carree rose up. He made ready to be going as a doctor. He went. He was walking away. A red lad met him on the side of the high road. He saluted Neil O’Carree; Neil saluted him. “Where are you going?” says the red man. “I am going till I be my (_i.e._, a) doctor.“ ”It’s a good trade,” says the red man, “’twere best for you to hire me.” “What’s the wages you’ll be looking for?” says Neil. “Half of what we shall earn till we shall be back again on this ground.” “I’ll give you that,” says Neil. The couple walked on.

“There’s a king’s daughter,” says the red man, “with the (_i.e._, near to) death; we will go as far as her, till we see will we heal her.” They went as far as the gate. The porter came to them. He asked them where were they going. They said that it was coming to look at the king’s daughter they were, to see would they do her good. The king desired to let them in. They went in.

They went to the place where the girl was lying. The red man went and took hold of her pulse. He said that if his master should get the price of his labour he would heal her. The king said that he would give his master whatever he should award himself. He said, “if he had the room to himself and his master, that it would be better.” The king said he should have it.

He desired to bring down to him a skillet (little pot) of water. He put the skillet on the fire. He asked Neil O’Carree: “Where is the doctoring instrument?” “Here they are,” says Neil, “a crumskeen and a galskeen.”

He put the crumskeen on the neck of the girl. He took the head off her. He drew a green herb out of his pocket. He rubbed it to the neck. There did not come one drop of blood. He threw the head into the skillet. He knocked a boil out of it. He seized hold on the two ears. He took it out of the skillet. He struck it down on the neck. The head stuck as well as ever it was. “How do you feel yourself now?” “I am as well as ever I was,” said the king’s daughter.

The big man shouted. The king came down. There was great joy on him. He would not let them go away for three days. When they were going he brought down a bag of money. He poured it out on the table. He asked of Neil O’Carree had he enough there. Neil said he had, and more than enough, that they would take but the half. The king desired them not to spare the money.

“There’s the daughter of another king waiting for us to go and look at her.” They bade farewell to the king and they went there.

They went looking at her. They went to the place where she was lying, looking at her in her bed, and it was the same way this one was healed. The king was grateful, and he said he did not mind how much money Neil should take of him. He gave him three hundred pounds of money. They went then, drawing on home. “There’s a king’s son in such and such a place,” said the red man, “but we won’t go to him, we will go home with what we have.”

They were drawing on home. The king (had) bestowed half a score of heifers on them, to bring home with them. They were walking away. When they were in the place where Neil O’Carree hired the red man, “I think,” says the red man, “that this is the place I met you the first time.” “I think it is,” says Neil O’Carree. “Musha, how shall we divide the money?” “Two halves,” says the red man, “that’s the bargain was in it.” “I think it a great deal to give you a half,” says Neil O’Carree, “a third is big enough for you; I have a crumskeen and a galskeen (says Neil) and you have nothing.” “I won’t take anything,” said the red man, “unless I get the half.” They fell out about the money. The red man went and he left him.

Neil O’Carree was drawing home, riding on his beast. He was driving his share of cattle. The day came hot. The cattle went capering backwards and forwards. Neil O’Carree was controlling them. When he would have one or two caught the rest would be off when he used to come back. He tied his garrawn (gelding) to a bit of a tree. He was a-catching the cattle. At the last they were all off and away. He did not know where they went. He returned back to the place where he left his garrawn and his money. Neither the garrawn nor the money were to be got. He did not know then what he should do. He thought he would go to the house of the king whose son was ill.

He went along, drawing towards the house of the king. He went looking on the lad in the place where he was lying. He took a hold of his pulse. He said he thought he would heal him. “If you heal him,” said the king, “I will give you three hundred pounds.” “If I were to get the room to myself, for a little,” says he. The king said that he should get that. He called down for a skillet of water. He put the skillet on the fire. He drew his crumskeen. He went to take the head off him as he saw the red man a-doing. He was a-sawing at the head, and it did not come with him to cut it off the neck. The blood was coming. He took the head off him at last. He threw it into the skillet. He knocked a boil out of it. When he considered the head to be boiled enough he made an attempt on the skillet. He got a hold of the two ears. The head fell in _gliggar_ (a gurgling mass?), and the two ears came with him. The blood was coming greatly. It was going down, and out of the door of the room. When the king saw it going down he knew that his son was dead. He desired to open the door. Neil O’Carree would not open the door. They broke the door. The man was dead. The floor was full of blood. They seized Neil O’Carree. He was to hang the next day. They gathered a guard till they should carry him to the place where he was to hang. They went the next day with him. They were walking away, drawing towards the tree where he should be hanged. They stopped his screaming. They see a man stripped making a running race. When they saw him there was a fog of water round him with all he was running. When he came as far as them (he cried), “what are ye doing to my master?” “If this man is your master, deny him, or you’ll get the same treatment.” “It’s I that it’s right should suffer; it’s I who made the delay. He sent me for medicine, and I did not come in time, loose my master, perhaps he would heal the king’s son yet.”

They loosed him. They came to the king’s house. The red man went to the place where the dead man was. He began gathering the bones that were in the skillet. He gathered them all but only the two ears.

