by Steve Lally
He’d still have all his money
House and wife and sanity
Social position doesn’t matter
To a fairy, young or old
But underneath the fairy tree
They store their pots of gold
So if you happen to pass by a fairy tree
Between dusk and early dawn
Don’t look back or linger
Just bless yourself and go on.
Co. Armagh: from the Irish Ard Mhacha, meaning the plain or height of Macha. Macha was a Sovereignty Goddess. Navan Fort or Eamhain Mhaca was the ancient realm of King Conchobar or Conor Mac Nessa, the High King of Ulster; it was named after the Sovereignty Goddess Macha. St Patrick’s Church of Ireland Cathedral is the burial ground of King Brian Boru, who was known to have tamed and rode upon a pooka horse. There you will also find a stone carving (thought to date back to the Iron Age); it is a helmeted figure with its right arm clutching the left one. It is known as Nuadha of the Silver Arm or The Tandragee Idol. Nuadha was the King of the Tuatha Dé Danann, who lost his arm in the First Battle of Magh Tuiredh when they fought the Fir Bolg (the fourth group of people to settle in Ireland) for the kingship of Ireland. Because he was disfigured he could no longer be King. His physician, Dian Cecht, made him a silver arm and so he became known as Nuadha of the Silver Arm. The great storyteller John Campbell (1933–2006), the renowned Folklorist Michael J. Murphy (1913–1996), Sarah Makem (1900–1983), who was an important traditional singer, and her son Tommy Makem (1932–2007), a world-famous singer and member of the eminent Clancy Brothers, were all from South Armagh.
WISE WITH THEIR YEARS (CO. ARMAGH)
Paula grew up in South Armagh, the backdrop to her childhood was Slieve Gullion mountain. The townland was Shean, in the village of Forkhill.
This story was given to us by a man called Eugene McCann from Mullaghbawn, Co. Armagh. It was written by Michael McManus, who went by the name Clia Staca. He was from the townland of Adanove, which is in Ballykeel, Mullaghbawn. These stories where published in the Frontier Sentinel, which was a newspaper based in Newry, Co. Down. He was born on the 29th of September 1896 and died on the 25th of November 1935. He was only 39 years old.
Clia Staca told many stories about the ‘Cailleach Beara’, who he and many believe lived up on the very top of Slieve Gullion mountain. The word ‘Cailleach’ has come to mean ‘hag’ but in old Gaelic it means ‘veiled one’. She is associated with winter, and the creation of the landscape. Stories of the Cailleach can be found in Loughcrew, Co. Meath (the Hag’s Mountain), Cliffs of Moher, Co. Clare (one cliff is named the Hags Head). Co. Galway has the Hag’s Cliff and Co. Cork has the Labbacallee Wedge Tomb, which is known as the Hag’s bed. But it is in Co. Armagh on the top of Slieve Gullion mountain that you will find the Calliagh Beara’s house.
The Calliagh Beara is said to be the Goddess of Winter. Sometimes these burial mounds are referred to as ‘womb tombs’. Ali Issac, storyteller, says that ‘from the darkness of the womb the light of life is born, and the dark silent inner chamber of the cairn can be likened to the womb’.
A wonderful website we would recommend you visit (ringofgullion.org) has a lot of information on the area, from archaeology to geology. This is a great source for finding detailed and accurate information about the famous passage tomb on the top of Slieve Gullion mountain. The passage tomb, sitting at 570m above sea level, is the highest surviving passage tomb in Ulster. It consists of a circular cairn some 30m in diameter and up to 4m high. The earliest documented investigation of the passage tomb dates back to 1789, when it was opened by locals who were apparently looking for the Cailleach Beara, but only a few human bones were found.
It was opened again in 1961 by students from Queen’s University and all that was found was a few pieces of worked flint, a single scraper and an arrowhead. Two of the stone basins, commonly found in passage tombs, were also found and a third was discovered and is now housed in Armagh County Museum. Also in 1961, on the same mountain, a small round cairn was found and excavated, revealing two small cist graves and fragments of distinctive early Bronze Age pottery.
