THE BAN DHU”

Manawatu Times, Volume 61, Issue 237, 7 October 1936, Page 7

THE BAN DHU”

“What was that you say?" “I forgot, 'Alec. You were 100 bad to tell you when you were brought In. There was a stone thrown through the window 'there —you see the hole.” “You told me they broke It when they carried me in." "I didn’t want to disturb you 'telling you the truth, Alec.” “Tell me 'the truth 'now, lass." There was a stone with a bit of paper wrapped round It thrown in 'the window. There was blood on the paper. Mr O'Hara says he thinks they wiped tho knife in it they stabbed you with. Just 'to warn you liko. There it is on the 'chimney-piece.” Munroo 'turned towards it and his heart jumped. "Show them to me, lass, show them to me." “Don’t get excited now, Aleo, here they are. A queer old bit of paper it is too. (Not like what you’d find lying about."

Munroo gripped ithe paper tightly, one glance had told him that it was what he sought. “There, now, I shouldn’t have fold you a thing about it. You’re all of a tremble."

“And why shouldn’t I tremble, lass, when 'I think of what they tlid, and see tho thing they threw at me?” He gulped down his tea. “I’ll ha’ another cup, lass. I’m feeling thirsty, and it's doing me -guid." “There, I knew I was right," cried Mrs Munroe, rejoicing in her small and unexpected triumph. When she left the room, Munroe, weak though he was, staggered from the bed. 'He went to the chest of drawers and thrust the paper amongst his own special belongings—no one ever touched that drawer but himself. He was back in bed before his wife returned. “My, but you’re tired looking, Alec!—and panting! What’s the matter with you?” “Nothing. Set ye the (tea down there; I’ll take it In a minute. ’Tis the kind wife you are to a cross old man.” “There, now, don’t bo worrying, you’ll be rested soon." Both were entirely satisfied with the events of the last quarter of an hour. ' The cottage where the MacMorroughs lived was outside the main cjuster of houses that constituted Knockarra. None ever came to it in the evenings without definite business; indeed at all times the villagers were rather chary of calling although theirs was never a surly greeting. The Wise Woman, and even the Fairy Child, were best met in broad daylight. 'Only when cures were wanted, needed help or adjusting, did folks or perhaps some maiden’s love affairs creep to the door in the dusk with furtive, backward glances. This suited Mrs 'MacMorrough for it put her on her little pedestal. As for Kathleen, she never cared overmuch for the companionship of the village children- Perhaps she, too, was just a trifle unconsciously proud of her aloofness.

Dusk was coming down when tho old woman, wrapped In a dark shawl, came to the half-door and peered about her. No one was in sight, and only the last twittering of birds broke the stillness. Then, noiselessly, she started on her quest, going at an amazing pace for one of her age. Old people were strong in Knockarra.

She had gauged her time well, for it was almost dark when she neared her objective—the Witch'* Rock. The moon, a little broader of crescent than when Munroe had visited it, showed her the way dimly. Not that she needed it; she had often gone that path before. She went cautiously as a Red Indian might, trailing an enemy. Reaching the shelter of the bushes that hedged the weird pinnacle, she sat down and took off her shoes. She often went barefoot, and her thin feet were 'tough and leathery, pebbles and brambles had no terrors for her. Taking off her cloak, she wrapped her footgear in it, and hid the bundle under a bush. She certainly was an extraordinary figure. Only a dark grey garment covered her bony body. Arms from the elbows and legs from the knees were bare. Her sinewy limbs were tanned by age and exposure, so no gleam of white skin could betray her whereabouts, if she feared betrayal. Using bush after bush, for cover, she followed the same route that Lionel OTlara had done until she came to the foot of the rock itself. Knowing every foothold in the rough limestone, she began to climb the rock. Indeed but for her movements only eyes very keen and very close could have distinguished her from her surroundings. Moving very slowly, she clung, like a huge bat, against the cliff. Little by little she mounted to her goal, whatever that might be. Those who saw the Witch’s Rock from below only knew it as a rough spire, forking Into three figures about 50 feet from the base. The two lesser spires ran up perhaps about 20 feet, the third topped its companions by at least as much again. Nobody from linockarra had ever been known to venture on what to them was fearsome ground; tourists, •there were none to do so. A small bush, sprouting in the only cranny that could hold it, hid where the lesser pinnacles divided from the main column.

And here, unseen, was the place that Wise Woman sought. With a last long look at the ground below, and a last Intent listening for any sound, she slid behind the bush. There, in a little hollow formed by tile junction of the three pinnacles, were a few square yards of wet soil. After rain a tiny pool would nestle at its centre. 'Hidden • from all the winds, some plants flourished here. Whence, or how" long ago their seeds had come, could not bo guessed. Perhaps they were relies of the days when Ireland had stretched from the continent of Europe to the fabled isles of ‘ Brazil’, still said to be seen by dreamers as sunset gilds the West.