“What did you do with the ears?”

“I don’t know,” said Neil O’Carree, “I was so much frightened.”

The red man got the ears. He put them all together. He drew a green herb out of his pocket. He rubbed it round on the head. The skin grew on it, and the hair, as well as ever it was. He put the head in the skillet then. He knocked a boil out of it. He put the head back on the neck as well as ever it was. The king’s son rose up in the bed.

“How are you now?” says the red man.

“I am well,” says the king’s son, “but that I’m weak.”

The red man shouted again for the king. There was great joy on the king when he saw his son alive. They spent that night pleasantly.

The next day when they were going away, the king counted out three hundred pounds. He gave it to Neil O’Carree. He said to Neil that if he had not enough he would give him more. Neil O’Carree said he had enough, and that he would not take a penny more. He bade farewell and left his blessing, and struck out, drawing towards home.

When they saw that they were come to the place where they fell out with one another, “I think,” says the red man, “that this is the place where we differed before.” “It is, exactly,” said Neil O’Carree. They sat down and they divided the money. He gave a half to the red man, and he kept another half himself. The red man bade him farewell, and he went. He was walking away for a while. He returned back. “I am here back again,” said the red man, “I took another thought, to leave all your share of money with yourself. You yourself were open-handed. Do you mind the day you were going by past the churchyard. There were four inside in the churchyard, and a body with them in a coffin. There were a pair of them seeking to bury the body. There were debts on the body (_i.e._, it owed debts). The two men who had the debts on it (_i.e._, to whom it owed the debts), they were not satisfied for the body to be buried. They were arguing. You were listening to them. You went in. You asked how much they had on the body (_i.e._, how were they owed by the body). The two men said that they had a pound on the body, and that they were not willing the body to be buried, until the people who were carrying it would promise to pay a portion of the debts. You said, ‘I have ten shillings, and I’ll give it to ye, and let the body be buried.’ You gave the ten shillings, and the corpse was buried. It’s I who was in the coffin that day. When I saw you going a-doctoring, I knew that you would not do the business. When I saw you in a hobble, I came to you to save you. I bestow the money on you all entirely. You shall not see me until the last day, go home now. Don’t do a single day’s doctoring as long as you’ll be alive. It’s short you’ll walk until you get your share of cattle and your garrawn.”

Neil went, drawing towards home. Not far did he walk till his share of cattle and his nag met him. He went home and the whole with him. There is not a single day since that himself and his wife are not thriving on it.

I got the ford, they the stepping stones. They were drowned, and I came safe.

TRUNK-WITHOUT-HEAD.

Long ago there was a widow woman living in the County Galway, and two sons with her, whose names were Dermod and Donal. Dermod was the eldest son, and he was the master over the house. They were large farmers, and they got a summons from the landlord to come and pay him a year’s rent. They had not much money in the house, and Dermod said to Donal, “bring a load of oats to Galway, and sell it.” Donal got ready a load, put two horses under the cart, and went to Galway. He sold the oats, and got a good price for it. When he was coming home, he stopped at the half-way house, as was his custom, to have a drink himself, and to give a drink and oats to the horses.

When he went in to get a drink for himself, he saw two boys playing cards. He looked at them for a while, and one of them said: “Will you have a game?” Donal began playing, and he did not stop till he lost every penny of the price of the oats. “What will I do now?” says Donal to himself, “Dermod will kill me. Anyhow, I’ll go home and tell the truth.”

When he came home, Dermod asked him: “Did you sell the oats?” “I sold, and got a good price for it,” says Donal. “Give me the money,” says Dermod. “I haven’t it,” says Donal; “I lost every penny of it playing cards at the house half-way.” “My curse, and the curse of the four-and-twenty men on you,” says Dermod. He went and told the mother the trick Donal did. “Give him his pardon this time,” says the mother, “and he won’t do it again.” “You must sell another load to-morrow,” says Dermod, “and if you lose the price, don’t come here.”

On the morning, the day on the morrow, Donal put another load on the cart, and he went to Galway. He sold the oats, and got a good price for it. When he was coming home, and near the half-way house, he said to himself: “I will shut my eyes till I go past that house, for fear there should be a temptation on me to go in.” He shut his eyes; but when the horses came as far as the inn, they stood, and would not go a step further, for it was their custom to get oats and water in that place every time they would be coming out of Galway. He opened his eyes, gave oats and water to the horses, and went in himself to put a coal in his pipe.

When he went in he saw the boys playing cards. They asked him to play, and (said) that perhaps he might gain all that he lost the day before. As there is a temptation on the cards, Donal began playing, and he did not stop until he lost every penny of all that he had. “There is no good in my going home now,” says Donal; “I’ll stake the horses and the cart against all I lost.” He played again, and he lost the horses and the cart. Then he did not know what he should do, but he thought and said: “Unless I go home, my poor mother will be anxious. I will go home and tell the truth to her. They can but banish me.”

When he came home, Dermod asked him: “Did you sell the oats? or where are the horses and the cart?” “I lost the whole playing cards, and I would not come back except to leave ye my blessing before I go.” “That you may not ever come back, or a penny of your price,” said Dermod, “and I don’t want your blessing.”