Clia Stacca wrote a lot about the Calliagh Beara and the landscape and fairy dwellings of his home place that he obviously admired and held dear: ‘Around my own country from Narrow-water to Culloville, I know hundreds of little “forts” and “rings”, where fairy dances and meetings were held, or, at least, we were told and believed.’
Shean Mountain was credited with being the place of banishment of the fairy king. Stacca tells us he was expelled from the fairy circle because of his unjust war on humans – he often committed offences such as stealing butter from the crocks of the nearby farmers. He was tried by the fairy court and sentenced to remain in solitary exile on the Shean Mountain until the court decided he was deserving of release. The only one he was allowed to make conversation with was the Calliagh Beara on Slieve Gullion, and only when she desired.
When the Calliagh Beara first addressed the fairy king, he complained to her that his sentence was too severe. She laughed at him and said she once felt the same way when she first came to Slieve Gullion, but with time she got used to it:
‘I am here now one hundred and fifty years and when I first came here the western slope was growing hay almost to the shore of the lake, and I was annoyed at daybreak and until dark at night with the people working and shearing and saving the crop. Now I have peace, for the years have brought a change; the humans are getting too weak or too lazy to work; they are wiser and wickeder; there is no hay now only heather and wild grass, and the hens and old straggling sheep are all I see on my rambles.’
The fairy king laughed and said, ‘Well, one thing I am sure of, you never remember hay growing here or people working on Shean Mountain; if there was a lake here I could sit and admire my own beauty in the reflection of its waters.’ The Calliagh Beara replied, ‘Well, if you are so fond of looking at yourself, you will have plenty of time to do so. Don’t let me stop you, for I’ll never speak to you again.’
And she kept her word. The one and only person he was allowed to talk to refused to speak to him ever again. He was so lonely he would sit up all night long wailing to try and attract her attention. He wanted her sympathy and conversation so badly. He was desperate for company and companionship. It was said that his cries were heard by men out late at night, men walking home from pubs and ceili houses, but eventually his cries stopped. It was believed that the fairy council granted him release.
Clia Staca said it was thought that the fairy king made the journey to Scotland, like a lot of the fairies were meant to have done many years ago. He also said that some people maintain that he was reinstated with his old title as ‘Fairy King’ and went to live in Dorsey (also in South Armagh) where all his fairy friends (who refused to leave Ireland for Scotland in the ‘bad times’) also went.
The Calliagh Beara on Slieve Gullion was once a beautiful little girl who was stolen by the fairies from a well-to-do family in Killeavy and held prisoner. The family were distraught and sought the help of someone who was credited with witchcraft. At the time they felt it may have been the only way to get their daughter back. The old woman was known as the Witch of Carriba. She told the family that on Halloween night the fairies were to hold a dance in Killen and that the little girl would be there with them. She told them that if they wanted to retrieve their only child then the nearest family member who was not afraid to make the journey alone on Halloween night was to go there and take with them three quarts of new milk, fresh as it comes from the cow (and this was the vital part – the milk had to be pure) and as soon as they saw the child they were to throw the milk on her, grasp her tightly, and carry her off home and let nothing or no one interfere.
Halloween night came and the anxious and hopeful father made the journey and did what he was told by the old lady. But it didn’t go to plan for when he threw the fresh milk into the fairy ring where his little girl stood – the child disappeared. He went
home, deeply upset. His wife was waiting for their return and broke down when she saw he was alone.
When the old woman went to the house the next day and asked how the father got on he told her what happened. When she asked, ‘Was the milk pure?’ he told her that someone else had fetched it for him, but he was sure it was.
However, it was revealed that a cousin of the child, who the family had taken in after their own child was taken, fetched the milk and somehow managed to water it down, so the milk was not pure. It is not known if this was deliberate on the girl’s part, or she may have been unaware of the strict instructions.
The parents still held out hope and asked the old woman to help them for a second time. The witch told the family that for every drop of water that was placed in the milk their daughter would spend a year with the Good People.