It was hero that the old woman found the herb she needed. It was not luxuriant, for the solid stono of the surroundings pinnacles forbade much expansion. It wa3 a curious

(By Desmond Lough)

Instalment 16

plant,"* as one of its rarity should be, with dark glossy leaves, thick and her.f-shaped. The secret of its home had been wdiispered to her long ago from the dying lips of such a one as she had now become, and the same tale had been told to her by another; how far back this line of herbalists trailed none knew, not even those that handed on their precious recipes to those they deemed worthy.

Taking a candle from her pocket, Mrs MacMorrough lit it, for it was very dark there. She smiled when she saw the familiar plant; it had not withered since her last visit years ago. Then she used the curved knife, cutting through the Juicy stems and putting them in the bag that hung round her neck, muttering strange words the while.

She took no more than half the plant lest too drastic pruning should be fatal. Her task, so far, was done. She had never thought of exploring a little further round the great finger that towered above the others like the highest spire of .a wrecked temple. If siie had done so, she would have seen a hidden cleft that van black into the bowels of tho earth. Thus it was that she did not discover tho watch tower of the Ban Dhu. Johanna had not been mistaken when she thought she saw a head peering at her.

She began 'to descend the way she had come, finding it harder than the last time she had done so; the intervening years had stiffened her limbs more than she was aware.

When more than half way down, her dress caught in a projection. Trying to free it, she slipped, and a loose stone came away as she grasped It. With a crash she slid into the thick bush, beside which gleamed the bare rock face. Her dress was torn and hands and knees were scraped, but she uttered no sound. The thicket broke her fall to a certain extent as she fell between it and the crag. She was surprised 'that there was so much room. Putting out her hand she groped for a moment before finding out the reason. The bush formed a complete curtain to a narrow opening, only a couple of feet in width. Thrusting her arm into it, up to 'the shoulder, it felt nothing; tho cleft seemed to widen. Was it a cave? She wondered. Lighting her candle again she held it aloft. Only blackness met her eye. So it was a cave I

CHAPTER XVI. Johanna Prestwich was rightly a favourite with the good people of Knockarra. When her father had anchored there after the death of his wife, she was a gay hoyden of 14. At first the natives were shy of the strangers. Those that live in the seldom Invaded calm of such places do not, as a rule, welcome newcomers to their arms. Knockarra was more blessed than It knew. Jerry builders ignored it, the harsh scream of motor-cars was mellowed by its distances from the main road. Even the torch of the politician glimmered as faint and far as the fires on the hill tops that winked and twinkled even yet on the eves of St. John, renamed so when the ancient Beltane festival fell Into disrepute with the advance of Christianity. Those who wanted to hear tho orators that always promised so much and did so little, had lo foot it a dozen miles or more, for the number of the Knockarra votes was not considered great enough to waste much perspiration and petrol. And so, in this calm backwater, old legends lived and throve. Johanna won her bright way to the unspoilt hearts, by many a little kindness and cheery greeting. Her father was no niggard at giving work to the few who wanted it, and so he, too, was popular. 'Lionel OTlara was not a very frequent visitor, his meetings with the Prestwichs were generally in that city at the other end of the world— Dublin. But those visits were enough to set tongues wagging. The match was made and remade over turf fires and at crossroads. Would he lake the beloved young lady from them, or would she bring him to live amongst her friends, bringing up her children to run wild from cottage to cottage, as she herself had done? It was a great problem. Her greatest 'triumph, not consciously sought on her part, w r as her conquest of lonely Donal Burke. This man who avoided his own people as they avoided him, fell to her charm early. Childlike she had not heeded the first gruff repulse to her advances. And this pleased him mightily.

She did not fear him and so he unbent to her alone.

Sitting at his feet she heard stories of elves and fairies, and loved them. She could not have come to a better teacher. Donal was one of those individuals who are not so uncommon as might toe supposed, who are to toe found here and there in places as wild and lonely as themselves, lie was steeped in 61 d lore which lie had read and read since he had learned to read. He could quote long passages from Irish and English masters of prose and verse. Here Is how he came to be as he was, stripped of the fairy tales that had gathered round his history, and yet leaving a big and yet unfilled gap in the story. Long, long ago he had married a beautiful girl from the mountains, beautiful as the wild hills from which she had come. It was said that he had spurned the love that was his for the asking in his own village of Knockarra. How she had suddenly disappeared was a mystery. Spiteful tongues hinted dark and evil things. The jealous hate of one woman scorned added venom to venom. Nothing could be proved against him and his wild grief gave a lie to the worst rumours. A child was soon to have been born to them when she disappeared. The kinder neighbours said that she must have started to trudge the long, rugged way to her old home, ind had been lost on the mountains. One night, having heard or guessed