by Tony Locke
After the Battle of Kinsale in 1601, Cormac Tadgh McCarthy, Lord of Muskery was made High Sheriff of Cork County. The newly ruling English were having problems with the defeated Irish lords, who refused to obey their new masters, and McCarthy was given the job of rounding up troublemakers. Carrickaphouka Castle had a sinister reputation. Its name means ‘Rock of the Pooka’, which is one of the most feared creatures of the fairie realm. The pooka was a shape-shifter and could take many different forms, including a horse, a goat with large horns or a black dog. The pooka was said to inhabit the castle, where its evil insinuated its way into the veins of Cormac Tadgh McCarthy.
One of the most troublesome rebel lords was James Fitzgerald. He was extremely popular and had a large following among the displaced nobility. McCarthy invited Fitzgerald to Carrickaphouka Castle under the pretext of broaching a peace agreement between the Irish rebels and the English. The meal that was served to Fitzgerald was poisoned but McCarthy wasn’t satisfied with just killing Fitzgerald; he wanted to impress the English lords who were present. McCarthy ordered that Fitzgerald’s body be drained of blood and cooked. He then started to eat the flesh, washing it down with goblets of Fitzgerald’s blood. The English were horrified. When news of the night’s proceedings spread through the countryside, all of Ireland was horrified and outraged by McCarthy’s behaviour. In order to distance themselves from these gruesome deeds, McCarthy’s clansmen claimed that he was possessed by the evil spirit of the pooka, but to no avail. Cormac McCarthy had to flee to France, where he disappeared into obscurity.
However, after his death, Cormac McCarthy’s spirit was drawn back to the castle. It has been suggested that due to his depravity and cannibalistic tendencies, he returned as a vampire-like demon. Today, the castle lies in ruins. Locals will tell you that the sounds of wailing and painful screams can be heard coming from the ruins at night. Anyone unlucky enough to have to walk past the castle during the hours of darkness will be attacked by unseen claws that rip the skin badly enough to draw blood, which is then lapped up by some invisible tongue. There have been reports of fresh blood seen on the castle gates.
26
THE OPEN GRAVE
NATIONWIDE
Years ago, when I was in England, I was talking to a friend of mine about whether or not there was such a thing as ghosts or spirits. He was a rational sort of fella, so when I said that I thought there were more beings in our world than his philosophy could even conceive of, he laughed at me and told me to grow up. That night we were out with a friend I’ll call Cathy and I happened to cut my hand. I was losing a lot of blood and they advised me to go to hospital.
Well, like most youngsters at that time, we hadn’t a penny to our names so we decided to walk. My friend Billy suggested we take a shortcut through the cemetery, which would bring us to the hospital much faster. Cathy and I were not keen on the idea of walking in a graveyard late at night. Billy mocked us for this for he was convinced that any belief in ghosts was stupid. As we walked across the graveyard three abreast, Billy on one side, Cathy in the middle and me on the other side, the moon disappeared behind a cloud.
We were chatting away, trying to keep our spirits up, when all of a sudden I said to Billy, ‘Where’s Cathy gone?’ She just wasn’t there. We looked around but couldn’t see her. We called out but no reply was heard. Then we heard a groaning sound, followed by someone swearing.
‘I’m in a grave,’ the voice moaned.
Well, Billy took off like the hounds of hell were after him. I fell against a gravestone and felt my legs turn to rubber. It was only Cathy asking me politely to ‘extract her from her newfound grave’ that brought me to my senses. When we got to the far side of the cemetery, who did we see on the other side of the railings but our dear friend Billy, who had sworn there was no such thing as ghosts or spirits. The following story is one that more or less mirrors our experience that night. Whoever said there is no truth in stories should think again.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, when night fell, the world was enveloped in darkness. This was way back before there were streetlights or electricity, so when it was dark it was really dark.