A short time afterwards the parents died, and the house was visited by the fairies. Their well went dry, their cattle died and everything that could go wrong, went wrong.
It is said that the little girl grew up to become a beautiful woman and went to live in the cave on Slieve Gullion. She became known as the Calliagh Beara and was said to have many powers and wonderful charm.
Slieve Gullion plays a central role in many folk tales. One well-known story involves the Cailleach Beara and Finn McCool.
Clia Staca wrote a story about when Finn McCool hunted deer from Kildare to Slieve Gullion. When he lost deer on the mountaintop he heard crying and saw a beautiful girl weeping by a lake. He walked over to the girl and asked her why she was so sad and if he could help her. She told him that she had lost her ring in the lake when she was bathing. So, in Finn dived and searched for her ring. When he arose to the top for air the beautiful girl was replaced by a cackling old hag. She said to him, ‘I am the Cailleach Beara. You chased my deer, you will chase no more.’ When he looked at his reflection in the water he saw an old man staring back at him. When his followers caught up with him on the mountain they did not recognise him, but for his voice they wouldn’t have believed it was him.
Clia Staca said that the stories he shared came from those before him, from those who were ‘wise with their years’. He said he didn’t doubt them, for the proof was there for all to see. The mountain still stood, with the cave and the lake. He said he often drank from the lake after the long journey from Mullaghbawn. He spoke fondly of the ‘fairy forts’ and ‘gentle bushes’, and he finished by saying if you require proof of my story, come in summer and see them, and if in the meantime any further stories come to light, I will let you know.
Co. Cavan: From the Irish An Cabhán, meaning ‘The Hollow’. Co. Cavan was founded by the King of East Breifne, Giolla Íosa Ruadh O’Reilly, during his lordship between 1300 and his death in 1330. O’Reilly was such a wealthy and well-to-do man it was from his lavish lifestyle that the term ‘The Life of Reilly’ came. On Shantemon Mountain where the inauguration of the O’Reillys took place you will find ‘Fionn Mac Cumhail’s Fingers’, the great giant lost them in battle and they are preserved there in the form of five standing stones. They are ‘cursing stones’ and are turned traditionally sun-wise to extend a blessing towards someone and reverse a curse. Co. Cavan is home to the mysterious ‘Pooka of Cuilcagh’. Séamus P. Ó Mórdha (1915–2005), an Irish teacher and historian passionate about Irish culture and folklore, came from Scotstown, Co. Cavan.
THE FAIRY HORSES (CO. CAVAN)
We found this magical tale in The Schools Collection UCD, Vol. 0986, pp.1–2. This story from Co. Cavan was collected by Cathal O’Ragallagih, from his father, who was 56 years old when this story was recorded in 1938. Cathal was a pupil at Lough Gowna National School, Co. Cavan. We took it upon ourselves to recreate the story in our own words.
Fado, fado (Long, long ago) a girl went to the Sallaghan bog near Lough Gowna in Co. Cavan for a bag of turf. It is a very treacherous place and it is not advisable to go there when the light is bad, for there are many bog holes and marshes that cannot be seen in the dusk. But the poor child did not take heed of this fact and she fell into a bog hole and drowned.
There was great commotion and concern when she did not return home. The bog was searched and her poor little body was found.
After the body was brought home and the wake and funeral were over, her older brother went to the same bog for a bag of turf. Unlike his sister he took heed of the warnings, especially careful after the tragic death of his wee beloved sibling.
He went early in the morning when the light was good and he began to collect the dried turf and put it into the potato sack he had taken with him. Whilst he was collecting the turf, he heard a voice being carried on the wind; it was a child’s voice and it was calling his name ever so mournfully: ‘Michael, help me, please help me. Michael looked around and he almost fell over when he saw his little sister standing before him. Poor Michael did not know what to do and he ran home. He was very shaken by all of this and he did not say anything to his parents. That night he lay in his bed unable to sleep when a short while later he heard a troop of horses riding by his window and he could hear the sad voice of his sister calling out his name once again.