He left his blessing with his mother then, and he went travelling, looking for service. When the darkness of the night was coming, there was thirst and hunger on him. He saw a poor man coming to him, and a bag on his back. He recognised Donal, and said: “Donal, what brought you here, or where are you going?” “I don’t know you,” said Donal.

“It’s many’s the good night I spent in your father’s house, may God have mercy upon him,” said the poor man; “perhaps there’s hunger on you, and that you would not be against eating something out of my bag?”

“It’s a friend that would give it to me,” says Donal. Then the poor man gave him beef and bread, and when he ate his enough, the poor man asked him: “Where are you going to-night?”

“Musha, then, I don’t know,” says Donal.

“There is a gentleman in the big house up there, and he gives lodging to anyone who comes to him after the darkness of night, and I’m going to him,” says the poor man.

“Perhaps I would get lodgings with you,” says Donal. “I have no doubt of it,” says the poor man.

The pair went to the big house, and the poor man knocked at the door, and the servant opened it. “I want to see the master of this house,” says Donal.

The servant went, and the master came. “I am looking for a night’s lodging,” said Donal.

“I will give ye that, if ye wait. Go up to the castle there above, and I will be after ye, and if ye wait in it till morning, each man of ye will get five score ten-penny pieces, and ye will have plenty to eat and drink as well; and a good bed to sleep on.”

“That’s a good offer,” said they; “we will go there.”

The pair came to the castle, went into a room, and put down a fire. It was not long till the gentleman came, bringing beef, mutton, and other things to them. “Come with me now till I show ye the cellar, there’s plenty of wine and ale in it, and ye can draw your enough.” When he showed them the cellar, he went out, and he put a lock on the door behind him.

Then Donal said to the poor man: “Put the things to eat on the table, and I’ll go for the ale.” Then he got a light, and a cruiskeen (jug), and went down into the cellar. The first barrel he came to he stooped down to draw out of it, when a voice said: “Stop, that barrel is mine.” Donal looked up, and he saw a little man without a head, with his two legs spread straddle-wise on a barrel.

“If it is yours,” says Donal, “I’ll go to another.” He went to another; but when he stooped down to draw, Trunk-without-head said: “That barrel is mine.” “They’re not all yours,” says Donal, “I’ll go to another one.” He went to another one; but when he began drawing out of it, Trunk-without-head said: “That’s mine.” “I don’t care,” said Donal, “I’ll fill my cruiskeen.” He did that, and came up to the poor man; but he did not tell him that he saw Trunk-without-head. Then they began eating and drinking till the jug was empty. Then said Donal: “It’s your turn to go down and fill the jug.” The poor man got the candle and the cruiskeen, and went down into the cellar. He began drawing out of a barrel, when he heard a voice saying: “That barrel is mine.” He looked up, and when he saw Trunk-without-head, he let cruiskeen and candle fall, and off and away with him to Donal. “Oh! it’s little but I’m dead,” says the poor man; “I saw a man without a head, and his two legs spread out on the barrel, and he said it was his.” “He would not do you any harm,” said Donal, “he was there when I went down; get up and bring me the jug and the candle.” “Oh, I wouldn’t go down again if I were to get Ireland without a division,” says the poor man. Donal went down, and he brought up the jug filled. “Did you see Trunk-without-head?” says the poor man. “I did,” says Donal; “but he did not do me any harm.”

They were drinking till they were half drunk, then said Donal: “It’s time for us to be going to sleep, what place would you like best, the outside of the bed, or next the wall?”

“I’ll go next the wall,” said the poor man. They went to bed leaving the candle lit.

They were not long in bed till they saw three men coming in, and a bladder (football) with them. They began beating _bayrees_ (playing at ball) on the floor; but there were two of them against one. Donal said to the poor man: “It is not right for two to be against one,” and with that he leaped out and began helping the weak side, and he without a thread on him. Then they began laughing, and walked out.

Donal went to bed again, and he was not long there till there came in a piper playing sweet music. “Rise up,” says Donal, “until we have a dance; it’s a great pity to let good music go to loss.” “For your life, don’t stir,” says the poor man.

Donal gave a leap out of the bed, and he fell to dancing till he was tired. Then the piper began laughing, and walked out.

Donal went to bed again; but he was not long there till there walked in two men, carrying a coffin. They left it down on the floor, and they walked out. “I don’t know who’s in the coffin, or whether it’s for us it’s meant,” said Donal; “I’ll go till I see.” He gave a leap out, raised the board of the coffin, and found a dead man in it. “By my conscience, it’s the cold place you have,” says Donal; “if you were able to rise up, and sit at the fire, you would be better.” The dead man rose up and warmed himself. Then said Donal, “the bed is wide enough for three.” Donal went in the middle, the poor man next the wall, and the dead man on the outside. It was not long until the dead man began bruising Donal, and Donal bruising in on the poor man, until he was all as one as dead, and he had to give a leap out through the window, and to leave Donal and the dead man there. The dead man was crushing Donal then until he nearly put him out through the wall.