On this night a young man was walking home when he decided to take a shortcut through the graveyard. As he was walking along, the moon suddenly disappeared behind a cloud. The next minute he felt the earth disappear as he suddenly fell into a newly dug grave. Of course he did what any of us would have done: he swore a little, then he tried to get back out. But, the grave was too high for him to jump out of it and every time he tried to get a handhold the earth gave way and he fell back down.
This went on for a little while before the young man began to feel tired and frustrated. However, he was of a quiet, sensible nature and, realising he was getting nowhere, he decided to settle back, calm down and relax. He knew that no one digs a grave for nothing. The following day, there would be a funeral and the mourners would find him and help him out.
‘I’ll be fine,’ he said to himself. ‘All I have to do is wait until morning and everything will be all right.’
With that, he made his way to one end of the grave. He sank down into a corner, curled up, wrapped his arms around himself and slowly fell into a deep sleep.
Later that same night, another man was heading home after a few pints. He, too, decided to take a shortcut through the same graveyard. As bad luck would have it, he was walking along, happily humming a tune, when all of a sudden he felt the earth disappear and he fell straight into the same grave. Well, just like the first fella, he tried to jump out, but of course it was too deep. He also tried to climb out but the sides of the grave kept giving way and he kept falling back down. He tried over and over again until he was absolutely exhausted. Now, I don’t know whether it was because of the drink or the fact that this young man was of an excitable nature, but, unlike the first fella, he wasn’t going to relax and wait until morning. Oh no, he wanted to get out and he wanted to get out immediately, so he started to shout.
‘Help! Help! I’ve fell in a hole! Help!’ he shouted at the top of his voice. Well, he made such a racket he woke the first fella up.
The first fella peered at him through the darkness and said, ‘There’s no point shouting like that. No one will hear you. You won’t get out of here tonight.’
You know, he was wrong about that!
Terror at what he assumed to be a talking corpse gave wings to the man’s feet and he lept out of the grave and ran for his life, without a backward glance.
27
THE BLACK HAG OF
SHANAGOLDEN ABBEY
COUNTY LIMERICK
This story concerns a member of the Fitzgerald family of County Limerick who became the evil abbess of Shanagolden Abbey in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. It was alleged that she drank the blood of novices in order to gain immortality. It was also said that she was a witch and a prophetess whom the nobility of the countryside consulted before declaring war on each other. After the abbey was closed on the orders of the Pope, she continued to live there and was known locally as ‘The Black Hag’. Some believed she was cursed to remain in the abbey for all eternity. Held there because of her evil deeds, some say she still haunts the ruins of the abbey to this day. No date is recorded for her death; however, local folklore has it that she was found one morning sitting in a chair in the sacristy by a passing pedlar. She was stone dead and had a look of absolute horror on her face, which so terrified the pedlar that he was to remember it until his dying day. He said it was if the devil had claimed her soul.
St Katherine’s Augustinian Abbey, Shanagolden, Limerick, was one of the first nunneries in Ireland. It was founded in 1298 and is now in ruins, although the remains of the abbey church and refectory can still be seen. Folklore tells us that the last abbess prior to its dissolution practised witchcraft in a room south of the church. The room became known as ‘The Black Hag’s Cell’ and still exudes a feeling of dread as if the very walls retain a memory of the evil practised within.
In the mid-seventeenth century, the abbey came to the attention of the papal authorities and an investigation was ordered. It was discovered that many of the nuns were involved in satanic worship and practised witchcraft under the guidance of the abbess. Several of the nuns either admitted to this or were found to be possessed by evil spirits. When Pope Urban VIII received the report, he was outraged. As a staunch opponent of the ‘black arts’ he took the unusual step of ordering the closure of the nunnery and the relocation of all the nuns. All, that is, except the abbess, who refused to leave.