He was terrified and frozen to the spot, his heart beating in his chest like a drum. He did not dare go out and see what was going on. He felt guilty about this and the fact he had also run away after his sister had asked for his help, but he was scared stiff. When he woke up the next morning he was filled with dread. He kept wondering if it was a nightmare, or if he was so badly affected by the loss of his sister that he was experiencing a stage of grief he had heard people talk about. But he wasn’t sure, so he decided to return to the bog in the hope he could maybe talk to his sister. Sure enough, his sister appeared to him again. He went to reach out to her but she disappeared right before his eyes.
This time when he went home he told his parents, who were very concerned, but they had heard of such things happening before. His father said that they should go and see Tommy the Sideog, a fairy doctor or wise man who lived in Mullahoran, Co. Cavan. Tommy claimed to have lived among the Sidhe for over twenty years and was an expert on their ways.
So the father and son headed off to see Tommy the Sideog. When they got to his wee cottage in Mullahoran, they could hear him talking away to someone inside the house. On entering they thought that Tommy must have been talking to himself for there was not a soul besides himself in the place. They asked him who was he speaking to and he replied ‘the Good People’. They looked at each other and knew fine rightly he was referring to the fairy folk.
Michael and his father explained to Tommy what had happened and how the wee girl had appeared before Michael in the bog twice and how he had heard the sound of horses running past the house and his sister calling out to him the night before. They then asked what was going on and what should they do.
The wise man thought it over and told them that the body they had buried was not the man’s daughter nor the boy’s sister, it was a fairy. He explained to them that the fairies take children and replace them with one of their own, called a changeling. He said that sometimes they even leave behind an inanimate object like a broom or a shovel after they steal a human and this is called a ‘stock’.
Well, as you can imagine the father and son were very perplexed with all of this and they were eager to find out what they should do.
Tommy told Michael he had to go to the bog the following day alone and talk to his sister but not to try and make any physical contact with her.
That night Michael lay awake again and at the stroke of midnight he heard a troop of horses running past the house and the sound of his wee sister calling out his name. ‘Michael, Michael, Michael …’ This time he wanted to run out and save her but he stopped himself because he remembered the advice he was given by Tommy the Sideog.
Sure enough he went to Sallaghan bog the next day on his own. When he got there his sister reappeared again and Michael spoke to her, asking where she was and if she was alright.
She told
him that she did not drown at all, that she was only spirited away by the fairies, and that every night at twelve o’clock she would go past the gable of their family house riding a white horse along with a group of horsemen.
She then told him that there was only one way she could be saved, and that was if he would stand at the gable of the house as she rode past and make a grab to catch her. If he missed they would both die instantly, but if he was quick enough he would not lose his grasp.
With that, the wee girl disappeared and poor Michael was left standing alone in the bog not knowing quite what to do.
When he got home he told his parents what their daughter had said to him and they were very concerned indeed. In fact, they were not going to allow their son to go out that night for fear that they would lose him too. But he pleaded with his parents and said that he heard the horses and his sister running past his room at the end of the house every night and he would surely lose his mind if he did not do something about it.
His father took pity on him and he also admired his son’s courage and selflessness. He told him that he would help him that night. He gave his son a black-handled knife, which is protection against the fairies, and he told him to stand his ground and he would catch onto his legs if he was taken by the fairies.
Well it was getting close to midnight and the father and son waited at the gable end of the house, as the mother looked out the window, with a candle lit on the sill. There was a great tension in the air and the three of them were very frightened. Then they heard something in the distance: it was the sound of thundering hooves approaching. Michael’s heart was beating hard and his father was saying the rosary for he knew their lives depended on it. And unbeknownst to them the mother was inside the house rhyming off a decade herself. It was then that they saw the white chargers coming towards them and there on one of the beautiful horses was the little girl. They could see the other riders and they were fearsome-looking creatures with faces so terrible that words could not describe them. But Michael focused only on his beloved sister’s precious face. Right there and then he made a promise to himself that he would make sure both of them would be safe in their beds that night.