The abbess could have continued to reside at the abbey for a variety of reasons. She was a member of a noble family, so she would have had considerable influence. The Pope may have decided to leave her there as a form of punishment or she may have been unable to leave for reasons unknown. All evidence collected by the Church authorities at that time was destroyed, so I suppose we will never know the real answers. The abbess lived in the sacristy of the abbey and became a recluse, avoiding all contact with people. Passing locals would see her gathering herbs and plants in the dead of night. She was suspected of carrying out witchcraft and was one of the best-known practitioners of these arts in the locality – so well known that she was consulted by high-ranking nobles who wished to know the future.
They say her spirit still haunts the ruins. Local people have described an old woman dressed in the black habit of a nun silently walking in the overgrown gardens of the nunnery. Is this the spirit of the abbess or just some poor unfortunate soul seeking shelter?
28
THE GHOST OF
SHANAGOLDEN ABBEY
COUNTY LIMERICK
The ruins of Shanagolden Abbey are said to be haunted by another member of the Fitzgerald family, the Countess of Desmond. She and her husband, the Earl, were trapped in their castle nearby at Shanid when their enemies, the Butlers of Ormond, lay siege to them. The castle was believed to be impregnable; it was of a circular design and had walls ten feet thick. It sat high on a hill and was surrounded by deep ditches. However, the earl’s harpist betrayed him and opened the postern gate. This gate served as a secondary gate, located in a concealed part of the castle walls. These types of concealed gates were installed in order to allow the occupants of a besieged castle to escape or to carry out surprise attacks upon the enemy. Unfortunately this one served the opposite purpose. The traitorous harpist allowed the Butlers into the castle after coming to an agreement with them that he would be raised to a higher status than his master, the earl. After gaining entrance and overcoming the defenders the Butlers honoured their word and raised the harper to a higher status; they hung him from the battlements.
The Earl of Desmond and his wife managed to escape the castle. Some believe there was a secret tunnel leading to the nearby abbey of Shanagolden, although this has never been proven. They escaped by horseback, the earl carrying his wife across his saddle. However, as they fled, the countess was struck by an arrow shot by one of the Butler archers and seriously wounded. Desmond carried his wife, who was unconscious, through the south gate of the abbey. Believing her to be dead, he quickly buried her under the altar of the abbey before escaping.
The countess regained consciousness but to her horror she found herself buried alive and unable to escape from her tomb. It is said that a shadowy figure is sometimes seen at night, wandering through the ruins of the abbey, and that her screams can still be heard as she begs her husband to realise that he has made a mistake and return to free her.
29
THE RADIANT BOY
COUNTY DERRY
The ghosts of children are a common phenomenon in Irish folklore and feature in stories from every part of the country. The ghosts, known as ‘radiant children’, have a supernatural appearance and are surrounded by a brilliant, flickering glow. They are considered to be warnings (similar to the banshee); if you see one of them, it means you may not have long to live.
In the mid-1700s, Captain Robert Stewart, a British Army officer stationed in Belfast, was enjoying a few days hunting in County Derry. It was a lovely, sunny day to begin with, but without warning the weather turned ugly and a fierce storm swept across the land. Captain Stewart saw a light in the distance and rode towards it, hoping to find shelter. As he got nearer there appeared out of the gloom an old mansion. The light he had seen came from one of the windows. From within he heard the sounds of merriment and laughter.
Captain Stewart dismounted and called for help. Several manservants came to his assistance. They informed him that there was a party in progress and that the house was full of guests. However, the captain was made very welcome by the master and mistress of the house, who invited him to attend the party. After the party, many of the guests went to their beds. The weather had worsened – the rain and wind was battering the walls and windows of the old house – so Stewart’s hosts insisted that he stay the night and have a good breakfast in the morning, by which time the storm should have died out. The master of the house called one of the old servants who was standing nearby.
‘Hamilton here will show you to your room,’ the master said.
The room Captain Stewart was shown to was sparsely furnished but the servants had set a large peat fire in the grate that threw out a great deal of heat and filled the room with a sweet smell. However, despite the crackling fire, the room had a distinct chill. Stewart lay on the bed and was soon asleep. He had only been asleep a short time when he was woken by the sound of a child crying in the darkness. He lit the bedside candle and looked around the room but saw nothing. The sound slowly faded away. Thinking that it must have been a trick of the wind, he blew out his candle and was soon fast asleep again. It wasn’t long before his sleep was disturbed once more, this time by a grey light that flooded the room. Half asleep, Stewart jumped from his bed, believing the house to be on fire. He looked across the room and gasped. Crouched in the far corner was a naked boy. He was crying bitterly, although the sounds he made seemed to come from far away. Stewart approached the boy and asked him why he was weeping but the boy made no reply. Stewart reached out to touch the boy on the shoulder, but as he did so the boy vanished and the room was plunged into darkness.
The following morning Captain Stewart confronted his host, complaining that he was the victim of some practical joke that was in extremely bad taste. However, none of the guests knew anything about it and the whole thing was deemed a mystery. Summoning the old servant, the master of the house asked him which room he had given to Captain Stewart.
‘Well, sir,’ the servant replied, ‘the house was so full with all the other guests so I had a fire made up in one of the back rooms that we never use.’
The master’s face went pale. ‘You don’t mean the boy’s room?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the servant whispered. ‘I didn’t mean anything wrong. I mean, it’s just an old story, isn’t it?’
‘To what are you referring?’ Captain Stewart asked. ‘Are you saying that what I saw last night was more than just a child?’
His host nodded. ‘Some things are beyond our understanding.’
The captain laughed. He was a military man and didn’t believe such nonsense.
‘You don’t mean a ghost? You can’t be serious!’
His host shook his head slowly.
‘Not a ghost exactly; more a vision. In our family there is an old tradition that the boy – we call him the Radiant Boy – appears only to those destined for great power. However, the person chosen is also destined to die a violent death.’
Captain Stewart laughed once more, declaring that he had never heard the like. He then went on to spend the rest of the morning enjoying the hospitality of his hosts. After lunch he bid them farewell, mounted his horse and headed back to Belfast. He was never to see the old mansion again.
Years passed and Stewart did indeed rise to power, eventually gaining a seat in the House of Lords with the title Lord Castlereagh. He was also a member of the British government under William Pitt, serving first as
Minister for War, then as Foreign Secretary during the Napoleonic Wars. He was extremely unpopular with the Irish people, especially because of the part he played in the 1801 Act of Union. He became ill eventually and just one year after becoming the Marquis of Londonderry he had a mental breakdown. At the age of 53 he committed suicide by slashing his own throat with a razor. The prophecy had at last been fulfilled: he had risen to power and he had died a violent death, filled with deep despair.
No one knows if the Radiant Boy ever existed as a real person, so it is a matter of historical and folkloric conjecture. His origin story has been lost in time; although, such figures appear in the folklore of many different countries. Is he a ghost, a spiritual remnant of a departed life or a spirit emissary delivering a warning to those who are destined to be touched by the far-reaching hand of fate? It has even been suggested that the Radiant Boy is comparable to the banshee in many ways and may only appear to certain families.
30
THE CHANGELING
NATIONWIDE
It seems that fairy women all over Ireland find birth to be a difficult experience. Many fairy children die before birth and the ones that survive are often stunted or deformed.
The adult fairies are repelled by these infants and have no wish to keep them. They will try to swap them with healthy children, who they steal from the mortal world. The wizened, ill-tempered creature left in behind is generally known as a changeling and possesses the power to work evil in a household. Any child who is overly admired is especially at risk of being exchanged.
It is their temperament that most marks the changeling. Babies are generally joyful and pleasant, but the fairy substitute is never happy, except when some calamity befalls the household. For the most part, it howls and screeches throughout all hours of the day and night and the sound and frequency of its yells often transcend the limits of human endurance.